#secreting away a note with an honest smile

[daryltwdixon]

Merry Christmas, Daryl

Daryl x Reader Fluff

summary: On a quiet Christmas Eve in Alexandria, an unexpected moment under mistletoe brings you and Daryl closer in a way neither of you expected. slightly nerdy awkward reader

author's note: just something cute to wish you all a happy holiday 🎄✨🎁❄️☃️🎅🦌🌟

The faint hum of conversation and laughter fills the air, the low flicker of candles and strings of scavenged Christmas lights casting a warm glow across the house. Alexandria feels… different tonight. Almost like the world hasn’t ended. Like they’re all just neighbors, throwing a party to pass the time. You suppose it's what it's been like for them this whole time, but for you and your group...it was a nice reminder of what once was.

Maggie is laughing at something Glenn said, her eyes crinkling in a way you haven’t seen in months. Carl and Judith sit by the fire with Michonne, her arm draped protectively around the boy’s shoulders as she listens to his quiet chatter. Rick’s laugh carries over the rest of the noise, and for a moment, everything feels—normal.

Instead of joining in, you linger on the outskirts, nursing your drink. It’s not that you don’t feel welcome—you do, mostly. It’s just easier to watch, to soak in the warmth and pretend the ache of missing something you can’t quite name isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Your eyes wander, always searching no matter what room you're in—for him.

Daryl.

He stands near the door, half in shadow, nursing a beer with one hand while the other rests on his hip. He’s not watching anyone in particular, but his eyes scan the room like always, as if he’s looking for trouble—or maybe just a reason to leave. There’s something about the way he stands, so separate from everyone else, that pulls you in.

You’ve always told yourself it’s nothing, this feeling that tugs at you whenever he’s around. But it can't be nothing. Not with the way your heart picks up when he looks at you, the way you catch yourself stealing glances at him when you think he won’t notice. It’s the way he speaks—not much, but when he does, it’s rough and honest and somehow makes you feel safer than all the walls around Alexandria combined.

You take another sip, your fingers tightening slightly on the glass. You like him. You’ve liked him for months, but it’s not the kind of thing you can just admit—to yourself or to him. You’re not even sure he sees you that way. You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t, because it’s easier than hoping for something you might not get.

Still, your feet move before you can stop them.

“You look like you’re having fun,” you tease as you approach, your voice light despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

He glances at you, his lips twitching in something that could almost be a smile. “Ain’t exactly my scene.”

You shrug, falling beside him to lean against the wall, “Not mine either, really. But it’s nice, right? Seeing everyone like this?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting back to the room. After a moment, he nods. “Yeah. S’good for ‘em.”

The way he says it—quiet, almost like it’s a secret—makes your chest ache. You wonder if he ever lets himself have anything good, or if he always watches from the sidelines, thinking it’s enough just to see other people happy.

You study him for a long moment, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his thumb taps idly against the glass bottle. But with a shift of his shoulders, he's pushing off the wall.

“You heading out already?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Think so,” he mutters. His voice is low, rough, but it doesn’t feel dismissive. If anything, it feels like an invitation—to follow, to keep talking, to… something.

Instead, you offer a soft smile. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He dips his head in a nod, stepping away from the doorframe and into the chilly night.

The walk home is quiet, the air crisp and biting against your skin. You tuck your hands into your pockets, letting your breath mist in front of you as you replay the evening in your head.

You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled. It’s not like you expected him to stay. Daryl doesn’t do parties or crowds or small talk. That’s part of who he is, and it’s part of why you like him. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should have said more.

You spot him just beyond the houses, leaning against one of the bare trees that line the edge of the path. He’s looking up, his face tilted toward the branches, and for a moment, you just watch him, the way he always seems to watch everyone else.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, your voice breaking the stillness.

He turns slightly, his gaze landing on you. “Could ask you the same.”

You step closer, following his gaze to the small sprig of green dangling from one of the lower branches. It takes a second to register, but when it does, your heart skips. Mistletoe.

A laugh escapes you, nervous and too loud in the quiet night. “Huh. Did you know mistletoe’s a parasite?”

His brow furrows, and you press on, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I mean, technically a semi-parasite. It attaches to trees and, you know… kind of takes what it needs. Pretty romantic, right?”

He’s watching you now, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” you blurt, and the words hang in the cold air, making your cheeks burn.

Daryl tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in that way he does when he’s trying to figure something out. You can feel your pulse quicken under his gaze, the weight of his attention making your tongue trip over itself. “It’s just… mistletoe. And, uh… you.”

As soon as the words are out, you wish you could take them back, your eyes darting anywhere but at him. The mistletoe, the ground, the shadow his boots make on the frost-bitten earth—anything to avoid the unreadable look you’re sure is on his face.

The silence stretches, thick enough to strangle you. You almost start rambling again, desperate to fill the gap, when he clears his throat.

“Mistletoe, huh?” he mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You glance up, startled, and your breath catches. He’s still watching you, but there’s something softer in his expression now, something almost shy. He shifts his weight, his thumb hooking into his belt loop, and the small, nervous movement sends a rush of affection through you.

“Well, yeah,” you say, the words spilling out faster now, your voice breathy. “I mean, technically it’s a semi-parasite. It grows on trees, kind of… leeching off them, but in a subtle way. You know, symbiotic. It’s not entirely—”

You stop abruptly when you realize he’s taken a small step closer. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you’re suddenly very aware of how quiet it is, just the faint rustle of the wind through the trees and the sound of your own breathing.

He’s not much taller than you, but he feels bigger somehow, his presence grounding you even as it sends your thoughts scattering. Your eyes flick to the mistletoe above, then back to his, and you swear he notices because his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips before snapping back up.

“Y/N…” he says softly, his voice rough and hesitant, like suddenly the name tastes different on his tongue suddenly.

Your breath catches again, and before you can second-guess yourself, you both move. It’s awkward at first, both of you leaning in too fast, your noses brushing in a way that makes you stifle a nervous laugh. But then his hand comes up, rough and warm against your jaw, steadying you, and suddenly the world narrows to just this—just him.

His lips meet yours, tentative and soft at first, but the moment stretches, deepens, like neither of you wants to pull away. You lean into him, your hands finding his jacket, clutching at the worn fabric like you need it to keep steady.

Daryl kisses you like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing but doesn’t want to stop. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, and it makes your chest ache because it feels so him. Honest. Earnest.

When you finally part, you’re both breathing harder than you should be, the air between you clouding with misted breaths. His hand lingers against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel your lips curve into a smile, the warmth blooming in your chest spilling out into your words. “Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

[mydarlingclaudia]

christmas party hop

note : SECRET SANTA FIC FOR @candlekiss !!! MERYY CHRISTMAS THIS IS EXTREMELY RUSHED BUT I WISH YOU THE MERRIEST CHRISTMAS I HOPE YOU GET EVERYTHING YOU WANTED!!!! the quality inst that good because I didn’t write this in like an hour im so so sorry erm

wc : 1.5k

tags : @withonly-sweetheart @leonsecretsanta

desc : roommates and mistletoe don’t mix well. roommates to lovers, fluff (??), re4r!Leon, fem!reader, not proofread

It feels like you have to force Leon to do anything that involves socializing. He can manage the dishes and laundry by any other chores himself, but when it comes to having people over, he always shuts himself away in his room. You really shouldn’t care, it’s none of your business and not everyone likes having company over, but you can’t help but wish he’d come out for at least an hour or two and have some fun.

He's always been nice to you, civil, at least. He's appreciative of any dinner you cook for him or taking time out of your day to take care of him while he's sick, he does the same for you, if he's able. It's typical roommate behavior, you think. Maybe Leon's just more comfortable around you than others, though it could also be that it's your friends that come over more than his.

But he's never really had any of his friends or coworkers come over. You've met Chris and Jill a few times, same with Claire and Marvin, but you've never come home to see any of the four sitting on the couch talking with Leon. The times that you've met them you seemed to get along, they had mentioned Leon talking about you and that you seem as sweet as he says, so that's a good thing, right?

So you get the idea of throwing a Christmas party for yours and Leon’s friends, no big deal. It's not like it's a huge thing, just a few more people in your apartment than normal, you're doing this for Leon's sake, anyway.

Only Chris and Claire had shown up thirty minutes early to help set up (which they hadn’t really mentioned to you) along with Sherry, Jill brought Carlos and they both brought more than enough booze, Marvin’s arrival was fine, your own friends came in a little loud, but they brought pies so it was ok.

But now you’re jammed in the kitchen with Sherry whose trying to scoop cookie dough onto the cookie sheet, Claire whose pulling turkey out of the oven, Carlos whose coming back into the kitchen for more beer, and yourself who has been trying and failing to make eggnog. People are still running in and out of the kitchen, squeezing behind everyone cooking, yelling over the Christmas music that was playing.

“I put up mistletoe,”Claire nudges you as she walks past, carrying the pot full of stuffing. “Keep an eye out.”

“You decorated?” You turn to face her, licking some of the eggnog off your finger.

“Sherrys idea,”

“Pssh, sure.”

“Honest! Come on,” Claire laughs, “Is there a problem?”

“I’m not kissing you,” Claire rolls her eyes, setting the pot of stuffing down onto the table and starting to scoop it out into a big bowl. Two of your friends squeeze behind you to get first pickings of the food being set out, Chris and Jill follow after.

“You gotta kick Leon off the tv, the only thing he’s watching is that stupid Christmas baking show.” One of your friends giggles trying to get your attention as you help Sherry slide the cookie sheets into the oven.

“Yeah? What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, we were supposed to turn on Home Alone ten minutes ago…” She mumbled, already shoving turkey into her mouth. You flinch away from the heat of the oven and shake your hands as you pull away, standing upright.

”Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him.” You shove by Carlos and Sherry, through the doorway into the living room and walking towards Leon who is still hogging the remote. Leon can hear you walking towards him, he looks to you, his resting face changing into a smile.

“Got no holiday cheer?” You tease, sitting next to him on the couch.

“I’m filled to the brim with it,” He mutters rolling his eyes slightly.

“Oh my God, let’s just watch some Christmas movies. I spent hours in the kitchen for this, y’know.” You lean on his shoulder and pry the remote from his grip, he sighs.

“You’re so lucky I like you,”

“No shit, come on.” You grab his hand and pull him to stand up with you, dragging him towards the doorway and into the kitchen, getting plates for the both of you while the others continue to rush around the two of you.

You’re sure that if you and Leon had a driveway, Leon would find some reason to be outside shoveling, or if you had decorated outside, he’d find another reason to fiddle with the lights. He does come out of his shell a bit and chimes in to talk to Chris and Claire, he jokes with Sherry, pokes at Carlos and plays up being offended.

He’s not paying attention to the movie, but he taps his foot along to the Christmas music that’s still playing, he follows you around, though.

Leon normally does this if the two of you are ever out together, he trails after you, trying to hold k to your sleeve so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd. You know it’s not typical roommate behavior, but you find it cute, plus it’s not hurting anyone, right?

Even when you and Leon get knocked around by everyone else in your small apartment and end up bumping into each other, he holds your gaze and almost reaches out to grab you so you can stay for another moment and ignore the party.

There are kisses under the mistletoe— all between Carlos and Jill, though.

Leon and you do get held under the doorframe for a moment. It’s when Chris is talking to Sherry in the living room while she was trying to make her way into the kitchen and when one of your friends was trying to come into the living room, both you and Leon were standing and chatting.

Leon didn’t kiss you, unfortunately.

Claire didn’t take down her decorations when the party was over, everyone helped pick up the mess they made, but your apartment looked more holly-jolly than it did before the party.

You’ve already brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas, Leon’s done the same, but he’s been looking up for the past few minutes.

“What’re you looking at?” You question, setting your cup of water down on the counter and stepping closer as he waves you over. You stand beneath the doorframe with him, looking up at the mistletoe hanging from it.

There’s a kiss pressed to your cheek within the next second, you look back to Leon to see the grin on his face.

“Just on the cheek?” You tease, crossing your arms.

“You want it on the lips?”

“Well, that’s the tradition, isn’t it?” You giggle, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek, he pulls you in at the same time for the kiss you both expected, only he’s a bit more passionate than you.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[sonolynn]

What the Fates Allow-P

summary | Sixteen years ago, Rhaenyra gave birth to a bastard, a girl in which she sent away. Sixteen years later, that bastard would fall into the hands of none other than Prince Aegon himself.

pairing | Aegon Targaryen x Bastard!Reader

tags | talks of birth, bastards, some sexual content mentioned, drunkenness, blood, mentions of drunkenness and ale, ooc!aegon because...he's complex. not proof read

w.c | 1.5k

note(s) | ITS HEREEEEE!!! This is set around the time of drift mark, so Aegon would be around like sixteen.

___________________________________________

Nine moons ago, Rhaenyra had gotten a speech from her dear uncle Daemon about how the “Dragon” could take what and whomever they wished. And in this case, Rhaenyra chose her uncle Daemon Targaryen. Outraged by the news that Rhaenyra could have possibly slept with someone outside of marriage, Queen Alicent Hightower gave Rhaenyra moon tea; A tea only made by the most skilled Maesters to therefore prevent or abort pregnancies. If brewed correctly, the tea could “take care of the problem”, which is what queen Alicent intended it to do. 

Being complacent, Rhaenyra took the tea and drank it. But, what no one told her about moon tea, was that if brewed incorrectly, it would cause great, severe pains in the stomach and could lead to death-or worse, being pregnant. 

And, Rhaenyra found out three moons later that the tea did in fact, not work. So, for the next seven months, Rhaenyra hid her pregnancy under the guise that “she was gaining weight”. She wore ill fitting clothes to hide her bump, and, as the time came closer for her to deliver, Rhaenyra was sent away under the pretext that she was visiting her uncle, Daemon Targaryen in Dragonstone. 

And now, Rhaenyra sat in the bed, the pain between her legs only growing as she pushed. The servants comforted her from behind her as she labored. If she was to be fully honest the small comforts brought her only more anxiety. The stress from having to keep this a secret, to having to travel to a different town under the guise that she was “visiting” a family member, made this situation so much more consequential. 

The birth was not easy. Rhaenyra felt like the world was shifting underneath her multiple times, and the pains that traveled through her back and towards her hips definitely did not help. She swore to herself multiple times that, feeling as though she would pass out at any moment. But then, the pain stopped, and so did the world as she heard the small cries of her infant.

“A girl, princess.” The servant smiled softly, handing the wrapped bundle to Rhaenyra. 

As Rhaenyra held her babe, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy, fear, and protectiveness wash over her. This tiny, innocent creature came from her, her. The small girl nuzzled close to Rhaenyra, still whimpering. Rhaenyra smiled, holding her babe close whilst staring into her eyes. As she studied her new daughter, Rhaenyra noticed the small mark on the girl's chin. Rhaenyra reached up, and she ran a finger over the mark, her eyes studying it carefully. 

For the next month, Rhaenyra stayed in Dragonstone, taking care of this babe and growing more and more fond of her. As she recovered, however, the time neared in which she would have to give her daughter up. Rhaenyra didn’t know why, but the pain in her chest tightened daily as the day neared. She thought that it would be easier-to give away this babe-but, as she walked through Flea Bottom, dressed as an peasants costume, the realization dawned on her that she truly loved this babe; That parting with her firstborn daughter-even if she was sired by Daemon Targaryen-would be something she would regret for the rest of her life. 

Rhaenyra walked up to the door of the brothel, her heart twisting around itself as she stared blankly at the door. Was this truly the fate she wished upon her daughter? To be forced into a shame filled life, a life in which she grew thinking that nobody would want her? No…No she couldn’t possibly- 

But then the door to the brothel opened, and there stood Madam Sylvie. Rhaenyra knew that there would be no going back now, that she had dug her own daughter's grave and now she must lie down in it. 

“Take care of her. Gentle.” Rhaenyra spoke softly, handing her daughter, her precious girl, to the Madam. The Madam nodded gently, holding the girl close to her. The girl started to cry softly, missing the warmth of her mothers embrace. The madam looked up at Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra stood strong; As strong as she could. 

“She is precious, do not let men use and hurt her…She doesn't deserve such a fate.” The madam nodded gently at Rhaenyra’s words, listening intently over the infant's cries. 

“Of course, Princess.” Rhaenyra watched her daughter squirm in the strangers arms, and she let out a breathy sigh. 

“Her name is Y/n.” And with that, Rhaenyra turned and she left. At the sound of her mothers retreating steps, the babe started to cry louder. Rhaenyra had the urge to turn back, say forget it and deal with the shame of living at court with a bastard. But her pride got in the way, and while listening to the symphony of her daughter's cries, Rhaenyra left. 

___________________________________________

Sixteen years later. 

“Y/N!” Madame Sylvie yelled out. She looked up from the cup that she was cleaning, searching for Sylvie. Her eyes softened slightly as she found Madam Slyvie approaching her. 

“Yes, Madame?” She spoke softly, gently placing the cup back down. The madam sighed softly as she placed a hand on her head. 

“The prince is over there, drunk of course. Could you bring him a pint, dear?” 

“Of course, Madame.” She was confused for a moment. The prince? Well, which one? It could be Daemon Targaryen, or Aemond, or Aegon, the girl did not know. But, nonetheless she smiled, quickly filling up a pint and quickly walking in the direction of the boy. She leans down, holding out the pint to him. The boy seemed dazed, his shoulder length hair greasy and messy, his cheeks rosy and his eyes elsewhere.  

He turned, staring at her curiously as he gently took the pint. He seemed interested in her, the way her eyes held a certain gleam to them that he did not see in others. 

“...You look..familiar.” The boy says. The phrase makes her pause, her hands gently brushing against his as she slides the pint into his hand. She didn’t recognize the boy, barely ever having seen him amongst the hundreds of men's faces that she saw daily. 

“I do not recall us meeting.” She spoke gently, so as to not accidentally offend the young man. When she went to stand, the boy grabbed her wrist, a drunken smirk caressing his juvenile features. He stared at her with a hunger that she had seen many times before in men; The hunger that the madam never let her satisfy. 

“How much do you charge, girl?” He asked slowly. She stared at him, confused for a moment. She withdrew her hand, much to the boy's dismay. 

“I am not…I do not offer services, my lord.” She speaks softly, as to try and keep his inevitable anger at bay. But, much to her surprise, the boy didn’t seem angered, only more determined.

“A moment of your time then?” Asked the boy, his smirk still evident on his face. She seemed scared, for a moment thinking that he would take advantage of her, but the boy sighed heavily in his drunken state and he sat up a little. “I mean you no harm. I just wish for company.” He spoke softly. There was something almost comforting at his tone of voice, something juvenile and hurt lying beneath. 

“Alright then. Company you shall have.” 

The two sat and talked for genuine hours. Madame Sylivie paid them no mind, happy to have someone distract the drunken prince from her girls. The prince confided int the girl, and the girl in him, and at the end of their talk, he handed her a bag of coins. 

“For your time.” He spoke. When placed in the girls hand she gasped, feeling its weight. She immediately went to hand it back to him. 

“My prince I could never take such a sum-” But the prince refused to hear it. He gently closed her hand over the bag of coins and smiled at her. Albeit a drunken one, she could not say that it was not a charming one.

“You should be paid for your services, girl. They were most enjoyable.” And with that, he left her, flustered and confused. Until the next time he visited. 

For the next few years Y/N sat with this Prince-who she learned was Aegon-in the same corner, at the same time, at the same place. He would not bed her, nor would he force her to do anything she didn’t wish to. He found himself staring at her when she would not be looking, sneaking small touches, and so forth, but he refused to believe that he may like her, romantically. He could not have a lowly barmaid as his wife, even if he wished to (which he swore he didn’t). So, the drunken prince found a friend in this barmaid. And, although he would not say it,  perhaps something a little more than a friend.

___________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@povofjustme @targaryenswhxre @starzzgirl @void21 @rosalietyrell @abecerra611 @hangmanscoming @cherriescream @thelastemzy @ccallistata @boypls @visenyareads @helo1281917 @darceshoney

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

[slowcinnamon]

let me love you

bangchan x f reader

words counted: 9927

warnings: alcohol use, public tension?, oral sex (f rec), fingering (f rec), unprotected sex (dont!!!), daddy kink (soft), praise kink, a bit of emotional manipulation?? softdom!chris - let me know if i forgot smthing plsss

genre: romance, angst n smut

summary: chris and you have been best friends for many years, slowly beginning to have feelings for each other but you two had never confessed it for fear of rejection, although you know how you both felt about each other. his birthday was almost there and you wanted it to buy a nice and original gift, so with all your savings, you ordered a silver necklace that you had completely designed.

author's note: hiiiiii!!! this is my first fic, hehe. constructive comments are accepted :P hope you like it !!! :3

ฅ/ᐠ˶> ﻌ<˶ᐟ\ฅ

At this point in your life, it was no longer a secret that you and Chris liked each other.

You two had been best friends for years, each slowly developing feelings for the other and, although you never confessed it because of each other's fears and problems, everyone knew it, even you both.

Neither of you had ever said anything to the boys, but they themselves quickly realized when your looks and moments together went from being sweet and innocent to having deep meanings; those intimate and intense looks, the too long touches or the way you had to be close to each other in all situations, even unconsciously.

You yourselves began to realize each other's feelings due to the constant teasing of the boys, the way you missed each other or the deeply sincere conversations that you always shared about your life or emotions although you was never completely honest with him because of your own fears and issues; fears based on not being enough for him and lacking everything he was. He was an idol and you were just an ordinary person. The issues of the constant comparison with the people around him, always telling yourself that he needed someone like him, someone from his world so that he wouldn't lower himself. You loved him, deeply, that's why you pushed him away every time you could.

Therefore, being his best friend and keeping things platonical already seemed enough to you and your feelings.

It had been a few hours since Chris's birthday had started and you were with Changbin and Hyunjin, the three of you waiting for the bartender to finish preparing your fourth mojito of the night. For the occasion, and after having Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin at your house for two hours discussing what you were going to wear, you decide to be totally faithful to your style.

"I don't know why I listen to you, honestly. I feel out of place with what I'm wearing" you murmur while once again, letting out a sigh while you continue resting your back on the bar counter and take another quick look at the huge room that Chris had reserved for his birthday, which was completely full with famous people in their expensive clothes.

"You're always exaggerating, there are plenty of people more dressed down than you," Changbin says as he takes a sip of his drink, also looking around the room. Changbin’s dresses in a black suit and Hyunjin has a white suit on, with a few buttons of his white dress shirt unbuttoned.

Hyunjin nods with a small mischievous smile, "Oh, yes. Look at that one..." while discreetly pointing his head at a girl who’s dressed in a red dress and yellow heels, he murmurs, then suppresses a giggle as he takes a quick sip of his drink, "She's the female version of the McDonald's clown." you nudge him gently, trying to suppress a laugh as you listen how Changbin can't contain himself and bursts into laughter along with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's laugh begins to grow louder and he covers his mouth with his hand, almost choking on his drink as he watches the girl from afar. Changbin also laughs at Hyunjin laughing and pats his back, "S-stop it, bro. You're going to die from laughing." Hyunjin holds his chest before breathing a bit, "Oh God, I can't stand it. And she looks so happy in that dress."

You can't help but make a comment too, “Maybe she thought it was a costume party,” still suppressing a giggle and Changbin laughs again, this time, covering his mouth to avoid spitting out his drink.

Hyunjin nods and takes a big sip of his drink, trying to calm himself down, "The only thing that's missing is that she starts distributing hamburgers to everyone. That would be the cherry on top." he laughs after saying it and you two burst out laughing at Hyunjin's comment.

Changbin then pats Hyunjin's back again and lets out a sigh, "God, you're going to make me pee myself from laughing as hard as we are right now."

"I didn't know Chris had friends who cosplayed," you say again, unable to stop making comments while turning your back on the girl to start laughing.

Hyunjin and Changbin burst into laughter again, the tall one puts his drink down on the counter to keep himself from choking on it. When the two finally stop laughing, Hyunjin stands straight and leans against the bar counter again, taking a big sip of his drink before he speaks again, "At least we're not the only ones laughing, I saw Felix and Jeongin dying of laughter a few minutes ago."

Changbin chuckles and takes another sip of his drink, leaning casually against the bar counter as well, "I'd be concerned about Chris but he seems to be having the time of his life," he motions to glance over at Chris, who can be seen chatting and laughing with multiple people around the room.

You and Hyunjin follow Changbin's gaze, watching Chris seem to be enjoying himself. Your gaze stops to observe how he laughs, showing his dimples before you lower your gaze to his clothes, beginning to drool internally at seeing him once again in that black suit with a couple of buttons undone. But before you start to eat him with your eyes, the voice of the bar waiter tells you that your drink is ready, breaking you out of your trance and taking your gaze away from Chris to direct it to the waiter, thanking him before picking it up and carrying the straw to your lips to sip the mojito.

As you take a sip of your drink, you notice Hyunjin and Changbin sharing a knowing glance between the two of them before Hyunjin speaks once again, "So..." he begins, raising his eyebrow as he glances at you, "Have you given Chris his birthday gift yet?"

Changbin raises his eyebrows a bit and takes another sip of his drink, his eyes also on you as he silently listens to the conversation while Hyunjin waits for your response.

"No, not yet," you answer as you look at them a little excited, making both raise their eyebrows, then you gently bite your lower lip, leaving the drink on the countertop and looking back to where Chan is, "I wanted to give it to him earlier but it seems like he doesn't get tired of talking and talking and I don't want to cut him off." you look back at the boys to shrug, downplaying it, "I'll give it to him later." Hyunjin and Changbin's curiosity only grows more as they continue to look at you.

"You seem excited," Hyunjin teases with a smirk and Changbin nods as he smiles.

"Yeah, a little too excited.” he narrows his eyes, “What did you get him?"

“Uhm... I asked a jeweler to make a necklace I had designed for Chris a reality.” you murmur a little shyly, feeling your cheeks take on a slight pink tone and then pick up your drink and take a small sip, “So a personalized and... unique necklace in the world?”

Hyunjin and Changbin exchange a glance between themselves, both of them impressed at the amount of effort you put into Chris' present. In front of the intrigued looks of the boys, you decide to show them the gift before they start asking. You set the drink on the countertop and open your bag, pulling out a small black satin box, which you open to reveal its contents.

The necklace was made of silver with eight small stars, representing SKZ, on the sides and a cross similar to the Chrome Hearts' design in the middle but with the difference that in the middle of it, was a small black diamond.

You let Hyunjin's hands take the small box so the two of them could inspect the contents as they both stare down at the necklace, speechless and both impressed with how good the necklace looked.

"Damn, that's... beautiful. I didn't know you were putting so much effort into this."

Hyunjin nods in agreement, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Let me guess... was it expensive?"

“Kinda.”

"God, I knew you were going to do that." Changbin says as he shakes his head, "Of course you were going to spend all your savings on him.”

You roll your eyes as you gently shake your head and Hyunjin hands you back the box, which returns to your bag before you close it, "It's the first time I've bought something expensive from Chris. I'm a bit uneasy in case he gets all 'I don't want you to spend money on me' mood."

Hyunjin and Changbin both agree with you at the same time, "He's definitely going to do that," they both say, and you can't do anything but snort a bit as Changbin continues speaking, "That idiot doesn't like people spending a lot of money on him but he’ll put it on as soon as you give it to him," they both keep their eyes on you for a few more seconds before Changbin glances back at Chan and murmurs, “You’re never going to ask each other out, are you?"

You feel heat start to burn in your face as you hear Changbin's words, a small smile settling on your lips. Even though you had never confessed anything and both of you continued to silently suffer, you were well aware that the two boys knew about it. And that makes you feel a little embarrassed, because honestly, you hated having to talk about it and having to repeat the same answer over and over again. You hated their speeches about your emotions and the attempts to 'make you open your eyes'.

Deep down inside you knew that your actions only caused immense pain to Chan, who wanted to shower you in all his love and make you see that you were more than enough for him, but your fears had always controlled your life.

“Never,” you murmur in response while shaking your head and they both sigh as you leave the glass empty and you call the bartender's attention, "A vodka with lemon, please."

After your second glass of vodka with lemon, your senses began to become blurred. You had continued talking to Changbin and Hyunjin but you didn't remember a single thing that had come out of their mouths, just the way you kept giggling as you continued ordering drinks.

At some point, Chris stopped talking to the group and approached you, laughing at your jokes and enjoying the company and due to your state, you couldn’t help but begin to navigate towards the territory that you had forbidden yourself. The party was at its peak, with most people drinking and dancing while enjoying themselves, but you still hadn't given your gift to Chan.

Hyunjin was trying to explain a joke but between how he slurred his words and how he laughed while explaining it, no one understood him, you were just laughing at the scene. Changbin, who was the most sober of the group, watched the scene with a raised eyebrow while laughing until he saw how you and Chris were looking at each other while laughing and spoke when a comfortable silence fell among the group after the laughter, "Are you going to give him the gift or what?"

"Oh, yes, yes..." you murmur with your pinky cheeks due to alcohol. With slightly shaky hands, you open your bag for the second time that night, pulling out the small box and reaching your hand towards him so Chan could grab it.

"I hope you like it," you murmur excited and nervous, taking a quick look at his hands before focusing on his face.

His hand slowly reaches out, taking the box from your grasp as his eyes continue to stay focused on you, "You didn't have to-"

Changbin huffs from behind and interrupts his sentence, "Just open it, Chan."

He can feel your gaze staring at him which only causes his own body to become tense and his heart to palpitate a bit more than it already was and you chew on your lower lip nervously as your eyes watch him open the black box, his eyes almost widening a bit surprised as he processes the contents of said box.

"Holy shit..." he murmurs as he stares down at the silver necklace in complete awe, his eyes tracing every single little detail that was on the jewelry.

He delicately takes the necklace out of the box, almost handling it with the same care he would handle a newborn baby, examining it closely and you start to grow even more nervous. As he turns the necklace around, you feel even more anxious at the idea of him hating your gift and your breath gets stuck in your throat when he finally looks back at you with his doe eyes.

"You don't like it?" you speak quickly, making your words slur a little as you look at him totally embarrassed and take another step to take the necklace from his hands, "I-I can change it, you know? I can tell him th-"

"No, what? No" Chan's immediate response, quickly as yours, interrupts your thoughts and he tightens his grip on the necklace, not giving you the chance to take it from his grasp, “I do like it. I actually love it.”

Your body relaxes when you see how a small smile begins to widen on his mouth, perfectly showing his dimples as he once again stares down at the silver necklace in his grasp, making you let out a small sigh of relief. You know he's not lying when he says he loves it; his ears begin to turn crimson.

"I just..." he starts again as that smile he has on his face never falters, "I just wasn’t expecting this... How much did it cost you?”

"It doesn't matter" your response is immediate, noticing how a small frown creases Chris’ forehead as he begins to open his mouth again to probably start a monologue, but so before he can say anything, not wanting to hear him say the same thing over and over again, Hyunjin chimes in.

"Can I see it?" Hyunjin cuts him off before a word comes out of his mouth, leaning in to get a better view as he puts a hand on your shoulder, a silent and discreet way of saying 'I've got you' and Chan nodds. “Damn,” Hyunjin says, feigning surprise and looking at the small jewelry on Chan's grisp as if he hadn't seen it before, “I always knew you had a good taste. It looks cool.”

You smile a bit when you see him helping in the situation, but your attention then goes back to Chris, who continues to stare at the piece of jewelry in his hands with a frown on his mouth.

“I…" Chan starts again as he tightens his hold on the necklace a bit, almost as if someone could take it from him, "I really do love it... But you shouldn’t have-"

Again, Changbin steps between the interaction, “Yeah, yeah. Can’t people do anything without you lecturing them all the time, goddamnit?” his tone is a bit annoyed as he rolls his eyes at his friend, "She just wanted to pamper you for your birthday. Just accept the damn gift, Chris,” he lets out as he lightly slaps at the leader's shoulder and Chan lets out a sigh. You have to suppress a chuckle at the scene before you, knowing that Changbin was speaking for everyone with his words. Chris's grip relaxes on the jewel and his gaze returns to you, searching for words to appreciate the gift, he knows he should just be thankful but that feeling in his chest prevents him.

"Don't worry Chris, it's okay," you try to reassure with a small smile and your shoulder receives a squeeze from Hyunjin before he returns to his previous position, leaning on the bar. Chris raises his hand, his eyes flickering between it and your face, offering you the necklace as he asks, "Can you… can you help me put it on?" you nod.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his request as you took a step closer to him, and Chan’s heart practically leaped into his throat. Your hands carefully take the necklace from him and with slightly shaky fingers, you place the necklace around Chris’ neck; the cold metal of the necklace coming in contact with his skin and making him shiver slightly, making him hyper-aware of every movement, touch or breath. He can’t help but lean into your touch just a little bit, relishing in the feeling of the proximity of you and your face.

You fastened it and made sure it was sitting properly before moving it around his neck, making the necklace clasp stay at the back of his neck. But even though you have just closed the clasp, you stay where you were while you lower your hands to your sides; not separating yourself even a centimeter from him and he doesn’t dare to move or speak either.

Chris's cologne come directly in with every breath you took, along with that look in his eyes; that look that beggs you to let go for once and finally give in to your desires repressed for years made your mind go back to the fine line you have been avoiding all night when he returned to your side.

But as quickly as the moment came, as quickly it leaves when you hear Hyunjin’s whisper to Changbin, which has come out louder than he wanted.

You finally look away from his eyes, and Chris does the same, avoiding eye contact to try and hide how red his face and ears have become, causing an awkward silence to hang in the air. You turn to look at the guys, who look at you both with a clumsiness look in their eyes and Changbin glances at Hyunjin before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bar.

"I... I think we’re going to go find Han," Changbin quickly says, not wanting Hyunjin to disturb any longer between you and Chan and begins to move away from you, dragging the highest, "See you... later?" both you and Chris murmur a soft "yeah, see you later" as you watch the two boys leave, hearing a “good job, dumbass” from Changbin.

After the two boys leave, an uncomfortable silence fills the atmosphere around you and Chris. You can feel a lump in your chest, probably the alcohol mixed with your own emotions; your breath falters a small bit, and your heart pounds with a force you didn’t know you could feel, you feel your skin burn with desire.

With your eyes focusing on the floor in front of you, you bite your lower lips, the taste of vodka on your tongue. You know that you shouldn’t look up. You know that if you look up, you won’t be able to look away.

As if your head was on autopilot, you slowly lift your gaze, letting your eyes travel up to his face. The necklace was perfect on him, the silver contrasting perfectly with his skin and the black of his clothes. His eyes immediately turn to yours, as if he was already waiting, as if his focus had never left you. You feel your heartbeat get faster, your breathing labored as the alcohol running through your body makes everything more intense.

"Uhm... It looks good on you," is the first thing you think of saying to try to reduce the awkwardness. You try to look back at the necklace, at something other than his eyes, but you can't, feeling the alcohol take over every one of your senses, the sound of the people having fun in the background muffling, everything feeling distant, like if you were trapped in a bubble only the two of you can see. His own eyes are roaming all over your face too, the desire and hunger in them making your legs feel like jelly, as if he could take you right there.

"Yeah?” he murmurs in response, his voice slightly low, almost a soft caress that makes your senses go even crazier. He takes a small step towards you, invading your personal space without even caring, reducing the space between you almost completely, "You like how it looks on me?"

He is trying to be cheeky, and you can see it in his eyes. You bite your lower lip, your brain screaming to look away, to not get carried away by the intense gaze of the man in front of you. You know you’re a couple of seconds away from starting something, but you still don’t look away from him, chewing your lower lip again and a lucid idea comes to your mind; it was as if he...

"You've been waiting for us to be alone."

“Maybe.”

"How drunk are you?," you ask carefully, knowing that you two are starting to not think rationally.

"Honestly? Pretty drunk" he confesses, his words coming out slightly slurred, but even then, you can clearly hear the desire in his voice, “You?”

“Same. Enough to regret tomorrow”

Both of you stare at each other, analyzing, feeling that same tension coursing through the air. You didn’t need to say much, you didn’t need to speak with words, each of you knows what the other is thinking, each of you are aware of the fine line of the situation and the alcohol is making everything more intense. The look in his eyes, the way he keeps staring at you without blinking an eye,his cologne flooding your senses in the best and worst way possible. It’s all too much, and yet, it's still not enough.

"Chris, no- we're not thinking rationally," you mutter, slurring your words a little because of how quickly they come out of your mouth, "We're supposed to have a line, remember? And we're about to cross it-”

“Then push me away,” he almost dares you as he cutt you off, his hands slowly slide next to your arms as grabs the edge of the countertop, pinning you against the counter of the bar, “Tell me you don't wanna and I swear I won't do it again.”

“I…” you murmur under your breath, trying to think of anything to stop both of your brains from fading into the drunken lust.

“You what? You’re scared?” he asks rhetorically, raising an eyebrow and then letting out a quiet sigh, “Don't you realize that we can't continue like this? I like you, you like me. Why don't you let me love you?”

You both looked into each other's eyes with an intensity that revealed all the feelings that you did not let come to the surface and tried to bury. You look into his chocolate brown eyes as if you’re bewitched by them and the way his eyes seem to almost stare into your soul. The closeness creates as if the world around you were a simple blur that makes you feel even dizzier.

His mind is clouded with all the things he wants to say and do, but the words are stuck in his throat for the way you were looking at him, making him feel like he’s the only person in the world. Chan's eyes darts downwards to your lips for a brief moment before quickly flicking back up to your eyes and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, when he found himself leaning just a millimeter closer to you, lips almost brushing yours.

“Let me love you, please…” he whispers in a low tone, making the words sound like a breathless prayer on his tongue.

You know it's wrong, you'll regret it the moment your mind becomes fully conscious again but your body simply can't keep up with the self-imposed prohibition nor even the same beg look in his eyes, so you just lock your lips with his.

With your soft, sweet permission as you close your eyes, Chan allows himself to move the hand he has on the edge of the countertop to place it on the side of your neck, cupping it and immediately closing his eyes at the contact.

The party, the people, the loud music, everything, disappear as a lost train that never returns. It feels like every nerve in your bodies is ignited as you both savor the taste of the other; every bit of non-talked emotions replaced by an overwhelming wave.

Chan kisses you with a sweet intensity as if he’s trying to make up for the years of suppressed feelings. He pulls you closer to him, his other hand finding your hip and resting on it as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently requesting entrance between your lips, which you gave it to him with delight as your hands travel to his shoulders.

You open your mouth slightly and Chris doesn’t waste a second entering it, causing your right hand to slide to the back of his head, grabbing his hair between your fingers as if your life depen on it. Chris lets a guttural sound escape his throat and buries his fingers hard into your hip, which you respond with a soft gasp.

His tongue explores your mouth eagerly, tasting and claiming every inch, leaving the two of you in a moment of undeniable connection and raw emotion and with a shudder; he gently pushes you against the countertop, tilting your head a bit to give him better access to your mouth, making you moan quietly in response.

Chris swallows the sound of your moan, feeling a wave of desire wash over him as he pushes you harder against it and his body against yours, pinning you between himself and the cold surface behind you.

He pulls back, both of you breathless, just enough to trail kisses down your jaw and throat, his nose pressing into the soft skin of your neck as he drank in the scent of you and taste of your skin, leaving hot kisses along your neck as he slowly makes his way to your lips, also leaving a quick there before separating his face from you.

Chris rests his forehead against yours as he, despite the desire coursing through him, can’t help but admire the sight of you; eyes shining while looking at him, lips parted and in a reddish color.

His eyes linger over your messy figure for a few seconds, his tongue moistening his lips as if he could still taste you in them, as if you could still melt in his mouth, "Let’s get out of here.”

“But your birthday party-”

“Fuck it."

He took a step back, reluctantly releasing his grip on your hip, but his other hand grabbed yours, lacing his fingers through yours and started to lead you inside the club and towards the exit.

"And the boys?"

"I’ll text them later."

Not even your mind responded clearly anymore, so clouded by the taste of his mouth and the desire for his hands to run over your body that you couldn't articulate any denial.

Chris hailed a cab and in the blink of an eye, you two were at your apartment, your lips locking againg once he closed the door. Everything happened so quickly as you walked blindly to your room, leaving your pieces of clothes and shoes along the way.

You realize you were both only wearing underwear when your back hits the soft sheets of your bed and your head the pillows, with Chris on top of you.

Chan breaks the kiss briefly to trail his mouth around your throat for a few seconds, trying to contain the desire that was coursing through his entire being as he tastes your skin and hear your gasps in response, and he move his mouth down to your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses over your chest and then going down to your stomach, his hot tongue leaving a hot stripe of saliva as he continues to go down until he reaches your hip bone, suddenly felt your fingers tugging the strands of his hair.

Chris stops immediately to raise his head a little, looking at you with doe eyes, captivated by the image in front of him. His hands travel from your hips to the edge of your panties, slowly lowering them as you raise your hips a little to help him and throwing them somewhere in the moonlit room.

He lets out a gasp as he looks at your exposed wet pussy, and you see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows in an almost greedy way. His eyes seem as if he's admiring some kind of rare diamond, and even if you want to hide and feel self-conscious about your body, the look in his eyes makes you shiver, the intensity with which he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful girl to step on earth.

"Tell me how bad you want it" he whispers, almost in a daze, as his hands travel again to your thighs, feeling your skin like a delicate fabric, tracing patterns over your inner legs, to which you respond by lowering a bit his head until his nose and lips brush against your folds, “Use your words, princess.” his breath directly against your cunt causes a cold shiver to run down your spine, anticipating the pleasure and you let out a quiet gasp.

“Please…” you whisper in a tremulous tone, feeling your cheeks burn with desire and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment for the intense look of the man in front of you and you bite your lower lip as he brushes his nose over your folds again, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch; your response to his pleas makes him feel a wave of satisfaction and heat in his stomach, “I-I want it so bad, please Chris”

"There we go" Chris praises you quietly, a satisfied smile on his lips, "You're doing such a good job for me, princess, I know you can do better." He gives your aching pussy a quick lick, making you whine, as if he was analyzing your reaction, and then wets his lips to speak again, "Tell me how you want me to touch you, I need to know, yeah?,” you eagerly nod and he slowly, gently pushes your legs a little more apart and he leans in a little more between them, his breath warming your core before he buries himself on your pussy.

Chris starts soft, even gentle; moving his tongue up and down and sucking your bundle of nerves with his gaze fixed on you and your reactions to know if you’re liking his work, but with every whimper or moan that comes out of your mouth, he increases the intensity, reaching to the point that he’s eating you as if it was his first meal in years. The obscene sounds his mouth makes while sucking your clit and the way you squirm under him fills your room, together with the light of the moon coming in through the slightly open window and shining a light on Chris, making his eyes shine, are the only things your head can focus on right now. Every nerve of your body is connected to his mouth and there’s nothing more delicious, making you clench your fists in his soft hair.

“Fuckfuck, Chris, Chris-” is all you can manage to murmur in a soft moan, not feeling yourself in control of your own words as his chocolate glossy gaze’s still fixed on you, “Fingers, fingers please.” The sweet, impatient plea makes him feel proud; proud to have you moan and shiver like that, to have you writhing under him so nicely and a sound that’s between a satisfied moan and a soft, low laugh comes from his mouth as soon the word ‘fingers’ leaves your mouth. Chris immediately obeys, “Yeah, baby, I got you” purrs against your wetness, leaving a wet kiss before pulling himself away as he takes his right hand from your right thigh and bringing his middle and ring fingers to your folds; rubbing them to catch your juices mixed with their saliva and bring them to your lips. Chris doesn't have to say anything for you to open your mouth and start sucking his fingers as if it was the most important mission of your life.

“Such a good girl, mh?” he praises you again, watching intently with his pupils dilated the way you seem to enjoy savouring the mix, “I would never have guessed you were that nasty.” he teased, tilting his head slightly before slowly removing his fingers, now wet with your saliva, from your mouth and bringing them to you core. He moves them down your entrance, mocking you as you can feel how you clench around nothing and without any notice, slides them in a smooth motion, feeling how tight and warm you are.

Your eyebrows furrow at the sudden intrusion and you look at him with your mouth open, unable to say a word when he begins to move them inside you, curving them to easily hit your sweet spot, “Did I make you that excited?” he asks in a teasing tone while leans towards to place his lips on the crook of your neck, biting softly without looking away from you. A whiny “Chris- fuck yes” comes from your throat, one of your hands grips his wrist tightly; feeling in your grip how his muscles tense and relax as he moves his fingers and you close your eyes, still with your brows furrowed. "Keep… Saying my name, you sound… So pretty," he mutters between bites, his eyes fixed on your expressions as he picks up the speed of his fingers, "Will you keep being a good girl for daddy?”

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. It echoes through your mind and you involuntarily cum around his fingers, making you both moan at the action at the same time that your fluids ran down Chris's wrist. Chris stops his work on your neck to raise his head and look at you carefully, a teasing smile on his face, "Did you just cum on my fingers because I called myself ‘daddy’?” his fingers lower the intensity, riding your orgasm and bringing you out breathless gasps.

Your eyes flutter, face completely flushed as you catch your breath from your sudden orgasm, not being able to articulate many words. When your eyes finally lock with his, his satisfied and teasing smile pronounces, “Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur as he brings his wet fingers to his mouth for a quick taste before licking them clean with one of his eyebrows raised. “You look cute,” Chris responds once he removes his fingers and slides his hand down your throat until he brings it to the side of your neck, cradling it while his mouth approaches your jaw to begin a route of kisses to your mouth, "But answer me."

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” he continues his path of kisses up to your mouth, gently biting your lower lip, “I thought so… Does it make you feel good to have daddy taking care of you?” he asks in a sweet tone, completely contrary to the weight of the phrase, before leaving a small kiss on your lips. You can’t help but purr softly a “Yes… Daddy,” that makes him kiss you again, smiling against your lips. Chris sits on his knees between your legs, still with his face close to yours and he takes your wrist in his free hand, bringing it to his black design boxers, letting you feel his thick hard cock under them, “You think your tight little pussy can handle me?,” you swallow, already imagining how it looks, but the moment he lets out your wrist and pulls his boxers down, leaning up straight for you to see him, your mouth and pussy wets again; a big red tip monster. You look at him with slightly widened eyes and he chuckles, “Small packages have big surprises, babe.”

The view in front of you is magnificent, to say the least; broad shoulders, muscular arms with some veins popping, delicious and big pecs that make the necklace you gift him look simple, abs where his hard cock collides with and that teasing look as he bites his lip, capturing all your reactions. Your skin crawls while you entrance clenchs again around nothing and you unconsciously open your legs more, to which he responds by pulling down his boxers completely and throwing them away.

Chris looks at your dripping pussy for a few seconds, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Liking what you see, princess?” asks with an arrogant smile, “You look delicious while mouth-watering yourself”. He leans over you again, slowly approaching the warmth of your body, lowering his head to press his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck and leaving a trail of small kisses until he reaches your ear. “Let’s see if daddy can make you mindless, shall we?” he whispers as his fingertips ghosts the skin of your thighs until he reaches your knees and grips them to lift your legs, placing them on his shoulders.

His grip loosens and his left hand lowers to his throbbing dick, pumping himself before lining himself up to your wet entrance as he rubbs his tip on your juices, "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he whispers again against your ear, grabbing your waist and slowly pulling his hips towards you, entering his tip. He continues to bring his hips closer to yours until he fully enters and feels the way your walls receive him; squeezing him and in turn, soaking him. Both of you moan due to the new sensation and Chris lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, taking the opportunity to leave a love bite on the skin of your collarbone.

“You’re so tight… Fuck,” he says through his teeth while he feels your body adjusting to him and he lifts his head from your shoulder to lock his gaze with yours. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are slightly glossy, making him look more beautiful than usual. Your hands wander up his arms, going up to his shoulders and digging softly your nails, “Y-you can move,” you say in a plea and he didn’t need further instructions to start moving his hips at a slow pace, although it didn't last long.

The sticky sounds and skin crashing filling your ears as his dick goes in and out of your pussy at a speed your mind couldn't handle. He leans back to take a better look of you, his ego boosting at the way you’re under him letting out loud sounds. The moonlight seep throught the window, bathing his toned body, making the sweat on his skin almost shine as you look at him as if he was a god to worship. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes, which are still staring deep into yours when you arch your back by the new position. “C-chris- daddy? Fuckfuckfuck,” you mutter under your breath while he brings his right hand to you, putting his index and middle finger in your mouth, “Suck. I know you like to play with your mouth,” he commands to let a guttural sound out of his throat when your warm tongue embraces them and you start sucking.

He hums in satisfaction before taking his fingers out of your mouth and running them over your skin to your neck, leaving a trail of drool that makes you gasp at the sensation. Chris leans towards you again, his lips brushing yours, as he grips on your neck thightly, “Your little pussy needed my cock that bad?” he groans breathlessy, almost sounding like a growl, picking up his pace and starting hitting your sweet spot directly, that's where you can swear he's eyeing at you like you're his prey.

His breath hits your face while he bites his lip and you try to let out a word but he’s feral while his tip bullies your sensitive spot, so only moans come out of your lips that are getting louder and louder. Your grip on his shoulders begins to shake as you dig your nails harder into him and he brings the hand on your waist to your lower stomach, gently pressing down and making sure you feel everything as you squirm more under him. “You like that, mmh?” he groans again and you begin to feel how the overstimulation of sensations gathers in you, legs beginning to tremble, lips already open and walls that squeeze him with more force, you’re so close. Chris seems to feel it and picks up the pace again, bringing his face to the crook of your neck to start licking the hot sweaty skin, “Daddy, I- gonna c-” you try to say but he cuts you off with a soft “Cum, yeah? Cum on daddy’s cock, baby, I know you can- That’s it, good job. Good job, princess” he praises in a sweet tone as you reach the edge with the last loud moan, closing your eyes tightly and releasing your nails from his shoulders to let your arms fall to the mattress while gasping slightly.

Chris's grip on your neck loosens as he continues to crash on your body, quickly reaching his orgasm as well with a guttural moan. For a few seconds, everything else disappeared, and all that existed were you two and the feeling of the world exploding around you.

Then, slowly, reality began to creep back in, and with his tremblous touch he takes your legs off his shoulders to gently place them on the mattress before collapsing on top of you, burying further his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you. The room was almost silent, save the soft noise of your breathings mixing together. It isn’t until Chris speaks that you could notice the faint sound of the cars and the traffic from the streets outside the building.

“Have I been too hard?” he mutters against your skin, his voice a little winded as both of you try to get yours heartbeats back under control. Your hands move to the back of his head, slowly stroking his hair as your bodies sank in sweat and heat that slowly ceased to exist, “Mh, no, everything was fine, Chris”, you assure with a tired smile, your own voice breathy and soft. He slowly moves from you just enough to raise his upper body and look at you, his chin gently resting on your chest as he does. Chan’s eyes run over your eyes, from your messy hair to your rosy cheeks and your shoulders where he can see the marks from his bites.

He moves one of his hands to push his hair back as his lips pull into a lazy smile before he separates himself from you, getting up from your bed to look for his boxers and put them on quickly, “Don’t move, I’m gonna clean you up… The towels are in the bathroom, right?” you nod while you watch him move in the dark towards the bathroom and return with a small towel in his hands. He picks up your panties from the floor before getting on the bed and start gently cleaning you, “You treat me like a baby,” you murmur to him between giggles as he puts your underwear back on and throws away the towel, looking at you with a smile before lying down next to you and covering both with the sheets, “That’s because I like babying you”.

Chan’s now lying on one side, his head resting on one of his forearms and the other hand absently drawing patterns on your bare belly as you lie on your back, “I’m sleepy” you complain as you move sligthy to lie on your side and face Chris. He moves closer to you, moving one arm under your neck to put you closer to him, pressing your chests while nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His right arm envelops your waist tight as a small yawn leaves his lips and he lets out a sigh, “Mmmh, I could get used to this,” he muses with a sleepy voice before leaving a small kiss on your head, and you feel how a wave of reality hits you, hard.

His words make your stomach stir, the realitzation of what has just happened between the two of you being too big to be real. You swallow with some difficulty and you close your eyes, suddenly too aware of his touch, his body around yours as he continues to run his hand affectionately up and down your back while your heart aches at his words; not because you didn’t feel the same, but because he loved you and you were going to break his. You can't help but feel guilty after everything that has happened; yet you can’t stop yourself from snuggling closer into his chest, as if hoping that by doing so you could bury it all to the back of your mind. Chan's hand moves to gently card through your hair, "You know I love you, right?" he mutters against your head, still in an almost sleepy tone, "I've been in love with you forever" he whispers as his lips nuzzle into the crown of your hair while his other arm hugs you tighter to his body, as if he also didn't want to let go.

You bite your lower lip hard and try to be as strong as possible so as not to start crying right there, in his arms, "I know... I've always been in love with you too." your voice is sincere, feelings transparent like a mountain river that has not yet been contaminated but still trembles a little. “Good... Because I’m not planning to give you up,” Chris murmurs, and even if you can’t see his face, you can feel the soft smile through the tone of his voice, still with his head burrowed on your hair. It’s impossible not to feel guilty and undeserving when he cuddles you so affectionately and whispers so lovingly into your hair.

In a short time, you began to feel Chan's soft breathing in your hair, indicating that he had fallen asleep and had left you alone with your internal storm, likewise, it did not take you that long to follow him and fall asleep in his arms, with your body heat.

The faint ray of light coming through the window together with the snoring of the body by your side woke you up, feeling groggy and slightly cold. You opened your eyes, finding yourself glued to Chris’ back, your nose burying in the back of his nape and your hand on his belly. He was like a little furnace that still irradiated heat while being sound asleep, and you could feel the muscles in his abdomen move when he breathed heavily; even under your hand. You carefully left his side, getting out of bed to open the closet and grab the first pajamas you found, feeling how your body gradually began to warm up in the cold morning.

You made your way to the bathroom to remove your completely ruined makeup and wash your face, noticing the marks on your neck and shoulders that had been completely ignored by you at night. You left there starting to feel disappointed again and totally guilty of yourself as you went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, your head felt like it was going to explode, your heart hurt like never before, and you couldn't walk very well. While the coffee maker fills your cup, with your head in your hands while your elbows are on the counter staring at the cup, you feel Chris’ arms around your waist from behind, burrying his face in your neck, murmuring a groggy “G’morning,” voice thick from sleep, to which you reply with a soft, "Morning".

His embrace around your waist is warm and comfortable, but you can't help but tense against him. In his still foggy mind, he doesn't seem to notice that something is wrong, "You smell nice," he mutters in your ear, before leaving a sleepy kiss on the crook of your neck, and that action only made you feel worse, as if the world was crushing you. Chan leaves another small kiss behind your ear before asking, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, yes, everything’s good, Chris, and you?" you say quickly, stopping the coffee maker to remove your cup and separate yourself from him. You sat on one of the chairs at the dining room table with your cup, completely ignoring the look of confusion that was beginning to form on his face, resting your elbows on the table again to put your head in your hands, "Make yourself a coffee if you want".

Chan walks over to the coffee machine and starts preparing himself a cup, but you can feel his gaze on you from time to time; even if you keep ignoring him. He then goes and sits across from you, in complete silence, his eyes studying the way you were avoiding his gaze to the point of not even looking at him, and then you can hear him take a deep breath before asking, “Is this the part where you tell me 'What happened yesterday shouldn't have happened and that it was a mistake’?”

Your heart clenches at how low and hurt his voice sounds, as if he’s already prepared for the worst, and it makes you feel more than terrible but unable to explain to him at the same time. You can’t see his face, but you’re sure his eyes are beginning to look at you with that dejected expression and it makes it very hard for you to hold your own facade even a second longer, “I… I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I told you I would regret it in the morning, and I am. I've been doing it since after we went to bed”.

The silence that follows your words feels like an eternal torture in which you can’t help but think of what Chris’ feeling, what he thinks of you. After a long minute, he finally speaks, and you can hear in his voice that he is holding back every emotion that runs through him to say something more, “You know… You were the one that took the first step last night. If you told me you would regret it after it, why... Why did you do it?,” but before you can answer, he continues, a dissappointed tone in his voice, "I know you think you’re not enough for me… But this is going too far, don’t you think? I’ve been chasing you for forever and when I finally get you, you do this to me? I- I just don’t understand you!" your stomach twists hearing the way his words start to crack at the end as he speaks, the frustration he feels towards you seeping through every syllable.

Chan stands up in a rush, almost knocking over his chair in the process, running one of his hands through his hair as he walks with short quick steps around the kitchen while the other rests on his hip, “God… I don’t even know what I expected after I saw you avoiding me the first thing,” he mutters, and you’re sure it wasn’t for you to hear, but you did anyway and it makes you feel like you’re shattering, and then he stops in front of you, “Look at me.” You know you have to face the consequences of your own actions, so you slowly raise your head, meeting his eyes for the first time since you woke up. His facial expression was a mixture of frustration and hopelessness, with a gaze you’ve never seen in him before. He takes a few seconds to just look at you as if trying to get some answer to the dozens of questions circling in his mind right now, and then he speaks again, “Why, after everything that happened last night… why are you pushing me away like this? Is it that hard to accept that I love you?” his question makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach because it’s hard, excruciatingly hard to accept that the guy in front of you is hopelessly in love with you.

His words make you bite your lip to hold back a wave of tears as you finally let out a trembolous sigh, “I want to hear it from your own mouth. Why?” he murmurs with a stern but pained tone. You’ve never hated yourself as much as you do in this moment, seeing his beautiful eyes pleading for an answer, a reason, a damn explanation. It feels like a nightmare, like a cruel punishment, and the only thing you can do is keep staring at him silently as he continues, frustration growing in his voice, “You were the one who initiated everything; the first to move, the first to open up and let me in, and now you’re pushing me back again because you’re insecure?-” “You don't understand anything!” you cut him off, raising your voice and feeling a big ball form in your throat.

“You don't know how much it hurts to constantly compare yourself with all the women next to you, knowing that each and every one of them is better than me in every aspect. I don't want you to be with me! Can it get into your head?” the words come out of your mouth so fast that you don't know if Chris’ understanding you, “I already know that you don't love others, I know that you think that I am enough but can't you understand that I don't see myself like that? I already know it's my problem. That I’m the problem but I can't help but think like that.” At this point you’re standing up, both of your coffees going cold as you look into each other's eyes, sharing a different pain but same intensity.

Chan stares at you with a mix of hurt and confusion, his heart breaking with every word that falls from your lips. He has seen your doubts and fears before, but he didn't think they ran this deep, "I… I don’t understand why you would think this way…" he stutters, his voice quivering, "I've told you countless times how much you mean to me-". “It’s not about what you say, Chris. You can tell me I’m the most important thing in the world every day and I would still believe that I’m not!” you snap, your voice rising again as frustration, guilt and pain bubble over inside you, “I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m not good enough for you to get it” you continue before looking away from him, “So please… Leave.”

Chris falls silent at your words, a pang went through his chest like a dagger, the air in his lungs ceasing to exist and his entire being felt as if it was imploding. Your words echoed loudly in his mind and his eyes widening slightly, "What?" he mutters in an almost disbelieving tone. You avoid his gaze, your mind and heart in turmoil. You know you’re making a mistake, pushing him away like this, but yet, the crippling fear and doubt gnaws at your insides, “Leave,” you beg, in a pleading whisper, still refusing to look at him, “Just go.”

Chan’s completely and utterly stunned as realization sinks in. His eyes widen even more, and his entire body tenses as if hit by electricity. You’ve never seen this expression before, and it makes your heart sink into your stomach. For several seconds, he stays frozen in place, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, his mind trying to process your words, to believe what you just said. And then, softly, he whispers, “Are you seriously asking me to leave?” his voice is so low that it’s a contrast to the loud beat of your own heart. Your stomach twists painfully hearing his pained, disbelieving tone. You know you’re hurting him. That you just made the biggest mistake of your life. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to take it all back and apologize, your fear and insecurity still making you believe that this is the best for him, best to keep him at a safe distance away from your mess. So, you keep looking away from him, fighting to keep your voice steady as you answer hoarsely, “Yes, I want you to leave.”

There’s another second of complete silence. Even your own breaths sound too loud in the quiet of the kitchen, and you swear you can hear the sound of your own heart breaking along with his. Then, his voice, still low, said, "Why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounds broken as he steps closer to you, “I’ve done everything I can to show you how I feel, to prove you wrong… and it's never enough, is it?" he stops right in front of you, but he doesn't try to touch you, just staring at the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, Chris, really.”

Chan keeps staring at you for several more seconds, the silence growing heavier with every moment passing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you can almost feel the turmoil of emotions in him; his heart bleeding with each passing beat, the pain of your words stabbing through him like a knife. After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes, and speaks again, his voice quivering, “Will you look at me?” you can hear the raw pain in his voice, the way it’s cracking, and it makes you want to run your fingers through his hair, hold him tight to your chest. But you don’t do any of those things. You raise your gaze slowly, almost unwillingly, and almost regret it the moment you look into his face, seeing his beautiful face twisted with an expression of pure suffering, his eyes glittering with restrained tears that break your heart even more, and you almost have to bite your tongue to hold back the tears rising in your own eyes as you see the way he’s looking at you.

He’s trying, with all his might, to keep it together. To hold back tears, to keep his own emotions inside him. But he can’t. He can’t stop the corners of his eyes from dampening, the way his bottom lip quivers, or the way his voice breaks when he speaks again,

“I love you. Please, don’t forget it...”

You saw in his eyes how he hesitated whether to kiss you or simply hold your face with his hands but he didn't do any of that. He looked at you, giving you the best smile he could give you at that moment before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You heard him getting dressed in your room but everything was like a distant noise and muffled by the way you began to cry silently.

The sound of the front door closing was the trigger for you to start sobbing, realizing that you were now totally alone.

In your apartment and in your life.

[mononijikayu]

and there was something 'bout you (that now I can't remember) — fushiguro megumi.

Then, you smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that made his heart ache with both joy and longing. “It’s a good thing I have someone like you, though.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment, as if seeking reassurance. “My Megumi.” "My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto. The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow. It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern no curses au;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, fluff, aged up characters, brief one sided romance, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, future, letting go, break up, getting back together, depiction of character death, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of illness, mention of illness, mention of loneliness;

WORD COUNT: 21k words

NOTE: when i sent this to my beta reader last night, it was like 17k words. it ended with 5k more words than it needed to be. but with how i write, i just end up being the most unpredictable person. even to myself. i wanted to write about megumi cause i missed him. i hope yall guys understand. anyway, i hope you enjoy this a lot!!! i'll see you soon on the next one!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

MEETING YOU FELT LIKE DESTINY. And he would not have it any other way. If one was being honest, you were the only other constant in Fushiguro Megumi’s life – besides his sister Tsumiki and Gojo Satoru. But that was to be expected. He trusted no one.

He likes to think he was a tough crowd, that he wasn’t easy to please. But Megumi expected that. After all, what child wouldn’t have that issue, when his dad left him and his sister to fend for themselves at such a young age? He was bound to have mistrust for everyone and anyone who can’t prove themselves. 

He hadn’t expected to make a friend, not really. If he was being honest, talking to people wasn’t something he excelled at, and reading others’ expressions felt like a puzzle he was never meant to solve.

He was and always will be someone who had a hard time with people. But then there was you, full of unexpected warmth, approaching him on the playground, holding out your prized Charizard card in exchange for his Jigglypuff. You seemed to be the exception. 

“Hey, you!” You pointed at him like he was a riddle you had just solved. Megumi blinked, glancing around to make sure you weren’t talking to someone else.

“Yes?” He answered, the single word sounding more like a question.

You marched up to him, unbothered by the silence that followed. “I’ll trade you my Charizard for your Jigglypuff.”

Megumi’s brows knit together in disbelief. He stared down at the holographic card you offered, one that every kid in school would beg to have, and then at the tiny, pink Jigglypuff in his hands that no one ever wanted.

“Why?” he asked, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Charizard is powerful. Why do you want this weak card?”

“Because it’s cute! And I love cute things! Well…everything cute, really!” you said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

Your smile was bright, eyes crinkling as if you were laughing at a secret only you knew. When he slowly handed over the Jigglypuff card, your face lit up with such joy that it made Megumi feel like he had done something incredible. You hugged the card to your chest and then looked at him with a grin. 

“Thank you for trading with me! Do you wanna be friends?”

Fushiguro Megumi stared at you for a good few seconds, stunned by your straightforwardness. You were smiling all throughout that. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. And he could feel it, even then.

You pulled him so close to you with your magnetic pull. He spun around you almost immediately, like the moon embracing the earth. But before he could answer, you added with a playful tilt of your head. 

“I’ll even let you win in tag! And…and I can share my candies! My mommy gave me a lot to share!”

A small, surprised smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t notice it himself at first. But he likes to think that he only remembered how he smiled years later, when you pointed out to him. Yet all he could focus on is how you smiled at him. How you were so happy, waiting for his answer to your invitation. 

“You’re on.” he said, his voice soft but resolute.

That continued on as you both found yourself living in bodies that grew older and minds that grew wiser. Years passed and yet you had only gotten closer to one another. Both of you were now in middle school, and almost everyday since then — you had always been together.

Fushiguro Megumi could not remember a day where you both were ever even apart. Just one smile and he was hooked. His morning, his noon and night would be consumed by you. And he rinses and repeats. 

The playground turned into hallways and classrooms, and those silly childhood games were replaced with quiet study sessions and whispered jokes. But the feeling you gave him never changed.

He still felt like he was holding something rare and precious whenever you smiled at him like that. Everything about your smile was the most precious warmth he could ever feel, that he admits.

One evening, as you both sat under the orange sky, your laughter from an earlier joke fading into content silence, you turned to him, resting your chin on your knee. “Hey, Megumi?”

He glanced over, meeting your eyes that were as warm as ever. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about how lucky we are to have met?” you said, your voice light but sincere.

Megumi looked down at his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of your question. “Yeah.” he replied, his voice low. Then, looking back at you with a rare, soft smile, he added, “More than you know.”

You blinked in surprise, cheeks turning pink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Megumi shrugged, eyes glinting with a teasing challenge. “Figure it out, you dummy.”

As your laughter rang out, he knew, in that moment, that he was irrevocably in love with you. He always had been, and he always would be.

Your laughter bubbled into the quiet evening air, filling the space around you both with a warmth that wrapped itself around Megumi like a familiar embrace. You playfully nudged his shoulder, eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“Oh, so now you’re mysterious, huh? Fushiguro Megumi, you’re supposed to be the serious one!”

Megumi huffed a soft chuckle, a rare sound that made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ve been keeping secrets all this time, you know?” he said, his tone light, though there was a weight behind it that he didn’t dare show.

Your eyebrows rose as you leaned in, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Secrets? Like what?” You poked his arm playfully, eyes alight with mischief. “Spill it, or I’ll never let you live it down.”

He met your gaze for a moment, searching your face, the sunset casting warm shadows across your features. The thought of confessing everything—how many nights he’d spent thinking about you, worrying about you, loving you, it all made everything tighten in his chest. But he pushed it back down, letting the familiar wall settle back into place.

“There are some secrets that are better left unsaid, you dummy.” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You pouted, crossing your arms with a huff. “You always do that. You’re always hiding things from me, Megumi. You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes softened, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I know, I know.” he said, pausing before adding. “But you shouldn’t hide things from me either. Like when your boyfriend stands you up.”

The playful expression fell from your face, replaced by surprise. You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. “How did you—”

“I just know.” he interrupted, looking away, his jaw tightening as he bit back the frustration that had been building inside him for weeks.

He hated the way you always made excuses for people who didn’t deserve you. He hated even more that you loved the wrong ones. You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing as you gave a small shrug.

“He’s busy, you know he’s on the baseball team.” you said, though your voice was thin, even to your own ears.

Megumi clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to argue, to tell you that being “busy” wasn’t a good enough reason. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t want to ruin this moment, didn’t want to see you upset. So, he said nothing.

Then, you smiled, soft and genuine, the kind that made his heart ache with both joy and longing. “It’s a good thing I have someone like you, though.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment, as if seeking reassurance. “My Megumi.”

"My Megumi." you said softly, the words like a balm that soothed every ache, every frustration he’d been holding onto.

The way you said his name, it reached down to the deepest part of him, pulling at heartstrings that felt knotted and tired. It made him feel more alive than he ever thought possible, like for just a moment, the world could pause and bask in that glow.

It was always like this with you. The way you spoke his name, the way your voice wrapped around it like a melody, made everything else fade away. It was as if the sun itself came out just to light the room when you said Megumi. He knew with a certainty that startled him that he couldn’t live without this, without you.

The air between you was heavy, charged with words unsaid and emotions kept at bay. Megumi felt his fingers twitch again, that familiar pull to reach for you, to close the space that always felt like miles, even when it was only inches.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows knitting in concern as you noticed the silence. “Megumi, are you okay?” 

Your voice was soft, searching, the way it always was when you sensed something under the surface. He forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking? Now that’s dangerous!” you joked, nudging him lightly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. It was an attempt to bring back the lightness, and he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, a sound that surprised even him.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” he replied, his voice low, but there was warmth in it, the kind reserved only for you.

You tilted your head, studying him like he was one of your favorite puzzles to solve. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’m here, right? You don’t have to keep things to yourself.”

The sincerity in your eyes, in the way you said those words, nearly broke him. He swallowed hard, willing the emotions to stay under control. I know, he wanted to say. And that’s why this hurts so much.

“I know.” he said instead, and it was all he could manage. The truth weighed heavy on his tongue, but he bit it back, holding on to this moment instead; the warmth of your presence, the sound of your laughter lingering in the air.

For now, this was enough. He would live in the warmth of your voice calling his name, over and over, in this moment that felt like forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE ALREADY EXPECTED FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. Fushiguro Megumi came as soon as he got your call. How could he not show up? He had to. You needed him. More than ever, especially now. The moment he heard your shaky voice, his heart clenched with worry and anger. He had to get to you. He had to put his anger aside.

But he can't help it. He'd never liked him. That jerk of an ex-boyfriend of yours. And now all he could think is, how dare he break your heart? He was unworthy from the beginning and now he thinks he gets the right to you miserable?

His mind raced, weaving through every memory of seeing you smile, laugh, and light up at the smallest things, now replaced by the image of you in pain. Even that thought makes him even more angrier. He hated it. More than anything, more than you jerk of an ex-boyfriend.

Megumi felt like he was going to lose it. He always loses it when it comes to you. Everything about you was something that he felt like he had to cherish and treasure. And so, he bears everything about you, happiness or joy, as a part of him.

Because he loved you. More than anyone else in the world, he liked to believe. His love wasn’t flashy or loud; it was quiet, deep, and constant, like an unspoken promise woven through the moments you shared. 

And yet, people claimed to love you and then hurt you without a second thought. The unfairness of it all made his love even stronger, more resolute. It was a love that stayed in the silent spaces between words, in the way he noticed when you were tired, or remembered how you took your tea, or lingered on your laugh long after you’d left.

But saying it out loud? That was different. He didn’t think he could do that—not now, when you were hurting. Now, when the shattered pieces of your heart weren’t his to fix, but his to hold steady until you could piece them back together.

The rain came down harder as he found you, sitting alone on the cold, wet bench, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your hair was plastered to your face, water streaming down your cheeks, indistinguishable from your tears. You looked up when he called your name, and the raw anguish in your eyes made his breath hitch.

Everything was soaking through his jacket as he searched the park.  But he could care less. Not when he stood here, watching you continue to sit on the bench under the dim glow of a streetlight, your knees pulled to your chest and your shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The sight made something twist in his chest so fiercely it hurt.

“Hey.” he called softly as he approached, his voice steady but urgent. You didn’t look up, too lost in your world of hurt, raindrops mingling with the tears that fell freely down your cheeks.

“Megumi…….” Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding rain.

He dropped down in front of you without hesitation, his jeans soaking through as he knelt in the puddles. “Hey.” he whispered, reaching out to push a wet strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, deliberate, as if afraid you’d break. 

“Are you alright?” The question was hollow, a placeholder for everything he couldn’t put into words.

A humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and fragile. “No. Not even close.”

Megumi’s jaw clenched. He wanted to say so much—that you deserved better, that he would give you the world if you let him, that he’d never let anyone hurt you if he could help it. But all he could do was cup your face in his hands, fingers warm against your chilled skin. 

“I’m here, okay?” he said, the words weighted with every unsaid promise. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shuddering breath, your eyes filling with fresh tears as you looked at him. His eyes, dark and fierce, were fixed on you with such intensity it made your chest ache in a different way, something softer, more hopeful. For a moment, the world around you blurred, the rain and cold forgotten in the heat of his gaze.

A fresh wave of tears welled up, but this time they weren’t just from pain. They were from the sheer relief of having him here, solid and real, when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He hated seeing you fall apart like this. He hated seeing you in so much grief about things you didn’t even need to grieve. 

“I can’t believe he—” You started, voice cracking, but Megumi cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No, no.” he said firmly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve someone who would never make you feel this way.”

A shiver ran down your spine, part from the cold and part from the warmth in his voice. The rain dripped from his hair, tiny rivulets running down his face, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Slowly, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, clinging tightly as if he was the last piece keeping you together. He pulled you close, the rain forgotten as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Always.”

“Why can’t everyone be like you, Megumi?” you whispered, the question hanging between you, filled with everything he couldn’t say.

He closed his eyes, the weight of his love pressing against his ribcage, aching to be let out. But he simply pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“Maybe someday, I’m certain about it all.” he whispered. “You’ll see that some people are.”

In that moment, as he held you close under the downpour, Megumi vowed that even if he never said it out loud, you would always know it in the way he stayed. And as the storm raged on around you, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IF YOU WERE BEING HONEST, LIFE WAS GOOD NOW. And it was because you had Fushiguro Megumi. Around Megumi, for the first time that night, you felt a little bit safer. His presence anchored you, solid and reassuring, as if the world could rage on around you, but you’d be alright as long as he was there. 

The days that followed that stormy night were different. Your shared moments became longer, and your conversations deepened. You found yourself opening up to him in a way you hadn’t with anyone else, and he listened, offering small, thoughtful words that seemed to echo in your mind long after he said them.

Megumi and you became closer, like pieces of a puzzle finally finding their fit. You leaned on him more, seeking the comfort of his steady, unwavering support. Whether it was the simple act of sharing a quiet study session or walking side by side down the crowded school halls, you started to feel his presence as a constant, a pillar in your life. And with each passing moment, Megumi found himself falling deeper.

It was in the little things—the way your laughter returned, hesitant at first, then full and bright whenever he made a rare, dry joke. You’d throw your head back, eyes crinkled with genuine joy, and he’d pretend to be focused on something else just so he could hide his smile.

“You’re not even funny, you know that?” you teased one afternoon, nudging him with your shoulder as you both walked through the park, the sun filtering through the leaves.

“Oh? I didn’t know you laughed at unfunny things.” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I guess I make exceptions.”

It was also in the way your hand would find him during the quiet moments—when you both sat on the school steps, waiting for the last of the rain to clear, or when you talked late at night under a sky full of stars.

Your touch was unconscious, as if you didn’t realize the effect it had on him, but each time it sent warmth radiating through his chest, melting the layers of doubt he wore like armor.

One evening, as the sky painted itself in hues of pink and orange, you sat together on the small bench in your favorite park. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. You turned to him, your eyes soft and thoughtful. 

“Do you ever wonder why some people come into your life at the exact moment you need them?”

He met your gaze, the question settling between you. His heart thudded, a mix of hope and nerves. “Yeah.” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “I think about it a lot.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a smile that made his pulse quicken. “I’m glad you’re in mine, Megumi.”

The simple statement was enough to send a rush of warmth flooding through him. He looked away, the hint of pink dusting his cheeks, and muttered, “Me too.”

Moments like these made him realize just how deeply he’d fallen for you. Fushiguro Tsumiki had caught on, of course. She knew Megumi best in the world. She’d grin knowingly whenever he brought up your name, and she wasn’t subtle about giving him nudges when you came over. Megumi thinks he would have no peace at home knowing all that.

“You need to tell them, your feelings.” she’d say with a pointed look. “They deserve to know.”

Gojo Satoru, in his typical flamboyant manner, took every opportunity to pester him. “If you don’t say something soon, I swear I’m going to set up a banner. ‘Confess, Megumi!’ at your school. It’ll be perfect. I’ll even use sparkles!” he’d joke, bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Megumi would glare, a mix of irritation and anxiety bubbling inside him. But when he was alone, his mind would wander to the what-ifs. What if he told you, and everything changed? What if the easy moments between you became strained? He couldn’t stand the thought of losing this version of you, where your laughter was shared and your touch was easy.

One evening, when you were leaving after spending the day together, you turned back at the door, eyes bright. “Same time tomorrow?” you asked.

He nodded, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest. “Yeah, same time.”

You beamed at him, that smile—the one that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. And as you walked away, Megumi felt the pull to call out, to say something, anything.

But the fear gripped him, held him back. For now, he’d stay in the safety of what you had, even as his heart whispered that someday soon, he’d need to be brave enough to reach for more.

And more and more, his sister and Gojo were starting to notice how he’s falling for you. Tsumiki noticed the way he watched you when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes softened when you spoke. 

After dinner tonight, she caught him staring at his phone after reading a text from you, a small, knowing smile spread across her face. Megumi wasn’t even sure that he was that obvious. But he was.

Everyone was aware, more than he would have liked. It was his private life and yet, it was his own fault how it seeped in the real world. Yet, it was like that when it came to you. He can’t help it. 

“Megumi.” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “it’s high time you tell them how you feel.”

He looked up, startled. “What? No. It’s not… I mean—” He fumbled, cheeks turning red as he struggled to find an excuse.

Satoru, who had been lounging nearby and catching every word, let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. Megumi knew that Gojo Satoru was going to annoy him about this. Tsumiki is one thing. But that was his elder sister.

He was bound to just let her get into his life. But it was different when it came to their guardian. He was more of an annoying adult to Megumi. And he didn’t like how he touched his life like that. Even if he knew it was care.

“Kid, if you don’t confess, I’m going to make a banner and announce it to the entire school I teach at, when you visit.” he teased, eyes gleaming mischievously. “It’s so painfully obvious. Even the kids at the school picked up on that fact! Do you know how obvious you have to be that kid Todo picked up on?”

Megumi glared at him, but his usual annoyance didn’t stick. Instead, a flicker of anxiety gnawed at him, deep and stubborn. He knew Tsumiki and Gojo were right. He’d heard the whispers of his own heart long enough; he knew he was in love with you. But the idea of confessing it out loud? Of risking everything he already had with you? It paralyzed him.

“What if… what if it ruins things?” he muttered, looking down at his hands. The idea of you looking at him differently, of you stepping back, distancing yourself—it was unbearable. “What if they don’t feel the same? I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

Tsumiki’s smile softened, and she walked over, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Megumi, you’ll never know unless you try. And if they care about you even half as much as I think they do, nothing will change.”

Satoru chimed in with a rare moment of seriousness. “Megumi, you’re braver than you give yourself credit for. You’ve faced the worst of the world already with Tsumiki. But this? This is one small leap compared to that.”

The words made sense, but fear wrapped around his chest like a vise. Every time he opened his mouth to tell you, doubt clawed its way in. He could picture the worst: your kind eyes turning sad, the warmth between you cooling into awkward silence.

But as days passed and your laughter echoed in his ears, each missed opportunity stung. Every time you looked at him with that bright smile, it chipped away at his fear, replacing it with a longing stronger than any curse he’d faced. And Megumi knew, deep down, that he couldn’t put it off forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS A RARE DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL. So, it was easy for you to come and call Megumi to hang out. Megumi was someone who had a hard time going with the flow of things. He liked order in his life. But when he is with you, everything is unpredictable.

Everything was a surprise. And so he enjoyed it. He enjoyed letting you wreck his life into things he couldn’t predict. Chaos is livable when he was next to you. And perhaps, you knew that more than he did.  

And today’s request was to go to a skate park. You didn’t know how to skate, nor do you have the balance that allowed you to do so. But you saw an ad for it and you thought that trying was something that would be enjoyable for the two of you. So, Megumi sighed. But he nodded and immediately walked as you practically hopped to the booth where they rented out their skates.

The skate park was buzzing with life when you and Megumi arrived, the warm glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over everything. Laughter and the sound of wheels on concrete filled the air as you glanced nervously at the smooth expanse of the park. Megumi noticed your hesitation and smirked, handing you a helmet.

“Don’t worry, okay?” he said, voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll be here the whole time. Just hold on if you need to.”

You nodded, cheeks warming at the idea. The two of you stepped onto the rink, and you immediately reached out, grabbing his arm for balance. He tensed slightly at the contact but relaxed when he saw the nervous smile on your face.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt.

“Ready.” you replied, even though your heart was thumping wildly in your chest.

The first few minutes were shaky. You wobbled and stumbled, and every time you did, Megumi’s arm was there, strong and steady. His hand eventually found its way to yours, fingers intertwining as he guided you along, step by careful step.

The warmth of his touch sent a pleasant jolt up your spine, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, noticing how focused he looked, his hair slightly messy from the helmet. You could feel yourself looking at him for a while and then becoming flustered when he looks back at you.

“You’re doing great.” he said, a rare smile appearing as you both glided a little more smoothly across the rink.

“Thanks to you!” you laughed breathlessly, holding on tightly when you hit a slight dip.

He steadied you immediately, the closeness making your heart stutter. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, dark and intense under the rink’s twinkling lights, and you felt a rush of something that made your stomach flutter.

As the sky darkened into twilight, the skate park began to empty, and an announcement boomed over the loudspeakers. “The park will be closing in fifteen minutes.”

You sighed, a little disappointed that the night was coming to an end. “I guess that’s it for tonight, huh?” you said, a wistful note in your voice.

Megumi nodded and helped you off the rink, his hand lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary. You sat on a nearby bench, taking off your helmets and catching your breath. The sounds around you faded as you felt the cool evening air settle around you both.

“You know…..” Megumi started, his tone unusually hesitant. He looked at you, eyes searching yours as if gathering the courage to speak. “I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, teaching you how to skate. But I’m glad we did it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking in your gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

He exhaled, a subtle tremor in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because… being this close to you makes it hard to keep things to myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your brows knit together slightly. “Megumi?”

He looked away, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I think—I know that I’m in love with you.”

The confession hung in the air, suspended between you as the world seemed to stand still. He winced, realizing what he’d just said, and moved to apologize, but your soft gasp interrupted him.

“You… you’re in love with me?” you repeated, eyes wide and cheeks turning rosy.

His breath caught, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want things to change if you don’t feel the same. But I couldn’t keep pretending that I don’t—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his, your eyes glistening. “I do. I feel the same way, Megumi.” you whispered, a smile breaking through as his eyes widened.

The tension melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and warmth. He let out a breathy chuckle, the sound rare and real. “You do?” he asked, almost as if needing to hear it again.

You nodded, your fingers finding him and squeezing them tightly. “Yes, I do.”

The skate park around you was closing, but neither of you noticed. For now, the world shrank to just the two of you, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights and the lingering thrill of confessions finally shared.

Megumi's surprise softened into a smile, rare and full of something warm and unguarded. He still held your hands, fingers intertwined as if anchoring himself to this moment, the world around you blurring into a comforting haze.

The distant sounds of closing gates and murmurs of the last stragglers leaving the park faded away, leaving only the two of you under the soft, golden streetlights. Yet that all faded to the background. All you could do was focus on the warmth in Megumi's beautiful blue-green orbs. All you could think about was how the world felt brighter when he was by your side.

“Say it again, please.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if part of him still couldn’t believe it.

You laughed, the sound light and full of joy as you leaned in a little closer. “I love you, Megumi. For a while now. I love you then and now.” you said, your eyes searching his face to catch every flicker of emotion. 

The way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes softened as if he could melt under those words. Everything about it had made your heart flutter even more. You like to think he was just good at that. He swallowed, unable to suppress the smile that stretched across his face. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere.

“Probably about as long as I’ve wanted to say it.” you teased, nudging him playfully. He chuckled, the sound deep and unfamiliar even to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how it made him look so much more at ease. “I’m sorry if I took a long while.”

The cool breeze picked up, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees, and you shivered involuntarily. Without thinking, Megumi slipped out of his jacket and draped it around your shoulders, his hands lingering at the collar to pull it snug. The fabric smelled like him; fresh and warm, with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place but that was uniquely Megumi.

“Thank you.” you said, your voice soft. Your eyes met his, and the look you exchanged was filled with so many unsaid words, promises and relief, all bundled together in a way that made your chest ache in the best way.

He glanced down, a subtle blush creeping up his neck. “We should probably get going before they lock us in.” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

You nodded, but neither of you made a move to stand just yet. You both sat in that quiet moment for a little longer, soaking in the newness of what had just unfolded. Finally, Megumi stood up and offered you his hand, a small smile playing at his lips as he pulled you to your feet.

“Let’s get you home.” he said, the weight of the evening settling comfortably between you as you walked away from the now-closed skate park, your hands still intertwined.

As you strolled through the quiet streets, the gentle hum of the city wrapping around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. There was a contentment in his expression, a relaxed curve to his mouth that spoke of unguarded happiness.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

He glanced at you, eyes soft under the glow of the streetlights. “How I’m going to make sure I never keep something like that from you again.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you smiled, leaning against him as you walked. “Good.” you said. “Because I plan on telling you every day.”

And as the two of you continued on into the night, the air between you felt different—not just safe, but full of new possibilities, laughter, and love that was finally yours to share.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

EVERYTHING HAPPENS AND CHANGES ALL THE TIME. You and Megumi were the happiest you’d ever been for a long time. Moving into the city had felt like an unspoken promise, a step forward toward a shared future.

A bright beautiful future that had once been only whispers in the quiet of your conversations. Together, you carved out a life in the heart of the bustling city, with its endless hum of activity and its ever-changing face. 

You found an apartment that felt like it belonged to both of you. The floors creaked underfoot, their sound a reminder of the stories they held, the small, quiet moments of shared joy and unspoken understanding.

Big windows let the sunlight pour in during the mornings, catching the dust in beams of gold as you sat side by side with your coffee. The place was imperfect, but in that imperfection, it was beautiful, just like your life together.

Your days were spent in a rhythm that had once been in sync, the sounds of laughter and comfortable silence filling the air. You’d talk about everything and nothing at all. Sometimes, it was about the art you were working on, the colors you’d used, or the gallery you were preparing for. 

Other times, it was about his latest case, his eyes alight with the thrill of a challenge. You would stay up late, your feet tangled together under the blanket as you exchanged stories of the day, dreams for the future, and the occasional silly moment of laughter.

But, as the years passed, everything started to shift, imperceptible at first, like the gradual turning of the pages in a book you thought you knew so well. The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now became the thing that kept you apart. 

The rhythm of your lives grew more erratic. Megumi, with his sharp mind and steady resolve, excelled in the high-stakes world of law. His career took off with rather good ease, and he quickly found himself buried in cases, depositions, meetings, and late-night strategizing. He became the star of the law firm he worked for. Everything was great for him. 

You could see it in the crease of his brow, the way he stayed up into the early hours of the morning to prepare for court, his suit always a little wrinkled, his tie always a little loose, but his focus razor-sharp.

His world was all deadlines, high-profile clients, and courtroom battles that never seemed to stop. He thrived in it; he was good at it, brilliant even—but it took him away from you, slowly but surely.

You, too, threw yourself into your work, determined to build something of your own, to carve out your place in a world that sometimes felt like it was moving too fast for you. Your art became your refuge, the studio your sanctuary.

The city, with its mix of people, cultures, and experiences, was your muse. You found inspiration in the chaos and the beauty that wove through every street, every corner, every passerby. 

But the more you painted, the more you found yourself lost in the solitude of it all. Late nights in galleries preparing for shows or days in the studio felt like your only real connection to the world.

Your mind was constantly racing with ideas, concepts, colors that needed to be captured before they slipped away. Your hands, once so used to holding his, now spent more time wrapped around a paintbrush than around his.

And so, the distance between you grew. The gap that once felt small, just a quiet space between moments, now felt insurmountable. You would come home to an empty apartment, the silence of it pressing in on you. Megumi would still be at the office, still lost in the whirlwind of his cases, his phone buzzing with messages that had to be answered immediately. 

You’d sit at the table, dinner half-eaten, waiting for him to walk through the door, but he rarely came home before midnight. When he did, he’d be tired, exhausted, really and you’d try your best to carry the conversation, but the words never came as easily as they once had. 

He’d ask about your day, but his eyes would already be half-closed, his attention already elsewhere. You’d tell him about the gallery event or the new piece you were working on, but his responses would be short, distracted. Everything else besides his work became second. Everything else started to fade away into the background. Even you.

The moments that once felt so natural disappeared into the fog. You had always, the both of you, understood each other without speaking. But soon enough, everything began to feel strained, stretched thin under the weight of your respective worlds. You’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing beside you, as he focused on reading case files on bed. Every night was like this. 

It felt like he was a million miles away. You couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t feel him. It was like he wasn’t there. And that broke your heart over and over. Because all you wanted was him. Yet you couldn’t even have that. You couldn’t even have a moment. You couldn’t win. Not against fate itself.

There was no more laughter, no more stolen moments of joy in the middle of a busy day. It was as if the world around you was moving faster than you could keep up with, and you and Megumi were just trying to hold on to what little of each other remained.

The city, which had once been your shared adventure, now felt like a vast, indifferent landscape, a place where the two of you had become lost. And no matter how hard you tried to cling to the life you’d built, the distance between you was undeniable. It became this seesaw game. Both of you are waiting for someone to step out of it. 

The silence grew, and the cracks started to form. Megumi, buried in his work, became more distant, his tired eyes unable to meet yours for longer than a few moments.

And you lost in the world of your art, your mind constantly in motion could just feel like it began to feel as though you couldn’t do anything but chase. You were chasing something that would always stay just out of reach. You were chasing a ghost. 

In the stillness of those long, lonely nights, you began to wonder how it all had slipped away so quietly. You had promised each other that nothing would come between you that no matter how much life changed, you’d always have each other. But promises, like time, sometimes slip through your fingers, and before you knew it, you were both holding on to something that wasn’t there anymore.

And it hurt more than anything you’d ever known.

The times when your paths crossed grew fewer, and each time they did, it felt more like a fleeting moment you couldn’t quite hold on to. Mornings that once held the warmth of shared cups of coffee and quiet conversation were now replaced with hurried mornings. 

That quick abrupt hum of the alarm clock pulling you out of bed faster than you could stretch. You’d barely exchange more than a quick kiss goodbye as you rushed out the door, his briefcase already in hand, your mind already occupied with the tasks of the day ahead.

The breakfasts that had once been filled with laughter, with soft smiles and small talk about what lay ahead, had transformed into something mechanical. You’d grab your coffee, he’d grab his briefcase, and you’d both be off, each of you retreating into your own world before the day even began.

Evenings weren’t much better. The quiet, intimate moments you’d shared over dinner, the kind that had made your world feel so right, had all but disappeared. Now, there were nights when you would come home to find him already asleep on the couch, his suit still on, papers scattered around him like a battlefield. 

His face was soft with exhaustion, the tension in his body unmistakable even in sleep. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled, but still, he’d sleep through it all, the weight of the day too heavy for him to shed. And he wouldn’t notice that look in your eyes. That sadness you couldn’t help but carry for this doomed relationship.

You’d watch him for a moment, your heart aching at the sight, but then you’d quietly tiptoe past him, too tired yourself to wake him. The faint sound of his breathing was the only noise in the apartment, and you’d retreat into your own solitude, thinking maybe tomorrow would be different.

Sometimes, you’d come home after a late gallery event, the city lights outside your window blurred in the reflection of the glass. You’d see the faint glow from his office, a soft halo of light against the shadows.

He wouldn’t even notice how your presence creaked the wooden doors open. He wouldn’t even budge at the sound of your keys clanking. Or your familiar footsteps merging with the mahogany ground. He wouldn’t notice a damn thing.

But you would notice everything about him. Fushiguro Megumi would still be sitting there, case files spread out on the desk, his eyes glazed from hours of staring at legal jargon that never seemed to make sense. You’d try to keep the frustration at bay, try to remind yourself that this was just temporary, that everything would settle soon. 

But every time you’d reach out your hand and you would ask.

“Do you want to take a break? Maybe we can grab dinner?” 

Sometimes you wish you didn't ask. 

Because his response would be the same.

“I can’t tonight. Too much work.”

And you’d nod, the words dying in your throat, as you retreated again, feeling the ache in your chest grow with every passing day. The apartment, once a place of warmth and shared moments, now felt cold and empty, no matter how many art pieces you filled it with. It was just you, and him, but you were worlds apart.

And then the fights started.

They were small at first—an offhand comment here, a sigh there, barely even loud enough to be called a fight. But they were enough. The tension built in the small spaces between words, in the way you’d avoid eye contact when you both spoke. You’d complain about him missing dinner again, how you’d waited hours for him to come home, only for him to slip quietly into bed without saying a word.

“I can’t be in two places at once, you know that.” he’d reply, his voice tight, a trace of guilt mixed with irritation in his words. “You knew what I was getting into when I started this job.”

And you knew, deep down, you had known. But that didn’t make it any easier. The dinners you’d missed together, the quiet evenings you spent alone, your frustrations, your loneliness. It all built up until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. You tried to be patient. But you know that patience always has an expiration date. And yours had started to tick, like a bomb just waiting for the right time waiting to explode.

Everything felt useless now. Everything was one blow away from cracking down. The things you used to say to each other, the things that had made you feel so close, now felt hollow and distant. The love that had once been so certain now felt strained, fragile, as though it might crumble at any moment.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week for both of you, you came home from a late gallery event to find Megumi at the dining table, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than usual.

He had papers scattered everywhere, the remnants of his latest case still strewn across the table like debris from a battle he couldn’t quite win. He didn’t even look up when you entered, his focus entirely on the papers in front of him.

“Another late night?” he asked, not even looking up from the papers in front of him.

“Yeah.” you said shortly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “Like every other night.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We never see each other anymore.”

“Whose fault is that?” you shot back before you could stop yourself. The room felt colder immediately, your own words stinging in the silence that followed.

“You know this is important, both our careers are.” he said, voice strained, but his tone didn’t soothe the growing ache in your chest.

“And what about us, Megumi? When did we stop being important?”

He looked up at you, eyes tired but holding that glimmer of hurt. “We are. We’re just… trying to keep up.”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re keeping up.” you whispered, eyes starting to sting with tears. “It feels like we’re falling apart.”

The silence that settled was heavy, pressing down on both of you. He stood up, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. “What do you want me to do? Stop working? This is what I have to do. You know that.”

“And this is what I have to do.” you said, gesturing to your art supplies strewn around the room. “But we’re not making it work, Megumi. We’re barely making it through the day without fighting.”

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of the old Megumi shining through. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by the weight of reality.

There was panic in the way he looked at you. You felt a bile form at your throat. You knew what it looked like. He was realizing it. He saw that sadness in your eyes. The sadness that he had hated so much on you, he had caused it on you. 

“I don’t know how to fix this. I….” he said, his voice low and raw. “Babe, I’m so sorry—”

You took a shaky breath, the words you’d been avoiding suddenly tumbling out. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t try to fix it anymore. I’m tired of all this, Megumi. I am….I am genuinely exhausted from trying to make it work.”

“Babe, listen we can talk this out and we can make it work. I know we can. We—”

“Maybe we should break up.”

The room went still, the echo of your words ringing louder than anything else. His blue–gren eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and hurt coloring his features. Those words were the hardest you could ever say.

But perhaps it was the right words to say. Because he looked at you for the first time ever and finally, he saw you. He finally sees you, after such a long nightmare. 

“You don’t mean that. You—” he said, almost pleadingly, stepping closer.

“I do.” you said, voice breaking. “I can’t take this anymore, Megumi. We’re just making each other miserable, and it’s not fair to either of us.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in a long while, he looked defeated. He reached out, almost as if he wanted to pull you back into a time when things were easier, when love was all you needed to bridge any gap.

But he stopped himself, letting his hand fall to his side. A sad small smile dances on your lips, biting them soon after. You could feel the tears fall from your weary eyes.

You were tired of fighting for something he couldn’t. You were tired of doing it by yourself. And he knew that. He knew that all too well. There were no other ways for him to stop you from leaving him, from leaving all this pain behind. Pain he had caused you over and over again. Pain that would scar you for as long as you lived.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he said softly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

You looked away, fighting the sob that threatened to break free. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we’re already losing each other.”

The words were so raw, so full of meaning, that it made your heart ache. But you could feel the wall between you two now, the one that you’d both been building without realizing it. You both don’t know your place in this relationship. You have outgrown it and it wasn’t even both your faults. It just….is life.

“I don’t want to lose you either, you know that.” you said, your voice shaking. “But I don’t know how to fix this, Megumi. I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to come home when you’re already gone.”

The silence that fell over the two of you was deafening. The room felt colder, the space between you growing with every word that went unsaid. You stared at each other, both lost in the same silence, both unsure of where to go from here. The city outside continued to hum, oblivious to the cracks that were starting to form in the life you’d once built so carefully together.

The silence this time, it felt final. And as you both stood there, the city’s lights flickering through the window, you realized that sometimes love isn’t enough to fight against the things that pull you apart.

There were city lights, lights brighter than anything else. It was like the universe was here, and the stars beamed towards you both, like lovers. And yet, you were everything but in that moment. You were two people who finally saw the seesaw needs to fall down.

“I’ll pack my things.” You say to him, smiling ever sadder than before. “I’ll stay with a friend tonight. And…I’ll come back for my things.”

He doesn’t say another word. But you can tell. He was close to crying. Yet he gives you one singular nod as you slowly walk towards him and place your hand on his cheek. As though it was the last time you would ever touch him.

He looks up from his gaze on the ground, trying to memorize this image of you. You can tell there was desperation. What if he doesn’t see you again? What does he do?

“I loved you so much.” You said, the past tense making him flinch slightly. It was the hardest word to even pronounce. It  felt harder to say five words than the usual three. “I still do. But…I have to go. For our sake.”

“Don’t….” He whispers weakly. “Don’t tell me this, not after we just….”

“Goodbye, Megumi.” You tell him, with finality. A smile blunt on your face, trying to make this memory redeemable. “I hope you live a long and happy life.”

When you walked out, the city lights looked at you and blinked.

And yet, Fushiguro Megumi felt like he didn’t know what to do.

But he doesn’t stop you as you walk away, taking warmth away.

He lets you go, because loving you meant living without you too.

That was the risk of loving someone, that was the risk of living in love.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A LOT CAN HAPPEN WHEN YOU BLINK. And that’s what happened. He didn’t expect it to happen, change will always have permanence. As much as time. Both are uncontrollable forces of nature. And he hated it.

It’s been five years now since you and Megumi had last stood on solid ground together, since the life you built had slowly crumbled under the weight of work, time, and distance. 

The memory of your arguments, your silences, still lingered in the back of his mind like a distant ache, a reminder of what once was and what was no longer. But time had done little to heal that wound.

In fact, Fushiguro Megumi had become even more entrenched in his work, burying himself in his career as a lawyer, trying to forget that, in the end, he had lost the one person who meant the most to him.

Now, sitting in a sterile hospital room, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose, he felt like he was living in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. His eyes were locked onto the doctor in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere, still processing what had just been said. The words hung in the air, thick with finality.

“Mr. Fushiguro, the test results confirm that you’ve inherited a hereditary condition from your father. It’s genetic and unfortunately, there's no cure.”

The doctor’s voice was calm, clinical, as though she were explaining a minor inconvenience, as though it was him talking to the jury at court. But Fushiguro Megumi heard nothing but the echo of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

He could barely process the words, the shock still settling in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He’d always heard whispers about his father, that old man. Megumi didn’t care when he left. He still had Tsumiki. And then he had Gojo and then….. 

Megumi stops himself. He frowns deeper. He was not having the best of luck in lif. He likes to think he never has. Now, he is haunted and suffers more about this man who left them. He has to come back in the form of this stupid illness.

This stupid illness that would now be killing him slowly and fully. He wants to laugh out loud. Because, this was something else entirely. How cruel fate can be. How much of a comedy it is, how much of a stupid thing it is.

He leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. The room seemed to tilt around him, the walls closing in, suffocating him. A laugh threatened to slip from his lips, but it did.

Everything about it wasn’t one of humor. It was jagged and bitter, a laugh born of frustration, anger, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal that had simmered in his chest for years.

His blue–green gaze didn’t leave the doctor, but his eyes darkened towards the doctor. The doctor seemed to be unfazed by his reaction. Megumi felt like he was the same as the doctor when he was at court sometimes. Those cases don’t faze him. 

He had seen it all. And everyone had gotten mad at him at times too. And yet there was only disbelief now. He was on the other side of the aisle now. There was only surprise and then anguish and then bitterness. All of that didn’t taste good in his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight, doctor.” he began, his voice tight, almost controlled, but with an edge of fury beneath it. “My father, the man who abandoned me and Tsumiki after Mom died, is now showing up in my life, and now I’m supposed to care that I’ve inherited something from him? Something that’s going to kill me?”

The doctor faltered for a second, clearly caught off guard by the venom in his voice, but she remained professional. “It’s not quite like that, Mr. Fushiguro. Your father may not have been around, but—”

“No.” he cut her off, his fist clenching in his lap. “Don’t give me that. Don’t try to justify him. You think I care about a condition that’s been passed down through the blood of someone who doesn’t even care enough to be there when I need him?” 

“Mr. Fushiguro, please—”

His laugh returned, sharp and hollow, a bitter sound that didn’t belong in a place like this. “I never even wanted to know him. I was better off without him. And now that old man comes back. Oh god, what a fucking mess! What a comedy!”

His mind raced, the thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance of anger and disbelief. His father had left him and Tsumiki in the wake of their mother’s death, promising them nothing but silence. And he was bears with it. He always did. He always knew how to get on with life. That’s how he came to be where he is now. 

But he can’t help it. How could he? All that misery he had buried as a child comes back once more. He had thought it would never come back to the earth again. Everything about it was just as good as dead to him.

And yet, fate laughs at him. He laughs at how easy it is to push Megumi’s buttons. And he knew Megumi would react. Fate loved games and he would continue on and on, until he was satisfied. 

“You said it’s genetic, right?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little more brittle, the edge of his anger still cutting through the words. “How long do I have?”

The doctor looked at him with sympathy, but Megumi didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t want the pity in her eyes. He didn’t want any of this.

“It depends on the progression of the disease.” she answered carefully, giving him the facts. “It could take years. Maybe even months. We do not know. But knowing some cases I’ve seen, It could be faster. We can try treatments, but we can’t reverse the damage already done.”

Megumi closed his blue–green eyes for a moment, his chest tightening. The realization hit him with full force: his life, the one he had built, the work, the efforts to stay busy, to keep going. None of it had prepared him for this. 

None of it had prepared him for the idea that he might not have much time left. How is he going to tell Tsumiki or Gojo? How could he prepare them for this? And to make matters worse, it was a legacy that had come from the very man who had never been there for him in the first place.

His laugh died in his throat, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake.

“Tell me this is some kind of mistake.” he muttered under his breath, as though saying the words would somehow make them untrue.

The doctor’s eyes softened, but she shook her head, handing him a folder with the test results. “I’m afraid it’s not.”

The weight of it all pressed down on him, his mind spinning. He stood abruptly, shoving the folder into his bag without a second glance, his hands trembling slightly. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of this sterile room before it suffocated him any further.

As he walked out of the hospital, the cool air of the evening hit him, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t help but wonder about it. What was the point of this? What was the point of surviving a life without a father only to be cursed with his legacy, a legacy that had already been stained with abandonment? What did it all mean?

He didn’t have the answers. But one thing was clear. He would never be able to look at his father the same way again. And now, he’d have to face the consequences of that. Whether he liked it or not. One way or another, it was just how it works. Fushiguro Megumi has to see that life goes on. It always has. Even in the face of death.

Yet for a moment, even if he has resigned himself to fate, he stops. 

He stops for a moment and thinks to himself and that warmth returns.

He wishes that  for what remains of life — he wished you were there with him.

Fushiguro Megumi wishes that he could see your smile and live in it again.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE FOUND HIMSELF DISASSOCIATING FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES. But after news like that, who wouldn’t find themselves despondent. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the hospital lobby. He’d left the doctor’s office a while ago, but his feet felt frozen to the ground, the weight of everything pressing down on him. 

His thoughts felt scrambled, and all he wanted was to get out of there, away from the sterile white walls, away from the suffocating reality of the diagnosis. The last thing he expected was to run into someone, you—after all this time.

But there you were, standing at the hospital’s entrance, your hair a little longer, your eyes just as bright, the warmth of your smile still able to stop his heart dead in its tracks. He hadn’t expected it. Not in such a place. And yet here you were. He hadn’t expected to see you here, of all places. After all, you took care of yourself well. But there you were, as beautiful and alive as ever.

At first, Megumi wasn’t sure what to do. Should he approach you? Should he pretend everything was fine? There was so much that had passed between you, so many years, so much silence.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for him to fix things. But before he could make any decision, you were already walking toward him, your gaze locking onto his like it always had when you were younger.

“Megumi.” you said softly, almost hesitantly, as though you weren’t sure how to say his name anymore.

You were still the same, and yet, you weren’t. Your voice was familiar, but the years between you had made things feel… off, awkward in a way that he hadn’t expected.

“Hey.” he said, his voice almost gruff, unsure of how to speak to you after so long.

He took a step back, unsure whether to smile, to say something casual. It was almost like he didn’t know who he was around you anymore. The man who used to be able to talk to you about anything had disappeared somewhere along the way.

You smiled, though, and for a brief moment, Megumi felt like he could breathe again. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you're here for a checkup too. You look fine to me.” you teased, and there was that playful spark in your eyes that he had missed.

Megumi shifted, looking around, as though searching for an answer that didn’t exist. The truth was, he didn’t want to tell you why he was here. Not yet. Not when he had no idea how to explain the mess his life had become.

“I’m just here… taking care of some stuff.” he muttered, the lie slipping out before he could stop it. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension build again. “You know, business stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing your face, but instead of pressing him further, you just shrugged. “Well, I’m not here for anything too serious. Just visiting a friend.”

"Oh, I see."

Your gaze softened as you spoke, the smile on your face softening the more you looked at him. "I didn’t expect to see you here. Not after all this time."

Megumi nodded, biting his lip. No kidding, he thought to himself. The years had passed, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like this. He hadn’t expected to feel so... unsure. He wasn’t used to this distance between you two. Not like this.

“Well....” you said, after a pause. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Do you want to grab dinner or something? I don’t know about you, but I could really use some decent food after dealing with all this hospital nonsense.”

At first, Megumi hesitated, unsure if he should take the invitation. But something about the ease in your voice, the casual familiarity of it, made him relent. “Sure. I guess I could go for something... edible.” he said, trying to joke, but it came out more stiff than he wanted.

You laughed, the sound of it bringing back memories of the good old days when life was simpler and he didn’t have to carry the weight of unspoken words between you. You waved him off, but there was something in your eyes, something gentle and patient, like you weren’t rushing him to explain himself.

The two of you walked out of the hospital together, falling into step like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was awkward at first, the silence between you hanging heavy, but as you got settled at the restaurant, everything started to fall back into place.

You ordered something light, and Megumi, on autopilot, ordered something simple—a dish he could eat quickly. The waiter left, and for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, not quite knowing how to bridge the gap that had been there for years.

“So…..” you began, after a while, trying not to be awkward. “Why were you at the hospital? Don’t tell me you have a broken bone or something.”

Megumi’s eyes flickered over to you, and he was about to brush it off, to avoid answering; like he always did when it came to anything about his past, about his father.  He hoped you weren’t noticing it. He hoped that you weren’t able to see through him again.

But before he could think of a way out, he realized something: you weren’t just anyone. You were you—the person who knew him better than anyone. The person he had lost, the person who had been there for him when everything else fell apart. You had and always will know more about him than anyone else. Even if he doesn’t say anything.

He exhaled slowly, and then, without thinking, he shrugged and said, “I guess you could say I’m getting some bad news.”

You furrowed your brow in concern, and before you could ask, he let out a dry laugh, something hollow that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious.”

You shook your head, already knowing where this was headed. “Megumi, your jokes are still as bad as they were when we were kids.” You leaned back in your seat with a fond smile, your eyes soft. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled under his breath, feeling some of the weight lift off his chest. The familiar rhythm of teasing, of falling back into old patterns, felt surprisingly good. His heart, which had felt heavy and weighed down for so long, was starting to feel lighter with each passing moment.

“You should’ve known,” Megumi muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m the best at bad jokes.”

You laughed again, the sound like music to his ears. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Fushiguro.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to fix what had been broken. Maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the person who used to be everything to him.

But for now, he would take the little moments like this—the laughter, the shared memories, and the warmth of simply being in your presence again. Everything felt like the sun had shone on earth again. Everything felt right like this.

And, for once, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Fushiguro Megumi sat back in his chair, watching you as you laughed, as you teased him, and it felt like the whole world faded away for a few moments. For the first time in months, his chest didn’t feel so tight, his mind didn’t feel so heavy.

The hospital, the test results, the news about his father; they all felt like distant memories, like something that could be put on the shelf and forgotten for a while. Because in this moment, right now, the only thing that mattered was you.

He liked this. He liked the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the way you still knew how to make him laugh even when everything inside him ached. There was a calmness, a sense of peace, in being around you that he hadn’t felt in years. 

The world around him had become chaotic, unpredictable, but here at this small, unassuming restaurant, sharing a quiet dinner with you. Everything about it, it made him feel… warm inside. It felt like coming home, after a long time away from it.

As the conversation flowed easily between you two, Megumi found himself watching the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way you were still you. It was like nothing had changed, like time hadn’t passed at all. Except it had. 

Five years had come and gone, and he had spent most of them buried in work, in his own personal mess of anger and hurt, while you had lived your own life. But now, seeing you here, smiling at him like this, it was like he had been given something precious he hadn’t realized he’d lost: you.

And then it hit him. That sharp pang of realization.

He was dying.

In a few months, his life, everything he had worked for, everything he had wanted, would be over. And the one thing he had always wanted, the one thing that had never wavered was sitting right across from him, smiling at him like he was everything.

You, the person he had spent his whole life running from, running toward, the person who had always been there.

And now, here you were again.

His heart skipped a beat as he processed it all.  It was all coming at him fast, like a car speeding fast towards him. He doesn’t know what to do, how to do it. Everything overwhelmed him. But then again, he thinks he’s always felt like this when it came to you. He can’t deny that whatsoever. 

Everything made him feel like a boy again. All these feelings he can’t describe makes him so overwhelmed with what life means. How much he had missed you, how much he still needed you in his life, they all started to make him wonder about it all. 

The joke, the casual teasing, the familiar warmth between you two—it was what he wanted. It was what he had always wanted. He had never allowed himself to admit it fully, not back then, not when you were both young and carefree. But now, with the weight of his diagnosis hanging over him like a dark cloud, he couldn’t deny it any longer.

It wasn’t just that he wanted to be around you. No, it was more than that. He needed to be around you, to feel your presence, your warmth, your love. The idea that he might never get to hold you close again after all this time made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t put into words.

You caught his gaze, your smile faltering just for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?” you asked, the concern in your voice immediate and genuine. “You’ve been quiet all of a sudden.”

Megumi blinked, realizing he had zoned out. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, then set it down, eyes watching him carefully. “I get that a lot lately,” you said, half-joking, half-serious. “I tend to get lost in my head too.”

He chuckled softly, trying to push away the heaviness that was creeping back into his thoughts. But it was hard. It was hard when every little thing in this moment reminded him of what he was going to lose.

He didn’t know how much time he had left. And that thought scared him more than anything. But what scared him even more was the idea of never telling you how he truly felt, never having the chance to fully be with you.

“So, what about you?” Megumi asked, his voice quieter than before. “How’s life been? Really, how are you?”

You blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the change in tone. “You know, same as usual. Gallery events, late nights at the studio… You know, the usual chaos,” you said with a small smile. But then, you tilted your head. “And you? You’ve been working so much, Megumi. You’ve been pushing yourself.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have,” he admitted. “It’s just… it’s easier, you know? To bury myself in work rather than deal with what’s going on in my head.”

There it was. The truth, just slipping out. His chest tightened again, the weight of everything catching up to him. You watched him with soft eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited, patiently, for him to continue.

“I think…” He hesitated, unsure of how to say it, unsure if he even had the right to say it now. But his heart was screaming at him to be honest, to be real with you. “I think I’ve been afraid for a long time. Afraid of how I feel about you. I never said it before… but I think I’ve always loved you, even when I couldn’t show it.”

Your eyes softened, your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. Megumi could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the silence stretched on.

“I’ve always loved you, you know?” he repeated, the words stronger this time. “And… I know it’s late. I know it’s probably too late, but I want you to know. I want you to know that I needed you. That I want to spend whatever time I have left with you. Whatever time I can get.”

His voice faltered as the confession hung in the air, and the weight of it felt almost unbearable. But then, slowly, you reached across the table, your hand gently landing on his.

“I never stopped loving you either, Megumi. I hope you know that.” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

The words hit him like a wave, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could breathe again. Like everything wasn’t falling apart. Maybe, just maybe, the time that was slipping away didn’t matter as long as he could be with you in these final months, these final moments. He looked at you, the warmth of your hand in his, and a fragile smile tugged at his lips.

“Then let’s make the most of it.” he whispered. “Even if we start out again and be friends first. I’d love to make the most of it.”

You smiled at him warmly in response. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t have the time he wanted. But in that moment, as you sat across from him, the love of his life, he felt at peace.

And perhaps, maybe, just maybe – that was enough.

Maybe, this was all he needed in life.

His life was going to be defined by loving you.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

BEING SENTIMENTAL, IT WASN’T WHAT HE WAS GOOD AT. He knew too well what this will be in the end. He knew that it was going to hurt you both, that it was going to hurt him most. It wasn’t the best idea, you knew that.

Letting Fushiguro Megumi back into your life after everything that had happened, after all the years apart—it wasn’t exactly the most rational choice. You’d spent so long building your own life, carving out your space in the world, and now, just as you’d begun to find your rhythm again, life threw you a curveball you never saw coming.

The diagnosis.

Dementia. A rare form. And to make matters worse, it was hitting you far too early before you’d even reached thirty-five. The doctors had explained it all in somber tones, but the truth was, none of it really sunk in at first.

It was a shock, a blow you weren’t sure how to handle. The thought that, in just a few years, you might forget everything, the art you created, the people you loved, the moments that had shaped your life, was downright terrifying.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone screen with Megumi’s name blinking back at you. He’d reached out. You hadn’t heard from him in so long. The last time you saw him, things were… complicated. So many years spent apart, so many unspoken words, and yet, when you saw his name, your heart skipped a beat.

You thought it might have been fate. Or maybe just a desperate wish. The idea that you had a shot at all was one in a million. In this small window of time, before it all slipped away— to make some memories. To live whatever life you could, before the inevitable began to take hold. You wondered how that could be.

So you called him back. And when he answered, the voice on the other end was familiar and steady, just like you remembered.

“You really want to see me?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. “It’s been a while.”

You smiled softly, your fingers curling around the phone. “I do. I want to see you, Megumi. I need to. I—” You paused, unsure how to explain it. How could you? “I just want to make some memories.”

There was a long silence before he spoke again, and when he did, his tone was gentler. “Okay. Let’s make some memories then. How about we go to the aquarium? I know it’s random, but… I thought it might be fun.”

You felt a small laugh escape your lips at the thought of it. Megumi…Your Megumi. He was always so serious, always so reserved, ever so practical — but somehow, a trip to the aquarium seemed like just the thing you needed.

He was keeping you afloat, keeping you alive, wanting to do things. Wanting to make life interesting, even with that orderly fashion of his. It makes you warm inside. It always has. It always will.

“That sounds perfect.” you said, the words coming out easily, almost relieved.

And so, there you were, standing in front of the entrance to the aquarium, waiting for him. Your heart was a little heavier than before, the weight of the diagnosis still there in the back of your mind. But in this moment, with Megumi on his way, you felt something else: a little spark of hope. A little spark of life.

You caught sight of him as he rounded the corner, looking just as you remembered, though maybe a little older, a little worn around the edges. His eyes were still the same, dark and intense, but there was something softer about him now, something that made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “Long time no see.”

You smiled back, the weight of the years between you almost forgotten. "Yeah. It’s been too long."

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as though he could tell something was different. You didn’t have to say it out loud. He could read you like a book. He always has. You don’t think he’ll stop now. You hope he wouldn’t. You smiled at him.

“I’m glad you called.” he said softly, as if unsure of how to proceed, but that familiar warmth in his voice was still there. It had never really gone away, had it?

"Me too." you replied, and for the first time in a long while, you meant it. "I needed this."

Megumi nodded, and the two of you walked into the aquarium together, the world around you a blur of soft lights and flowing water. The sound of distant laughter and the rhythmic swoosh of fish in tanks filled the air, but all you could hear was his voice, the way it brought comfort, the way it made you feel like maybe you weren’t alone in this after all.

You pointed out the exhibits as you wandered through the aquarium, asking him what he thought of the colorful fish or the playful otters, though truthfully, your mind wasn’t always on the sea creatures. You couldn’t help but glance at him, at the way he reacted to everything, his quiet smile, his dry humor. It felt so familiar. So right.

“Remember when we came here when we were younger?” you asked, your voice soft. “We didn’t know anything about what we were doing, just wandered around aimlessly.”

Megumi chuckled, though it sounded bittersweet. “I think I spent most of the time trying to keep you from getting too close to the sharks.”

You laughed, the sound light and free, just like it used to be when you were younger. "You always were protective."

He didn’t respond to that, but the way he looked at you said it all. You both knew. You both remembered the connection you had once shared. And now, as you stood together, surrounded by glass tanks and exotic sea life, it felt like maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as broken as they seemed.

Megumi turned to you after a while, his blue – green eyes searching yours, as though considering whether to say something, something important. Sometimes Megumi gets like this.

He tries to do well when figuring out what to say, how to say them. To avoid misunderstanding. To be clear. And yet in that moment, he seemed like he already had those words. But he doesn’t want to bring it up. At least not yet.

“Do you… do you remember what you used to tell me?” he asked, his voice hesitant. “When we were kids, you said you wanted to live life fully. You didn’t want to waste a single second.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. It took a moment for you to recall those words, but when you did, a small laugh escaped your lips. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You still want that, right?” Megumi’s gaze was steady, unwavering.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. There was no need to speak the truth aloud—it was clear. Even with everything you had to face, you still wanted to live, even if it was just a little longer, even if it meant creating new memories, even if it was messy and imperfect.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

And with that simple admission, Megumi smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, a little brighter than before. He didn’t ask you what was coming next, or how much time you had left, or any of the things you had to worry about in the back of your mind. He just stood there, by your side, ready to make the most of the time you had left.

And in that moment, you realized something else too—maybe it wasn’t the best idea to let him back in, but it felt like fate. Fate had given you a chance, and you weren’t going to waste it.

Not now. Not ever again.

As you and Megumi wandered through the aquarium, the world outside seemed to fade away. There was something peaceful about the soft glow of the tanks, the gentle movement of the sea creatures, and the quiet way you and Megumi existed in each other’s space. The sounds of the outside world, the murmur of people and the occasional squeal of children, felt far away, like they were part of a distant dream.

Megumi leaned closer to one of the tanks, his eyes following the delicate movements of a seahorse. You caught yourself watching him more than you watched the creatures inside the glass, his expression thoughtful, like he was lost in the quiet beauty of it all. 

His features softened in a way that made your heart flutter. It wasn’t just his looks, though—it was the way he was. The way he had always been there for you, even when life pulls you in different directions. Everything about him makes you orbit around him, like he was your earth and you were his moon. He kept you balanced. And you like it. You always have.

“Hey, Megumi.” you said, nudging him lightly. “You’ve gone quiet. Do you still hate fish?”

He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow in that familiar, teasing way. “Not the fish, just... I can’t believe you’ve dragged me here, of all places.” But his words held no real malice. There was warmth there, a soft playfulness that made you smile.

“Admit it already.” you teased him. “You like it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Megumi snorted, and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Maybe I do. But don’t go getting any ideas. I’m not a seafood enthusiast yet."

You grinned, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You both wandered deeper into the exhibit, laughing at the odd little creatures, pointing out your favorites, and making light-hearted jokes. At one point, you found yourselves standing before a tank of jellyfish, their long, flowing tentacles creating a mesmerizing dance in the water. You both watched in silence, the gentle sway of the jellyfish almost hypnotic.

“This is kind of like us, isn’t it?” you asked, turning to Megumi, your voice quieter now. “Just... floating along, not really knowing where we’re going, but just kind of going with it?”

Megumi looked over at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” he murmured, his voice soft and a little more serious than usual. “But, you know, I don’t mind floating along with you.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hand wrapped around yours almost instinctively, and in that moment, it felt so right. So simple. So perfect.

"You're really good at this." you whispered, giving his hand another squeeze. "At making things feel easy."

Megumi’s fingers tightened around yours, and he turned his head slightly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I think you’ve always made it easy, you know?” he said quietly.

You both stood there for a while, hand in hand, watching the jellyfish move. Time seemed to slow down as you both took in the moment, each of you content in the other’s presence. The world around you felt like it had paused, just for a little while, just for the two of you to exist together.

As the day began to wind down and the aquarium started to empty out, Megumi pulled you closer, his arm lightly draped around your shoulder, a natural, easy gesture.

You leaned into him, grateful for his warmth, his presence, the way he made you feel like everything would be okay. You knew it was, even when you weren’t sure about anything. As long as you have Fushiguro Megumi, life will turn out alright. It always has. It always will.

“Thanks for today, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice full of meaning. "I needed this."

Megumi glanced down at you, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad. I needed it too.”

As you made your way to the exit, you felt lighter. The weight of your diagnosis, the fear of what was to come, was still there in the back of your mind—but in this moment, with Megumi by your side, everything else seemed distant. The future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t feel so scary anymore.

You both stepped out into the evening air, the cool breeze brushing past your faces. The city lights were just beginning to flicker on in the distance, and the streets felt full of life.

You glanced over at Megumi, his expression soft, content. The night was still young, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were living in the moment, not worrying about what was to come.

“You know……” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe we should do this again sometime.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. “What, go to an aquarium?”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Why not? You never know, next time we might get to see the dolphins.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was unmistakable. “You and your love for sea animals,” he teased.

“I’m serious!” you said with a laugh. “But next time, maybe you’ll actually like it more.”

“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle. "Just maybe."

As you walked side by side, the cool evening air wrapping around you, your thoughts wandered again to the future, the future that was becoming a little more uncertain with each passing day. But then you looked at Megumi again, at the soft smile on his face, and for a moment, it didn’t matter. For now, everything was perfect.

And in that perfect moment, you realized: this—him—was what you wanted. Not just tonight, not just this moment, but forever. Or at least, as long as you could have it. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but in this instant, you were going to savor every second of it.

You glanced up at Megumi, squeezing his hand gently as you whispered, “I want this to last forever.”

Megumi squeezed your hand back, his voice steady and warm. “I do too.”

But you knew, you knew too well, as he did.

Nothing on this earth was bound to last forever.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DIDN’T EXPECT HOW THIS WAS GOING TO END. But then again, you too didn’t expect it. Everything was unpredictable. But he expected this to happen. Even if he didn’t want it to. That was just his fate. The pain had been creeping up on him more and more, gnawing at his insides like a constant reminder that his time was running out. 

Every movement, every step, felt like a battle. His body wasn’t his own anymore, and no matter how much he tried to push through it, the heaviness of his condition weighed on him more than he cared to admit. Everything was miserable, and he hated it. He hated how this was happening.

But there was something, someone, that made it all seem bearable. You. The thought of you kept him going, even when his body felt like it was betraying him. At the time when everything was starting to know its place, to fit perfectly. Right time, right place, right person. And yet, this had come to pass. He was sick. Beyond fixing. 

Yet Megumi was certain that he was going to fight it. For as long as he can still do it. For as long as he had the strength to. He still wanted more time with you. More chances to make up for those five years. But he knew that it was getting harder. He didn’t want you to see how bad it was getting. 

Sometimes he can’t even move himself. Sometimes he felt like he was going to throw up everything he ate. Sometimes he feels like he was going to pass out. But he doesn’t want to give up just yet.

He can’t. It wasn’t time, not just yet. He still needs to live. No matter how painful it all gets. He wants to live. He wasn’t giving up. Not when he still wanted to be there for you. Not when he still wanted to make you smile.

And he wanted to prove that. He always wants to prove that. That he was strong enough. That he can still stay here. That he can still take care of you. Tonight was one of those nights. It was already late when he got your call. But he didn’t care about the time. He had to go there for you. 

He rushed out with his meager winter coat and rushed over there. The sound of your voice was filled with frustration and a little bit of panic, and that was enough to get him moving immediately. It kept ringing in his head, the tone of your voice. He doesn’t think he had ever heard that voice from you before. 

All the way there, he thought more about your frustration and your panic more than his own pain. He didn’t even think about how exhausted he was or how much his body ached. You were what mattered to him at this moment. Nothing else. You mattered more to him. He was always going to put your first, especially now. 

When he arrived at your apartment, he found you standing by the door, frowning and rifling through your bag. Your face lit up with a mix of relief and embarrassment when you saw him. He took a moment to breathe before greeting you. 

“Megumi, I’m so sorry.” you said, wiping a hand over your face. “I can’t find my keys. I’ve looked everywhere. I—I think I’ve lost them.”

The distress in your voice was enough to make his heart tighten. He immediately stepped toward you, trying to hide the wince that flickered across his face as he reached for the door handle. 

“It’s okay, hm?” he said softly, his voice steady, even if the pain inside was threatening to make it crack. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

He tried to ignore the way his legs ached as he crouched down to check the bottom of the doormat, his hand shaking slightly as he pushed it aside, looking for any sign of the missing keys. You stood beside him, still fretting, your hands wringing together.

“I’m sorry, Megumi. I don’t want to be a burden to you.” you murmured, your voice trembling.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stood up again. “You’re not a burden. You never have been.” He reached out, gently wiping the tears that had started to fall down your cheek. "I’m happy to help."

I’m happy to be needed. He thinks to himself, looking at you. I’m happy to be wanted by you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing from the warmth of his touch. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm and collected when you felt like you were falling apart. But then again, it was just like him to make sure you were okay, even if it meant putting aside his own pain.

“I’m so sorry, again.” you said again, this time more softly. “I shouldn’t have let this get to me.”

Megumi just shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay. We all have our moments. It’s normal to get frustrated. I’ll help you find them, I promise.”

He glanced around for a moment, and then his gaze softened as he met your eyes. For a brief second, the weight of his own pain seemed to vanish, replaced by the quiet, soothing comfort of being close to you. The way you looked at him like he was the one thing that made sense in the chaos made everything feel a little easier.

“Let’s check inside your bag again.” he suggested gently. He took the bag from you, unzipping it with a practiced hand. As he rummaged through it, you watched him carefully, your anxiety easing just a little from the reassurance in his tone.

And then, as if by magic, he pulled out the keys from the deepest pocket of your bag. He held them up with a small, triumphant smile.

“Found them, dummy.” he said, and the relief in his voice made your heart swell.

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still lingering in your eyes, but a smile now tugging at your lips. “I’m so hopeless sometimes.”

Megumi’s smile widened, his eyes softening. “Don’t say that. You’re not hopeless. You just had a moment.”

His hand brushed against yours as he handed you the keys, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. Just you, him, the simple act of being together in the quiet, unspoken moments.

You met his gaze, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Megumi. For everything.”

His bright blue–green orbs could only soften even more, and for the briefest moment, you could see the quiet ache in them, but it wasn’t pain. No, it was something else, something deeper. Something more beautiful, something more true. Everything about him felt so genuine. More than ever before.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

And for that moment, in that small, shared space, it felt like nothing else mattered. The world outside could have been crumbling, but in his presence, you felt a quiet sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

Megumi gave you one last, reassuring smile, wiping away the last of your tears, and then offered his arm to you as he moved to open the door for you. You stepped inside, the cool air of the apartment a small comfort after the small storm of emotions. Megumi was right. Everything would be fine. 

At least, for now, it was. You could forget about the worries of tomorrow and just be in the moment. As he followed you inside, a part of you couldn’t help but think how much longer you wanted this moment by your side. How you wished you could hold onto these moments forever.

The evening had grown colder, but the light snowfall made everything feel magical, like a scene out of a dream. You and Megumi had just finished your little excursion to find the perfect hotpot place, and as you sat at a cozy table by the window, the snowflakes drifted lazily outside. 

The warmth of the restaurant was a nice contrast to the chilly air, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Everything about tonight was what would make winter feel the want to enjoy being alive, being warm in the cold breeze of its existence.

You pulled your phone from your bag, feeling the impulse to capture the moment. You glanced up at Megumi, who was poking at his bowl, looking surprisingly content for someone who usually seemed to prefer avoiding anything too flashy. 

His serious demeanor had softened, and his usual guarded expression was replaced with a rare sense of comfort. With a smile, you snapped a quick picture of him. Megumi looked up, startled by the sound of your camera clicking.

“Hey, no pictures, you dummy.” he protested, though his tone wasn’t harsh. He reached for the camera, but you pulled it away quickly, holding it to your chest with a grin.

“Why not? You look cute, you know?” you teased, winking playfully at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “You always say that. Why do you take so many pictures anyway?”

You leaned back in your seat, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess… I just want to remember things. The little moments that matter. You never know when they’ll be gone, so I figure I should capture the ones that make me happy.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he gave a quiet nod, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m glad you do that. You’ve always had a way of making ordinary moments feel... special.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m glad you’re here to make them feel special too.”

The rest of the meal passed in a comfortable silence, filled with small chatter and the occasional clink of chopsticks. You felt more at ease than you had in a long time, the weight of the world outside the restaurant seemingly lifted.

Once dinner was over, you both left the warm comfort of the restaurant, stepping into the crisp winter night. The air was fresh and sharp, and the snow had started to fall heavier, painting the streets in a blanket of white. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at the sky, the snowflakes drifting down like confetti.

You walked ahead a few steps, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, when you suddenly realized that Megumi wasn’t next to you. Turning around, you saw him standing still, almost frozen in place, his posture slumped in an uncharacteristic way. You paused, confused, until you saw him sway slightly before collapsing onto the snow-covered pavement with a soft thud.

Your heart stopped.

“Megumi!” You rushed over to him in a panic, your breath catching in your throat as you knelt beside him. His face was pale, and his body was limp in the snow, the cold seeping through his clothes.

You gently shook his shoulder, your voice shaking as you called his name again. “Megumi! Hey, wake up, please…”

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir. You were beyond scared now. His condition had been worsening for a while, but seeing him like this made your entire world feel like it was crashing down around you. You could feel your heart beating, faster than it ever has. You had never felt such fright in your entire life.

“Megumi, stay with me, please. Please, oh my god—someone help! Please!” you say, your voice breaking as you hovered over him, panic rising in your chest. 

You couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Warm tears were starting to fall from your eyes, contrasting the cold. Everything about this moment felt like you were losing to fate.

You hated this feeling. You hated this helplessness. You hated the thought of losing the love of your life. Everything about this was cruel. And that had just made you cry even more. 

You take a breath, calming yourself, as you quickly pull your phone from your pocket, dialing the emergency number, your hands trembling as you explained the situation to the operator.

You try to check on him, trying to get him to wake up. Tears still pouring endlessly, like raindrops in the winter hale. The minutes stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity.

Megumi stirred slightly, his eyes opening just enough for him to give you a half-smile, his voice weak but still trying to reassure you, even though he clearly wasn’t fully conscious. You gasped, trying to explain to the operator that he woke up. But he immediately cuts you off, his hand on your own. He weakly squeezes it.

“Don’t... don’t worry about me.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the cold air. “I’m... fine.”

You shook your head, your tears threatening to spill as you grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “No, you’re not! You’re not fine, Megumi. You’re really not fine.”

“Hey, you…you dummy.” he said, his words slurring slightly. “You... should smile. You... should still... take pictures.”

You shook your head again, laughing through the tears that had started to fall. “I don’t care about pictures, Megumi. I just care about you.”

His eyes fluttered closed again, but he seemed comforted by your words, the faintest hint of a smile still on his lips. You kept holding his hand, never letting go, until the sound of the ambulance arrived in the distance. You didn’t want to, you never wanted to leave. Not him. But you could only pray that he’s just as resolved not to leave you too.

After all, how could you live without him?

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU HATED THE SMELL OF HOSPITALS. You don’t like the smell of death, the smell of grief. The smell of suffering all at once gathered through the halls. You were aware just as much that Megumi doesn’t like hospitals either. He’d always hated it as much as you. Even just doing check–ups made him upset. But there was no other choice. He has to live.

This was the only way to keep him alive. This was the only way he wouldn’t leave you. You'd rather he spend the rest of his life hating the smell of this one moment than let him die. You'd do anything to have him for what time is left.

The cold hospital lights buzzed above you as you sat next to Megumi’s bed, your fingers clutching his hand so tightly it almost hurt. His body was hooked up to various machines, the soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor the only sound that filled the sterile room. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sight of him lying there, pale and fragile, making your chest tighten with every passing second.

The ambulance ride had been a blur of frantic moments, the flashing lights reflecting off the cold pavement as you gripped Megumi’s hand, trying to keep him awake, trying to keep him here with you. But he slipped in and out of consciousness, each time his body growing weaker, his breath shallower.

When you arrived at the hospital, the doctors didn’t waste any time. They immediately ran tests and checked his vitals, and within what felt like an eternity, they informed you of the worst news you could have imagined.

You felt like you were going to lose it when you finally heard all of it in detail. You didn’t want to hear more of it. But you had no choice. You needed to know. You needed to know so you could understand. 

Fushiguro Megumi had been battling a terminal illness, something that had been eating away at him for months, maybe even longer and he had never told you. They told you about his rare, degenerative condition, how it had been causing him excruciating pain, and how little time he had left. 

You didn’t even know how to process it. There was no true way to process it. He was dying. And you just got him back. You were going to lose him, just when you had him back. And that made you feel like you were dying too. Because how? How does one not go mad with it already? 

You wanted to scream, to yell at the world for being so unfair. But instead, you sat there, numb, tears streaming down your face, your hands trembling as you held onto Megumi like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Why didn’t he tell you? Why had he tried to carry all of this on his own?

And yet, there was a part of you that knew exactly why. It was just like him. Megumi, ever the stoic, ever the quiet one, always putting others before himself, always bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help.

The sound of his voice broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was weak at first, a soft murmur, but it was unmistakable.

“Hey… stop crying…..you dummy.”

You froze, looking down at him as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing the familiar dark eyes you had always loved. They were dull now, tired, but there was still that softness in them. That quiet strength that had always drawn you to him.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Megumi, please, I—I can’t…” Your voice cracked as the words caught in your throat. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

His hand weakly squeezed yours, his grip not as strong as it used to be, but the touch still sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He shifted slightly in the bed, his brows furrowing as if trying to find the strength to sit up, but his body betrayed him, and he sank back into the pillow, wincing in pain.

“Don’t cry over me. Enough.” he whispered, his voice low and strained. “I’m... I’m not worth it.”

You let out a small sob, your head dropping to the edge of his bed as you tried to compose yourself, though the tears kept coming. “Megumi, you are. You are worth it. You always have been.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his eyes still clouded with exhaustion, but there was something softer there, something almost apologetic. You hated that look on his face. Because there was nothing to apologize about. Not even once. All you wanted to do was take care of him. All you wanted to do was keep him safe.

“I’ve been so... selfish, haven’t I?” His voice was barely audible, the words coming out in a rasp, but you heard them clearly. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want to burden you with this...”

“You never burdened me, Megumi. You should know that.” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his. “You never were a burden. I would’ve done anything for you...”

He let out a quiet sigh, the corners of his lips twitching up in the faintest smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your heart ache even more. He looked so resigned to his fate, to all of this pain. And you didn’t like it. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in pain. He shouldn’t be content. Not when you just got back together.

“I know, I know.” he murmured, his voice so weak now that it was almost lost in the hum of the machines around you. “I know you would’ve.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but it was difficult with the weight of everything pressing down on you. “You don’t have to be strong for me anymore, Megumi.” you whispered, the words barely escaping. “It’s okay to let me help you. Please don’t push me away. I can’t lose you like this.”

His eyes closed again, and for a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep again, but his voice broke through the silence, softer now, as if he were speaking to himself as much as to you. It was such a low voice, so weary and exhausted. You didn’t like seeing him like this. So beaten by something he can’t control.

“Maybe... maybe I should’ve let you in sooner. I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I told you everything.”

You gently cupped his face with your hand, wiping away the tears that still fell freely. “You don’t have to apologize for any of it. I just wish I’d known. I wish I could’ve helped sooner.”

Megumi’s lips parted, but his breath hitched in a shallow cough before he could say anything more. His hand gripped yours again, and this time, he managed a little more pressure, just enough to make you feel the sincerity in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re here, you know?” he whispered softly. “I don’t have much time left... but I’m glad I have you now.”

Your heart shattered at those words, but at the same time, you held onto them, clinging to the fragile thread of time that remained between you. You leaned over and kissed his forehead softly, your heart aching with the knowledge that you didn’t know how much time you had left with him, but you were going to make the most of every precious second.

“I’m here, Megumi. Always.” you whispered. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Days blended together as the winter months stretched on. The world outside seemed to freeze, as if mirroring the heaviness in your heart. Snowflakes continued to fall softly outside the hospital windows, blanketing the world in quiet white, but inside, it felt like the world was slowly slipping away.

You didn’t let yourself dwell on the inevitable. You couldn’t. Every time you looked at Megumi, you saw the man you loved, the man who had always been there for you, even when you hadn’t known you needed him. You stayed by his side every day, holding his hand, speaking to him, telling him about everything you hoped for. 

About how the world was still turning outside, how you wanted to keep making memories, even if it felt impossible. You even began taking photos again. Photos of him. You didn’t know how much time you had left, but you were going to capture every moment, every smile, every soft word between you.

It wasn’t easy. Some days, you couldn’t remember where you’d put your keys, or where your phone was. Little things, fading memories, were slipping through your grasp, like water running through your fingers. But what stayed, what never faded—was how deeply you loved him. How every moment you shared with Megumi had become a treasure in your heart.

It was late one afternoon, the sky already darkening as the cold winds howled outside, when you sat next to him again in his hospital room. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was almost rhythmic now, and the other sounds of the machines had become a steady background hum.

You watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with the shallow breath of someone who had fought so long to stay with you. You had asked the doctors, of course, but they had never promised anything. They always do that. They say, they can only do their best. Promises are the hardest, especially when it comes to people’s lives. 

You ran your fingers over his hand, brushing against the cool skin that had once been warm, but you didn’t mind. It was still him. Still the Megumi you knew, the Megumi you had spent years beside, growing together, building a life together. Even if that life had been cut short, you would never stop cherishing it.

You whispered softly to him, hoping he could hear, even as he drifted in and out of sleep. “Megumi... I love you. And I’m never going to forget that. No matter what happens, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember you.”

For a long while, there was silence—just the sound of the wind outside and the soft hum of the hospital machines. You thought about the future, or rather, the lack of one that you’d once planned.

The future you had dreamed of with him, one where you could grow old together, laughing at silly jokes, holding hands as you walked through life. But the truth of the situation lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

And then, just as you were about to close your eyes for a moment’s rest, Megumi’s voice broke the stillness, faint and barely audible.

“Hey...” he said, his voice raspy, but full of that familiar warmth.

You sat up straight, your eyes immediately focusing on him. He was awake, just barely, his eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. He looked so exhausted.

As though he doesn’t have any energy left to live. You hated that, you hated that smile too. You can’t help it. It made you aware how fragile everything is. How fragile life is. How you were far too near to losing him. 

“You... you’re awake?” you whispered, leaning closer, your heart pounding with hope.

He nodded slightly, though the movement seemed to take a lot of effort. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m... sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said, a smile slipping onto your face, even though your eyes were still damp. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Megumi. I’m just... glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me.”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his lips parting slightly as he struggled for the words. “I’ve always... wanted you to be happy. Even now, I... I want you to be happy.”

Your heart clenched, and you leaned down, your forehead resting gently against his. “I am happy. Because I’m with you. I have been, and I always will be.”

Megumi smiled again, his hand weakly squeezing yours. His smile was small, but it meant everything to you. The most precious thing in the world. You would carry that smile with you, even if the days grew darker, even if the cold winds of winter began to steal more from you.

In that moment, you made a promise to him in your heart. You promised that, no matter what, you would keep loving him. Even if you forgot everything else, you would never forget the love you shared. You would never forget him.

The room felt colder than it ever had before, despite the soft hum of the heaters and the warmth of the blankets wrapped around Megumi. You sat there beside him, holding his hand, feeling his pulse slowly fading.

The soft beeping of the heart monitor had become slower, more erratic. Your eyes were fixed on him, waiting, hoping for some miracle that you knew would never come.

The doctors had already said it to you, clearly. His time was up. There were no more treatments, no more hopes left to cling to. The harsh reality of it all was suffocating, but you didn’t want to let go. You couldn’t. Not when he had been your everything for so long.

You leaned down closer to him, brushing his bangs out of his face, memorizing the way his features were so familiar, the way his eyes had always held that quiet strength. You whispered to him softly, your voice shaky, as tears slid down your cheeks. 

"Megumi... please, please stay with me. I love you so much."

His breath was shallow now, ragged. But he turned his head toward you ever so slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes still holding a glimmer of something.

Even in the face of his end, there was a calmness in him, a peace that you couldn’t quite grasp. And you wondered, not for the first time, if he had known all along that this was the way things would end.

He barely opened his mouth, but his voice was soft and full of the kind of warmth that you’d come to treasure, the kind of warmth that had always been his, even when he was hurting.

"I'm glad that you were my final view, you dummy…..my love." he said, his voice so quiet, so weak, but full of meaning. "I'm glad that you were my beginning... and my end."

Your heart shattered at the words, but you swallowed back your sobs, trying to stay strong for him. He had always been strong for you, even when he didn’t have to be. And now, it was your turn to be strong for him.

"I love you, so so much." he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying more weight than anything else he could have said. His hand tightened around yours, just for a moment, but it was enough to make your heart soar and break all at once.

You pressed your forehead to his, your tears falling freely now, each drop a painful reminder that time had run out. You wanted to cry out loud. You wanted him to wake up. You wanted him to come back. But you know he won't. He won't ever come back.

"I love you." you whispered back, over and over again, as if saying it would somehow make the pain of losing him easier. "I love you... I love you... I love you."

But there was no answer. No more words. His chest rose and fell one last time, and then it stilled. The beep of the heart monitor flatlines, and with it, the world around you seems to collapse in on itself.

He was gone.

You stayed there, for what felt like an eternity, unable to tear yourself away from his side. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of his hand, even though you knew he was no longer there to hold it. The warmth of his skin was already starting to fade, but you still clung to it, as though holding on to him would keep him with you forever.

The quiet in the room was deafening, a silence so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. You closed your eyes, trying to push away the overwhelming sorrow that threatened to drown you. But in the quiet, you could still hear his voice, still feel the warmth of his love in your chest.

I love you, he had said. And that was all that mattered now. That was all you could hold onto.

The nurses came in, gently moving you aside, but you didn’t care. They tried to comfort you, to tell you everything would be okay, but nothing would ever be okay again. You had lost the person you loved most in the world, and no one could take that pain away.

Hours passed. Or was it days? You couldn’t remember anymore. The world outside continued to turn, the snow continuing to fall, but all you could think about was him. Megumi. Your Megumi.

The man you loved with every part of you. The man who had been your best friend, your lover, your everything. And now he was gone, and you were left with nothing but the aching emptiness of his absence.

You didn’t leave the hospital that night. You stayed there, next to him, holding his hand, telling him you loved him over and over. You didn’t know if he could hear you. You didn’t know if it mattered.

You just needed him to know. He had been the love of your life, and you would carry that love with you forever. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you’d forget, you would never forget him.

The days that followed were a blur of sadness and quiet moments of reflection. The funeral. The family. The friends who came and went, offering their condolences, their words of sympathy. But none of it mattered. Not without him.

Winter gave way to spring, the snow melting and the world coming back to life, but you felt like you were still stuck in the cold. The world had moved on, but you were stuck in that one moment, in that one room, with Megumi.

It was as if time had frozen the moment he left, and you couldn’t break free from it.

But still, you held on to him. You held on to the love he had given you, the smile he had worn for you, and the life you had shared together. Because that was all you had left.

And no matter how much the world tried to take it away from you, you would never forget him.

You will never forget Megumi.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

SOME DAYS ARE EASIER THAN OTHERS, YOU NURSES THINK. But today was not one of those days. Somehow, the days seemed to slip away like water through your fingers, and the world around you grew hazier with each passing moment.

You didn’t know the date, the year, or even your own name anymore. Sometimes, when the nurses spoke to you, you’d hear their voices and understand their words, but the world beyond that seemed so far away.

But there was one thing you could never forget. No matter how much time passed or how much your memory faded, there was always him.

His face, his eyes. Those blue-green eyes that shone with a warmth that made your heart flutter even now. They felt so familiar and yet you couldn’t remember who they belonged to. Who this man was. And yet, you always felt at ease when you painted him. You always felt like life was beautiful, when he stared back at you.

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t remember all of it. How you’ll repeatedly ask what you did and who you met. Or what you were thinking about and or what you wanted to eat. That didn’t matter. All you knew was that whenever you had a brush in your hand, whenever you felt the quiet pull of the canvas, it was his face you painted. It was always him.

It had become a ritual of sorts. The nurses would often find you at the small desk in your room, your hands trembling as you carefully added strokes of color to the canvas. Sometimes it was a portrait.

Everyone could see his strong jawline, his dark tousled hair, the way his lips curled into a gentle smile. Other times, it was an abstract piece, his image lost in swirls of color and light. But it was always him.

No one ever questioned it. The staff knew you were once a famous artist, known for your ability to capture the most subtle emotions in a single stroke. Perhaps that’s why they never seemed surprised to see you lost in your own world, creating pieces of art that you couldn’t fully understand anymore. 

But they saw the joy in your eyes when you painted him, and that was enough. It was more than enough. You were suffering already, in so many ways. What is letting you have some little joy in the things you painted? And so one afternoon, as you carefully placed another layer of paint on the canvas, one of the nurses peeked in. 

"How’s the painting today?" she asked softly, her voice kind.

You looked up, smiling at her, the brush still poised in your hand. "It’s him again." you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "His eyes… I remember his eyes."

She smiled at you, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You’ve been painting him every day, haven’t you?"

You nodded, not quite understanding why it felt so important to paint him. "He’s got the kindest eyes," you said with a quiet certainty. "The softest face."

She watched you for a moment, her expression filled with understanding. "He must have meant a lot to you."

You blinked, as if the question had never occurred to you. You couldn’t remember the details, couldn’t remember how he had come into your life or who he was, but the feeling that lingered when you thought about him, when you painted him—that you couldn’t deny. It was love. A deep, unshakable love that you could feel, even if you couldn’t understand it completely.

"Yes, I think so." you said, your voice is a little softer now. "He was special. He seems like it."

You looked down at the canvas, the figure of the man emerging once more from the swirls of paint. He had this way of looking at you, even in the paintings—this gentle warmth in his eyes that made you feel safe, loved, and understood, even when the rest of the world seemed so distant.

There was peace in that. 

There was a quiet comfort.

The nurse gave a soft smile, nodding her head before quietly excusing herself. But you stayed, lost in your thoughts as your brush moved again, creating another piece of him. Another piece of your memory, even if it was the only one you had left.

It wasn’t about the name. It wasn’t about remembering the details of the past. It was about the feeling, the love that had lived between you two, that was what mattered. The man with the blue-green eyes, the man who had the kindest smile, was the one you could hold onto in your heart, even as everything else slipped away.

As you continued to paint, a small smile curled on your lips. He was with you. In every stroke, in every color, he was there. And as long as you could still remember that love, you would keep painting him.

No matter how many times the world around you faded, you would never forget him.

He had been the brightest part of your life, and even now, in the quiet of the care home, he was the only thing you still held close.

And that made everything a little easier.

[chukys-mouthguard]

rubberband

featuring -> luke hughes x female reader

word count -> 2.8k

genre -> fluff/angst

summary -> luke comes back to umich, but he can’t avoid seeing you

note -> italics are flashbacks

The start of another school year meant another fall semester filled with football, house parties, and memories. You and your friends had just finished moving in the day before, Saturday being blocked off on your calendar as the day of welcome back parties all over campus. Typically you would have one house in mind to go to, but since he’d left Michigan, you weren’t a fan. Not that the other guys that were still around weren’t great, but the memories that remained after Luke had moved on to New Jersey were still so fresh for you. Though it was your Senior year, and you were trying your best to make it a great one.

You and your friends headed down the sidewalk, closing in on the hockey house and you could feel your palms growing sweaty. The house still looked just as it did the first night you’d shown up there Freshman year, not a clue of who you would meet that night.

-

“Can I get you anything?”

Looking up, your eyes met those of the curly haired Freshman you’d heard was named Luke. He smiled softly down at you, noticing how shy you’d become looking over the large amount of alcohol they had covering their kitchen counter. Your freehand scratching at the skin of your wrist, a nervous habit Luke surely noticed but found cute, smiling down at you as you nodded.

“Um, sure.”

“We’ve got beer, vodka, tequila. Though I would not recommend that unless you’re actually trying to die tonight.”

You laughed at his joking as he gave you the grand tour of the bottom shelf alcohol that the boys could afford. Though no one minding as they more so cared about being drunk than what the liquids tasted like.

“What are you drinking?”

Luke looked at his solo cup, making a face before returning eye contact.

“Beer, but if I’m honest I wouldn’t recommend this either. It’s awful to be blunt.”

The two of you laughed together, your eyes scouring the options once again as the only logical choice remained, vodka. Luke poured you some into a cup, letting you decide on what you’d opt to mix into the alcohol. Though he mentioned he wouldn’t judge if you drank it straight, but surely it would taste worse that way.

“I’m Luke.”

“Y/n.”

“Well y/n, can I give you the tour?”

-

Little did you know it, but at the time Luke was using the excuse of a tour as a way to get away from the party. He wasn’t the biggest party animal his Freshman year, enjoying the opportunity to sneak away with you for a bit and relax. His favorite spot was to sneak up onto the roof, not many people knew how and it was often quiet up there.

But it was clear that had changed as the roof was currently crowded with tens of people seated around, some chugging beers and tossing them to the ground below. Others shouting at the crowd below over the music that was blasting from the house.

-

“So Luke Hughes, how long until people discover our secret spot?”

The two of you had been keeping up the routine of sneaking to the roof for several weekends now. No one ever seemed to notice, and even if they did they made their own assumptions of what the two of you were doing.

“Hmm, well, I would hope they never do. I’d love for this to stay our spot. But, I would say maybe two more weekends and we will get kicked out.”

He sipped his beer as the two of you watched the party taking place below. Always loving to watch his teammates try their luck with different girls; some succeeding, others striking out.

“Can I ask you something?”

You looked to Luke, his smile fading as he looked more sincere, nodding his head as his way of asking you to continue.

“Do you, are we…sorry, I just. I don’t want to read too much into anything, but, what would you say this is? Like with us?”

Luke sighed softly, sipping his beer as he tried to find the right response. Making you nervously scratch at your wrist as you were immediately regretting even asking the question. Surely he didn’t see this as anything, he was focused on hockey not relationships.

“I think this is, comfortable? It feels right? I don’t know, I just really like you being here with me. I can’t describe it, but it feels natural. What do you think?

He nervously sipped his beer while you now tapped the side of your seltzer, nodding slightly in agreement as you were thinking of your own response.

“I agree. It feels right, whatever it is. I just enjoy the time I get with you, always. And, I’m happy here.”

“Me too.”

Luke’s smile faded as he slowly moved closer to you, his hand tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting on your cheek. You could feel his breath against your lips he was so close to you. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes as time felt like it was frozen before he’d finally kissed you. The two of you tangling your hands into each other's hair, the taste of alcohol mixed with your chapstick. Neither one of you fighting for dominance, simply letting the moment happen how it may.

Luke finally pulled away, a blush on his cheeks as he scratched his head. Slightly embarrassed at his forwardness, but appreciating that you didn’t seem to turn down his actions.

“Still feels right?”

“Mhm, definitely.”

Luke smiled as he looked down, messing with the bracelets on his wrist, pulling a simple rubberband type off and grabbing for your hand.

“Here.”

He placed the bracelet on your wrist with a smile, admiring how it looked despite its simple nature.

“Whenever you’re feeling nervous, when you’re missing me, or whatever the case may be. I’ll be there.”

You smiled at the rubberband, lightly snapping it against your skin. Realizing that not only was it a reminder of Luke, but something to help your nervous habit he’d obviously picked up on. Appreciating the gesture and that he’d noticed the small quirk about you.

-

That bracelet was your source of comfort during numerous finals weeks, a stress reliever during all of Luke’s home games as you’d snap it against your skin. And even with Luke leaving for New Jersey, the bracelet remained as a symbol of his promise to always come back.

Things between you and Luke had continued similarly to how they’d started your Freshman year. Though never putting a label on things, it was common knowledge that you were certainly more than nothing, you were something.

You watched the group of girls from across the way, crowding around in hopes to get to see the guys after their big win. It was a normal occurrence, especially with girls from opposing schools. And while you and Luke were definitely secure in your relationship, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Watching how the girls all flocked to him, asking for pictures, trying to create small talk. Luke of course too nice to ignore them, simply smiling through it all.

Looking up, his eyes met yours, his smile growing wide as he excused himself from the group of girls. Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist as he picked you up, stealing a kiss before setting you back down.

“You’ve got some groupies huh?”

Luke rolled his eyes with a short, placing an arm around your shoulder as you two started off towards the exit.

“Only one groupie I have eyes for babe.”

-

Things were great with Luke, that was until he’d gotten drafted by the Devils. You knew the day was likely to come at some point, but you never thought about what it would be like when it finally did.

The conversation hadn’t really taken place regarding what would happen for the two of you if and when he made the move to New Jersey. But once things were official, and he was leaving, you were faced with the inevitable.

-

“So, you weren’t gonna tell me until the day you were leaving?”

You looked to Luke through tear filled eyes. While you wanted to be happy and excited for him, having just signed his entry level contract with the Devils. You were heartbroken that in the same day he’d achieved his dreams, he was also telling you goodbye.

“I know, it’s the worst possible way to tell you. But, believe me, this is all happening so fast there was no right time for any of this. I hate having to just up and leave you. I won't be that far, you can come visit me, we will see each other in the summer. This doesn’t change anything.”

Luke looked down to see you nervously pulling at the rubberband that was on your wrist. Smiling softly as he knew you hadn’t once taken it off since he’d given it to you over a year ago.

Taking your hands in his he tried his best to relax your mind that he could see was racing with a million and one thoughts.

“Look at me, I promise, this doesn’t change things okay?”

You wanted to believe him, that him only being a few states away wouldn’t change anything. That you’d continue with your relationship exactly how it had been. That you could snap the rubberband on your wrist whenever you were sad, anxious, or missing him, and it would all magically get better. But you couldn’t help but be nervous about what this next step meant for him. Leaving you behind at school, while you knew it was bound to happen, didn’t feel any less shitty than all the times you’d tried to prepare yourself for it.

“You promise?”

Luke cupped your face as he brought your lips to his, the kiss nothing more than a longing peck, but enough to make your racing thoughts cease for even a moment.

“I promise”

-

But his promises fell short, and those summer’s at the lake house never happened. One trip to New Jersey was all you’d gotten, and soon enough Luke had become mostly a memory.

Text messages and calls were here and there, his schedule keeping him busier than he ever was at Michigan. You’d tried your best to hold out hope, telling yourself that he’d made a promise to you. But as more time went on, you’d begun to realize that maybe all this relationship was with Luke, was nothing more than a casual thing. That despite how much he cared about you, and all the promises he’d made, he wasn’t looking for something serious. That he wasn’t serious about you.

Making your way up the stairs of the hockey house, you’d noticed several familiar faces along with several new ones. The freshman players were easier to spot, as they reminded you of Luke on the night you’d first met him. Timid compared to the veteran guys who were screaming about games of pong and beer die that were set to start in the backyard.

You felt yourself growing a bit anxious, wondering why you’d come back to a house that held so many memories. While they were mostly good, they made you think of Luke.

Heading out to the backyard, you found comfort in the sea of people. Knowing that you’d easily be able to get lost among them, distract yourself from the familiar faces while you hoped the alcohol you planned to consume would ease your nerves.

Following behind your friend, you found yourself subconsciously snapping the band at your wrist, trying to distract yourself from any Luke related thoughts that crept into your mind.

Taking a solo cup from her hand, your friend began talking about the way the girls at the party seemed to flock to all the hockey guys as they stood on the back porch. The two of you laughed, knowing you once were like them. Drooling over the shirtless boys at the house, thinking they were the hottest thing on campus. Wanting to be able to say you’d gotten the chance to talk to one of the hockey boys at the party.

“Oh my god, y/n, please don’t look at the porch.”

Your friend reached for your arm, turning you to face her so your back was to the group of men on the porch. Naturally you looked over your shoulder as you were curious what she didn’t want you to see. But the moment you saw him, you felt your heart sink.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. We can leave.”

Obviously, Luke had every right to be there. He did go to Michigan and played hockey for the school. But you weren’t expecting to see him back since he’d moved on to the NHL. Especially not expecting to see him shirtless at the hockey house looking more amazing than ever. Girls crowded around him, all hoping to get even just a touch of his hand on their skin to be able to brag about for the next month.

Before you could make a decision about leaving, Luke’s attention had turned in your direction. Slightly lowering his sunglasses from his eyes, they met yours as he stood shocked to have seen you.

You could feel the goosebumps beginning to cover your skin, your heart racing as Luke began to make his way over to you. Instinctually, you headed through the crowd, wanting to be anywhere but this house. Luke set down his beer as he took off after you.

“Y/n, come on. Please y/n!”

His hand grabbed your arm as he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as you turned to face him.

“What?”

Your tone was harsh as you tried hiding the pain in your voice, but the tears in your eyes of course gave it away. Luke’s heart sinking seeing you hurt, never expecting this moment to happen, otherwise he might have prepared better. But for the moment, he was at a loss for words.

“I, I’m sorry. For everything. I know that’s not specific, but I’m honestly just shocked to see you.”

You laughed as you wiped your tears that were threatening to fall. Shaking your head you searched for the right words, trying not to start a fight in the alley next to the hockey house. People occasionally walking by, a scene not something that was needed, especially for Luke.

“You’re shocked to see me, on the campus of the college I go to? Interesting…”

“Oh come, don’t be like that y/n please! Look, I get it. I fucked up, in so many ways. The summers at the lake house, you coming to New Jersey, all of it. I broke my promises to you, and I wish I could go back and change it all.”

Luke’s eyes fell to the band on your wrist, watching as you snapped it against your skin. Hating that he was making you nervous or anxious, wishing that things could go back to normal for the two of you. But he knew he’d ruined that.

“Look I get it, if you didn’t want something serious. If I was just a casual fling or something. Then fine. But why waste my time? Why make me think you liked me?”

Luke grabbed your wrist, stopping you from snapping the band any longer.

“Y/n, none of that is true. It wasn’t that I thought you were a casual fling. I just, I couldn’t be the person you needed. With signing with the Devils and leaving here, leaving you. I just couldn't keep my promises. And it was wrong, to make you think I could. To keep you holding on if this wasn’t going to happen for us. And I’m so sorry to do that to you.”

You looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, believing his words as you pulled the band from your wrist. Setting it in his hand as you nodded your head with a sigh.

“I appreciate the apology, but it doesn’t change anything that happened. It doesn’t change how I feel, how hurt I am by all of it. So, you can take that bracelet back. I can’t keep it anymore and think about you every time I see it. That was a promise, that I could think of you and find comfort anytime I snapped it or saw it. But, I think that I need to move on. Because it’s just another broken promise at this point.”

Luke bit his tongue, knowing that despite what he wishes he could say, you don’t want to hear it. Holding the bracelet tight in his hand, he watched as you pushed past him. Heading back to the party, leaving him with only the bracelet as a memory. Slipping it on to his own wrist, immediately snapping it a few times to calm his emotions before returning to join the guys on the back porch.

[lxclerc]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 ─ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

summary: where oscar has done everything in his power to make his feelings for you as obvious as possible, but you are simply quite clueless to the poor boy’s advances pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader warning: fluff, oblivious reader

note: i wrote this in two hours and it's purely for fun. i did not bother thinking about how realistic this could be at all so it's a bit ridiculous i think

masterlist

sometimes, oscar just wants to run into a wall and knock himself out. 

maybe that would shake his brain enough for it to formulate a plan for you to finally realize all the oh so awfully obvious hints he’s been dropping. he’s been so obvious that the entire world knows it; all the other drivers, mechanics from practically every team, reporters, fans. literally everybody has picked up on his pitiful attempts at catching your attention but you. 

or maybe he needed to push you down a flight of stairs and knock you out for you to finally figure out that he likes you as more than friends. because at this point, it’s starting to get ridiculous. he’s been pursuing you since f3. in every ridiculous challenge with prema to every track walks and everything in between, he’s done everything possible to show you that he likes you, fancies you, absolutely besotted to the sound of your voice. 

that never seems to discourage him though, if anything, it only makes him like you more. robert once joked that you’d put a spell on him and oscar can’t quite deny it if he’s being honest. 

“y/n, wait up!” he called to you right before the driver’s parade, leaving lando behind him, who whispered a quick good luck to him. 

hearing your name made you turn to him, an instant smile on your face that made oscar’s heart violently lurch forward. most of the time, you preferred to keep your hair in a tight ponytail, wanting all the little strands out of your face when you’re on track but this time, strands had fallen off the paintail, framing your face in such a perfect way that knocks the breath out of oscar’s lungs. 

you’re perfect in his eyes all the time of course; even in the few times you’d pushed him off track, but there’s something so ethereal about you when your smile is for him. 

charles, your teammate, and lewis whom you were previously talking to subtle stepped away from you in order to give the two of you a moment. charles throws oscar a small thumbs up with that maniacal smile of his whenever he’s fortunate enough to be able to watch oscar absolutely get crushed by y/n’s cluelessness every time he tries and drops a hint to his feelings.

“hey, osc,” you greet, easily falling into step with him. 

“hey, how’s the down under treating you?” he asked, trying to act casually as he buried his hands in his pockets. 

he winced at his own words. how’s the down under treating you? really? 

at least you seem to find it amusing as you award him with a chuckle, hand instinctively wrapping around his arm the way girls do when they’re really comfortable with you and don’t want you to get lost in the crowd. you only ever do it to him (and he’s made sure to check) and it never fails to quite literally turn him to mush. 

“you know i’ve adored it!” you gush. you love australia, this is no secret to everyone , so much so that you’ve joked about it being your second home race, to which oscar have always enthusiastically nodded in agreement to. “charles, alexandra and i went cafe hopping all around melbourne yesterday.”

oscar hummed, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in his face that you hadn’t asked him to accompany you like the few times in the past but he knows that you and charles’ girlfriend have formed a very close friendship. “is that so? i’m glad you had fun.”

you smile up at him. “how about you? i reckon it’s nice being back home, isn’t it?”

“absolutely. the family’s been asking about you, by the way.” he just wanted you to keep talking. you could talk his ears off for hours and oscar would never complain. 

you face instantly light up at that. “i’ll make sure to drop by the mclaren garage later. i miss nicole.”

“she missed you too,” he says before clearing his throat. “so um, are you immediately flying out tomorrow?” 

you shook your head. “no, i’m planning to stay for a couple more days.”

“oh good.” he thanked god his hands were buried in his pockets so you can’t see how much they’re shaking. “you’re free tomorrow then?”

you nod and he nods back at you awkwardly. “yeah.”

“oh good.” stop. stop. he already said that. “do you want to check out that restaurant we went to during f2 maybe?” 

your face lights up again and your hand that’s holding on to his arm squeezes it ever so slightly in excitement. “oh absolutely. maybe i can bring charles and alex along and you can bring lando and logan.”

oscar wanted the ground to just swallow him up. he could probably shout i love you at you while staring directly into your eyes and you’d think he’s talking to someone behind you. one time in f2, he wrote all his feelings for you in a note and gave it to you only for you to hand it straight to robert without even glancing at it thinking he just wanted for you to pass it along. another time, he spent hours and hours trying to gather the courage to wrap his arm around your shoulder only for you to grinned up at him and wrap your arm around logan’s shoulder thinking he’d just wanted the three of you to huddle around. oscar is running out of ideas if he’s being honest. 

“that sounds…fun, but i was hoping, maybe, it could just be — you know, the two of us. like old times,” he manages to let out. 

“poor oscar,” lando says as he, charles, max and lewis watch your interaction. 

“oscar should just kiss her already,” max said.

charles cackled at that, shaking his head. “she’d probably think it’s a friendly kiss.” 

“maybe he just needs to shake her shoulder and scream im stupidly in love with you right on her face,” lewis joked as they kept watching the two of you. 

oscar watched as you let go of his arm, leaning onto the railing for the parade. you seem to take your precious time twisting the cup of your water bottle open and torturing oscar at the way your throat constricted as you drank water before you turned back to him with a smile. “yeah, sure, osc. i’d love that.”

oscar returned back to the group of boys with a dopey smile on his face, high off of you as lando slapped him on the shoulder in a small congratulations. 

charles couldn’t help but laugh at the look of the younger driver. “y/n’s broken him, i think.”

—

logan tried to contain his amusement as his australian best friend fell on his hotel room’s couch with his face buried in his hands, groaning in frustration and looking red in the face. oscar wore a loose white button up with a dark pair of jeans. he’d even worn his nice shoes for the occasion, wanting to be as presentable as possible as he picked you up from your hotel room to see you in the prettiest sundress in the most beautiful shade of blue that contrasted perfectly with your skin. 

the two of you ate and laughed and walked around with you holding on to his arm as oscar gathered the courage all night to tell you how he felt. 

“and then what happened?” logan asked as oscar groaned, frustratedly running his hands through his hair. 

“i told her i love her,” he muttered to himself and you smiled at him with that beautiful smile of yours.

“that’s great, osc!” logan tried to cheer him up, clapping him on the back as he remained hunched over the couch. “what did she say?” 

that seems to be a sore spot as oscar only groaned louder, petulantly kicking his shoes off. he can’t quite fathom how such a perfect night turned to him crashing in his best mate’s room so he can vent. 

“she said, and i quote ‘aw, osc. i love you too. you’re one of my best friends.’ and then i just about died on the spot.” 

logan winced at that, his hand now rubbing on oscar’s shoulder in comfort. “well, maybe next time the wording should be ‘i’m in love with you’?”

but oscar only groaned again. “this is a lost cause. best friend? is that all i am?” oscar starts his rant. “am i just one the many best friends in her life? will we drift apart after we both retire? at this point, i’d count myself lucky if i ever get invited to her wedding. maybe if i want to push my luck, i could be the fucking godfather of her kids.” 

and logan only winced again because he never even thought someone could be that clueless and oblivious.

—

“you look beautiful, y/n,” oscar tells you as he passes you by the media pen, ignoring the cameras and lando’s knowing grin. 

“thanks, osc. you look quite handsome yourself.” a dust of pink covers your cheeks as you smile at him, hand reaching to squeeze his lightly as you pass him by, being led by your pr team. 

for a moment, oscar freezes on the spot, unable to stop the way all his blood rushed to his cheeks and the smile that stretched across his lips. 

“mate, pull yourself together,” lando teases, pushing oscar forward to get him out of what lando dubs as the ‘y/n l/n induced lovesick daze’. 

a reporter who’d seen the entire interaction couldn’t help but laugh as she said; “y/n truly is quite a sight, isn’t she?”

oscar didn’t think his cheeks could get anymore red as he nodded. “she always has been the most beautiful girl.”

lando playfully rolled his eyes as he and oscar continued on. if he was being honest with himself, even he is getting tired with the constant pining between you and oscar. the boy could scream at the top of his lungs how in love he is with you and you’d still think it’s all platonic. this entire thing was getting a bit too pitiful for both of your friends to watch.

which is why charles and lando have taken it upon themselves to finally force you to see what’s right in front of you. oscar loved you too much to even think about putting you in any form of uncomfortable situation even if it comes at his own expense, thankfully for lando and charles, they don’t share the same sentiment and so the two got to planning. 

it was simple enough really. lando grabbed oscar by his collar, dragging him all over the paddock towards the ferrari motorhome.

“lando,” oscar whined behind him. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“trust me, mate, this is for your own good,” said his teammate, ignoring all the cameras that had gathered around them, following along. 

“can’t you at least let me walk on my own?” oscar complained again, hunched over as lando quite literally dragged him by his mclaren shirt’s collar. 

lando shook his head. “nope. i legitimately cannot handle this not going the way it’s meant to again.” 

in the distance, both mclaren boys heard you voice your complaints to charles as your teammate held you on the shoulder to keep you in place, a group of mechanics and engineers huddle around the two of you, watching in curiosity, 

finally, lando let go of oscar, allowing him to stand properly as the younger boy threw a glare at him while fixing his shirt. then he found himself face to face with you, confusion all over your face as it finally dawned on him what this is all about. 

“oscar?” you asked, looking between him and lando along with the group that had accumulated on their way to ferrari. “what are you all doing here?”

lando and charles folded their arms over their chest as charles motioned towards the two of you. “we figured the only way for you to finally get it is if there’s an audience.”

“get what?” you asked again and oscar, palms already sweating in front of you and looking as though he’d rather get struck by lightning awkwardly cleared his throat. 

“well get on to it, oscar,” lando says though his accent makes oscar’s name sound like oscah and oscar almost wanted to punch him there and then. 

again, oscar awkwardly cleared his throat as you finally face him. “y/n, i have to tell you something.”

you motioned for him to continue. “okay. what is it, osc?”

“i don’t know how else to tell you this without being upfront about it so—”

“what’s going on here?” and at the moment, fred vasseur stepped into the scene, confusion all over his face as he found practically half the paddock inside his motorhome, all of them crowding around you and oscar. 

everyone groaned, charles threw his hands up in frustration and lando wanted to bang his head against the table. “fred, you’re my boss, but please stop talking.”

fred was just about to say something else when charles physically dragged him to his side to shut him up. 

you turned back to oscar, encouraging him to keep talking even though you would have preferred more privacy. 

“i like you a lot,” he finally blurts out. “ever since f3. no, way before that. ever since karting.”

you smile at him kindly. “i like you too, oscar. i told you, you’re one of my best friends—”

every one groaned, cutting you off and oscar shook his head. 

“no, y/n. you don’t get it. i don’t just like you. i’m very much in love with you,” he emphasized, remembering logan’s words about wording it properly as he took her hand in his shaky ones. “like…i want to spend my life with you kind of in love with you.”

you eyes widened in surprise and a part of oscar had thought that maybe you were just in complete denial the entire time but he realized now that you truly, absolutely had no idea about his feelings. he doesn’t know which one is worse if he’s being honest with himself. 

“well, why didn’t you tell me, osc?” you ask gently. 

“love,” he starts softly, the nickname effortlessly rolling off his tongue. “i can’t count anymore how many times i’ve told you and how many times i’ve tried to tell you and how many times i tried to show you.”

“i never noticed.” for a moment, you seem completely dumbfounded and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the adorable way your mouth parted in surprised. you’re adorable, beautiful, gorgeous and every other adjective even if you unintentionally made his life hell the past few years. 

“that’s alright,” he reassures you.

you couldn’t help but smile shyly at him as you squeezed his hand. “well, if it makes a difference, i’m very much in love with you as well. like…i want to spend the rest of my life with you kind of in love.”

at that, he laughed again, pulling you towards him as your lips crashed together.

and everyone fucking cheered at that.

general tag list: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny @sunf1ower16 @lord-sharl-perceval @callsign-scully @saturnsrinqs @darleneslane @nmw-am @stopeatread

let me know if you guys want to be added to the general tag list or a specific driver's tag list or even if you want to be removed from the tag list because i get how annoying consistently getting tagged is.

[1mlei]

Dead on Main Soulmate AU [Part 3]

In this AU everyone is born with a tiny red heart tattooed on the inside of their wrist. If you're close to your soulmate the heart will beat, and when you meet them the heart turns to gold. If your soulmate dies, the heart will fade to black.

First part | Previous part | Next part | Masterpost

One thing that Jason hated about being the adopted son of Bruce Wayne was when he had to accompany the man to galas and other public events.

Bruce was very understanding, he would let Jason stay back home for most of the events he attended, but as Bruce's son Jason could only skip out on so many events before people started asking questions.

Granted, there was no reason why Jason was skipping out other than that he simply did not want to go, but the fewer people asking questions the better.

And so, Jason begrudgingly dressed up in a disgustingly expensive suit, put on a fake smile and pretended to be someone he was not to the faces of the same people who would turn their noses up at him as soon as they thought he, and more importantly Bruce, couldn't see.

It was exhausting to be honest, but Jason understood why it was necessary. These people were like bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out drama and gossip. If they got even the slightest hint that there was something weird going on in Wayne Manor they would not rest until they found something.

Of course their secret night-time activities were better hidden than that, but it was better not to give the socialites a reason to suspect anything in the first place.

Still, after nearly an hour of just wandering around exchanging fake smiles and empty small talk Jason was getting bored.

He headed over towards the refreshments, hoping to bring his energy back up even just a little bit.

As he made his way over, Jason took note of a girl who looked to be around his age, wearing a black and purple dress. She seemed to be inspecting some of the available appetizers with an odd intensity.

Jason silently walked up next to her, sure to keep a polite amount of space between them as he picked up one of the fancy foods that looked good enough for him.

He turned to look at the girl who still appeared to be judging the table, from this angle he could see she was wearing quite dark makeup, and more eyeliner than half the women in the room put together. He thought it suited her well.

She must have sensed his eyes on her, because she stopped her judging of the food and turned to meet his gaze instead, one eyebrow quirked in a silent question.

Jason tried for a casual, friendly tone as he spoke,

"Is something wrong with the food? Or did that one sandwich just happen to offend you?"

The girl gave him a weird look, but shook her head,

"No, just hoped there would be more options, there's meat on almost everything."

Jason looked back at the table, and she was right. The vegetarian options were quite limited.

Before he could think of something to say the girl sighed and turned to face away from the table,

"Whatever, it's not like I was that hungry anyway, just wanted something to do before I die of boredom."

As Jason quickly finished his own appetizer he smirked at her,

"Now that is something I can relate to. If I have to pretend to care about the weather one more time tonight I swear my brain will melt."

The girl let out a short huff of laughter than sounded like it agreed with him, which Jason took as a victory. Look at him go, actually having a somewhat friendly conversation at one of these events. Who would have thought?

The girl seemed to have the same thoughts, as she reached out a hand towards him,

"It's nice to know someone here has some sense. I'm Sam Manson."

Jason shook her hand with a smile,

"Jason Wayne"

Sam had a mischievous smile on her face as she answered,

"Oh I know, even if I didn't recognize you I could have guessed by the looks my parents are sending me."

Jason looked to the side discreetly until his eyes landed on a middle aged couple that were sending twin icy glares their way. He recognized a few people in their circle as some of the more influential guests in attendance tonight, and was sure that had that not been the case they would be rushing over to fetch their daughter.

He turned back as Sam continued,

"They definitely think I'm bothering you, talking about boring things like environmentalism or animal cruelty. Suppose I should go bat my eyelashes at some other rich guy that can talk about important things like his own money for a full hour."

She sent him a pained grimace as she started backing away, and Jason laughed sympathetically,

"Best of luck with that, it was nice meeting you Sam."

She nodded at him with a smile,

"You too Jason."

Then she walked away, soon getting absorbed into a circle of people to join a conversation Jason was sure was absolutely riveting.

He let out a short sigh, steeling himself before he walked off in another direction, doing the same thing.

When Sam said that she was dying of boredom, she was being polite.

She was regretting agreeing to come to this stupid gala by now.

When her parents had first asked Sam to attend with them she hadn't even heard them out before she turned them down, which they knew to expect.

That was definitely why they had immediately dropped the bomb that the gala was happening in Gotham of all places.

They knew exactly how badly Sam wanted to visit the city, the Gothic architecture speaking to her soul. While her parents didn't necessarily approve of her love for the dark and gloomy, they sure knew how to use it to their advantage.

With the added promise that she'd have plenty of free time after the gala to properly experience the city, she was sold.

Sam had even compromised with her mother when it came to her dress. Her mother wanted her in a pink and poofy abomination of a dress, while Sam insisted on her usual black.

They had met somewhere in the middle for once, the dress having none of the pink, but a lot of the poof. Since she'd had to choose between sacrificing color or shape, Sam would have to live with the inconvenient skirt, it was far better than the slimmer pastel pink dress her mother had tried to get her into. And the dress even had purple accents, that was close enough to pink.

After Sam reminded her parents that darker colours would probably suit the theme better than pink, they had agreed. She had even been able to sneakily put on some makeup in her usual style.

Considering both the setting and her attire, this was overall one of the more bearable galas Sam had attended.

But after having enough bland small talk to last her a lifetime in the span of one night she was ready to gouge her own eyes out.

She'd had the one short encounter with one Jason Wayne, who was very down to earth for being the son of the richest man there. Though, she supposed given his background that was to be expected.

She wasn't complaining, even just one conversation that didn't melt her brain was an accomplishment in her book. Unfortunately, she knew by the looks her parents sent her that the longer she kept 'bothering' a Wayne the more she'd have to pay for it later.

So she had grumpily walked away, engaging in a few more basic conversations as she went. She knew that most people in attendance didn't pay her much mind. The rebellious daughter of one of the less stinking rich families there, she didn't exactly have a lot of pull.

Good, she would prefer they not acknowledge her at all to be honest.

Eventually though, Sam gave in and snuck her phone out to text her friends for a distraction. Tucker was unhelpful like expected, happy to laugh at her suffering. She sent a vaguely threatening text his way, which had the desired effect of shutting him up.

Luckily, Sam had at least one friend that could sympathise with her. Maybe it was due to Danny's new responsibilities as prince, he was suddenly much more understanding about having to put up with high society.

Danny: you want me to swoop in and save you yet? :P

Sam: at this point i'd take a rogue attacking us over staying here any longer.

Tucker: you know saying that shit in gotham is just asking for trouble

Sam: I swear I'm gonna do it, fucking watch me.

Tucker: aight lemme just hack into the cameras real quick

Danny: can we try not to provoke Fate more than necessary? that's gonna become my problem soon :(

Sam: Yes we know, it's very sad. You know what else is sad? The things I'm about to do to the next old geezer that tells me to smile :)

Danny: alright let's not resort to murder maybe. omw.

Sam: Murder would be the kind option, I'm not feeling kind.

But also not a great idea, if my parents see me leave I'm dead.

Danny: easy solution, they won't see you leave

meet me outside in 20

there is a balcony, right? or else this is awkward

After assuring her friend that there was indeed a balcony, Sam slowly made her way outside. She only got caught up in a few short conversations on her way, and before too long she was stepping out into the chilly fall air.

She leaned against the railing, looking out over the Gotham skyline. The heavy pollution of the city made truly fresh air hard to come by, but at least it was pleasantly brisk outside. It certainly helped Sam wake her mind up after too much time spent in brain-dead conversation.

She shifted her gaze down to the cityscape spread out below her, well aware that she wouldn't see Danny coming. He would probably be flying invisibly before he even crossed the state border just to be safe. The last thing he wanted was Batman's attention.

Danny had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that he would inevitably meet some members of the Justice League at some point, especially once he became king, but for now he was doing everything he could to stay off their radar.

At this point nobody in Amity wanted the JLA involved anymore, most people understood that the heroes were not properly equipped for the town at all, and considering the fact that the most likely outcome of the JLA showing up now was Phantom having to deal with a possessed Superman, the people of Amity Park were happy to keep the other heroes out of it.

The attacks had significantly died down over the past year anyway, as Danny came more to terms with his ghostly side. When the accident first happened he had been trying desperately to cling onto his humanity and deny most of his ghostliness, which had led to him not fully understanding the other ghosts.

Once Danny accepted that he wasn't fully human anymore, and that he was still the same person despite that fact, he had started learning more about his other half.

Turns out, in a dimension where all the residents are unkillable (since they're already dead) duking it out in a friendly brawl is considered normal. Once Danny learned about this, he'd started visiting the Realms more often.

He visited regularly to fight it out with his old rogues, to pay his less violent allies a visit, and in general just learn more about the culture.

It was during one such friendly visit that Danny had learned about the rules of conquest in the Infinite Realms. Upon defeating Pariah Dark he had immediately earned the title of Crown Prince, and was to be crowned King once he was of age.

Hadn't that been an unpleasant surprise? Danny rarely went more than a day without complaining about his future position.

As Sam was lost in thought, the cold bite in the air reminded her, it was already fall. The council had agreed to let Danny wait until the summer after he turned sixteen to be crowned.

His birthday had been a few weeks back, which meant there was less than a year left.

Sam was simultaneously sympathetic for her friend, since he clearly didn't want the title and the infinite power that came with it, but also incredibly proud of him.

Had it been anyone else receiving such a position she would have worried about what all that power would do to that person.

She did not have that worry when it came to Danny, that was what made him so incredible in her eyes. Only Danny could be handed the key to infinite power on a silver platter, and want to pass it on to someone else.

She realized her thoughts had started wandering like they usually did when she thought about her friend for too long, but she couldn't help it.

Two years ago Sam had been in love with Danny, and though they'd come to the joint decision that it was better far for them to stay friends, that didn't mean Sam's admiration for her friend would go away.

She had simply learned to love him as her best friend instead. Not that it had been easy, but Danny had been understanding. Had it not been for the fact that they both had their own soulmates somewhere out there waiting for them they might have tried harder at making a relationship work, but it simply wasn't meant to be.

After emotions had settled a bit they had grown all the closer for it, a new sort of understanding between them.

Finally, after Sam had been standing there reminiscing for nearly ten minutes, she felt a familiar comforting chill in the air next to her, and just a second later Danny faded into view leaning casually against the railing next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face,

"Sorry to keep you waiting, traffic was awful on the way here."

Sam pointedly rolled her eyes at Danny's usual dry humor, but let go of the railing to face him instead,

"Let's leave quickly, my parents have definitely noticed I'm missing and I'd rather not be here if they come looking."

Danny let out out a quick "Yes ma'am", wrapping one arm around her waist, fumbling for a second trying to find her legs through the stupid poofy skirt. Sam sighed is exasperation and pulled at her dress to get it out of the way,

"Unfortunately it was this or bright pink, so we'll have to live with the extra skirts."

This time, Danny easily scooped her up bridal style, the skirt bunched up in Sam's lap. Had this been two years ago there would have been a fluttering feeling in her chest, but that was then, and Sam had long since gotten over those feelings. Instead, she just sighed when he quirked an eyebrow at her,

"Live?"

Sam smacked him in the shoulder,

"You know what I meant, now get going ghost boy."

Danny, used to Sam's dismissal of his jokes by now, did as she said and lifted off the ground slowly, letting his invisibility wash over the both of them, and then he was off into the night sky.

They'd have to return to Sam's hotel room before her parents, but that wouldn't happen for at least a few more hours.

Until then, an aerial tour of Gotham didn't sound too bad.

Jason had quickly grown bored of the dull conversations again.

He carefully excused himself from the older woman who was talking his ear off, and tried to act like he had a destination in mind as he walked away.

He ended up taking refuge in a corner that was conveniently covered, he doubted anyone would notice him staying back there for a few minutes as he took a breather.

However, after only a moment of taking cover, he spotted a familiar figure across the room. The one person he'd had a bearable conversation with during the night was walking out onto the balcony.

He considered it for a minute. He didn't want to intrude if Sam was trying to get some time to herself like him, but he also thought she had seemed to appreciate a normal human to talk to just as much as him. Surely she wouldn't mind his company too much?

Mind made up, Jason decided that he could use some fresh air himself and started slowly making his way over.

He took his time walking over, stopping to suffer through one more conversation on the way as he allowed some time to pass. He didn't want to rush after Sam the moment she walked away on her own and risk coming across wrong, he just wanted some air and decent conversation, damn it.

Maybe he could ask her about the environment to break the ice, it had been the first example she gave of a topic she supposedly liked to talk about, so she must have some interest in it. Jason wasn't overly excited by the topic, but it was sure to be more interesting than anything else being talked about in the room.

Maybe he could test the waters and see if Sam was interested in books at all, that might actually wake him up. She seemed like a person who would enjoy a good book. Maybe they could exchange recommendations.

Spurred on by the lure of talking to someone who both didn't care who his dad was and had more to talk about than business, Jason once again made his way towards the balcony after a few more minutes.

As Jason walked out into the pleasantly chilly air, he stopped short as soon as he laid eyes on Sam.

She wasn't alone.

That wouldn't be a problem on it's own obviously, they'd had one short conversation, Jason really didn't care who she talked to.

No, the problem was exactly who she was with.

Jason couldn't see the stranger's face, as both of them had their backs turned his way. All Jason could make out from behind were a pair of fully black cargo pants and a black hoodie with some white highlights. They matched the shock of white hair on their head, it was so bright it may have been glowing. Actually, the stranger's whole body appeared to be giving off a faint glow.

Jason was confused, he was pretty damn sure this stranger had not been at the gala. So how the hell had they gotten to the balcony?

Jason stuck to the shadows as he snuck closer, trying to get a better look.

He was stopped short after just a few more steps.

There was no way.

Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, Jason shakily pulled at the sleeve of his suit jacket.

The heart was beating again.

Jason's brain fumbled with the different pieces of the puzzle.

His soulmate was nearby, and the only people close enough were Sam and the newcomer. He'd had a whole conversation with Sam earlier, and his tattoo had firmly remained still. He remembers shaking her hand, and his tattoo stayed mockingly black.

But now it was beating, and there was only one other person present.

A person who had an oddly inhuman look about them.

Jason thought back to the last time he'd felt his tattoo move. He had been sure that he'd been saved by the ghost of his soulmate.

His soulmate had been dead for two years, yet they were standing in front of him. But they did not look like a.. regular person. Or a living person, rather.

Was his soulmate really a ghost? If so, how were they here?

And why were they here talking to someone other than Jason?

When his soulmate had saved him from.. something.. Jason had been sure that they came to him specifically to protect him. He'd taken comfort, in the fact that his other half had done something so impossible, had crossed the line between life and death just to save him. To give Jason something they didn't get, a life to live.

As Jason fumbles, not knowing what to do but knowing he should do something, anything, the pair in front of him move. The stranger smoothly picked Sam up bridal style after a short struggle with her skirt. Jason has barely a second to hurriedly walk towards them before gravity seems to disregard the pair, and they float upward slowly before fading from sight completely.

Jason's breath catches in his throat, and he knows they're gone because the pleasant chill that had enveloped him the moment he walked onto the balcony goes with them, and all that remains is the biting cold of the fall weather.

So, floating away and turning invisible, they sure seem like the traits of a ghost. But really, what did he expect? Jason's soulmate was dead, there was no other explanation.

No, what bothered him, was that Jason had spent one year thinking he would never get to meet his soulmate, then another thinking he'd have to wait for the afterlife to meet them. That had been some comfort, he'd live the life his soulmate wanted him to, then they'd be united when it was time.

But his soulmate had been there. Fully visible, corporeal, and they had been there to meet someone else. Did Jason not matter to them, the way they did to Jason?

Jason had felt the heart on his wrist beat before they had flown off, so surely his soulmate's heart did the same. And yet, they had simply left without sparing Jason even a glance.

Jason slowly walked over to where his soulmate had been standing mere moments ago, using the railing to steady himself as he looked out over Gotham. His soulmate was out there somewhere, in the same city, and yet Jason had no way to reach them.

Feeling more alone than he's felt in many years, Jason just stands there. He sheds no physical tears, but the cityscape grows blurry in front of him as his eyes grow misty. He doesn't let a single sound escape his lips, ignoring the cries lodged in his throat.

But inside, the cries of his heart resounds through his entire being as he grieves the loss of his soulmate once again.

First part | Previous part | Next part | Masterpost

Tags: @craftyexpertchild @666deaddash999 @lazerswordweilder @bellathecatastrophe @wanderwithwings @vexishereandveryqueer @moonsbluekingdom @princessoftheturtles @phoenixdemonqueen

Thank you for reading <3

[its3nvy]

Hello I was wondering if you could do a Billy the kid imagine where he gets really jealous of the reader and another guy and like drags her away or something. The rest is up to you

Possessive Billy the Kid

Summary: In order to get Billy to admit his feelings for you, you attempt to make it jealous.

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), possessive!Billy, porn with no plot, angst, size kink, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink

Note : Gotta be honest not my favorite work of mine, but I hope you guys enjoy!! (Also, don't forget to like, comment & reblog) :D

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 2.5k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You were aware of Billy's infatuation with you. You weren’t blind to his gaze; you weren’t deaf to his words. It's undeniable that Billy was deeply in love with you, though he stubbornly denied it.

Billy's hesitancy to act on his emotions was largely fueled by the wounds of past relationships. He'd been hurt before, and those scars had left him cautious and wary of opening up again. 

You've caught on to this, and it's what led you to your current predicament—flirting shamelessly with Luke. The idea was simple: You make him jealous to the point where you'll provoke a reaction, prompting him to confront the feelings he's been holding back.

You glance across the room at Billy, displeased with the unfolding scene between you and Luke. The room is dimly lit, adorned with rustic wooden furniture and low-hanging lanterns that cast a warm, intimate glow.

Ever since Luke entered the picture, his overconfident demeanor has irked everyone. Flirting with Luke was a sure way to get under Billy's skin.

“So, what do you say, hon’? Want to continue this conversation in my bedroom?” Luke flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.

Billy locks eyes with you, a silent exchange of challenges unfolding. Your eyebrow raises in defiance, met with Billy's stoic expression. A smirk plays on your lips, inviting the storm that brews in Billy's furrowed brows. Heightening the tension, you stand on your tiptoes and lean over the bar, your hand finding its place on Luke's bicep. You whisper something unintelligible into his ear, a secret shared in the midst of the growing chaos.

Luke's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and as he turns to look at you, a mix of shock and excitement gleams in his eyes. The room crackles with unspoken emotions as the atmosphere thickens with anticipation.

Billy's neck turns crimson as anger courses through his veins, catching the subtle shift in Luke's expression. It's the final straw, the breaking point that fractures whatever fragile equilibrium remained between Billy and you. A strange blend of dread and anticipation stirs within you as you watch Billy move decisively toward you, his face contorted with fury.

Sensing the impending confrontation, you back away from Luke, pretending to mull over his proposition. As Billy approaches, you let the tension build.

In a whirlwind of emotion, Billy shoves Luke forcefully against the bar, causing glasses to crash to the floor in a symphony of shattered fragments. He keeps him there by seizing him by the collar with a violent urgency, trapping him amidst the debris of the broken glasses.

A cold steel barrel emerges from Billy's hand, pressing menacingly under Luke's chin the ominous click of him charging it resonating in the tense atmosphere.

"You don’t fucking look at her again," Billy's voice is a low growl, each word heavy with an undercurrent of unspoken turmoil. His intense glare pierces through Luke, a fiery testament to the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

In the charged pause that follows, you find your voice, your words cutting through the tense air. "Billy, enough," you plead, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "Let him go."

For a moment, Billy's grip on Luke tightens, his eyes locking onto yours with a stubborn resolve. Then, with a reluctant exhale, he releases Luke, who stumbles back, visibly shaken.

As he turned your way, you gripped the edge of the bar nervously. He stalked towards you until he stood right in front of you, the sheer size difference making you look up to meet his eyes. The storm in his gaze was evident, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his lips.

The hand that moments ago wielded a weapon now reaches for your face, holding it with a surprising gentleness—a stark contrast to the aggression in his eyes. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that carries the weight of unresolved emotions and the turmoil that has been building between you. 

Billy’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.

Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.

As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own.

"I've fucking had it," he said, his tone carrying an undercurrent of frustration. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you find yourself locked in a silent exchange, a plea for an explanation lingering on your lips.

Billy, fueled by an intensity you hadn't seen before, grasped your arm, his grip forceful and unyielding. You stumbled along in protest, a mix of surprise and curiosity painting your face. 

He doesn't speak, but his eyes tell a story of pent-up emotions, of things unsaid and feelings unexplored. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of unspoken words as he leads you down the corridor, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.

"Where are we going, Billy?" you finally manage to ask, your voice echoing through the quiet hallway.

He doesn't respond, his jaw clenched, and his gaze fixed ahead. The tension between you is palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

As you reach his room, he pushes the door open, revealing a space that feels both intimate and charged. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows on the walls, and the air is heavy with the scent of anticipation.

"Billy, what are-", His lips crashed to yours, hungry and hot and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. He lifted his hand, gently cradling your jaw as he kissed you. With a subtle tilt of your head, the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as you melted in his arms, giving into him with a moan of pure want. 

He pressed his body to yours, caging you in his arms and trapping you between him and the wall. In response, you surged forward, reaching up and clasping his face in your hands. Your fingers rasped against his stubble, digging into his skin. A low growl escaped him, intensifying the heat in your belly. He pressed harder into you, his cock forming a firm ridge against your thigh.

He broke the kiss, panting harshly, tipping you head back so he could look deep into her eyes. 

You were barely able to form the words, desire swimming so thickly in your veins you could feel nothing else. “Billy, Please-.”

He groaned, a deep and visceral sound of relief and release. His thumb traced a gentle circle on her cheek in a brief moment of tenderness, but his desire for you was too strong to be placid and mellow right now. 

“Turn around,” was all that left his lips.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised by his sudden statement.

“You listening to me, doll?” There was that damned smirk again. “I need you to turn around for me.”

“Why is that?” God, you loved messing with him.

In a swift motion, he spun you around, your chest colliding with the wall, pinned against it. His grip on your hips tightened, a silent proclamation of his control as the atmosphere crackled with the intensity of unspoken words.

“Enough playing, doll,” he spoke against your ear. “You want me to make you mine?”

His fingers delicately traced along the fabric of your bodice, gently pulling it down to reveal your breasts. A soft exclamation escaped him as he pressed sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, his hands tenderly caressing and exploring the newfound intimacy between you.

“I’m gonna show you how no one else can satisfy you.”

Your head was whirling. Your eyes closed at his words, drinking them in like a shot of expensive liquor. “All you’ll be able to think about is me. You want that?”, he whispered against your ear as his free hand hiked your skirts up, and traveled upwards. You gasp when you feel his cool fingers press up against your clit, then travel slightly downwards where your wetness was beginning to leak from.

“Gotta talk to me, doll,” he cooed as a finger danced along your clothed slit, soaking in just how wet you were. “Need to hear how good you feel.”

He watched the way your lips fell open in the sweetest O shape at him pushing your panties to the side and sliding his calloused finger across your clit. You sighed at the break from pleasure as his fingers left your clit. You were breathing heavy, head spinning as he slid his index finger inside of you.

“Billy,” you whined, hand wrapping around his wrist as he pumped his finger agonizingly slowly.

“Hmm?”, he hummed. “Want another? I bet you can take it.” Your chest was rising and falling faster than before as you dug your nails into the skin of his forearm when he slid his finger out and added another.

“That’s it,” he pushed them into you with a delicious curl. “That’s a good girl.”

“Shit,” you hissed as he pumped harder, making sure his palm bumped against your puffy clit. “Fuck, Billy.”

“You’re close already?”, his words filled your thoughts. You nodded dumbly, mouth open and panting. Heat washed over you, pushing you closer to the edge of coming undone for him. Honestly it felt embarrassing how fast he had you melting his just his hands. You were shameless though. Throwing away any dignity just to chase the high he was about to give you. Just as the cord tightened and your body tensed, he withdrew his hand with an adoring smile hidden under his mask.

“Oh you’re so-,“ you struggled to get out. “So fucking cruel.”

The look you gave him over your shoulder was deadly. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing,” he smirked and you knew it from the way his eyes stared down at you. 

‘C’mere, doll,’ he tore the buttons from your skirt, freeing you from any garment you wore that went with them. 

“I’m gonna need you to bend over for me, baby,” he voiced as he began undoing his own pants. You groaned, shuffling your feet backwards and keeping your chest to the wall.

“That’s it,” he kissed you along your jaw and hissed as he began to pump himself slowly. “Good girl.”

You bit at your lip, holding in the moan when he placed the tip of his heavy cock against your slit and began rubbing up and down as he slowly started to press inside of you. Your squirm, his other hand coming to your hip to keep you still. Slowly, he pushes inside. 

“Fuck doll, you’re taking me so well,” he hissed, gripping your ass to spread you open even more. 

“Billy,” you whined, “too much.”

“You can do it,” he pushed further, splitting you open with a delicious ache. “Relax for me.”

“That’s it,” he groaned, moving his hips slowly. “So proud of you,” his praise made your cheeks burn. You both pant as he starts to bottom out, feeling him deep, pressed tightly against your cervix. Pausing for a moment, he gently kissed you, giving you the sweetest reassurance as you adjusted. His actions were tender, creating a gentle moment amid the heated passion.

Billy drew his hips back, brushing against that delicious spot on the way before almost pulling completely out and slamming hard back into you. His grip was sure to leave bruises on your hips, but he found that he had little concern about it as he watched your eyes roll back. With how he was handling you, he'd wondered if you'd mark him up the same if he asked you - it would only be fair, and he would be more than happy to wear any branding that you'd put on him. But for now, he'd put his on you.

“Good,” he growled. “So fucking good.”

His thrusts were relentless. Ensuring you felt every inch of his thick cock when he fucked you. You yelped as the tip brushed against your cervix, earning a hiss from him when you tightened around him. Wet slaps filled the air as he pounded you faster, determined to fill every inch of you that he could.

He watched the way your mouth hung open but no noise could even leave this sweet lips of yours, not when he fucked you this good.

“You’re mine,” his other hand reached to the front of you, tugging on your puffy clit. You moaned in response but that wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Go on,” he growled in your ear. “Go on. Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Billy-“ You felt like you could cry. “Please-“ Every word was cut short by his thrusts deeper into you. You were so close your mind was racing.

“I’m - fuck - I’m yours,” you moaned. “Belong to you.”

He reached for your hands, pulling them behind your back and pinning them against you to use to fuck you harder. He yanked you back on his cock at the same time he thrusted forward too many times to count before the inside of your thighs ran slick. Your vision grew into a blur with each thrust as your brain became fuzzy, your stomach tightened as you grew closer to your climax. 

It only took a second for your wails to turn into sharp gasps, your trembling body going taut as all the tension he'd built inside you snapped. It felt like bliss, it felt like a high from a drug you’d just taken for the first time. You came with a scream as he continued to fuck you. In and out, in and out, it was about all your mind could process as your body zipped and sparked like it had been hit by a thunderstorm.

"Fuck, I love the sounds you make when you come undone, doll." he mumbled. "So beautiful..." A few more dizzying pumps and you felt him pull out of you with a moan.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, slipping his free arm around your waist to keep you from falling.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He praised between pants against your shoulder. “Don’t think I’m ever gonna let you go now.” You smiled, as he peppered you with kisses. 

"I'd be surprised if the entire fucking town didn't hear us", you managed to breathe out. Billy simply grinned. "Good. Maybe now everyone will know to keep their fucking hands off."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: open!

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: Fun fact... The reason I titled this as two sides of the same coin as I was originally planning on making the reader being Azrael's wife and would be [y/n] Eveningstar as Azrael's last name would be Eveningstar 🧍but decided not to lmao.

PART TWO | PART FOUR | NAVIGATION

Charlie stood nervously at the podium, angels above her already judging her. Her eyes noticed the door to the courtroom opens, a familiar angel she met awhile ago, an angel that looked like her father. Xavier was it? If she remembered correctly. She watched as the boy flew up and took his position on the other side of Sera, Emily on the other side of the woman, the older woman in between the two young seraphims.

Charlie could feel the [e/c] orbs staring at her as the boy looked down on her (literally as he was sitting above her).

The meeting began.

Charlie was really hoping to win these angels over, hopefully her brother could help.

But she was slowly getting more and more nervous as the boy looked like he was getting bored from this meeting, the meeting clearly didn't meet his expectations.

Xavier just looked down, eyes half-lidded as he looked at the girl with boredom. All he could see is a plan without enough foundation to work, baseless claims that the hotel will work.

What annoys him is that this is the very same ambition his father proposed years ago. He wasn't there during the meeting but his mother told him about it.

The idea is ridiculous. Sinners were given a chance to live an honest and good life but decided to mess it up and now they're looking for a way to redeem themselves?

Xavier was close to falling asleep in the middle of it, suddenly something caught his interest. Emily, Charlotte, and Sera were arguing but Lute and Adam suddenly butted into the conversation and managed to slip up and revealed a secret.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month... gotta say I can't wait to... Come down and exterminate you.” Adam says mockingly along with Lute.

Xavier's eyes widened, jaw dropping. Looking around to see if he heard it right and base on the others reaction, he heard it right.

The rest of the meeting went by a blur, another secret was revealed and Vaggie, Charlotte's lover was a former exorcist and is a fallen angel.

Frankly, he doesn't care about that. Xavier can only cover his mouth in shock, still in disbelief that these killings are happening without the others knowing.

Heaven is a lie.

Charlie looked at her supposed brother, a slight surprised look on his face. Clearly in disbelief. She couldn't tell if he's mad or not.

Oh, he's mad alright. Mad that a lie this big has been hidden away.

Beyond furious, Xavier glared at Sera. Charlotte and her lover were teleported back to hell after a snap of Adam's fingers.

Killing of souls, damned or not they have no reason for doing this.

Xavier decided to attend the court meeting, curious what fantastic or foolish ideas his half sister had to show them. He didn't expect that this meeting ended up revealing a very heavy secret.

Currently he is comforting Emily as the girl glares at Sera, “Please, if you start to question... You could end up like Lucifer... Fallen.” Sera says, her voice trembling slightly.

Xavier's glare hardened when the older woman mentioned a certain man he hated, Xavier just glared at Sera as the woman gave Emily a kiss on her forehead, he doesn't like how the high Seraphim is hiding a secret this big.

“Xavier.” Sera calls out to him sternly, the boy just gave the woman a raised eyebrow as his face returns to being emotionless. Sera felt chills running down her spine, Lucifer's face is unfortunately plastered on this boy's face, the fallen angel was his father after all.

“I hope you don't tell anyone about this. Especially your mother.” She pleaded and Xavier scoffs, a slight mischievous smile on his face, “Or what? Gonna cast me out to like what you did with my birth father?” he asked sarcastically, Sera's eye twitched.

“Of course, not. That isn't an enough reason to cast you out. Just... Please don't tell her.” the woman explained and Xavier scoffs.

“I love my mother and I can't bear to lie to her face, she already had enough of that. Just expect that this will reach the seven's soon.” He explained before eventually flying down and leaving the courtroom, not giving the woman a chance to speak.

Sera wanted to reach out and stop the boy but he was already gone, lowering her hand slowly. Sighing. He really is Lucifer's son, stubborn.

After all, the apple doesn't really fall far from the tree.

They're just lucky that [y/n] was able to raise the boy properly and was able to inherit most of his mom's personality. The looks however, are unfortunately from his dad.

Sera sighs again. Mentally preparing about the possibilities of what will happen if the seven virtues' know about this.

Charlie's mind was a mess after that meeting, Vaggie gave her some time and space to process everything of what happened.

She can't believe the love of her life is a fallen angel and worse, an ex exorcist! She hid something this big from her! And on top of that, she has a half older brother in heaven?!

Charlie groans, going underneath the covers as she lies on the bed.

She knows the older boy didn't lie as he literally had her father's face except for the eyes and height but everything else was an exact replica. Charlie can't help but be jealous, she could tell how much better the boy was compared to her, the boy carried an air of authority around him.

She feels guilty, she's not stupid. Her dad had that boy while he was in heaven and obviously with someone else, another angel.

Charlie wonders what kind of life her half brother is living up there?

What she does know is that the boy harbors some kind of hatred for her and her family. The boy didn't fully express it but Charlie could feel it, the bubbling rage beneath his exterior when he saw her.

She'll have to ask her dad about this later, once she's mentally okay.

Xavier returned back home, the mansion empty as his mother is away, and they don't have any servants as they prefer a quiet life.

Walking to the living room, his eyes gazed at the large portrait that was displayed on the wall of the living room—a portrait of him and his mom. Him standing at her side while she sat on a regal chair, both of them matching clothes—their heaven uniforms.

His eyes softened, he felt exhausted. Training with his uncle, meeting his half sister, and a secret Sera hid was revealed.

He can't wait for her to come back home, he needed to tell her all about this.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen

[oceaneyesinla]

This idea appeared in my brain in the shower and I think it's ADORABLE. Shoto just brings out the cuteness aggression in me

Shoto x gn!Reader

A knock at your dorm room door distracts you from your book, but when you open it, you're met with beige walls and blue carpet, neither of which are known for their ability to knock on wood. This has happened a fair few times in the last month , and that knowledge prompts you to look down.

You can't help your pleased little smile when your hunch is proven correct. Sitting neatly in the doorway is a bunch of pretty flowers wrapped up in blue plastic. They're your favourite, just like always, and they've arrived just in time - like clockwork, just as the old ones are beginning to wilt, a new bouquet appears. There's differences every time, but whatever extras have been added, your favourite flower is always there.

There's a distinctive amateur feel to the way the bouquet is wrapped up, and it endears you to your secret gifter even more. It's clear how much time and effort is going into this gesture, in more ways than one. Someone listened to you, when you rambled about the flower patch in your childhood garden, the one you tended alone while your brother trained with your parents to become a hero. Someone remembered you fondly reminisce about pretty leaves and bright petals, and decided to make you smile.

You crouch down to pick up the flowers, and there's a note tucked amongst the blooms, just like every other time. It's never signed, and it's always so blunt and honest that it circles right back round to being charming. Whether it's complementing your sunshine smile or praising you for your latest training success, it never fails to make your cheeks heat up. You keep them all, tucked away in the drawer underneath where you display your flowers.

Your admirer is making a valiant effort to keep their identity hidden, and you find it adorable - mostly because you figured it out as soon as you saw that first note. He forgot that you know him as well as he knows you. The way he writes his characters is ever so slightly clumsy; he spent a lot of time teaching himself to write - Endeavour more interested in teaching him to fight than to live - and there's a couple of little details that make his handwriting distinctive. Plus, you're shared a class with him for three years; you've seen his writing more times than you can count.

There's a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, and you press your lips together to hold back a giggle. He may be a nearly graduated Hero course student, but he's not very sneaky. He doesn't usually stick around to see your reaction to his creation, instead listening intently from his desk as you gush about them to Momo.

Your eyes widen as your eyes scan over familiar script, and now you know why he's loitering - Todoroki Shoto is asking you on a date. You read the words three times, and pinch yourself for good measure. Part of you is surprised - he knows all your darkest moments and he's choosing you anyway? - but a bigger part of you knows this was inevitable. You've been gravitating towards each other since first year, and honestly, you've been driving your classmates mad.

An almost painful grin stretches across your face as you straighten up, "Sho? Come here."

He obeys almost immediately, emerging from around the corner to stand in front of you. The cautious hope glittering in his eyes makes you want to squish his cheeks and boop his nose and you feel giddy when you remember that yes, you'll be able to do just that. No more hiding the urge to hold his hand or kiss his cheek when he remembers your favourite snack or brings an extra hoodie to movie night just in case you get cold.

Maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. You still haven't actually given him an answer, and he's starting to worry, his bottom lip pushing out into a little pout. You can't take his sad face any longer - you reach out and grab his hand, infinitely entertained by the immediate red flush that spreads across his cheeks.

"Of course I'll go on a date with you. How about this weekend?"

"Okay." His smile is reflecting yours like the moon reflects the sun, and oh, he might be the prettiest person you've ever met.

He lifts your hand and shyly drops a kiss to your knuckles, looking up at you through unfairly long lashes. Now you're blushing as well, heat pooling in your cheeks as he lets your hands fall back between you. Neither of you let go, and you make an impulsive decision - after all, Shoto was brave enough to take the first step; the least you can do is meet him where he is.

"Actually, I'm free right now. We could go and get dinner?"

Your bravery is instantly rewarded with another devastatingly beautiful smile, "Yeah, I'd like that."

[seiwas]

suguru looks at you and thinks he could tell you everything.

it's tempting—how you hold his gaze when others normally avoid it. anyone else and their eyes dart away immediately, blurring him into the background. not with you though; with you, he exists in central focus.

there's a strand of your hair that's fallen out of place, and he reaches to tuck it behind your ear, quickly. it's a trick, a sleight of hand that conceals the tremble of his fingertips.

(your breath hitches when he grazes your cheek.)

the noise in the cafe is a symphony of indistinct chatter and soft alternative folk music, with ceramics clinking as the constant underlying beat. none of it is supposed to go together, but it carries the ambiance in its harmony.

he leans in closer when you speak.

you continue your story, off on a tangent already; his head tilts to the side, a finger to his temple as he nods along, lips curling at the edges fondly. this same look has made others nervous, flustered, but you seem unfazed; meeting him eye-to-eye overtly.

which isn't normal.

and if he's being truly honest with himself, none of this—what he's doing, thinking, how he's feeling—is normal.

suguru believes in secrets, that some things are better kept to himself.

but, it's one look into your eyes, at the way you regard him so unlike everybody else that has him wondering how you'd react if he tells you you look pretty instead of nice today—how you are pretty much a frequent visitor to his thoughts lately.

(you talk and talk and talk because you can never tell what he's thinking—mysterious smile matched with an unnerving stare is a combination too deadly.)

he doesn't do 'brunches'—it's either a late breakfast or an early lunch, pick one—yet he finds himself seated in a cafe at 10:27 a.m., having one with you.

the lock to his chest has been tampered with; if he dusts it off, he'll find your fingerprints, left behind unknowingly. you are innocent until proven guilty, but his lips, usually shut tight, are now slowly unzipping; it's you, the root of all this.

if he tells you he likes looking at you—might always want to—would you consider having another brunch with him? to stay longer in that suspended in-between of breakfast and lunch time?

(you blink, suguru still leaned in, listening.)

(if you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, will his breath hitch just the same?)

for @rinniessance; a lil birthday gift for you angie bby! (i might be a lil early posting this... oop!) i've never written sugu but wanted to try for you 🥹 ily you beautiful soul!! (not a birthday fic itself but i hope i gave a decent characterisation of him! 🥺)

thank you notes: @mysugu @soumies for helping me try to figure this man out 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[bywons]

୨୧ MY DOPAMINE! — p. jongseong

pairing. tutor!park jay x f!reader w.c. 0.8k  tw/cw. organic chemistry rawrr👹, nicknames(sweetheart, pretty girl), kissing on the cheeks genre. non idol au, college/high school au, fluff

sru's note! finals are coming fr and im in need of a handsome tutor smh 😩 feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

"so," jay pushed up his rimless glasses with his slender fingers as he sighed, looking at you, "how do you convert ethyne to benzene?"

it was tough really, both the subject and the situation.

only a week ago you convinced, park jay— the chemistry topper in your class, to tutor you for the upcoming final exams. there was no doubt you weren't even going to get the passing marks at the subject, which was obviously, a shame. but you had to do something! the finals were in a week or so!

but your heart was against convincing jay park to tutor you. it was against the fact that your heartbeat would accelerate everytime he was in the frame, the fact that your pupils would dilate at the sight of him simply adjusting his glasses or his cute face whenever he was solving problems, the fact that you'd find yourself in awe whenever you were lost in his heavenly face.

the fact that dopamine secrets in your body whenever its him.

almost whatever he did, you loved it.

"hey, are you even listening to me?", jay's 'strict tutor' voice snapped you out of your trance.

"h-huh? y-yes!", struggling to actually pay attention to the opened chemistry book in front of you, you lift your head up to meet the firm eyes of jays.

but as soon as you took a glimpse of his blond hair caressing his soft brows with his glasses and rolled arm sleeves to the addition of his beauty, boy oh boy, you were swept away.

"uh huh?", he smirked leaning over the study table, closer to you, "then what's the answer, hmm?"

"it's...", you trailed off, making a fake thinking face to show some level of understanding in the subject to jay, when in reality you had no idea of the tedious chemical reactions, ".... it's uhm-"

"come on sweetheart," sweetheart, "I've taught you this three times already", jay closed the notebook in front of him and sighed, clasping his hands together.

"to be honest jay....", you heavily sigh back, whining as you dug your fingernails in your scalp, mentally cursing chemistry and cursing you lovestruck weak heart, for not being able to concentrate.

"i-i really don't know the answer. i've never been good at chemistry!"

"alright, but is that the excuse you give to the teacher when you fail this semester?"

"no, but-" you roll your eyes, wondering when this was gonna end, but jay cut you off,

"y/n, im gonna ask you the simplest question ever. if you don't get it right, i wont teach you anymore."

this single sentence of jay had you sweating cold, with your heart suffer a crack. Shit. You knew you had to leap for the sun for this one, by hook or by crook.

'cause obviously, you didn't wanna miss your favourite face for a week.

"solve this numerical for me ok?", jay slided a blank workspace with a question on top for you to solve.

you gulped at the question, it was easy but tricky.

few loose strands fondled your cheeks while you worked at the problem, praying to every god that you'd get it right for the sake of jay sticking around.

you groaned, scribbling the whole equation for the second time after you thought it would be right. and if the pressure of the awful subject chemistry wasn't enough, you felt the warm touch of jay's hands, ever so lightly tucking the loose strands behind you ear.

but thank god you had your head down, for your cheeks went crimson.

"i love your hair," jay chuckled, his fingertips still lingering on your cheeks, "come on! you know the answer, hun." hun.

you gulped even harder, and handed him the answer sheet back, manifesting it would be correct. but you were on the verge of keeping cool. jay park smiled at for the second time! and tucked your hair?! oh my—

"hey! i told ya, it's correct!" jay beamed, handing you the paper back.

"finally!", and so you couldn't keep your joy, squealing and giggling. because you got the answer right was a factor, but being able to spend more time with jay made up 99% of it.

but all this time jay admired you as much. so much, that he ignored the tiny mistake done in the numerical he gave, after all he too wanted to be closer the prettiest girl in the world. he rejected tutoring to so many other students in his class, just for his pretty girl. (>.<)

then all of a sudden it came to a halt when you felt a feathery, tinglish sensation on your cheeks, tinting it crimson again.

it was almost unbelievable that jay kissed you, but then he smiled ever so sweetly at you, meanwhile you were losing your mind over this, jaws hung low, eyes widened and cheeks rapidly getting coloured.

"if you manage to get good grades this semester," jay sang, leaning dangerously close to your ears and stealing your breath away as he whispered,

"then i'll kiss you on your lips, pretty girl."

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

taglist: open! CLICK ON THE LINK TO BE ADDED!

[ange1heavensent]

Do you feel ashamed  When you hear my name?

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

w/c ≈ 1420

authors note: first time writing angst, hope you'll like it!

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

The party is louder than usual, the bass thumping in sync with your heartbeat as you sit on a couch, watching the world around you with a growing sense of detachment. You try to focus on the conversation your friends are having, but your attention drifts back to her, Abby.

She’s standing near the beer pong table, towering over the group of athletes she always hangs out with. Her loud laughter cuts through the noise, and her smile, the one that used to be reserved for you, now feels distant. The sight of her should’ve brought comfort, but instead, it’s a reminder of the growing distance between you two.

You nurse on your drink, taking small sips to calm the ache gnawing at your chest. You’ve been together for months now, though no one else knows. Abby’s never been open about what you are to her, not in public. The stolen kisses behind closed doors, the secret late-night meetups, the whispered promises when no one was around, it felt like a dream you were both chasing, but one you could never fully grasp.

And the hiding. Always the hiding. Her friends walk right past you without a second glance, unaware of how close you two really are. Or were. Abby never acknowledges you at parties. Never looks at you for too long when others are around. Like she’s afraid someone will piece together the puzzle and see the truth.

Your heart clenches when Abby catches your gaze from across the room. For a moment, you think she might walk over. But she doesn’t. She holds your stare for a split second before turning back to her friends, laughing at something they said.

That’s it.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cold weight of inevitability in your bones. You can’t keep doing this. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks, but tonight feels different, heavier. Final.

When you see her slip out to the balcony for air, you follow, even though your legs feel like they’re made of lead.

The cool night air hits you as you step out onto the balcony where Abby is leaning against the railing, staring into the distance. Her hair is tied back in that familiar braid, her muscular arms crossed over her chest. She hears you approaching but doesn’t turn around.

"Hey," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, though the quiet of the night makes it sound louder. Abby glances over her shoulder at you, her face guarded, "hey." You step closer, but not too close. Not like before. There’s a distance between you now, one that can’t be closed with just words.

The silence stretched painfully, thick with everything that’s been left unsaid for so long. You don’t even know how to start. But you know what you have to do. You know what’s breaking inside of you. “I can’t do this anymore,” you finally say, each word weighed down by months of hurt. Abby’s jaw clenches, and she stares straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep being your secret.” The words spill out faster than you intend, raw and honest. “I can’t keep pretending we don’t know each other when we’re around your friends. I can’t keep waiting for you to text me at 3 AM because that’s the only time you feel safe enough to talk to me. I love you, Abby, but I’m tired of being hidden.”

She says nothing, her silence louder than anything she could’ve said. You can feel your heart breaking even before the words leave her mouth. You search her face, looking for any sign that she’ll fight for this, for you. But her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and it shatters something inside you.

You feel your chest tighten, a hollow ache settling in your bones. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” She stays quiet, and that’s when you know. You’ve lost her, if you ever really had her at all. You take a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry. Not here. Not now. “Goodbye, Abby.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing alone in the night, her unspoken words hanging in the air.

- 

The days that follow are agonisingly slow. Each one a constant reminder of what you’ve lost, or maybe what you were never allowed to fully have. You still see Abby on campus, at parties, in the dining hall, but it’s like you’ve become invisible to her. She doesn’t look at you. But you know she sees you. You can feel her eyes on you, watching from the shadows.

It hurts. It hurts seeing her, knowing how much you loved her, how much you still love her, and knowing she wasn’t brave enough to love you back in the way you needed.

But you try to move on, forcing yourself to smile, laugh, and go out with your friends. You flirt with new people, let them make you laugh, let them distract you from the ache in your chest. It works for a little while, but at the end of the day, Abby’s absence is a weight you can’t shake.

You miss her.

But you know deep down that you made the right decision. You can’t go back to being hidden. To being something she was too afraid to acknowledge.

-

It’s late, after another party you attended half-heartedly. You’re walking back to your dorm, the night air cool against your skin, when you hear footsteps behind you. The sound is familiar, and your heart sinks.

“Can we talk?” Abby’s voice cuts through the quiet night, and you stop in your tracks.

You don’t turn around immediately, your mind racing with all the things she could say. After a moment, you take a deep breath and turn to face her. “What do you want to talk about?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended, but the hurt is still fresh. She steps closer, and for the first time in weeks, you see her eyes, truly see them. There’s no more hiding behind jokes or silence. There’s just Abby, raw and vulnerable.

“I miss you,” she says, and it’s almost painful how vulnerable she sounds.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “You miss me, or you miss having someone you can sneak around with?”

She winces, and you can tell your words hit her hard. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

She takes a step closer, her eyes pleading. “I…I didn’t know how to handle it. Being with you, feeling what I feel for you, it scares the hell out of me. I’ve never been good at talking about this stuff, about…who I am.” Her voice wavers, and she takes another breath before continuing. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you by hiding us, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I do. I care so much it terrifies me.”

You swallow hard, feeling the familiar tug in your chest. “Then why couldn’t you just-”

“Because I’m scared,” she cuts in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of losing everything, my friends, my family. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You blink, thrown off by her words. “What does that even mean?”

Abby takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “It means I’m ready to be with you. For real. No more hiding. No more secrets. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. I just... I care about you. I need you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, her words almost too good to be true. You want to believe her, but after all the hurt, you’re not sure you can. “I’ve heard this before,” you whisper, looking away. “What’s different now?” “Because I know what it feels like to lose you,” she says, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you. “And I can’t... I don’t want to live with that anymore. I love you. I’m done hiding.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. She’s standing there, offering you everything you’ve wanted, but part of you wonders if it’s too late.

“I need more than just words, Abby,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “I need you to show me that this time, it’s real.”

“I will,” she promises, her voice steady. “I swear, I’ll show you.”

You look at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, the honesty that wasn’t there before. And maybe, just maybe, she’s telling the truth this time.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)