#soft/sentimental hours hehe

[astraystayyh]

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

i. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  

He’s beautiful. 

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 

“Touché.” 

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?” 

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 

One hour later 

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 

“You made them?” 

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 

ii. 

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose. 

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 

Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 

One week later. 

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 

“Will she be okay?” 

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 

“Can I read what you wrote?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?” 

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing. 

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 

You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 

iv. 

You’re avoiding him. 

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 

“Okay!” 

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

“Look at me, hm?” he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. “Yn, please, I want to look at you.”

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 

“What happened to connected Chris?” 

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 

you win. 

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later). 

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 

It's her first time calling you mom. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

[hoshigray]

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

[vampiretendencies]

request; jj blurb idea! wearing his clothes for the first time/him seeing you in his clothes for the first time. maybe showering at the chateau but you didn’t bring anything so he gives you a tshirt! hehe literally kicking my feet under the table rn

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

authors note; i was doing the same when you sent this anon in love with this idea ! (req a blurb from below w what’s left on the prompt list, or send in blurb, imagines, & fic ideas) a few more hours until season 3!

other ways to say i love you prompt list

The opportunity to wear JJ’s clothes tainted your thoughts undoubtedly.

Not only because it belonged to him but because everything about JJ’s wardrobe, is so JJ.

No problem with repping any and everything that belonged to your infamous boyfriend. Wether it be wearing his pair of boxers as shorts, a wife beater to slumber in, or a random tee shirt to go out in broad day light.

You just longed for his material to be around your figure.

Congenial and adequate, soft yet comfortable— all elements of his clothes that are alike with JJ.

They are his clothes, after all.

“JJ let go of me!”

Stood smack in the the middle of JJ’s room at the chateau. His window partially open, wind bristling from the night air, making its way through. Whilst the hard wood floors beneath the two of you tracked the imprints of your feet. Bed rolled around in, from you forcing JJ off of you then— merely to let you get up and off of the bed to shower, that you did. Since you came out though, wearing little clothing, (given that there wasn't much of your own items lying around at the Chateau) he hasn't let you be.

He encapsulates you with his sinewy arms, body swallowing you whole. Whilst you forcefully push your hands against his broad, shirtless chest— the skin mellow and thick. Indentations of your miniature hands marking his skin, like your were a rag doll; screaming for dear life.

All JJ could muster was a low, raspy chuckle.

“Say you won’t leave.”

JJ wanted to make love to you all day long.

Not sex.

But emotionally.

To emotionally make love, to have and hold. A day full of luster, every millisecond spent around or with you. To confide in and maybe even shrink you and put you in his pocket.

A keepsake.

“You know I can’t, I don’t have another change of clothes.”

Behind every ‘can’t’ JJ miraculously finds a way, opportunity at hand to see you clad in something of his.

“Lets find you something of mine?”

JJ flicks his tongue, peering down at you due to the fact that he knows he’s won and you aren’t moving a muscle. His hands maneuver themselves to the lower part of your ass, hands habitually grasp the masses with a squeeze of his hands.

“Are you gonna’ give me something to wear then or what?”

You hid your secret giddiness inside, not wanting to be the one to initiate this sentiment— things seemingly working themselves out anyway.

“Actually, baby … just fuckin’ walk around naked … s’even better.”

He acknowledges the glint in your eye, possibly even a twitch that says, ‘get me some damn clothes before I wring your neck.’

“Okay okay, whatcha’ thinkin’ a little Heywards t-shirt action … Bait Shop shirt … ?”

He let go of you distastefully, instantly salivating for the contact again. Walking over to the wooden drawers of his dresser, pulling out multiple options— signaling you to come over and pick.

“Surprise me.”

And you turn around, facing the emptiness of his room, that wasn’t his room, but nonetheless. Rummaging was heard as he hummed and mumbled minuscule things to himself.

“Turn around, pretty girl.”

An off-black brownish t-shirt is thrown into your hands. A decor in the upper left side that read ‘Sex Wax Est 2005’, font circular and embellished with stars on either end.

“Your turn-“

He was already turning around, the gentlemen that he prided on being. You grinned at the cotton beneath your digits, bringing it up to your nose— though it had been washed, his powerful musk still retained it. The silky sensation of yeasty beer and a freshly rolled blunt encompassed your senses.

“Need more time?”

“Just a second, J.”

If only he knew your fixation was obsessive beforehand.

“I’ll just be here … y’know ... missin' my girl."

Feet away, physical touch being his love language fully had a choke hold on him per usual.

After you were done with your inspection you pulled the thin material of your cropped cami past your shoulders, bra clasped tight to your back. Leaving you to remove those lacey pocketed shorts that adorned your body; his shirt lazily pulled past your head, drowning you in its bigger size, falling just to your mid thigh.

The sole way to sleep with JJ disclosed.

You felt more his than you ever had in the past; claiming his array of bib and tucker with exuberance.

His baby suffocating in him.

You cleared your throat gesturing for him to turn around, his mouth gaping open as he's awe struck; open long enough that you were impressed something didn't fly in it.

"Shit you look better than me!"

Ogle eyes whilst his mouth formed a tight-lipped smile, stomach churning and insides wavering at the woman he chose to take part in his life with him.

It may be a shirt to most, but with his person inside of it made it all the more nostalgic, heart growing tender.

"C'mere gotta get a better look at you."

Following suit you step forward to him, lips instantly connecting with your jaw with pure infatuation.

"S'perfect baby."

"Yeah? Think I can pass as the new JJ Maybank?" In the same position the two of you were in minutes ago, except grins are wider and souls aching all the more for eachother; and you mocked him.

"Pass me a beer and a J."

[kairiscorner]

the poll has spoken.

miggy and his feelings for you. (when he catches you smiling because of someone else)

summary: what's the next step after telling someone you like them? usually, stuff like that ends in rejection–but... you didn't reject miguel when he finally expressed how he felt for you. what's next after this? he can only handle his need to love you and declare that you're his and he's yours so much before he... before he breaks.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

genre: a bit of angst and fluff 🫂🫂🫂

word count:

a/n: i'm writing this on the date of my blog's second monthsary, HEHE, this is kind of a belated monthsary gift (or early third monthsary gift~~~) for my miguel babes out there, y'all know who you are 🤩 anyway, hope you guys enjoy !!

the rapid palpitations of his heartbeat could still be felt in every fiber of his bones, of his muscles, as he reminisced that moment when he mustered up all the courage he had and breathed out those three, four words he's been dying to utter to you, for you to hear, listen, and sink in your heart as he tells you in such a soft, sentimental tone that he can't help but let out.

"estoy enamorado de ti."

"i'm in love with you, i love you."

he has never been able to recover from the shocks and tingles sent up his spine and tickling the back of his brain every time silence settles in and consumes him. the silence is a perfect, beautiful torment for miguel; because it is the silence that reminds him of how you held him dearly, teased him for his "dramatic", "extra" showcases of affection towards you, and that he remembers every bit of how he feels around you, the love of his life. you've always seen him as a very close friend–like an annoying, overprotective brother at times in the past–but those feelings have thus shifted; and is miguel ever so grateful for that happening.

he's been so scared and lost–like a child who's afraid of the dark wandering in a pitch black room, calling out for help–he was always unsure of what to do with these secret feelings he harbored for you. he thought it'd be better to bury them, to never let you know and take that secret of his to the grave; but he knew he would forever regret that. sometimes, wanting to love and wanting to protect the one you love are two very conflicting ideas–thet don't always end in mutual agreements. and ever since you declared that you reciprocated his feelings and loved him back through your actions and words... he has never felt an even greater need to love and protect you.

miguel's got a new role in your life now, to be the man who will protect and take care of you, ensure you don't go a single day without feeling loved, that you live every day, every hour of your life being as you are–happy and comfortable with yourself, hopefully with the addition of him in the picture. miguel trusts you among everyone else in his whole life–you are the only friend he has that's stuck with him this whole time and still puts up with him, despite his hard-headedness, and does the unthinkable: love him the same way he loves you. he couldn't ask for any more, really, when everything he's ever wanted in life had been granted in the brief moment you two shared when he swore to you he'd work on being such a pain in the ass for you and not be a selfish prick.

he's spent every waking hour searching for you, wanting to hold you close to him in private and smother you with all the love and affection in the multiverse. you have to understand, now, that miguel has never felt this compelled to be with anyone before in his entire life–this is his first time wanting someone with such devotion and affection behind that desire, it's a desire with depth, with genuine emotions; and it sometimes terrifies him. he doesn't know what to do with these feelings, save for acting accordingly to what they compel him to do, so long as it is within bounds of what you want and what you're okay with. however, there are times that those feelings of his get... a bit out of hand, may come off as a bit too strong. there are some things that his feelings compel him to do without him even being able to think of the consequences until it already happened and the damages have already been done.

he feels his heart get pierced by a sharp dagger, he feels like he's getting light-headed as he watches from the monitor on his screen that beautiful, all-too familiar face that he never wants to wake up without seeing as the first person to greet him in the morning, giggle and look so close in proximity with this... random person. miguel swears he's never seen this person before, this person's not a friend of yours he knows about, nor a relative, he can tell that much–they're someone he doesn't know about; a total enigma.

and that scares miguel, because he has no idea just how happy this person makes you.

he feels a twinge of venomous envy strike at his heart, and he feels his pulse quicken a bit when he witnesses the corners of your pretty lips curve up into a smile after that person told you a funny joke, said a nice thing to you today, or... maybe... no way, you wouldn't fall for their flirting, would you? miguel asks lyla to run a background check on the person close to you, and lyla reassures miguel after doing so that this person wouldn't harm you–they were just a 'really close friend of yours'.

"and you're positively certain about that?" miguel asked her as his eyes remained glued on your delightful figure, smiling all the while as this person continued to make you all happy and a little brighter than you seemed before. he hated it. he hated it because some random person was doing his job for him, to make you the happiest you've ever been–but who was he to pry you away from your friends? he loved you and trusted your friends, that he knew of–but this person, he has no idea of who he is–and this frightens him because... he might actually lose you to them, he thinks.

"miguel, i've never heard you use those two words together in one sentence before. you're anxious about something, aren't you?" lyla asks miguel with a curious look on her face, prompting miguel to bare his fangs as he furrowed his eyebrows together and glared at the AI assistant. "just answer me." "alright, grouchy, yes–yes, i'm positively certain this person has no intention of hurting them." lyla replied as miguel placed his palm on his face and rubbed his eyes clean of the frustration he was experiencing right then and there, only for it to return on his face with a scorching heat filling his frame the longer he thought about you smiling around this person.

miguel turned the monitors off and decided to distract himself with some missions, though you never left that spot in his mind and heart once as he fought anomalies and tracked the statuses of other universes. his other teammates believed he was acting pretty strangely whenever he'd go out and fight the anomalies; he'd act more brutal and less cautious than he usually would, bringing the anomaly to the brink of death at one point until peter b and jess had to intervene and contained the anomaly for him.

miguel had to sit the next mission out, and so, he was holed up in his office again, begrudgingly so. "either you tell us what's going on, or you're not coming on anymore missions." "no, that's stupid, i will be going on the next o–" "you're posing as a threat to the anomalies, a lethal one, and that's not like you." jess berated miguel like a mother chiding her son for having a temper tantrum. miguel sighed and leaned his head against his hand, his elbow propped up on the control panel to support his head. jess sighed and peter b entered the room once things cooled down. "hey, so... what's his deal?" "no clue." jess replied to peter b with a shrug as miguel slumped over on his desk, sighing to himself repeatedly as thoughts of you refused to leave his mind.

you were like an endless memory miguel wanted to relive forever, and he never wanted you to leave his mind, actually–but he knew he'd go crazy without properly talking to you about this, but the thought of that alone was killing him right now. he felt so helpless and pathetic, he couldn't even talk to the love of his life about what he was so afraid of... and now, the others had to pick up after his scattered, broken pieces. "what if we have them talk to him?" "with him being in this state? yeah, no, not the best idea." "c'moooon, they're the end all, be all solution to his little slump. i know, because mj is–" "alright, alright, i get it; save your hopeless devotion for mary jane later. call them up now, we need to go on the mission, parker." jess told peter as he smiled and contacted you to come over to miguel's office right then and there, with the very important reminder that miguel was: 'in a terrible slump and needs some love and affection to be cured.'

after a few minutes, miguel heard the doors to his office slide open, and the clacking of a couple of familiar heels were heard; before you could even speak, miguel immediately knew it was you. call it creepy or weird if you want, but miguel can't help but memorize every detail of you, because it's the mere thought of you that keeps him going–but the thought of you... leaving him, that's enough to stop him from even wanting to go on. miguel spoke out your name in a gentle whisper, but afterward, he immediately shied away from you–hiding his face in his hands again as you approached him.

"mig, what's wrong?" you asked him, and the sound of your melodic voice filling his ears made him go mad with affection for you but also ridden with guilt all over again as he remembered just how angry he was at that person making you smile and... at you, for being happy with someone who wasn't even him. of course, that anger towards you fizzled out quickly, but he can't help but feel awful that he can't be fine with letting you be happy with someone who isn't even him. "...nothing's wrong." he lied in a soft grumble. you folded your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow up at him. "right, well, you looking like a sad, droopy-eared dog while hunching your back and burying your face in your palms when i'm not looking is the definition of something being wrong." you pointed out, making miguel bury his face in his hands even more at how right you were. "what are you even doing here?" "peter called me." "that pendejo... well, why'd you agree to come anyway?" he asked you as he turned to look at you with softened eyes, eyes that appeared to be on the brink of sobbing.

you pulled up a chair and sat close to miguel, so close that your knees were touching his own–making him look up at you in surprise. "because you've been avoiding me all week." you remind him, and that very fact made miguel tense up. he gradually turned his head to look at you with an evidently pensive look on his face, which was rare for him since he didn't really show much emotion... except to you, his beloved partner. being his partner gave you the privilege to see all sides of him–the good and bad sides–whether he likes to or not; and having been together with miguel for a while and being his friend for the longest time, you could tell something was wrong. "i'm... sorry, i'm just..." miguel muttered under his breath with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes again with his hand. you gently took his other hand in your own and interlocked hands with him, making him jolt up and turn to look at you in surprise.

you sighed and ran the pad of your thumb over the back of his big hand, thinking of what to tell him as you just held on to him closer and tighter. "is it about my friend?" you asked him softly as miguel tensed up even worse again. miguel's lower lip trembled and he took in a deep breath. "...n-no, why would... well, o-okay, yes, it is. h-how'd you..." "you were always the jealous type, mig." you tell him with a grin as miguel looked down in shame, but you placed your other hand on the side of his face and lifted his head up a bit to look at him. "but, i know you're not like this to hurt them or me. you love me, right? well... i definitely love you, too, unconditionally." you tell him in a whisper as you bring your face closer to his own shy one. you could see the signs that he was getting more and more flustered and embarrassed. "mi vida, i... don't deserve you. who wants such a jealous, overbearing, overprotective guy as their lover? i-if i can't trust them with you, then... can i even trust myself to make you happy?" miguel rambled as he felt his breath getting ragged and his grip around your hand tighten.

you leaned over and kissed miguel's plush lips, effectively answering his question. "yes, miguel–you are trustworthy, you are worthy of having me." you reassured him. you pressed your lips against his again, making him moan gently through your kiss and mumbling your name. "cariño... i'm sorry, still... i'm just... just really jealous, and i... wanna make you the happiest person in the world." he muttered to you, sighing. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, patting his shoulder and shushing him. "you already do though... miggy, i want nobody but you, you and your sweet, jealous ass." you plant a kiss on the top of his head as you said that, making him even more heated up in the face and shy. "i can assure you, nothing bad's going on between us–they told me a few funny jokes that made me grin, but... i smile even wider when you're being all adorable like this with me. they're just a friend, and you're... the love of my life." you told him with a smile as miguel looked up at you, his hazel brown eyes gazing up at your own and concentrating on your pretty orbs.

"it's okay to be jealous, but... know that in every universe, i'll choose you and only you as my lover. you're perfect, miggy, you're all i want and need." and the minute you tell him all that... he feels his world slowly come together again, and his mood instantly lifting. he gently wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him, making him lowly sigh in relief. "and you already know i want and need you the most... no soporto estar sin ti amor... i can't live another day not being with you..." he murmured to you as an oath, an oath to not hurt you ever again, to not let his emotions overwhelm him and make you feel forgotten or guilty over something you didn't do, and... an oath to you that he loves you more than anything or anyone he's ever loved before.

he can't stop being jealous on instinct, he'll sometimes get insecure and anxious about himself, but... he loves you, that much, he knows; and you... you love him dearly, too. he just needs you to keep going and to keep feeling worthy and happy; you are enough for him, and he will always, always let you know that you are all he loves and cares about, in his own little and big ways and words–because... you love him like that, he makes you happy like that, and you couldn't ask for more.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[siren-serenity]

a bouquet and scored dates

A bouquet of flowers is a surefire way to score a date with your crush. Seeing it go viral on Magicam immediately made Cater jump in on it too! Who wouldn't want to take this opportunity to blow up their account? And if Cater managed to score a date to the Unbirthday party too, then that's a lovely bonus.

characters: cater diamond, gn!reader, grim cameos!! warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst and self-hate a/n: - i feel so bleh for not writing for slow long so here you go!! a small cater diamond x reader fic bc i love my husband 😍😍😍 - @ceruleancattail, this is also for you!! united by our love for cay-cay, who slay-slays hehe - feedback is appreciated!

A knock against the old, rickety door of Ramshackle made you blink your eyes wearily. Grim leaped off your stomach, walking around the wooden floors before yawning.

"Who disturbed the great Grim's nap?" He yowled out, obviously annoyed. "Come on, I was having such a nice sleep!"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. "Mhmm...tell me about it."

The knock came again, this time more urgent. There was almost a playful pattern to it, a rhythmic beat building into a melody of taps and raps.

"Coming!" You yelled, sliding across the floors (and proceeding to trip over an uneven wooden board, making one of the three ghosts giggle at you) before landing in front of the door. You swung it open and a grin crawled onto your face. "Cay-Cay!"

The orange-haired student smiled sweetly before winking at you. "It's your favorite junior, Cay-Cay! Good morning, Y/N."

Leaning against the doorframe, you tilted your head. "It's always nice to see you in the morning, but whatcha here for? Classes don't start for another hour..."

You trailed off as a beautiful bouquet came into view. Cater blushed as your scrutinising glance shifted from the gorgeous array of flowers to his face. He fought the urge to hide his face behind the flowers and took a deep breath in. Hopefully, he won't butcher it up! He spent hours on making it perfect all by himself.

(Riddle and Trey let out a sneeze simultaneously before returning to their business.)

...But of course, when did things go to plan?

"So I saw this one Magicam trend online and was like 'OMG those flowers look so adorbs! So I decided to make a couple to follow the trend and wow, I blew up!! The flowers look so beautiful on pictures that people went crazy liking them and I got over a thousand likes in the first hour! So, realizing my talent, I was like 'hey, Y/N likes flowers right?" So I went in the botanic garden, BTW Leona says hi and warns you to never get anywhere near Savanaclaw or the guys will rip you up from limb to limb. IDK but anyways! I got some flowers, put a bit of tender, love, and care, and voila!"

Cater held out the flowers as an explanation. He internally frowned at the ramble he had spoken rather than the touching, sentimental paragraph he planned on reciting. But when your fingers brushed against his to grasp onto the bouquet, his mind blanked out.

Soft...your hands were so gentle against his. A soft breeze caressing a petal.

You took them and held them up to your nose to inhale its sweet scent. It wasn't overpowering, thankfully; It was the right blend of fresh wilderness and soft, subtle floral scents.

"This is...Cater, I'm lost for words," You breathed out.

He gulped and his heart stuttered at the joy in your eyes and your smile. He knew being magicless in a world like his was no easy feat. It was even harder to ignore when every lesson involved the use of magic one way or another; Being surrounded by mages day-by-day would have caused him to go insane if he were you. But, you simply stride onwards. He admired your persistence and optimistic approach to life and it was what had drawn him to you in the first place. Being able to put a smile onto your face made him yearn for an eternity to do that for you, right by your side.

Realizing he hadn't spoken in a while, he cleared his throat.

"Riddle's hosting an Unbirthday party tomorrow."

You raised your gaze from the bouquet to meet his, (E/C) eyes against emerald ones. Cater fiddled with the buttons of his dorm uniform.

It was now or never!

"Would you like to attend with me?"

You laughed and nodded. "Of course I do! I'll go and tell Grim about the party-"

"-I meant with me. As my date," Cater blurted out. His face must be as red as his vest because his cheeks felt as if they were set aflame. "Would you like to attend the Unbirthday party tomorrow as my date?"

"Oh Cater..."

He closed his eyes and tightened his fists involuntarily. He opened his mouth, ready to put a fake (fake feelings, fake friends, mask on his face as usual-) before he felt the softest of kisses against his cheeks.

His eyes shot open as Cater stared at you, faintly registering the close proximity between you and him. The bouquet paper crinkled against his uniform but it seemed that neither of you paid any attention to it.

"I would love too," You smiled softly. "Tell me how you'd like to match? I know you love coordinate couple outfits on Magicam."

Yet another reason why he loved liked you.

"Yeah," He breathed out. "Yeah, yeah I'm going to go do that."

You leaned back and he yearned for your presence again, like a plant bending to the whims of sunlight. It was simply intoxicating.

"See you in class, Cay-Cay," You winked. The bouquet remained clutched in his hands and he was forever grateful for that silly Magicam trend.

He blew you a playful kiss, elation in his veins and joy in every corner of his smile. "Can't wait!!"

Cater skipped all the way back to Heartslabyul, too busy planning your and his outfits to notice the odd glances cast his way.

[naexity]

HOW ENHYPEN'S MAKNAE LINE TREAT YOU

summary: sometimes, you tend to get lost in your own world while you're working hard like the dedicated member of society you are and they get worried sometimes. They always manage to relieve your stress though, no matter how silly they make themselves out to be for it.

genre: entirely fluff. cw: none! unless you consider food as cw then I do mention a cake in sunoo's part, but other than this is really just simple loving, hehe :3

Jungwon stares at you from across the room. Eyes set on your figure as you sketch in your book, the pencil moving forward and backward in various motions as you reach for your eraser, promptly sighing as you notice a mistake.

Jungwon stifles a laugh as he continues watching you. The morning had barely started before you sat yourself down with headphones, effectively blocking out the rest of the world as you made sure to work in silence. The smile that rested on his face did nothing to hide his adoration for you.

Small acts of service are the ways he expresses his love. Whether it be giving you an ointment to ease the cramps on your hand after a long day of drawing or simply filling your empty bottle with water to keep you hydrated. No matter how small or big the gesture, you felt the sentiments behind them, never failing to put a smile on your face.

Other times, he's slightly worried you'll overwork yourself. In times like these, he simply likes to lightly tug your headphone away from your ear, placing a small kiss on your cheek as he hugs you, "Hey, wanna catch a break?"

And you can't ever really bring yourself to say no once you're in his embrace, looking up at him with stars in your eyes as you nod, maybe being a manga artist could wait for a few minutes.

__

Sunoo pouts and sighs for the hundredth time today as he peers at you, working on your newest fashion line. Yes, he is slightly bothered by the lack of attention you're giving him but, he does understand that you have to work.

But whoever said letting you work would entail him completely leaving you alone? Sunoo is already grinning as you he pulls out a cake, sitting across you on the dining table as he feeds you a piece. What a silly guy.

Sunoo's actions of love are never overbearing nor are they too modest to the point no one notices that you're even dating each other. He often likes showering you with compliments, loving you regardless of your insecurities. He will always reassure you no matter what.

Sunoo often admires you for your hard work but, he slightly worries when you push yourself too hard. Sometimes, he just likes to make a silly situation to get you laughing because, what's life if not a little bit of silliness.

Often times than not, you're left laughing in his arms, wondering how he was always so energetic, smiling at him as you shake your head, "You're actually an idiot." But you love him regardless, he knows it too.

__

Niki is currently very absorbed in his tenth round of smash bro's with the other members, laughing at them as he aggressively presses down on the buttons on the poor old tattered controller.

He's laughing until he realises he's been hearing the basketball bouncing off the ground for a good 3 hours that he's been playing, his eyes darting to the clock as he excuses himself, looking at you with a small smile as he watches you throw hoops again.

Niki is bold and shy in his loving all at once. He's pinching your cheeks, pressing soft kisses to get a reaction out of you, teasing you in front of his members but, on other occasions, he's blushing hard as he intertwines his fingers with yours, heart beating right out of his chest.

Niki often worries about you when you push yourself too hard. He knows you can take care of yourself but there will always be a part of him worrying. Although his brain is usually clouded with worries, he always thinks of ways to make you laugh your stress away.

Worried about a match? He'll come dressed up as your team's mascot. Worried about your ankle sprain? He'll treat you like a princess and carry you around everywhere. Some people ask him why he does so and he's always left speechless, why else other than the plain fact that he loves you? He wonders why they even bother asking such a dumb question.

[mdzsfan]

Lovers from the past part 2

GIF by whovian-on-ice

(THIS PEACOCK BOY NEEDS MORE LOVE AND I STAND BY WHAT I SAY.)

"A-Xuan, where are you off to?" Y/N's voice carried a note of concern as she observed her husband, Jin Zixuan, making preparations with his sword. The room was infused with a sense of anticipation, a tension that mirrored the unspoken words that lingered between them.

He turned to face her, a soft smile curving upon his lips as he met her gaze. "Don't worry," he reassured her, his voice a gentle caress that held the warmth of their shared history, "I'll only be gone for a few hours." With a tenderness that mirrored his words, he leaned down and pressed a kiss upon her forehead, his lips a fleeting promise of his return.  (author: we all know that's not true hehe)

Their son, Jin Ling, nestled in the embrace of his mother's arms, gazed up at his father with curious eyes. His chubby fingers reached out, brushing against Jin Zixuan's cheek as if to echo his mother's sentiments. A fond smile played on Jin Zixuan's lips as he gently rubbed his son's head, a gesture that held the weight of fatherly love and a promise to return.

"But Jin Ling's one-month celebration is today," Y/N's voice held a note of gentle pleading, her eyes a mirror to the heartache that tugged at her. "It's important for you to be there, as a father to share in this milestone for our son." Her words were woven with the threads of tradition and the longing for familial unity.

Jin Zixuan's expression softened further, a mixture of understanding and conflict dancing within his eyes. He reached out, his fingers brushing against his son's tiny hand before he gently cupped Y/N's cheek, his touch an unspoken reassurance.

"I promise, Y/N," his voice was a solemn pledge, a promise etched into the very fabric of his being, "I will be there. I will not let this moment pass without sharing it with our son." With a final lingering kiss upon her lips, he reluctantly left the embrace of their chambers, the echo of his footsteps a testament to the weight of his responsibilities.

As Jin Zixuan departed, his footsteps echoing in the corridors of his thoughts, he found himself traversing the landscape of his memories. Each step seemed to unlock a vault of moments he had shared with Y/N, fragments of happiness and laughter that had once painted their lives with vibrant hues. In the midst of uncertainty, he held onto these recollections, as if they were the fragile threads that could weave a tapestry of hope against the looming shadows of the unknown.

The scenes of their past played out before his mind's eye, he found himself transported to a moment that seemed to encapsulate the essence of their shared journey.

The air was charged with a palpable tension as Jin Zixuan and Y/N faced each other, their words held a pregnant pause with the weight of unspoken emotions. The silence was as thick as the moonlit night, a canvas upon which their inner conflicts painted themselves.

"I know you still love A-Yao," Jin Zixuan's voice held a mixture of understanding and vulnerability, a confession that seemed to bridge the gap between their hearts. "But do not blame me," he continued, his words gentle yet firm, "I am strongly against this marriage as well."

Y/N's gaze was averted, her fingers tracing patterns on her robes as if they held the answers to the complexities that enveloped them. Her voice, when it finally emerged, was a reflection of the truth that had been buried beneath layers of tradition and obligation. "It seems as though none of us wanted this marriage," she stated plainly, her words a raw acknowledgment of their shared plight, "as it was arranged by our parents."

A pang of sympathy tugged at Jin Zixuan's heart as he observed her struggle to meet his gaze. The words that followed were a testament to the strength that lay within her, a strength that was willing to accept the circumstances they had been thrust into. "I guess the best thing for us," her voice held a quiet resolution, a resolution that carried the promise of finding harmony amidst discord, "is to try to get along instead of living a life of misery."

And as the night deepened, casting its shroud over their conversation, Jin Zixuan found himself taking a step towards the door, his heart heavy with the weight of both their history and the uncertainty of their future. It was in that moment, as he began to turn away, that her voice reached his ears once more, a whisper that seemed to linger in the stillness of the room.

"But I will never love you," her words were a crystalline declaration, a truth that hung between them like a delicate thread. "A-Yao is my only love."

The echo of those words seemed to reverberate in the chambers of his heart, a reminder of the complexity of emotions that bound them together. He carried her truth with him as he stepped into the corridor, the memory of her voice an imprint upon his soul.

However, life had a way of defying expectations, and the unfolding days revealed a truth that Y/N could not have foreseen. As time drew her closer to Jin Zixuan, a shift occurred within her heart, the tides of her emotions ebbing away from the shores of her feelings for Jin Guangyao. It was a transformation that took her by surprise, a realization that brought with it a sense of guilt, for she had once promised her heart to another.

The bond that she had believed to be love began to unravel like the delicate threads of a tapestry, leaving behind a tangled mixture of confusion and understanding. The more she spent time with Jin Zixuan, the more she found her feelings for him deepening, overshadowing the emotions she had once harbored for his elder brother. It was a bittersweet revelation, a recognition that her heart was not bound by promises made in haste.

She wrestled with her own emotions, grappling with the weight of her shifting affections. Had her feelings for Jin Guangyao been nothing more than a mirage, a connection born out of shared experiences and mutual understanding? The notion tugged at her, a mixture of relief and uncertainty intertwined.

One evening, as the moon cast its soft glow upon the world outside, Y/N found herself in the presence of Jin Zixuan. The words she had longed to speak swirled within her, carried by a courage that was fueled by the truth she had come to acknowledge.

"A-Xuan," her voice held a quiet earnestness, her gaze meeting his as if searching for the answers that lay within his eyes, "I love you, and I hope you feel the same way." Her words were a vulnerable admission, a confession that bared the depths of her heart. "If you don't, that's fine," she continued, her tone a blend of acceptance and hope, "we can remain friends, and perhaps time will bring clarity to our paths."

Before she could finish her sentence, he moved closer, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions that surrounded them. His lips met hers in a tender kiss, a kiss that spoke of unspoken emotions and a shared understanding that transcended words.

"I..." he began, his voice a soft whisper as their lips parted, the weight of his emotions mirrored in his gaze. "I like you too."

In that moment, as the moon continued its journey across the sky, Y/N felt the weight of uncertainty lift from her heart. The bond that had once tied her to Jin Guangyao had transformed, evolving into a connection that resonated with the truth of her feelings. And as they stood there, two souls on the precipice of a new chapter, they found solace in the understanding that sometimes, the heart could find its way even when promises had been broken.

As the time slipped away, the anticipation that had surrounded Jin Ling's one-month anniversary began to mix with an undercurrent of worry. The sun cast its golden hues across the landscape, painting a picturesque scene outside the gathering, yet within the heart of the celebration, there was an undeniable absence, a void that was carved by Jin Zixuan's missing presence.

Despite his absence, the celebration pressed on. The grandparents, uncles, aunts, and sect leaders had all gathered, their smiles and laughter a testament to their shared joy. Among them, Y/N stood, her eyes occasionally flickering towards the entrance as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband's arrival.

"A-Y/N," the voice of Madam Jin cut through the hum of conversation, drawing Y/N's attention. She turned to face her mother-in-law, her lips curving into a respectful smile as she prepared to greet her.

But Madam Jin's words carried a note of understanding, a hint of sympathy that resonated with Y/N's own unspoken thoughts. "It's Jin Ling's one-month anniversary," she continued, her voice soft and gentle, "no need for formalities."

Y/N's smile grew warmer, a reflection of her appreciation for the maternal understanding that Madam Jin extended. "Of course," she replied, a soft nod accompanying her words, as if they were both acknowledging the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

"But where is Jin Zixuan?" Madam Jin's voice held a tinge of concern, a concern that echoed the worry in Y/N's heart.

"He assured me that he would be here," Y/N's voice held a mixture of hope and unease, her gaze briefly averting from Madam Jin's knowing eyes. "There were matters that demanded his attention," she continued, her words chosen with care to shield Jin Zixuan from any potential judgment.

Madam Jin's expression shifted slightly, the frustration evident in her furrowed brows. "It's his son's one-month anniversary," she mused, her voice carrying a note of incredulity, "surely those matters could have waited."

Y/N's lips curved into a sympathetic smile, her gaze now focused on the other guests who had gathered to celebrate this milestone. "Of course," she agreed softly, her words a reflection of her understanding of the intricate balance between duty and familial commitments.

Amidst the mingling guests, a servant entered the hall, a hesitant expression etched upon their face. Their arrival was accompanied by a heaviness that seemed to settle over the room, casting a shadow over the festive atmosphere.

Y/N's heart quickened as the servant approached, and before words could be spoken, she already felt the gravity of what they carried. The news that fell from the servant's lips was like a thunderclap, jolting the celebration into stunned silence.

"Jin Zixuan was killed by The ghost general"

The words hung in the air like a lament, their impact rippling through the room. Shock reverberated through Y/N's veins, her thoughts frozen as if time itself had momentarily halted. The joy of celebration was abruptly eclipsed by the weight of tragedy, leaving Y/N standing amidst a sea of stunned faces, grappling with the sudden and profound loss that had shattered their world.

In that instant, the once joyous occasion was transformed into a gathering of mourning, a communal space where grief converged with the echoes of happiness that once filled the air. Y/N's heart ached as the realization settled upon her, Jin Zixuan, the man she had once loved and the father of her child, was now forever absent, leaving behind a void that could never be filled.

The news had struck Y/N like a physical blow, the words reverberating through her being as if they were echoing in an empty chamber. A feeling of nausea surged within her, an overwhelming sensation that threatened to consume her. She needed to see for herself, to confirm that it wasn't a cruel trick played by fate.

She ran, her feet carrying her outside and towards their chambers, her heart pounding in her chest as if trying to break free from the confines of her ribcage. Each step felt like a desperate plea to the universe, a yearning to wake up from the nightmare that had swallowed her reality. Her mind raced, torn between hope and despair, the memories of their happiness juxtaposed against the stark reality of loss.

As she entered the chambers that had once held their shared dreams and laughter, she was met with the cold reality that seemed to seep into her bones. The room felt both familiar and foreign, a place where their love had once flourished, now transformed into a realm of absence and ache.

And then, as if echoing the cruel irony of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. The transition from the dream world to her waking reality was disorienting, her senses adjusting to the soft light that filtered through the room.

Her heart raced as she took in her surroundings, her breath hitching as the remnants of her dream lingered like the tendrils of a fading fog. She was in her chambers, just as she had been in her dream. But the weight of the loss was no longer a mere illusion—it was her grim reality.

Her gaze shifted, and there, by her side, was Jin Guangyao. The sight of him was both comforting and perplexing, his presence a lifeline amidst the storm of her emotions.

"A-Yao," her voice was barely more than a whisper, a fragile thread that carried the weight of her grief, "is he really gone?"

His response was silence, an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth that hung in the air like a heavy shroud. And in that silence, Y/N felt her heart shatter anew, the pain of her loss threatening to engulf her.

Jin Guangyao's arms enveloped her, a gesture of comfort that she instinctively leaned into. Her tears flowed freely, a river of sorrow that seemed to have no end. She wept for the life they had shared, for the dreams that had been shattered, and for the future that had been stolen away.

In her anguish, Y/N didn't notice the slight smirk that graced Jin Guangyao's lips. His embrace was warm, his presence a balm to her wounded soul. As she sought solace in his arms, unaware of the hidden currents of his intentions, she was vulnerable to the comfort he offered, a comfort that was layered with his own agenda.

And so, Y/N wept in his embrace, her tears a testament to the depth of her sorrow. Little did she know, her pain was both a genuine expression of her loss and a pawn in a larger scheme, a scheme that Jin Guangyao had meticulously orchestrated.

[lambilegs]

You are in fact the best Lee writer!!! I’m thinking about riding lees thigh while she works at her desk.. 🫠

reader riding lee's thigh when she's working <33 (contains: thigh riding, nippleplay, free use I guess (??), reader is referred to as having "tits," "pussy" and "clit")

(thank you so much for this ask omg this idea is hot hot hot -- also omg thank you so much for the compliment!! :') <3 I definitely share the best ranking with a few other writers hehe but I appreciate the sentiment so much love <3)

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

god. yes. you can't even fully remember how you got there. maybe she pulled you roughly into her lap after you teased her for too long, pressing kisses to her neck and whining about how you need to be taken care of. maybe you crawled into her lap simply with the innocent intention of wanting to be close to her, but something about watching her so focused and smart -- eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip caught in her teeth, eyes scanning over everything meticulously -- got you turned on. or maybe all it took was her readjusting you on her lap, shifting you to sit more firmly on one thigh, so she could perch her chin on your shoulder and continue making annotations. maybe it was the feeling of her breathing in your ear, or the way her big hands started rubbing your back soothingly.

regardless, it had you, without realizing, bucking on her lap. she doesn't miss the small movement -- she never misses anything, does it? but, she ignores it, knowing she needs to work on her research. her resolve lasts about two seconds before she pretends to fix her seating again, pushing her thigh up against you. when your breath hitches against her ear, a small smile tilts her lips up.

a few minutes later, and your top is off, her left hand groping and squeezing your tits, flicking and pinching your nipples, as you bounce hard on her thigh. you're moaning and keening, head rolling back, your thighs clenching around hers as your hips jerk forward and back oh-so-messily on her. your fingers grip and twist at the fabric of her sweatshirt, latching desperately onto her as you ride her thigh, trying to sate the ache in your pussy.

all the while, she keeps her body flush against yours, the fabric of her fuzzy sweatshirt rubbing against your nipples and getting them even more stimulated. she's the picture of cool and composed, eyes continuing to study her work. when her other hand isn't on your tit, it's stroking your bare back, her mouth dropping soft, distracted kisses on your shoulder. it's almost frustrating how damned calm she is, but in the back of your mind, you know she's feeling a lot more than she's letting on.

and you're right. because inside, she feels set aflame as your juices slowly soak the fabric of her pants and onto her own skin. and every few minutes, she has to blink hard and firmly remind herself to keep working. so, she scribbles away, trying to ignore the deep ache between her thighs, which only gets worse as you begin to practically hump her thigh, arms wound around her neck, whines flowing into her ear, and your tits bouncing against hers.

she inhales a shaky breath. focus. she can't give her notes to carter any later than tomorrow. but, fuck, she also can't have you off her lap -- you might be the one getting off, but she needs you just as bad. her hand drifts to your ass, fingernails sinking in as she starts using her strength to pull you in and out, helping your rub your clit on the toughness of her leg. you moan loudly at the new hard, rough pressure, tongue nearly hanging out as she speeds it up, encouraging you to fuck yourself harder.

you come just like that, shaking and gasping against her, your hip's movements uncoordinated and a mess. and lee sits there, body tensing and freezing, holding you tightly with both hands (because god was it impossible to continue writing), mouth hot against your ear and muttering encouraging words like, "yes, baby, give it to me. you're doing so good."

lee wakes up two hours earlier the next morning, scrambling to finish the research she spent the rest of the evening failing to focus on hehe

[aalissy]

Secret Relationship

Here's day 18 :). A lil bit of Ladrien fluff for today's chapter bc I love writing these two in love hehe. Stay tuned for tomorrow <3

AO3

The City of Light was as enchanting as ever, but it held a special secret under its sparkling façade for Ladybug and Adrien Agreste. They were in love, and no one knew. Under the mask of Ladybug and the persona of Adrien, they found solace in each other, cherishing stolen moments together away from the prying eyes of Paris. Stolen moments where they could sneak kisses against each other’s lips and spend the day in each other’s arms.

It was a quiet summer evening when Ladybug swung gracefully into Adrien's bedroom. The familiar sight of her red and black spots against the moonlit sky made his heart race. He had been waiting for this moment all day, counting down the hours until he could see her again.

"Hello, my lady... bug," Adrien greeted her with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling with affection. 

"Hey, handsome," Ladybug replied, her voice filled with warmth as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to notice his little slip with his nickname. It was just so easy to call her the same names he did as Chat. 

All of that faded away, though, the moment her blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in for a kiss. The world seemed to melt away at that moment, leaving just the two of them, wrapped in their secret love.

They settled down on his couch, a cozy blanket spread out across them with several boxes of snacks on the table. Adrien had gone all out, preparing all of Ladybug's favorite foods and drinks. They talked about their day, laughed about silly moments, and simply enjoyed each other's company.

"I still can't believe we've managed to keep our relationship a secret for so long," Adrien said, his voice filled with wonder.

"Well, we are pretty good at keeping secrets," Ladybug replied with a hint of pride in her tone. "Besides, I think it makes our time together even more special. Knowing something that no one else in Paris does."

He nodded, reaching out to take her hand in his. "I wouldn't trade this for anything. I love you, Ladybug."

Her smile grew wider and he felt his heart race at the sight. "I love you too, Adrien. More than you'll ever know."

He tugged her down into another soft, wonderful kiss.

As the night wore on, they found themselves lying side by side, staring up at the stars. The soft hum of the city below was a comforting backdrop to their quiet conversation.

"Do you ever wonder, though, what it would be like if we could just be ourselves? Without the fear of Shadowmoth and the masks?" Adrien asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"All the time," Ladybug admitted. "But for now, this is enough. As long as we're together, nothing else matters."

Adrien squeezed her hand, a silent promise that echoed her sentiments. "We'll figure it out someday. Until then, our secret is safe with me."

Ladybug smiled, squeezing his hand back in a way that had him staring at her adoringly. "And with me."

They shared a tender kiss beneath the starry sky, their love a beacon of light in the darkness. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they knew they could face them together. 

They shared another kiss, this one soft and lingering, before settling back into their comfortable silence. The world outside might be complicated and full of responsibilities, but here, on his couch, they were just two people who were completely and utterly in love.

“I wish we could do this every night, though,” Adrien murmured. “Just you and me, no secrets, no masks.”

Ladybug nodded, understanding his longing as her eyes reflected the same emotions his held back at him. “One day, Adrien. One day we’ll have that. I’ll defeat him. You know I will. But for now, let’s just make the most of what we have.”

He smiled, his heart swelling with even more love for the girl who had captured his heart so completely. “As long as I have you, Ladybug, I know everything will be okay.”

They spent the next hour talking about their dreams for the future. Laughing and giggling as they both talked and dreamed of what they would eventually have with each other. It was complete and utter bliss.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Adrien said, gazing at her with admiration when she said something particularly sweet. “You’re strong, brave, and you always put others first.”

Ladybug blushed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I could say the same about you. You’re always there for everyone, even when it’s hard. You inspire me every day.”

Their conversation flowed naturally, each word strengthening the relationship between them. The night grew cooler, but neither of them wanted to leave the warmth of their shared moment.

Eventually, Ladybug sighed, knowing it was time to go. “I should get back home. It’s getting late.”

Adrien nodded, though he hated the idea of saying goodbye. “I know. Just... be safe, okay?”

She smiled, her heart aching with love for him. “Always. And you too.”

They stood, and Adrien pulled her into a tight embrace, holding on as if he never wanted to let go. Ladybug melted into his arms, savoring the feeling of his warmth and strength.

“Until next time, my love,” Adrien whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Until next time,” Ladybug echoed, her voice soft and filled with emotion.

With one last lingering look at Adrien, she leaped out of his bedroom window, swinging gracefully through the night as she made her way home.

He watched her go, his heart full. He knew their journey wouldn’t be easy, but as long as they had each other, he was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

Ladybug soared through the night sky, sharing the exact same love and determination that he did. They were a team, partners in every sense of the word. And no matter what the future held, their love would always be their greatest strength.

As she made her way back home, Ladybug couldn’t help but smile. Though their secret may have been hidden from the world, it was a beacon of light in their lives. And for now, that was more than enough.

[vostok3-ka]

Oooo how about “pass me that lovely little gun” sounds pretty interesting hehe

Hiiii!! Thank you for the ask! This one was supposed to be a fic that explores Bucky's relationship with Natasha, from training her in the Red-Room to becoming lovers, along with my take on what the Soldier experienced during his time in Russia. I thought it would be a really interesting subject matter to explore, and I really hoped to put together a really thoughtful little story, although, I will admit it has stood abandoned for nearly six months XD! Here is a little snippet featuring classic gaslighting and brainwashed thought patterns, as well as a happy/mournful Soldier:

Thunder rumbled in the skies, rolling across the city on its belly. The Soldier's hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, dark waves barely brushing the tips of his ears. Rain drizzled from the heavens, dusting the top of his head and shoulders with a gentle silver, and street-lamps washed the sidewalks a soft gold. The Soldier's eyes kept flicking to where the rain got caught in the light. It was captivating, and something behind the Soldier's chest felt satisfied, content. Quiet. It was a rare calm in an otherwise rolling storm, a break between missions. The target had been eliminated a day before schedule and the Soldier had received no orders for an early extraction, leaving him alone to roam Moscow as he pleased; a devil in the shadows, skirting the edges of society. Unbidden, an image of a book he'd received from a soldier during his deployment in Vietnam flashed to the front of his mind, and he could almost feel the smooth cover of "The Master and Margarita" between his hands. He'd been entranced by the characters, pulled into a world of magic and mischief, relishing in the escape from the rot and death and the mosquitos, although he didn't think he was capable of contracting malaria. Not daring to take the book with him back to Hydra lest they 'relieved' him of it, he'd stashed it along with his other meagre belongings in a cache somewhere between Vladimir and Lakinsk, and, due to his unreliable memory, he'd slipped the co-ordinates to Alexei. The big man was a true patriot; he would serve his country to his last breath. But he was sentimental. And he wasn't unstable the way the Soldier was. Getting his brains scrambled every now and then in a haze of exploding pain, seizing muscles and bleeding throats wasn't fun. But it was necessary. Shuffling slightly beneath the overhang he'd stood under, watching the rain for what was coming up to an hour, the Soldier mourned for a moment. Mourned for the way his mind shattered and cracked under its own pressure, for the way his psyche had been so damaged somewhere in an accident he couldn't remember. For the way memories felt like searing fire burning behind his eyes, so much so that it was best not to think of lives gone past.

Thank you bunches for the ask and have a lovely day!!!!

[mazeinthemiroh]

hello! <333

for the soft hours: listening to david bowie with hongjoong or any other favourite artist of yours; maybe you've both made playlists with certain songs or you're listening to the vinyls you have at home or the recent ones you've bought (listening to each other's favourite songs, shopping for vinyls and gifting them to one another is a love language, you know...) and in-between the melodies, you share how this specific song or artist has influenced/helped you, how did you discover them, etc.; sometimes long-forgotten memories evoke in your head- some of them sentimental, others- more or less embarrassing. but hongjoong wants to listen to all you have to say. after all, your voice is his most favourite melody?

also, this got me thinking of the following scenario: maybe you're going home after being out for most of the day when it starts drizzling. from a nearby café or from someone's window, you hear one of your and hongjoong's favourite (and very special) songs being played. you suddenly stop walking and he looks at you with a tinge of surprise on his face, as you smile sheepishly at him. "let's dance". he knows you're shy and got forbid someone saw you dance outside of your lovely flat. "here?". you shrug,- ,,why not?". you wrap your arms around joong's waist, pulling him closer to your body. although joong think he knows you like the back of his hand, you always find ways to surprise him. you're unpredictable for a very predictable person (does it make sense? i hope so). anyway, he gently wraps his arms around you too, swaying your bodies from side to side? he might be shy at this moment but seeing you so unfazed and comfortable make him relax in your embrace. there aren't many people on the narrow street anyway, especially as the drizzle quickly turns into a pouring rain. you look into each other's eyes, the song has already ended a few seconds or a minute ago, you're not sure. you want to kiss him oh-so-badly but before you can lean in first, joong already has his lips on yours. the kiss feels like the first kiss you had with him, butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart is going to fly out of your chest any moment. you're getting soaking wet but neither of you seem to care. "a little run?", joong quizzes as he tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours. "mhm, doesn't sound like a bad idea.". your laughter echoes through the city streets, as you're running towards home.

aaeght anyway, this got too long and self-endulging 😭😂 hehe, take care! 💜

i didn't reply to this yesterday because i wanted to give it my full undivided attention and not do this while i was half asleep so here we are.

bestie. you and me have the same mind. yesterday when i saw the words 'david bowie' and 'hongjoong' i was like, yep, i already love this soft thought. and because i have recently been listening to more david bowie, this is so up my alley.

if there's one thing hongjoong loves, it's music. i mean, it's his whole livelihood, for crying gout loud. he just love learning about the different cultural influences that music has brought about in the past, hence why he admires artists like david bowie and micheal jackson. he w=could spend hours on end talking about music and his icons, and would love someone to share that with him.

and hearing you talk about all your favourite artists and how they have inspired you or moved you in some way... yeah, he lives for that. it's the type of conversation that happens at 2am when you've accompanied him at the studio. just lounging on the sofa, both tired, speaking about everything you could ever love. it also gives you both the opportunities to buy spontaneous little gifts for each other. if he learns you like a certain artist, if he happens to go into a record shop he'll search for their vinyl for you.

and you're little scenario made m tear up. like... oh my gosh please write this as a one-shot or fic or something because this is so beautiful. you captured hongjoong's vibe perfectly :((( i love it

[1004tyun-archive]

mommy 🥺🩷 i hope you’re sleeping well at the moment and getting your well deserved rest 🥺

i know it’s been difficult, very stressful for you and i hate that you’ve been going through stuff like this and i wish i could protect you :(( 🥺🩷 you’re the prettiest woman ever, the most beautiful person inside and out and i’m so happy you’ve come into my life 🥺🩷 you are my safe space mommy 🥺🥺🩷 my neverland 🥺🩷

i feel like you deserve to feel smol especially these days hence the tiny cinnamoroll hugs!! 🥺🩷 so your tall gf can get here to take care of her strong mommy girlfriend 🥺🥺🩷 i love you so much my sweet darling 🥺🩷 you’re doing amazing!! it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be human 🥺🩷🩷 i love you mommy 🥺 my crystal gem 🥺💎🩷

baby 🥺🥺🩵 i slept okay but i did get in my five hours of sleep just like we planned! i feel like i just got an achievement hehe since i slept for five hours sleeping for six shouldn’t be hard at all right? :3 it’ll be hard not to stay up and talk though 😭😭😭

you’re the sweetest ever baby :(( it’s funny you say that bc i’m always wishing i could protect you ;; you don’t deserve to hurt or feel like you’re not enough but when that same sentiment is returned to me i feel like i should work harder so that you don’t have to worry about me 🥺🥺 you’re the most beautiful person i know both inside and out and i’m so so thankful for you my love 🥺🩵 you’re my dream come true and my warmth and my safe space 🥺🥺

the moodboard is so cute and soft aaah i want to fall onto it like a big fluffy pillow 🥺🥺🥺 the little tiny cinnamoroll hugs~ 🥺🥺🩵🩵 you saying i deserve to feel smol is seriously going to make me cry :((( i love you so much my cherry bear thank you for loving me in return and keeping my heart safe i love you so so much 🥺🥺 my sweet beautiful woman 🥺🩵🩵

[nuwanders]

3, 5, 12, and 14 for jórunn and cassathra 👀♥️

hehe thank you Jay!! <3

3. What does their voice sound like, in a couple of words? (ie soft, scratchy, seductive, high-pitched, etc)

Cassathra - answered here!

Jórunn - on the low side; husky, slightly bored in tone.

5. Does their fashion sense reflect an aspect of their personality? (ie bright and colorful outfits symbolizing that they’re an upbeat person)

Cassathra - answered here!

Jórunn - like Cassathra, the short answer is unfortunately no :( working in the brothel, she would have spent work hours dressed provocatively at the behest of the madam. In her time off, I think she would have tended towards clothes that were comfy, plain, and conservative; loose-fitting linen blouses, long dark skirts or breeches.

12. How do they feel about romantic relationships? Are they into casual flings or more serious, long-term romances? Or are they uninterested?

Cassathra - Cassathra is SUCH a romantic and a big Yearner™, though she has a hard time admitting to herself that romantic love is something she wants; she wants to think of herself as independent and self-sufficient. I think the thought of a casual fling interests her, but (as readers will know) she lacks the confidence to follow through with one. What she truly wants is something serious and dramatic and romantic, because she's young and inexperienced and hasn't yet come to see the appeal of love that is simple and safe, but either way, she is also quite content on her own for the time being, thank you very much.

other answers under the cut!

Jórunn - this is the billion dollar question with Jórunn; at the moment in her story, I would describe her as somewhere between 'uninterested' and 'conflicted'. Working for a decade in a brothel--largely due to a lack of other options--has had a lasting impact on her relationship with intimacy, because she's never had the chance to experience true 'romance' and sex has only ever been transactional for her. That's not to say that she isn't interested in romance or sex at all; it's just that she's more interested in the idea of romance, and for the moment, she is frightened enough by the reality of it that she should probably work through a few things on her own beforehand.

14. How is their relationship with their family? Which family member are they closest to?

Cassathra - her relationship with her family is strained by their ideological differences; Cassathra thinks magic is beautiful, exciting, and a force for good in the right hands; House Redoran, and by extension her parents, think magic is dangerous and unnatural and never to be trusted. When she was younger, her closest relative was definitely Raydrin (her older brother), because he was fun and caring and sympathised with her growing anti-Redoran sentiments (he probably encouraged them, if anything). When she was a teenager, Raydrin took to skooma and withdrew for reasons Cassathra only later came to understand, and so Mathyas became something of a surrogate confidant and brother-figure.

Jórunn - Jórunn, unfortunately, has no living family to speak of, and I think she'd feel little for them if they were alive. She was on good terms with a few of her fellow workers at the brothel, but they were never 'family' to her, and she doesn't regret cutting ties.

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

2H, 7H and 11H as well pleeeeease

Hehe your wish is my command 💋🔮✨

2H ⇢ do you have any object that you like a little too much? what is it and why?

I do indeed. It's a little pillow (aptly named "little pillow") that's about the size of a postcard. I think I got it for my baptism when I was a baby, and at that point it had a little ribbon attached so that you could hang it from the post of the bed and play the music box inside to help the baby fall asleep. When I was a toddler I decided that it was so soft I wanted to use it as an actual pillow, so my mom took the music box out for me. And now I still can't sleep without it, but it's been well loved and the ribbon and embroidery are all gone. I wouldn't say it holds any real sentimental value, in that I don't remember getting it. But it's special and sentimental and a part of me in the way that a baby's first blanket gets packed in someone's college moving boxes. My little pillow is just a part of me, it always has been and I hope it always will be.

7H ⇢ what do you consider green flags in a relationship?

In any relationship: good, healthy communication. Not holding grudges. Explaining to me why they are upset, what they need, how I can help. Respecting boundaries. Effort. God, effort is so important. And not just in the "I'm paying for half the rent" way, but in the "you seemed down today so I got you flowers on my way home from work" or "I know you're not feeling well so I vacuumed and did the dishes" way. I think the biggest thing is to feel like it's a partnership, that you're both as invested in it as the other person, and that you both treat it as a conscious living thing, tending it, helping it grow and thrive, and not giving up on it when the going gets rough.

In my current relationship: she never pushes me too far too fast, she is always always always incredibly respectful of me and my beliefs and my interests. She actively asks me about things that I'm interested in and doesn't mind if I ramble for hours about it. There are a lot of finicky things that I need or can't stand because my autistic brain says so, and she is incredibly patient with each and every one of them. She supports me, listens to me -- really listens to me. She remembers little things that I've mentioned in passing once. She loves my dog like he's her own. She got my grandma a birthday present and got my mother flowers the first time she came over. She sits quietly while I pray before I eat, even though she doesn't. She let's me choose what we watch on tv. She wants to know the name of every plant I buy. And she was absolutely perfect when she met my family. That was a huge one. I felt comfortable leaving her talking to my aunt for a few minutes while I helped my mom with appetizers. And I mean, she got thrown into the deep end with my family, the poor thing. But she was perfect. And to me, that was everything.

11H ⇢ describe your friends in 3 words

What friends? Nonexistent. 😂👏🏼🙈 (Alternately: lovely, loyal, lesbians)

[booyouimcrazy]

A letter to my man: Post-Dated

Hehe, post-dated. yep, that's there like that for a reason.

You're only going to see this post dating me.

But it's 20.11.22 and we just had a chat about you going to Copenhagen tomorrow or well, Monday.

but me?

Im dreaming of the day i first get to surprise you.

It's the scene of a rom-com for me.

It has to be.

It's you.

You're my rom-com.

Obviously, you don't know this,

But there's a lot riding on you.

I want you forever.

But i also don't know if we're right at allllll together.

So my brain just does somersaults around you and the thought of you.

While my gut flexes in turned on,

Because you do things to me.

I dream of flying to London and taking a late train to show up at your street.

In the evening.

With a flower.

I think I'm always going to bring you a flower.

Or try to, atleast.

Only because you deserve one,

I've felt love twice in my life,

And of the two, a lot's riding on you.

But to call you, maybe for the first time ever, idk, we'll see,

On WhatsApp,

and ask you if you want to step out for a walk.

And be out in the street waiting for you.

Obviously if it's raining, big bonus.

Cause i imagine two sentences of conversation post hugging you, before our faces are inches apart and i have to ask if i can finally kiss you?

Im not sure it gives me butterflies but it definitely has me excited.

And to take you for a walk,

So you can hold me and kiss me and talk to me,

Before i return you home for dinner.

But i wonder.

How are you going to get the flower in?

Odd to come back from a walk with a flower, no?

Which is also why i downgraded to bouquet btw. (Yep, i actively thought about it)

I hope you're the kind of man that's sentimental and will keep the flowers i give him,

Idk to maybe write me poems at some point.

Yes i did just put you and poems in the same sentence, because i adore your words.

You're British, i was bound to adore you from the get-go anyway.

Buuuuut but but but, i want to then text you the whole trainride home,

because i want you to pack your bags and come live with me in London for a couple days.

So i FINALLY get to have sex with this sexy, sexy, sexy man,

and bring his glorious kinks to life.

Me with only an apron on?

Oh honey, i will MAKE me a special apron for exactly this purpose.

Because i hope this time that I've got the craving of your touch right,

the last time i fell for someone first over text then everything else, ended horribly.

This time,

We really went from 0-100 in 6 hours.

So noooowwww,

tall orders.

Hehe, tall orders, cause you're mine.

I cannot WAIT to flirt with you,

and turn you red in the face,

and convince you to come back and touch my body back in India.

Max,

I hope you're mine,

Because i really want you to be.

You're a soft, pillowy bundle of gentleness.

You feel things and read things, the way I've always wanted a man to.

Well, most things other than me, so i guess we'll figure how that goes.

I had to close my eyes to daydream about how i was going to kiss you the first time i kissed you.

Hug, then have faces really close to each other and stare deeply into each other's eyes when I say,

"Got a lot riding on this".

Before i bring the inside of my lips in contact with yours,

Giving you free entry into my mouth if youd like it.

Yours is quite inviting actually,

thankyou for asking.

[jisungsplatforms]

Pairing: Lee Felix x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, small angst (in the beginning); non idol au, reincarnation au, kinda strangers to lovers (but not really? you’ll see)

Warnings: character deaths in the beginning (Salem witch style oops)

Tears streamed down their faces as they smiled lovingly to one another. The male leaned his forehead onto his lover’s own, holding each other as close as they can be. It was unfathomable, really, how lucky they were to find each other in this convoluted world. The amount of love they had for each other was suffocating; it was a love that was too good to last...

“Burn the devils!”

“Repent for your sins, you vile wenches!”

“May you suffer in the hands of your lord, filthy worshippers!”

The cries of the townspeople could not be heard over the sound of their synchronized heartbeats and declining breaths.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Flames of red and orange engulfed the couple’s forms. The man was terrified, not for himself but for his significant other. He silently prayed to the Lord to set them free; to guide them to the gates of paradise, where they can finally live peacefully together at last. “May we meet again in another life, my beloved,” his lover proposed with one final breath, letting the fiery madness swallow them whole. Only the wind could carry the last words of this bittersweet love story.

- 🕧 -

Felix jolted in cold sweat, the speed of which he sat up nearly gave him whiplash. He looked around to find he was just in the comfort of his bedroom. “Again?” he groaned as he hunched over, rubbing his face. Ever since he turned 18, he’s been having the same damned dream almost every night, leaving him with a heavy heart the next morning. It was driving him mad! All he wanted was for it to stop; though deep down, he also didn’t want to. He knew his conscience was trying to tell him something, rather, it was as if he needed to find someone. He flipped his phone over to read the time. ‘8:56am’ He sighed, getting up for the day.

“Do you believe in second chances?”

Everybody turned to Jisung in question, who was giving the 3 boys the purest look they have ever seen. “Like, if they did something bad?” Seungmin replied, “Yeah, I guess but it really depends on how grave the situation is.”

“No! No! Like, second lives and stuff like that!”

“Reincarnation?”

“Yeah! That’s the word,” Jisung smiled. Felix looked at him in interest, feeling antsy for some odd reason.

“Why?” Seungmin asked. “Is this from another one of those stories you read in that silly book?”

“Hey! Minho gave me that book! Respect it!”

Seungmin sighed as the other two boys laughed. “Hey, we should just be happy that he can even read, Seungmin,” Hyunjin laughed, earning a punch from Jisung.

“Come on, it’s not silly! I think it’s really cool,” Jisung pouted, everyone ignoring Hyunjin’s cries of help. “Hyunjin, You read it and thought it was cool too!”

Hyunjin stopped and scoffed, “Yeah, but it sounds a little...unrealistic? I think it is a cool concept but it can just never be true.”

“Agreed,” Seungmin chimed in. “Sounds too far fetched. You die? You die. That’s the end of it. No such thing as ‘second lives’.”

“Boohoo, you guys are such downers. Hope you guys stay dead when you die then,” Jisung jokes. “What about you, Lix? You never said anything.” The boys turned to the uncharacteristically quiet boy.

Felix hummed. “I think…” he draws out, “that it could happen? To me, it doesn’t sound that impossible”

“See! Felix is with me!” the chubby cheeked boy cheered. “He has a vision unlike you haters.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes sassily. “Okay, then what did the book say? Does it explain why reincarnation is a thing?”

“Yup! It said that reincarnation often happens when someone dies a tragic death or lived a miserable life. They are granted a second chance of one to make amends for their hardships, so that they can finally live the happy lives they deserve! And sometimes, people will still have memories from their past life.”

“Fake,” Hyunjin faux coughed. Jisung turns to him with a glare.

“Shut up. Don’t act as if you didn’t cry when you read the story.”

“Hey!” The two boys argued while Seungmin went on his phone to ignore the commotion. Meanwhile, Felix was lost in thought. So it is true...I was reincarnated. Those dreams really were memories of my past self! This is a sign!

“Hm,” Seungmin said to no one particularly, “I wonder when will anyone bring up that fact that Minho gave Jisung a literal children’s book?”

- 🕘 -

The boys left Hyunjin’s house after 5 hours. It was already the afternoon, and they were starving, seeing how they spent the whole time playing video games. Instead of ordering food, Seungmin suggested they go out to physically buy the food, much to Jisung and Hyunjin’s chagrin. Jisung and Hyunjin went to buy pizza, Seungmin was in charge with buying them food that’ll actually fill their stomachs, and Felix went to buy the drinks and desserts. Hyunjin went on about “eating like kings!” or something like that.

Felix was lining up in the ice cream shop, already carrying the bag of sodas for them. He was waiting for his turn when he heard a sweet voice from the line beside him; a voice that he has vaguely heard before. “Hello! Can I have-”

He turned his head to find the most breathtaking person he has ever seen. Felix felt his heart racing. It was as if his world stopped. Is that-? What’s happening? Is this it? he gulped. “Hello sir? Sir!”

He immediately snapped out of it, remembering he’s still in line. He looks back at the line to find that he’s next. “I am so sorry!” he bowed, quickly moving to the counter to place his order. Felix hastily spoke with the employee in hopes of speaking to the mystery beauty. He turned around to see his self-proclaimed soulmate already walking out the door. He cursed, ready to run out the door, when he heard his name being called. Felix hissed, snatching the bag of ice cream from the employee, with a quick ‘thank you’.

He sprinted out of the shop and into the direction he saw them leave. Either he ran that fast, or his soulmate was slow, he was able to catch up to them. “W-Wait!” he called out, breathlessly. His heart wanted to burst when he saw their form up close; when he saw you up close.

“Yes? May I help you?” you responded with a gentle smile. Felix had this strange urge to kiss your lips, fighting hard against it since you two are still technically strangers in this life.

“U-uhm,” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry but- I think I’ve seen you in my dreams.”

Your eyes widened, caught off guard. Felix only now realized his blunder. “Crap- I’m sorry that was-”

He was cut off by the sound of your laughter, causing his face to burn even more. “Isn’t that a little cliché?” you giggled. Felix bit his lower lip in humiliation, looking down to the cement under his shoes. He wanted to run away. The situation was too embarrassing for him to handle. He felt your soft hands bring his face up.

“Hey hey, no need to be embarrassed. Don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “my beloved.”

Felix was stunned. Holy sh- I was right! It is you! he cheered mentally. He smiled as wide as he could, dropping his bags and bringing you into his arms. The two of you laughed in relief, happy that the two of you were together at last. You buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Felix.”

“I’ve missed you too, Y/n,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

You looked up with tears in your eyes. You whispered, “I told you we shall meet again in our next life...my beloved.”

🕛 End 🕛