#thank you for letting me love something to much with you.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[hiddenavenues]

hii !

i saw ur post about fluffy Logan oneshots so i have one :D if this is not what ur looking for, pls feel free to ignore !!

maybe touch starved reader who constantly clings to Logan and he asks about it and reader gets nervous that they pushed a boundary and stop only for Logan to be like “wtf no i love when u cling to me, pls keep doing it”

no pressure at all, have a nice evening / morning !!

A Soft Place to Land

a/n: Hi Anon! Thank you for your request. I am so sorry this has taken so long, life went kind of crazy for a second, but it's sorting itself out now! I hope you enjoy the drabble <3

Logan Howlett x TouchStarved!GN!Reader

CW: some mentions of jealousy, reader seems pretty anxious, just some good ole' fluff

Watching how Scott and Jean held each other, or even how the kids would comfort one another, you could feel jealousy curling around your mind at the absentminded tenderness in every touch. You’d spend countless nights awake, craving the touch of another while you wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers pressing into your skin just to feel something.

It gnawed at you, quiet and constant, slipping into the quiet spaces of your mind when you were alone. You’d close your eyes and imagine what it might feel like to rest your head on someone’s shoulder, to let the warmth of another’s touch seep into your skin and quiet the restlessness within you. It was always fleeting, a memory of something you've only had in fleeting moments.

Then there was Logan. The brooding, gruff exterior everyone seemed to shy away from became your refuge. It started as fleeting touches, knuckles grazing against his when you walked, shoulders bumping when you sat together. Before you knew it, you found yourself constantly lingering in his presence, your touch becoming more purposeful. Tracing shapes into the palm of his hand during long meetings or leaning on his shoulder after a mission, his head resting on top of yours. It was rare for you to be seen far apart, the school knew you were bound to be nearby if Logan was around.

You’re not sure when it started, the constant burn beneath your skin only satisfied by his touch. You started finding ways to get him to touch you, asking for help with your hair or applying bandaids. Now, you stood before Logan with a bracelet in hand, feigning an excuse of needing help to put it on. You didn’t miss the way Logan notched a brow at your request, eyeing the bracelet he knows you’ve put on yourself countless times. You fiddled with the jewelry in your palm, gaze nervously darting around his face as a familiar pit forms in your stomach at his hesitation. A heartbeat later, Logan opens the door wide for you to enter, knuckles grazing as you pass him. 

Logan’s fingers daftly inspect the jewelry before draping it over your wrist, each graze of his fingers deepening the blush on your cheeks. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and from the smirk on Logan’s face, you had a feeling he could hear how it quickened. 

“Why you always around me, bub?” Logan asks nonchalantly as he clasps the bracelet, fingers still ghosting over your arm. 

You swallow, feeling the words catch in your throat as you search for a response. You hadn’t considered Logan noticing, much less him asking you outright. The question hangs in the air as his eyes search your face, something curious and unguarded in them. You struggle to find a response that doesn’t make you sound desperate and scare him off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” You murmur, taking your arm away from his touch, clutching it to your chest as if to slow your racing heart. You look away, face burning beneath the weight of his gaze. “I’ll stop. Must be kinda creepy, constantly hovering around you.” You force a weak laugh.

A beat passes, the crushing silence presses against your chest, wrapping around you until each breath feels like a struggle. When you gather the courage to meet his eyes again, his expression has softened, the usual guarded look slipping. He shifts closer, bringing his face level with yours, and the intensity in his gaze holds you captive. 

“Don’t do that,” Logan’s breath fans your face with each word, mouth inches from yours. “Ain’t nobody said I didn’t like it.” His words are rough, each one lifting a weight from your chest. His eyes dart away to study the floor as his cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Ain’t used to people hanging around this much but… I don’t mind so much with you.” 

A pause before he shrugs as if trying to shake off the weight of his words. “Guess you don’t bother me as much as most folks do.” Logan straightens but doesn’t step back. His face remained aloof, but his cheeks were still rosy as vulnerability oozed from his gaze. “So quit worrying about ‘creeping me out.’ You’re good.” 

Logan’s kind words curled around your heart, a smile gracing your lips as you look at him. “So what I’m hearing is you're saying I can bug you even more now?” You joke, nudging his shoulder. 

He scoffs, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t push it, bub.”

---

Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[moonstruckme]

Hellooooo my favorite catlover/writer

I got another pop up idea this morning (happens way too often)

But first of all ! Don’t wear yourself out ! You write a lot and it’s amazing ! But prioritize yourself first. Don’t let requests put a pression on you ❤️

I know how it feels

Anyways

I’m not a morning person like most of the population except SOCIOPATHS.

And I imagined what it would feel like having the emt!marauders watching you up since they have to go to work early. You know like kisses, shoulders massages, soothing words as they try to calm your rise and everything…

If you don’t like it that’s ok! Don’t write it.

Love you, rest well. (Drink water)

Thanks for your request babe! Hope you're resting well and drinking water too <3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 654 words

You stir when you feel Remus shifting underneath you. He reaches over to shut off his alarm, hand coming back to rest over your head placatingly. The appeasement doesn’t last long; when he goes to move out from under you, you make a soft whining sound. 

“Dove.” His voice is husky with sleep, but there’s fondness to it. It makes you want him to stay even more. 

The mattress creaks at the other end of the bed as James gets up. Sirius grumbles, scooting closer to you and shoving his face into your neck in rebellion. 

“Don’t let them take me,” he mumbles pitifully. 

“Baby.” Remus sounds more exasperated and also more amused now that both you and Sirius are half atop him. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but it hardly matters. “Come on.” His lips touch down on your head. “You can sleep, but we have to get ready.” 

The bathroom light turns on. Both you and Sirius moan tormentedly. 

James’ laugh is too loud for the early hour; you’ll never understand how he wakes so quickly. “Need some help, love?” 

“Please,” Remus replies. 

Sirius makes a half-asleep sound of protest as he’s dragged away from you, James speaking to him in a low, amused voice. 

“Alright,” Remus murmurs, kissing your head again, “my turn.” 

He eases your head off of his chest, setting it gently on the pillow before getting out of bed. You mourn the warmth of his spot next to you. 

James is ready the fastest, back to press kisses to your pouty lips and soothe his big hands over your shoulders. “Do you want me to make you something for breakfast, lovie? If you get up now I’ll whip you up a fancy coffee.” 

“James,” Remus chides from the bathroom, “let her sleep.” 

James sighs but bends to mush loving kisses into your neck, murmuring nonsense at you all the while. 

“I know you don’t like the bathroom light on, but if you think about it, we’re the ones who have to endure it. Sirius is in there halfway to a temper tantrum because his hair won’t behave, and you’re here all warm and cozy in bed. You look terribly cute like this, do you know? It’s really cruel of you, it ought to be illegal, and if Sirius were awake enough to form a thought he’d agree with me.” His kisses turn ticklish, and James chuckles when you wriggle. “Really! I mean it, you don’t know how lucky you are getting to stay here in bed and looking so adorable. Remus is about to drive us to work, and Sirius is going to insist on laying down in the backseat and moaning about how much he misses you all the while, it’s terrible. I ought to take a picture of you to console him.” 

“Don’t,” you mumble. You find one of James’ hands with your own, dragging it underneath your pillow for safekeeping. 

James laughs again, and another chuckle joins him as Sirius comes out of the bathroom. 

“What’re you doing to her, you relentless pest? At least one of us should be allowed to sleep.” 

James makes a soft grunting sound as the bed dips. You don’t have to open your eyes to know Sirius has draped himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll get him away from you,” Sirius promises. “Jamie, I require one of your fancy coffees.” 

“Me too,” says Remus from the bathroom. 

James succumbs to the weight of peer pressure and goes, and a short while later the bathroom light shuts off. Remus crouches by the bed, kissing you softly. 

“Sleep well,” he says, brushing some hair away from your face. “We’ll see you after our shift, dovey, okay?” 

You mumble out a response, already falling asleep again in the returned darkness of the bedroom. 

Remus’ thumb skims fondly over your cheek. “Love you too, sweetheart.” 

[cherimoyatea]

Heyyy, can I request an ff where Sylus and Mc are having their intimate moment but they forgot to close the door so Luke and Kieran accidentally saw them?

Ahhh a request! Hi Annonie!

Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I actually never saw that coming, so I'm kind of both nervous and excited at the same time!

Life has been busy recently and I didn't have much time to write but your request was spinning in the back of my head! And this was so much fun to write!

I changed my style for a more comedic route this time and kept things lighthearted, hope that's okay!

Love, Cheri 🍒

❧ Sylus - Private Surprise

Pairing: Sylus x You Word Count: 826 Tags: established relationship, comedy, suggestive content (kissing, making out, no smut tho), luke and kieran being adorkable

It's Friday night, and you have eagerly accepted your boyfriend's invitation to spend the weekend at his villa in the N109 Zone.

After a long, challenging week, the chance to spend a few days with him couldn't have come at a better time, and your heart fluttered when he picked you up to have dinner together before driving you both back to his place.

You're standing by the sideboard in his living room, about to pour yourself a drink, when Sylus suddenly appears behind you on silent toes, putting his hands on your hips.

''Mmm, I missed you, Kitten…''

He whispers in your ear, grazing it with the tip of his nose.

Slowly, the silver-haired man moves his head down your neck, gently placing soft kisses there. His touch on your skin sends a tingle through your body, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your neck, giving him more space as he moves down to your shoulder.

''S-Sylus… Luke and Kieran will be here anytime soon.''

You stutter nervously while his hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding beneath the fabric to find the soft skin of your stomach, a smirk forming on his lips. ''Don't worry about the twins, Sweetie. I've sent them off to pick something up for me—they'll be busy for a while.''

Even though your pulse is racing with excitement, you set your glass back on the sideboard and turn around with a teasing smile, crossing your arms to appear nonchalant. ''Oh! So this is the surprise you mentioned earlier? I see…''

''No Kitten…'' Sylus replies with a smug grin, unfazed by your cheeky attitude. Even though you are pretending to be indifferent, your flushed face gives you away. With one swift move, he lifts your hips and places you on the sideboard, stepping between your thighs as he spreads them with his strong hands. ''...the surprise is yet to come.''

The red-eyed man leans closer, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before hungerily sliding his tongue out, inviting himself into your mouth. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you willingly let him in and wrap your arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionatly.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you don't hear the front door being opened and steps echoing in the hallway, coming closer…

''Boss, the address turned out to be wrong. We-''

You both startle and your heads swivel toward the voice when the door swings open and Luke and Kieran enter the living room, suddenly freezing in their movements as their eyes meet you and Sylus.

Obviously caught in a very intimate moment.

''O-Oh shit!! Boss?! MC??'' Kieran squeaks, while Luke throws his hands over his mask in an attempt to cover his eyes. Shrill screams echo through the huge villa, and Sylus raises an irritated eyebrow, unsure who's louder—the twins or you!

Panicked, the young men try to escape the awkward situation by running off, but Kieran stumbles over a pouf, grabs Luke's arm, and causes both of them to trip and fall to the floor instead.

''Waaah, my eyes, my eeeyes!'' Luke whines, rubbing his hands frantically on his mask, while Kieran tries to gather himself from the floor, still paralyzed by embarrassment.

The twins feel like they just walked into their parents!

''Argh, enough now!'' Sylus snarls and pulls away from you, giving you space to quickly jump off the sideboard and hide behind his large form so you can fix your disheveled state. With a single motion of his hand, the twins are swiftly thrown out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang.

''N-Noo…!'' You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat flood your cheeks.

Why didn't you lock the damn door?

''I'll never be able to face them again!'' You whine, wishing the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

Sylus lets out an amused huff and gently grips your wrists, pulling it away from your flushed face to look at you. ''I feel like the twins aren't any better, Kitten.''

The next morning, the twins are nowhere to be seen when you and Sylus have breakfast in the dining room. And even for the rest of your stay, there is no sign of them, anywhere.

Once you're back home, you find a small gift basket on your doorstep, filled with your favorite sweets, flowers, and plushies. As you approach, you catch a glimpse of two shadows hiding around the corner of your stairway, watching you closely from afar.

Pretending you didn't see them, you pick up the basket, fish for the note inside, and chuckle as you read it silently:

''Sorry MC! We won't tell anyone! Promise!

xoxo, Luke and Kieran

p.s.: Luke has serious questions about the 'sideboard moment' but don't worry, he's too embarrassed to ask.

p.p.s.: Next time, maybe a 'Do Not Disturb' sign?"

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[chris-hallelujah]

Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.

Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.

Part 2 Here!!

Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions

Word Count: 640 words

My Master List

Join my tag list : @matthewsroses

Divider by: @anitalenia

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.

<3 - Billie

The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.

After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.

"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.

"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.

That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.

"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.

"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??

[lilasboudoir]

Even if you think it's pointless, try anything to survive. Call a help center online. Call for a trusted loved one. Ask for help and when you don't find it, try again. Don't listen to the voice in your head saying "it's pointless" or "the world would be better off without me anyway". That's the desease talking. You matter. Even if I don't know you, even if I only barely know you only online through likes and posts, you matter to me. As part of communities I love or just respect from affar, you matter. Because the communities I love are made by people, and that someone desapearing is a tragedy that impacts us all in different ways. I'm not good enough in english to express how much even if we don't know eachother it's so so important to me that you survive. Because just by existing you make the spaces I care for so important. Maybe thanks to you, through the strange logic of the algorithm I learnt something that matters to me today. Maybe we liked the same post. Maybe we know the same artist. I can't stress out how much of a black hole you would leave if you weren't there anymore. In those trying times, we need to support eachother the best way we can and if you're not here anymore, it's one less supportive soul for us. It's a community sibling we will all mourn, without even knowing it. So yeah, let's fight together. And by fight, I mean any kind of fight. Yes, surviving is a fight. The most important one I might add. Outlive the stupid people who hate us. You bring so much more to humanity than them, just by existing. You don't even have to do anything to bring joy, warmth, and meaning to us. Just being you is enough. Just loving what you love is enough. Just sharing your passion or knowledge by rebloging or liking is enough. Just interacting with us is enough.

Just being part of our community is enough. So please, stay.

I hope none of you disappear in the coming days. Seriously don't do anything that can't be undone.

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 27.5K word count. toji! fushiguro! third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, deflowering, angry sex, rough sex, sweet sex, sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, creampie, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, caring toji, lil bit of sweet toji, violence, grief, loss, family drama, mention of suguru getou, minors aren’t welcome!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆visuals. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘ songs to play while listening‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘

𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑇𝐴𝐼𝑁—𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑌𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇𝐷𝑂𝑂𝑅

𝐼’𝐿𝐿 𝐾𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝑌𝑂𝑈—𝑆𝑈𝑀𝑀𝐸𝑅𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐾𝐸𝑅

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ now look, you should know when i make a fic, that hoe definitely gon’ be long as fuck. so don’t scream at me, okay? let’s make this a lil early christmas gift to my babies. i think this my favorite fic i’ve written. i’ve chained myself to the bed to finish this. i loved this plot so much. so so much. omg y’all. please enjoy it. please. okay, i’ve said enough.

….small note for name pronunciations within fic— nozomi (NO—ZO—ME) ami (AH—ME) isamu (EE—SAH—MOO)

PARTYNEXTDOOR FILLED THE SPEAKERS OF THE ROOM, R&B CRAWLING AMONGST THE WALLS. This is where she felt most at peace, her focus directly on her regular customer. 

“This is a new color for me, are you sure it’ll look nice?”

“Stop worrying, the color suits you beautifully. No black woman should ever turn away from brown hair,” she tells her, lessening the worry upon the customer's face. 

“Even at my age?” 

“Even at your gorgeous age, Ms. Bernice.” 

She adds the finishing touches, removing the curling iron as she sat it down on the table next to her. She spruces out the layered curls as she gives her a grin, “You’ ready to see?”

The woman who sat upon the chair nodded her head vigorously in excitement. She had been trying to convince Ms. Bernice to try a wig since she complained with her age that she was losing her hair. She offered to give her an age-appropriate bob, layered in between its curls. 

Her eyes gleamed as she turned in the chair to look in the mirror, a gasp of surprise escaping her lips as she inspected herself in disbelief, running her fingers through the silky soft hair, in complete shock that it was a wig. 

Her eyes sparkled in awe before turning back to her stylist, “It’s—It’s amazing! I look better now than I did with my real hair!”

“You looked just as beautiful before. I just enhanced your beauty,” she shakes her head, “It came out perfect.”

The woman laughed as she took out her wallet from her purse, “My husband’s going to flip when he sees this, you’re gonna get me in trouble!” 

Ms. Bernice then goes to pull out a fifty-dollar bill, this being her tip after already paying her in full as she says, “Thank you, Nozomi. You’ve really outdone yourself today.” 

Nozomi instantly takes the money, reaching around to put it back into her customers purse, “I told you to stop giving me those big ass tips, put some gas in your car or something. You know I’d do this for free if I didn’t have bills.”

The woman chuckled heartily as she pushed the money into Nozomi’s hand, making sure she took it, “Of course I know you’d do it for free, that’s exactly why I’m giving you a big tip! You don’t need the money, but you sure deserve it, you work so hard everyday, it’s the least I could do for you.”

She smiled as she then accepted the money, “Thank you. I really appreciate you.”

Ms. Bernice waves her hand, “Don’t start your sentimental stuff before I start crying. Anyways, can I book you again next week for a touch up? I have an event.” 

Nozomi sighs, “I’m sorry, my love. I’ll actually be out of town, my older sister’s getting married. I should be back a week after that.” 

“No worries—oh, a wedding, how beautiful. Congratulations to her. Where’s it gonna be?”

“It’s uh… actually a surprise to me. To the entire family, damn near. We won’t know until we get the invitations, but she gave us the dates and bought the tickets, so kinda sorta a free trip,” she briefly explains, “I’d never say no to that.”

“Ooh, a destination wedding, how exciting!” The woman clapped her hands together, “It’s like a mystery vacation,” Suddenly an idea popped into the her mind as she spoke, “Maybe it’s Vegas?”

Nozomi’s neck flung back, “God, I hope not. She might as well have Elvis be her damn officiant.”

Ms. Bernice chuckled as she spoke, “From the way you talk about her, she seems a little bougie. Probably Singapore or something.” 

“Now she knows our black ass family ain’t traveling to no damn Singapore,” Nozomi chuckled, “If that’s the case—pray for me. It’ll be a shit show.”

The woman laughed once more before nodding her head and standing up from the chair, grabbing her purse that rested on the counter on the opposite side of the room, “Maybe she’ll surprise you, send everyone off to Paris or something.” 

“The girl is bougie—never said she wasn’t a little frugal,” Nozomi replied as she walked her to the door.

“And that’s why you marry a rich man like your sister did,” Ms. Bernice finalizes. 

“That we can both agree on,” Nozomi chuckles, “See you next time, take a bunch of pictures for me!”

The woman gave a wave before walking out the door, “I will, I will! Bye bye now!” She shouted behind her. 

When she opens the door to let her out, Ms. Bernice stops herself from tripping as she nearly steps over an object along the ground. Nozomi looks down as she notices a pale pink box. 

She frowns, looking around the quiet outside before she hesitantly picks up the box, taking it inside her shop. Placing it along the counter, she pulls the silk white ribbon holding it together, opening the top as it looks to be cherry blossom petals within the box, scattering beneath the pink envelope, golden words trimmed atop of it. This was her sister's wedding invitation. 

She turns down the music within her shop as she absentmindedly begins to clean, other hand occupied as she reads the invitation. Then, her phone begins to ring. 

Ami. Just like clockwork. 

She holds the phone to her ear as she answers, continuing to read the invitation. The squeal on the other line was a usual greeting, something she was used to at this point. 

“Did you get it?”

Nozomi blinks at the envelope, “I did. Uh…Kyoto, Japan, Ami? Really?”

She could hear Ami giggling on the other line of the phone, her excitement evident, “Yes, really! Isn’t it perfect?” 

Nozomi continued to look at the envelope in hand, the pink cherry blossom petals filling out the box, “I…” she sighs, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“No, no. Say what you need to say before you start holding in your anger and it turns into an even bigger thing.”

“I haven’t been to Japan in two years, Ami. Not since mom’s passing.”

She didn’t want to ruin the mood, knowing her sister wouldn’t let her comment make her upset. She just wanted to remind her. The mention of a place they once called home made something in her stomach turn, their mother being a fully black woman, their father being a full-blooded Japanese man. Their mom met him when traveling for school, and they fell in love immediately, raising their family there up until her sickness. They’d been back and forth between Kyoto and the states, but both of them were home to Nozomi. 

 They took traits from both parents. Ami looked more like their father, fair skinned, hair more pin-straight then anything, while Nozomi looked exactly like their mom, toffee skin, only having her fathers cheekbones, freckles and eyes. Every time she looked in the mirror, her heart ached.

“I know, I know…but,” Ami began to speak, her tone now more gentle than excited, “I just wanted to have the wedding somewhere special. Somewhere that’s special to us…”

Nozomi sighed once more, setting the invitation back amongst the cherry blossom petals. Her eyes traced over the golden writing, a small smile spreading across her lips, though her heart was still aching.

“I understand. Kyoto is an amazing place to have picked, mommy always loved it there. But it’s your man’s hometown too, huh? Did he have any say in this choice?”

She could hear her sister’s soft chuckle on the other line, her smile more than likely a soft one as she spoke, “Suguru thinks it’s a good idea, his family is already here, that’s less expenses on us. Although we still had to fly out our family, it was a smart choice.” 

There was a moment of silence before she could hear Ami speak once again, her tone holding a hint of concern, “Are you upset? I feel like you’re upset.”

Nozomi shakes her head, closing the top of the box as she says, “No, no. Not at all. I’m just…I didn’t think I’d be back there so soon. It’ll feel a little strange,” her smile is weak, trying to be lighthearted. Keyword—tried.

 She then asks, “Is uh…Is dad coming?”

Nozomi and her father’s relationship hadn’t been the best since her mother’s passing. After finding out he had been cheating on her while she was sick, Nozomi didn’t have anything to say to him. Ami kept in contact—that was enough for her.

A heavy silence fell on the other end of the line for a few moments, her sister’s voice finally breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

“He is.” 

Nozomi could feel her heart begin to ache again, her smile disappearing. The topic of their father had always been a sore subject, though she knew it was better left alone. 

“Great,” she mutters, beginning to place the invitation politely back into the box, placing her other belongings in her purse as she was about to lock up her shop.

Her sister quickly replied on the other end of the line, holding a hint of panic, “Nozomi…don’t be like that. I know you have your feelings towards him, I get it. All I ask is that you at least try to be civil with him? For my wedding? I don’t want any drama.”

“I’d never do that to you, Ami,” she tells her, “Wanna go down your list of invites since you think I’m so barbaric?”

She could feel Ami rolling her eyes, “Don’t start your dramatics. Not when I’m about to tell you that I want you to be my maid of honor.” 

Nozomi halts, dropping her wallet into her purse as she glances out the window, “Me? Your maid of honor?”

A soft chuckle escaped her sister's lips, “Well duh, who else would it be? You’re my sissy-pooh. I’ve already got your dress, don’t worry, it’s not ugly. You’re excited, right? Please tell me you’re excited.”

Nozomi nods her head as if her sibling can see her, “Of course I’m excited. I just assumed that you would pick one of your friends.” 

“Oh, true. I mean, Kim will be there to help you—“

“Kim?” 

The entire conversation halts. It’s not that Nozomi was dramatic, however the name did bring an annoyance to her chest that she couldn’t shake. This was one of her sister's good friends, a friend of hers at one point—up until she slept with her man—the same man she was about to make things official with. It technically wasn’t cheating, but it was a fucked up gesture in her playbook.

“Yes, of course Kim is going to be there. I can’t not invite her to my wedding.”

“I’m aware,” Nozomi mutters more to herself, “But if you expect me to be butt-buddies wit ‘Kim-who-fucks-bitches-niggas’ Kim? Then it’ll be a cold day in hell, bridezilla. I’ll be cordial.” 

“Well you better keep that same energy when you see the man she fucked, cause Toji will be Suguru’s best man.” 

A pen could’ve dropped. 

The name echoed in her mind. She couldn’t lie to herself and say at one point she wasn’t endlessly in love with Toji. She had always been stubborn, not as emotional as her sister or willing to be in love the way Ami allowed herself to. But when the opportunity came with Toji, she made him work for it. He was just like her—stubborn, stern, aggressive—but he knew what he wanted, and that was her. He was the only person that could soften those walls, and just when she was ready to be committed to him, she found out that he hooked up with Kim, knowing that was also her friend, Kim also knowing that was her man. Both of them could go to hell.

Nozomi’s hand tightened around the phone, “Toji is his best man?”

Ami let out a breath as she spoke once more, her voice filled with reluctance, “I…yes. I know you both went through a rough patch—“ 

Nozomi could hear her sister’s voice soften even more, her voice taking a gentler tone, “I know things didn’t end well with you two, and I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t want you to say some bullshit about not going to my wedding.”

“Girl, bye. I love your ugly ass too much not to show up at your wedding,” she tries to joke away her anxiety, “Just send me pictures of all the bridesmaids dresses so I can know how to do my hair.”

Her sister’s giggles came through the phone as her squeal calmed down, her giddiness evident in her voice, “I’m so excited. Oh my God, everything is falling together! I already picked out the flowers…this is gonna be so much fun! Kyoto! Kyoto!” 

Nozomi could hear her sister begin to ramble on about her wedding preparations, it was cute to see her so excited and in love. But the back of her mind filled with the endless possibilities of this being a disaster. Her technical ex was in one room, while her ex-friend was in the other. She didn’t know who to swing on first. But this was her sister's wedding. It would be a perfect day for her. 

….Or an extremely hot day in Nozomi’s personal hell.

                      ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆

IT SEEMED LIKE THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS FLEW BY, and she was now arriving back in a place her parents called home at one point—Kyoto, Japan. The minute her feet landed in Osaka’s international airport, the crisp air made chills come down her spine. Memories of her mom rushed through mind like a collage, her smile, her laugh. Her throat went tight again. 

When she brought her focus back to finding her exit, a familiar face held up a sign that read, ‘NOZOMI—OMI.’ The nickname made her smile, pulling her suitcase as she ran up towards her older brother, Isamu, wrapping her arms around his neck as she crushed him into a hug. She wasn’t the affectionate type—but she also hadn't seen him since the funeral. She was the only sibling that now lived within the states, Ami staying in Kyoto with Suguru after the funeral, and Isamu living not too far from them. Nozomi needed the space and time to grieve. But maybe family was something she needed too. 

“Woah—hey, Omi’,” he clutched her, Nozomi digging her face into his shirt. Her eyes begin to well with tears, unable to stop herself as she squeezed him harder.

Her older brother wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him as he held her, his arms holding her around the waist as he squeezed her back. She couldn’t see it from having her face buried in his chest, but his face held a soft, sad smile. 

When he spoke, his deep voice was soft, “You’re squeezing me pretty hard, Omi’. You’ scared imma’ disappear if you let me go?”

“Maybe,” she muffled softly, squeezing the tightest she possibly could’ve, “Just—a little longer, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

He was well aware of the emotions going through her mind. Not seeing any of her family in over two years was hard enough. But returning to their family’s hometown was even harder. 

She quickly wiped her eyes before actual tears could come, hearing his voice made her want to break down. Her and her older brother had always been close—she missed his comfort, especially with their sister too busy in her relationship.

“How are you?” She asks, “You’ been okay?”

“I’ve been good…keeping busy with work and everything that’s been happening around here.” 

There was a brief moment of silence between the two before he spoke again, his voice a little quieter than before, “And you?“

“I’m…good,” she lies, “I’ve just been working. The hair business is great, I’m just…excited to be back here and spend time with you and Ami. I didn’t expect her to want to do the wedding here, considering how hard she took mom’s passing.”

Isamu could tell she was lying, knowing her as well as he did. But he decided against saying anything about it, not wanting to push the topic. His mouth twisted into a small smile as he spoke, “I think it kind of brings her comfort. Being here and all. She says it makes her feel like a piece of mom is here with us.”

He placed a gentle hand against her shoulder, his eyes holding a sad look as he spoke, “How are you feeling about all this? About being here right now?”

That was the burning question. She could handle being here, but as far as speaking upon her mom—she wasn’t ready for that. 

She brushed off the urge to cry again, “It feels nice to be here in Kyoto. I feel at home. However, the rest of our family, Kim, Toji, and our father all in one room? Ami has lost her damn mind to think that would go over well. It’ll be one terrible ass Jerry Springer episode.”

“She’s definitely lost her damn mind,” He agreed, “She’s hellbent on it all being perfect and everyone playing nice.”

“Did you know Toji was the best man? Since when did him and ole’ boy become so close?” She questions, watching as he begins picking up her suitcase, following him out of the airport, “And don’t get to defending your little boyfriend either, I’m aware at how close y’all are,” she threatens, referring to him and Toji’s relationship.

As he loaded her luggage into the trunk of his car, he let out a gentle laugh as he closed the trunk and leaned against the back of it. 

His eyes rolled into his skull as he thought about how to reply, “Him and Suguru got cool overtime, I don’t know. They’ve known each other for a while. Ole boy got a name, dickhead. I’m not defending Toji. I could give you reasons to hate him, but I’m not going to feed into that.”

His eyes met hers, a sly look in his gaze as he spoke, “But you’re not exactly the angel that you think you are.”

“Wh—me?! The hell did I do?” 

He knew he triggered an extremely long ramble, trying to hold back his laugh as she got in the passengers seat, “I don’t fuck peoples men! That’s Kim’s slimy ass! And I’m not the one with the dick that fucked Kim! Toji’s a slimey-nasty-bitch too!”

A loud bark of laughter came from him as they were on their way to their old home, another place Nozomi wasn’t sure she could handle being at. He snickered quietly as they drove, “It’s called a joke, Omi’. Damn. Chill before you pop a blood vessel.”

He chuckled to himself again, “That was some fucked up shit though, not gon’ lie.”

“Not fucked up enough for you to still be cool with him, and definitely not fucked up enough for him to be Suguru’s best man,” Nozomi grumbled.

“I don’t expect you to play nice with him or Kim.”

“At least your expectations aren’t as high as our sisters. You should lower them to hell, considering I wanna rip Kim’s arm off her body and smack her around with it. Fuck that hoe.”

His voice held a hint of amusement, “You got a whole lot of pent up anger and aggression going on in that frame. You might wanna calm down and get that checked out.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” she grumbled, leaning herself more into the window.

As they continued to drive, she got a good look of the city. It looked as if it never changed. The trees were still healthily green, buildings still posh, everything was always so put together. This was home for her father as well, it made her wonder where he was, but the thought of speaking to him came back to mind. She didn’t want to talk.

Isamu could see her looking out the window in her silent behavior. Even as a child, she didn’t talk as much. 

They soon pulled up to the familiar home, Isamu turning the car off before looking over to her, his voice soft as he spoke, “You ready?”

She didn’t look at him as she sighed, “I have to be.” 

When she stepped out of the car, she looked over the childhood home. A shock came to her face as it seemed to be entirely re-modeled, yet still the same. Dark brown wood on the rooftop of the white house, caramel timber holding the walls all together. Lanterns were all around, glowing the building in a beautiful sight. An aura felt carried around it, almost as if she were here.

Nozomi looked back to her brother as her eyes narrowed, “When did y’all uh…remodel the house?”

He walked alongside her towards the front door, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket as he replied, “Ami started getting it done. A wedding gift to herself, I guess.”

She nods her head, still looking up, keeping her eyes along the trees that hunched over the home. She then hears her brother ask, “You don’t like it?”

She shakes her head, “Nah, it’s perfect. Mom always wanted this place remodeled, dad always griped about wanting a traditional home. She would’ve loved it.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound a little sad, “Yeah…she always wanted all the fancy things. She would’ve loved this home. Dad’s probably somewhere complaining about it as we speak.” 

Their father was old school, and wanted to maintain the traditional things that Japan had to offer.

“But who gives a fuck about his opinions,” she adds on beneath her breath.

Her attention was pulled as she heard a squeal coming from the top of the stairs. The house looked small on the outside, but on the inside it held about seven bedrooms, perfectly accompanied for a big family that was always usually within the house. The furniture was still pretty small, most of it low to the ground, similar to the beds within the bedrooms, more large, still being covered by Shoji screens, thankful that each room had space enough to muffle the sound next to the other. She was sorry for the room closest to the newlyweds.

When her attention came back, she was nearly tackled as Ami wrapped her arms around Nozomi’s neck, wrapping her legs around her as well as she locked her into a hug. Nozomi couldn’t help but laugh softly, holding her tightly as she said, “Hey, beautiful. I missed you.” 

She could feel her top beginning to dampen, a small laugh falling from her lips again as she said, “Ami, why are you crying?”

Ami’s voice was soft and shaky as she attempted to speak through her tears, “I missed you too. So much, it’s just—“ Her voice broke off into a sob as she buried her face in Nozomi’s neck, her small hands gripping tighter to her sister as she continued to sob in her arms.

“I’m here,” she sighed, pulling her closer, “I missed you more. Please stop crying, this is the shit we’re supposed to be doing on your wedding day.”

“I know. I know, I’m…I’m okay. I swear, I’m just…glad you’re here, Omi’.” 

“Is she crying again?” 

A voice came down the stairs, appearing to be Ami's fiancè. He was just as handsome as Nozomi remembered him, long dark hair pulled out of his face, black sweatshirt, muscles bulging through the top, a tattoo coursing along his arm. 

Nozomi said, “Yes, she is.”

“Babydoll, don’t cry,” he tells her sister, coming from behind and rubbing her shoulder.

Ami turned towards her fiancé, her eyes still watery from crying. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body, her face flushed a soft shade of pink as she smiled. 

Isamu clarified, “She’s fine. Just emotional.”

“Remember when you cried every-time it rained outside, because you thought God was sad at you for behaving badly at school? Yeah, shut up,” Ami insults their brother, both of them putting their middle fingers up to each other. 

Nozomi says to Suguru, “It’s good to see you. Are you happy about the wedding being in your hometown? Is your family excited?”

The soon-to-be husband chuckled quietly as he spoke, his arms still wrapped around Ami as he said, “Everyone’s excited as hell. I can’t wait to make her my wife.”

Nozomi nods her head with a smile. He was sweet. Another question comes to mind as they hear a pair of feet circling the corner from where the office was, a familiar face appearing in the kitchen. Here she was, the infamous Kim. 

Her olive toned skin was always perfect, her dark brown hair up in a sleek ponytail. Her outfits were always classy and expensive. She was a beautiful woman, Nozomi could admit that. She just wished that beauty ran deeper than the skin surface.

Kim’s eyes flicked to everyone in the room, before they landed on Nozomi. A sly smile spread across her lips as she crossed the room, her voice sickeningly sweet as she spoke, “Well…if it isn’t little Omi’.”

“Hey, Kim,” Nozomi gives her a wave, wanting to say nothing else after that. 

Ami then budges in, “That’s it, ‘Hey, Kim?’ You can do better than that.” 

Nozomi raises an eyebrow, “You’ want us to start scissoring or something?”

“Jesus!” Ami smacks her arm, her fiancè and brother laughing at her younger sister's mouth. 

Kim then shrugs, “It’s fine. It’s nice to see you. It’s been so long,” Kim gives her a scan of her entire body, “It seems nothing has changed.“

That comment has Nozomi narrow her eyes, and it seems as if the whole room is holding their breath. She could admit, her and Kim were completely different, and that might’ve tied into more of her insecurities when the man she thought was attracted to her, went after her friend behind her back.

….Did Kim seem more calm? Eloquent? Classy? Knew when to shut up? What was it? 

Even if Kim was better in some aspects, that didn’t mean she couldn’t get the shit smacked out of her. Before Nozomi could dig into her ass, a pair of footsteps interrupt her foul insults, and when her eyes lock on the dark boots that stomp down each step, her throat nearly goes numb.

Each stomp of the boots was like the ticking of a clock, time slowing as she took in the figure standing on the stairs. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach, her mouth going dry as her lips parted but no words came out. Isamu and Ami both looked at her, noting her reaction. 

Toji’s tall frame came down the steps, his expression as cold and apathetic as usual, not that it was abnormal. The man had always been so stoic, to the point that it felt as if there was no life behind his eyes. Or, as Ami had stated a million times before, “That man isn’t a person, he’s a block of ice.” 

The more he matured, the finer he got. They weren’t much different in age, him and her siblings being thirty while she was only twenty-seven, but that came with a price. She was always blamed for not being as participant or even being a hot head, and as soon as she crashed out, her age was the first reason for explanation. But Toji never saw her that way. At least, that’s how he made her feel. 

The dark shirt he wore clung to his broad frame, contrasting the Japanese words that swirled along his arm, creating an entire sleeve that went up to his shoulder, dancing up to the side of his neck, disappearing behind his ear and clothing. His onyx hair and eyebrows, always low each time he entered a room. He was scary, sexy, tempting. Damn him. 

“Took you long enough,” Suguru said to him, “‘Fuck were you doing up there, powdering your nose?”

The tall man huffs in amusement as he responds, his voice deep and smooth, “I had to make an important phone call, you annoying bastard.” 

His friend gives him a smirk, as if mocking his words, “Who were you calling?” 

Toji rolls his eyes as he replies, “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Omi’s here!” Ami interrupted, almost as if it was something to panic over. 

The entire room locked eyes with her, as if waiting for some type of reaction. They didn’t know what to expect. It annoyed her. When his eyes locked on her, she felt like she wanted to melt into the ground. One thing he could expect from her— she was different from her siblings. She stood in a white baby tee, star shaped nipple piercings poking through the top. Her green cargo pants were slightly baggy, hair in individual braids, poking in between  wavy human hair. 

They’re bohemian goddess braids, jackass. Look it up, he remembers her telling him. 

Her glasses laid upon her freckled face, almost looking similar to an office siren, nose ring shining beneath the lights of the kitchen. Small tattoos roamed her frame, large hips never discreet in any clothing she wore. She was fucking gorgeous.

His eyes took her entire body in, her usual appearance making his eyes narrow faintly. It made the scar on his lip twitch. She looked good, too good. Her brown skin was always just as smooth, her body just as curvy and attractive as always. 

“Yeah,” he scans her up and down, “She is.”

Nozomi has the sudden urge to choke him. 

Her attitude comes first as she completely bypasses him, looking at her sister as she says, “Show me to my room?”

The air suddenly tensed as she avoided him like the plague, his eyes narrowing further at her behavior. Ami noticed it as well, and she quickly nodded. 

“Uh, yeah…follow me.” 

She gave her fiancé a kiss on the cheek before she began walking up the stairs, gesturing for Nozomi to follow her.

“Who else is gonna be staying here?” Nozomi asks, yet she gets no response. She felt a mood shift within her sister, and she knew a lecture was about to come. Once they make it in front of her door, Ami turns to her and quietly whispers, “Why did you do that?!” 

Nozomi tilts her head, “Do what?”

Ami looks at her as if it’s obvious, her tone laced with confusion as she whispers back, “Ignore Toji!” 

She glances down the hall to make sure no one can hear them as she continues to speak in a quiet tone, “You acted like he wasn’t even there!”

“You didn’t tell me he was gonna be here, Ami. Don’t act like you didn’t purposely do that,” Nozomi replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ami lets out a long sigh, placing her hands on her hips as she rolls her eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, but you’re both adults. I know you’re mad at him, but you can’t act like he doesn’t exist the entire weekend.”

“I actually can!” She exclaims back in a whisper, “He can fuck Kim in every Kama Sutra position known to man. I wouldn’t give a fuck if he stood there in a clown costume! I still wouldn’t have spoken.” 

“Are you done?” Ami blinks. 

Nozomi then pulls back with a sigh, realizing how she’s being. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should just get a hotel. I don’t wanna ruin your weekend.” 

Ami shakes her head as she replies, “You’re not getting a hotel. Just…can you please try to speak to Toji? Like…be mature about it? You didn’t work out, sure. That’s okay!”

Nozomi blinks, “It’s okay? It’s okay that I was practically in love with the bastard, was gonna let him break me out of my abstinence? Take my virginity? Then to find out he fucked Kim because what— her pussy was free? Fuck him!” 

Ami squints, “You’re still a virgin?”

“Ami!”

Ami looks surprised for a moment before her face becomes neutral again, her voice lowering, “Really? You and Toji never…?” 

She pauses for a moment, as if realizing something else after asking that question. Her eyes widen as she speaks, her tone now in a low whisper, “How? You literally told me you had sex before? Did you lie? Why would you lie to me?!”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a weirdo or something, you were all experienced and shit, sex was scary to me! Still is! And you think imma’ let that gorilla take my banana when he’s giving his for free?”

“You don’t have a banana,” Ami reminds. 

“You get my analogy, though. My point still stands, fuck him.”

Ami groans faintly, raising her hands up to rub her temples to calm her growing headache. She sighs as she speaks, “I know, I know…but I need you to be mature about it for one weekend. Please?!” 

“I will respectfully ignore him, unless you want me to be so sweet that I slice his throat in his sleep. And that’s being charitable.”

Ami looks horrified for a moment at her response, her eyes wide as she replies, “No! You will not do that! My wedding does not include any cutting of throats!”

Nozomi stands there with her arms crossed, similar to a child before she huffs, “Fine.” 

“Good! Now go change and get washed up. Matter of fact, you’ll be in the kitchen. With Toji. Helping him cook. Goodbye!”

Nozomi’s eyes go wide, “Ami!—“

Her sister makes an incredulous noise, silencing her before she walks away. She wants to throw a tantrum. Fuck.

After showering, she was now fully dressed in a gray long sleeve that hugged her upper body, matching sweats and her house slippers that wouldn’t ache her feet like her regular shoes did. Her braids were held up by a claw clip, no makeup residual on her face as she pressed her glasses up along her nose. She’d put in her contacts eventually. She was hoping that she would enter the kitchen first, but as she saw Toji standing there in a black wife beater and sweats, silver jewelry clinking along his wrist, she held her breath. She held back the roll in her eyes as she scanned the countertop to see all the prepped food, not knowing where to start. Maybe this was the time to speak. 

Thankfully, she can hear his deep, gruff voice as she seems to be on the phone, speaking in Japanese. She understood most of it, but she didn’t care enough to listen to what he had to say. She took that as her opportunity to scan over the small box in the middle of the island, holding what looked to be the recipe for dinner tonight.

Toji’s eyes were on her the moment she entered the room, watching her movements as she took her time scanning the countertop, analyzing the ingredients and prepped food in front of her. He could admit, she looked as attractive as she did the first day he met her. Her skin was still smooth, hair braided up, tattoos exposed for him to admire beneath the gray clothing she adorned. Her glasses perched on her nose, making her look naturally sexy. Damn her.

She frowns down at the recipes, realizing how familiar they sound. She takes this moment to finally speak to him, never looking up from the counter as she asks, “Did Ami give these to you?”

He was surprised she'd actually spoken, even if it was to acknowledge the recipe, and not him. His eyes scanned her, noting the way her body looked in her current clothing, and how she was still somehow just as attractive in something as simple as sweats.

“Yeah, she did.”

“I’m assuming she has you cooking everything this weekend,” she comments, eyes glancing up at him.

Toji lets out a huff, and his deep voice responds to her question, “Not everything, but I am cooking.” 

He returns her stare, gray eyes scanning her face. He could tell she was bothered just by being in the room with him, but she was holding up. 

“So what did you need help with, then?” She questions, “It looks like you have everything under control.”

Something in him became immensely irritated at how she was being. He knew that she was still upset with him, but for the sake of her sister's wedding, he hoped she would put her feelings to the side. Clearly not. 

“I’m good. You can go,” he tells her, sharpness in his tone. 

She turns to leave the kitchen, and when he sees that she’s actually leaving, he becomes pissed off. 

“You’re gonna do this bullshit all weekend?”

Nozomi halts, turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. She replies, “Call it what you want, Fushiguro.”

“What, you don’t call me Toji anymore?” He snips, a sharp tongue being one of their similarities when they annoyed each other.

“Is that what you want?” 

“I want you to stop acting like a fuckin’ child.”

That makes both her eyebrows raise as she replies with an amused huff, “Huh. A child. Well how about I get back to my playground? Kim can come assist you.”

“Stop acting like a fuckin’ brat. Don’t act like you don’t feel something from seeing me.”

“Do you think you’re a prize? What did you think? That I was gonna be happy to see you? Jump for joy? Fuck you on this countertop? Don’t be fucking stupid. Do you need help in the kitchen or not? Cause that’s really all that needs to be said between us. I was doing my sister a favor by coming in here,” she snaps, anger seeping through her that she hadn’t felt in years.

“Don’t be a smart ass. I know that you’re pissed. I get that. But the weekend has barely started, and it’s already irritating dealing with your childish bullshit.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, Fushiguro! I was fine before you said anything to me. I’m not gonna ruin my sister's wedding by bringing my own issues with you into that. I was fine before, I will be fine.” 

When she goes to turn, she feels him lock his hand around her wrist, her other hand close enough to the kitchen counter as she warns, “My hand is seconds away from a knife. Let go of me.”

For a split moment, he wonders if she’d actually stab him. She might. He decides to test that thought and refuses to listen to her, not letting go of her wrist.

“Maybe that’ll show me that you actually give a fuck to have a conversation,” he sharply replies.

“I don’t,” she promises. 

Damn, this woman. When he goes to pull her closer, the door to the kitchen swings open, the familiar ponytail appearing that almost makes Nozomi actually want to go for the knife on the counter. Kim. If she swung forward enough, she’d slice both of them.

The sight of Kim was both a good and bad thing. It was good because the brunette would act as a buffer between the two. It was bad because it would stop him from talking to Nozomi alone, since he was unable to do so outside of the kitchen. 

Kim asks, “You guys need help? Ami told me to come assist.”

“Of course she did,” Nozomi replies, her tongue on fire, “You got it. He seems to prefer you anyway.” 

She finally snatches herself away from him, making her way out of the kitchen without saying anything else. She barely acknowledges Kim, wanting to spit on her from how pissed she was. Fuck both of them.

Toji is almost tempted to grab her wrist again and snatch her back. His eyes watch her storm out in anger, and he turns his glare to Kim, who has no idea what the hell was going on. 

She looks to Toji, blowing out a breath as she mutters, “Drama Queen,” before shaking her head, “C’mon, I’ll help you finish. I’m starving.”

Nozomi was so upset that she was shaking. She didn’t think that she would care that much about seeing him or even speaking to him, but as soon as they went back and forth, all her feelings came erupting like vomit, and she didn’t know how to deal with them. She might’ve actually hurt him had she stayed in the kitchen. When she went back into her room, she kicked her shoes off, laying within the bed as she pressed her face into the sheets. She could feel her hot tears brimming into the comforter, wishing she wouldn’t cry when she was pissed off. 

She feels as if she’s laying there for an eternity. But as she hears her door slide open, she knows it’s her older sister. 

She mutters, “Not now, Ami. Please.”

She quietly closes the door behind her and makes her way to Nozomi, lowering onto the mattress as she sits down beside her. Ami gently places a hand on her back as she speaks, her tone soft, “You alright?”

It’s like the question had something almost shatter inside of her. She wraps her arms around the pillow in front of her, digging her face into it as she cries softly, “I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate him.”

“I know,” she replied, voice trembling. She didn’t hate him. In fact, seeing him again, she missed him so much. Everything hit her, her doubts, her insecurities. It all stood in between him and her sister's friend. 

“I feel so stupid. I’m stupid,”  she repeats, “Crying over a nigga that dropped me because I wasn’t ready to sleep with him.” 

“That’s not what it was about, Omi’,” her sister tries to counter.

Nozomi then sits up, “Then what was it, Ami? I know it’s because she’s prettier, thinner, smarter. More money. I just—“ 

She takes in a breath, trying to wipe her red face, “I just wish it didn’t hurt that bad. That she didn’t make me feel worse about it.”

Ami’s heart hurt as her sister voiced the thoughts that had been tormenting her. The insecurities and the pain that Toji had caused. Her sister had spent two years tormenting herself as if it was her fault.  

Ami gently takes her hand to squeeze, her eyes meeting with hers firmly, “You are so so stupid if you think that’s the only reason he fell for you. You’re beautiful and intelligent and talented. He didn’t break up with you because someone was better than you. And she’s not that.” 

“Then what?” Her glossy eyes glance up at her, “How am I supposed to feel when she’s here? Being with him?”

“Toji is a man, and men are idiots. That’s the only explanation for that. Look, Kim is just here as a friend for me. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make you upset, it was wrong what she did. I can talk to her, make sure she doesn’t make you uncomfortable. But I need you to focus on yourself. Focus on the wedding. This weekend is a celebration, alright? I don’t want you making yourself feel shitty for that idiot.”

Nozomi sighs, finally feeling herself calm down. She was right. This was one weekend and she’d never have to see him again. It was gonna be a struggle, but she was tough. She wipes her eyes as she exhales, “You don’t need to talk to her. I’m fine. Kim is always gonna be Kim. The bitch has artistic intelligence, so I know she’s making your wedding a fairytale. I want that for you. I’ll be fine. As far as Toji, I’ll…I’m okay,” she finalizes, “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

Ami shakes her head gently, a kind smile on her face as she replies, “You could never ruin my night. I’d smack you if you did. I’m happy you’re here, it means the world to me.”

She gently reaches out to give Nozomi’s shoulder a light squeeze as she adds, “Just try to enjoy yourself, alright? You don’t have to talk to Toji, but you don’t have to be rude either. I don’t want you two arguing all weekend. I’m gonna go get dinner. I can bring you a plate up?”

Nozomi shakes her head, “I’ll come eat with everyone. Just need to clean my face up. Go enjoy your food.” 

She hesitates, wrapping her arms around her sister's neck as she mutters, “Love you.”

Ami’s heart warms when she hugs her. She returns the embrace, smiling gently as she responds, “I love you too. Always.” 

When she makes it downstairs, everyone is around the table, seated along the floor as they eat and talk amongst each other. She fell back into her solitude, grateful that no one questioned her silence. She’d give a brief glance at Toji when he wasn’t looking, watching as he spoke to his best friend, laughed, joked, a bit of normalcy that she couldn’t help but miss about him. She might’ve been stubborn, but she refused to get hurt again. She also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they used her mother’s recipes to cook the food, an entirely different reason why she felt so down. She wouldn’t have allowed her to cry over Toji. She would’ve called him a bastard and laughed in his face.

Toji feels her eyes on him. 

Throughout the night, he finds himself occasionally stealing glances in her direction. He can’t help it, she’s right there and it’s driving him mad. She’s still so damn beautiful.

As everyone makes small talk, and Kim tells a joke to crack some laughs, Toji’s eyes remain fixated on Nozomi. Her expression remains neutral, but he can see that she’s faking a calm composure. He wished she had giggled at his jokes the way she used to, he just wanted to feel something different from her. He missed that normalcy as well.

Nozomi barely touched her food, feeling her stomach growling as she made it back to bed that night. She couldn’t sleep. If it wasn’t her thoughts running amuck, it was definitely the unfortunate muffled sounds of her sister and her fiancè…enjoying their time together. 

She stands from the bed as she slides her door open, hoping her ears would fall off as she passes by their room, making her way towards the kitchen. She passes Kim’s room as well, and when she hears that Kim also seems to be enjoying herself, accompanied by a sound of masculine grunting, she can feel her palms shaking. 

“That fucking bastard,” she mutters. 

That ruins her entire appetite. Instead of her midnight snack, it sends her right back to bed. As she goes back to her door, she notices an object on the ground. She frowns beneath the darkness, leaning down as she sees an orchid laid along the wood. She sighs, knowing her brother had probably placed it there, a habit he had with both of his sisters if he was apologetic, trying to make them feel better. She appreciated it. She took the flower in her room and closed the door, attempting to get some sleep for the rest of the night. 

When the next morning came, she was greeted downstairs by everyone. Her sister was wrapped under her fiancè’s arms as she held a coffee mug close to her face, giggling as he talked within her ear.

Kim was in the kitchen making herself tea, talking to Nozomi’s brother, while Toji was engrossed within his phone, silent in an unusual manner. 

She rubbed her eyes as she tiredly greeted everyone, “Morning.”

Everyone replied with their own greeting, smiles and kind words exchanged between the group. Well, except for Toji, who was uncharacteristically silent.

He slowly looked up, his eyes locked on her as a pang of irritation spiked through him. She was wearing a tank top paired with tight boy shorts. Toji couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her skin was on display, or the way her shorts hugged her hips. He was forced to look away, his jaw tense as he silently stared out the window instead.

“How’d you sleep?” Ami asks, “Want me to make you some tea?”

Nozomi shakes her head, “Slept okay. On account of you two love birds, y’all make me absolutely sick.”

“Nah, for real. Imma’ have to bleach my ears,” her brother pipes in, both older siblings once again throwing middle fingers to each other. 

“Oh, fuck off. This is my weekend! And this is my man, my man, my man!” 

Everyone laughs her off, knowing how in love she was with her fiancè. They couldn’t admit it, but it was adorable. 

Ami takes a sip of her tea as she says, “So, what’s on everyone’s agenda before the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

“I’m gonna head to the restaurant that’s catering the wedding, make sure your menus are just the way you wanted them and the food is perfect, beautiful bride,” Kim tells her, nudging her friend's leg with a smile. 

Nozomi figured that as the maid of honor these things would be her job, but if Kim wanted to kiss her sister's ass, she wasn’t going to stop her. 

“Imma’ go with her, it’ll give me a chance to get out of the house,” Isamu adds. 

“Great. We’ll be checking out the venue one more time, making sure they decorated it just how I imagined it—and from all the pictures I framed off Pinterest. If not, I will be going bridezilla on they ass. Anyways, my crew, rolling out!” 

As everyone disperses from the seating area, Nozomi notices as Toji is still there, interest deep within his phone. At least, pretending to be. She can’t read him. However, she can stare at him. The way he looks within this onyx wife-beater, she could lick him. The ink on his skin swirls along his arm, broad frame nearly wanting to break the small chair he sits in. 

Her attention is pulled away when she hears him ask, “You’ going out today?”

She blinks, “Huh?” 

Toji didn’t miss anything. He saw her staring from his peripheral, watching the way her eyes had roamed all along him. 

His eyes were locked on her now as he repeated, “I asked if you were going out today.”

“Oh, uh—“ she thinks about it, hearing her stomach deeply grumbling. She realized she hadn't had a full meal since she got on the flight to Japan. 

“Yeah—Imma’ head to this little restaurant my mom used to take us to,” she briefly replies, proud of herself for being cordial enough, especially after last night. At this point, she didn’t give a fuck about what he had going on. 

“Oishii?” he asks. 

She narrows her eyes a bit, “Yeah. How’d you know?” 

“Isamu mentioned it. I told him that place burnt down a couple months after your mom passed.”

“What?” She exclaims, “What the hell? Fuck, who was gonna tell me? That was the only place I really enjoyed.”

Toji can’t help but smirk at the surprise she expressed. He replies, “Been closed up for a while now,” with a shrug, “Damn shame. It was good.” 

He leans back, Nozomi knocking her eyes down as he spreads his knees, seated in a position he usually relaxed in if he wanted her to sit on his lap. It made her throat dry. 

“There’s other places to choose from. I know one. I’ll take you there.” 

She shakes her head, “That’s not necessary—“

“Get dressed.” 

His word was his bond, it always made her clutch her lips together. He was already standing, already walking away. He was never asking. With that, she pressed her lips together, a small groan falling from her mouth as she made her way back to her bedroom to put on some clothes.

He sat within his room for a while as he waited for her, knowing she would be a minute as she did her full routine. It annoyed him that he remembered that. 

He eventually stood across the door from her room, knowing she’d be out soon. When she opened it, she flew past him to get a look at herself in the full body mirror down the hall. She adjusted the tightly fitted yellow sundress she wore, a matching headband that pulled her braids out of her face, edges perfectly sculpted. She wore her contacts today, able to see the eyes that she carried from her father. She looked more stunning each time he saw her. 

She looked up to him as she pulled her white sandals on her feet, going back into the room for her purse as her soft voice asked, “Ready?”

Toji could have eaten her in this outfit, watching as she walked past him, catching her body in the mirror as she turned. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, showing off each and every bit of her he ached to touch. 

He nods in response, his voice low as he replies, “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t as cold as it usually was in Kyoto, the weather perfect for a wedding. She enjoyed being able to walk rather than drive everywhere, needing a car back in the states. Their walk was quiet, Nozomi enjoying the trees, nature, the colorful buildings. She walks beside him for a while, watching as the cars bustle on the street beside her. 

“Uh…do you know where we’re going?” She questions him, looking to the side of herself.

Toji’s own gaze was also fixated, watching her from the corner of his eye, studying the small habits he missed, the way she observed her surroundings so intently. The way her ass looked in this dress. His hands remained in his pockets, her question earning a glance as he looked down at her.

“You askin’ if I’m taking you to some secluded area where I’m gonna’ chop you up or something?” 

His voice is low in humor, a smirk on his lips as he continues to guide her. “Be patient.”

She sighs, crossing her arms behind herself as she holds her purse in her hand, “I don’t like surprises.”

“I know that, Nozomi.” 

“I would hope the food at this place is good, my mom was picky, so it makes me picky. What if it’s nasty? I’m hungry. I’ll be sad if it’s gross,” she banters.

“You’re whining a lot today, I see.” 

“I’m just curious,” she shrugs, “Fine. I’ll shut up.” 

Toji’s eyes narrow as he notices the way cars fly past as she continues on the sidewalk, something in him annoyed with how quickly they drive by. 

“Don’t. Keep talking to me,” he says, his movement swift as he grips her by her hip, gently pulling her on the inside of the sidewalk as he now walks where the cars pass, “You’ still working on your Japanese?” 

The movement was so quick that the chill down her spine was even quicker, her entire body tingling at his rough touch. 

She nearly loses focus of his question as she swallows, “Um—still pretty shit at it, actually.”

“You’re not trying enough,” his tone low, “‘Can’t speak the language but you’ve lived here. You are Japanese.” 

“Half,” she reminds, “My dad always said that I didn’t ‘look the part’ anyways. Ami always fit for him, her Japanese is award worthy.”

“I’m not talking about looks,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, “I’m talking about heritage. You’re still half, that means something. Your father should have been proud to know you speak his language. It’s annoying hearing you struggle.”

“Then how about you teach me, Mr. I know Everything? I understand you perfectly fine! That should count for something,” she begins to walk a little faster, hips twisting as she becomes slightly agitated with him.

Toji follows after her, his own stride matching as he easily keeps up. He scoffs, shaking his head at her words as he replies, “You don’t understand half the shit I tell you. You’ make this face when you’re confused, it’s cute.”

“Whatever,” Nozomi mutters, now actually irritated.

 As they continue to walk, she notices a small boutique, the dark purple font on the sign above bringing her instant nostalgia. She gasps, “Oh my god, this is the boutique my mom used to take me and Ami too! I can’t believe it’s still here…” 

She can’t help it, but she’s already pulling on the door handle, making her way inside in full curiosity.

Upon entering, she’s met with various traditional kimonos and dresses, a familiar scent filling her senses. Toji is immediately behind her, observing the entire shop as she takes it in. He can already tell that the nostalgia is overwhelming, watching as she walks around the place, her hands gently touching some of the dresses.

She looks along the wall of the shop, seeing all the Sanrio theme plushies and characters, blossoming different colors within her eyes. She felt like a child all over again. She nearly gives herself an asthma attack when she sees a particular plushie—she thought she was gonna faint. 

“Holy shit,” she mutters, pointing upwards, “You see that one? This is a Hello Kitty collectible,” she describes. His eyes follow up to what looks to be a toffee complexioned Hello Kitty, wearing a pink and red Kimono, a matching pink flower within its head. It was the biggest one of all, nearly as big as Nozomi’s entire body. 

“I literally cried all day because my mom wouldn’t buy it for me. She refused because Ami wanted one that looked like her, and because they didn’t have a collectible in her skin tone, my mom didn’t want her to feel left out. So neither of us got anything. The fact that it’s still here is insane.” 

She comes close to it, trying to squint at the price tag on its side as she mutters, “Wonder how much it is…”

“Wanna ask?” Toji questions. 

She turns with a frown, “I can ask, thank you.” 

She surprises him a bit as her tone changes, inquiring the price of the plushie as she asks within his native tongue. He couldn’t understand what she meant when she said her Japanese was shit, she sounded incredibly normal to him. Sexy, even. He wanted to hear her speak it again. 

She blinks as the woman responds, looking to Toji as she repeats back in English, “Thirty-Eight thousand yen? What is that in American dollars?”

“Shit is like three hundred dollars,” Toji replies back to her, watching as her jaw nearly drops.

“Oh hell, I don’t want it that bad,” she sighs, “Ugh. It’s so cute. My pockets will cry. Oh well.” 

She says thank you to the woman, “Let me look at these dresses for a second, then we can go,” her shoulders are a bit more slump as she searches the rest of the store, almost feeling defeated. 

As she continued to look around, her attention was along a dark brown Kimono, a pair of colors she’d never seen before. She doesn’t hear Toji speak to the woman, pointing towards the wall of plushies. She only ever realizes what he’s doing when the woman pulls down the large collectible she wanted, bringing it to the register. 

“What are you doing?��� She questions from the other side of the store, nearly tripping as she makes her way back to him.

Toji can tell by her expression that she had completely given up on the possibility of leaving with that stupid doll. It was endearing, seeing the disappointment in her eyes. 

“Buying this stupid ass doll.”

He begins reaching for his wallet, pulling the wad of cash out as her eyes widen, placing her hand over his to stop him as she awkwardly speaks towards the woman, telling her not to worry about it, “No, you are not buying me that.”

Toji glances over at her as she speaks, smacking his lips at her. The woman behind the cash register pauses for a moment, looking between the two of them. 

“Didn’t you just want this shit two seconds ago?” 

Nozomi’s eyebrows furrow, “Yes—“

“So shut up.” 

When she goes to protest, the look he gives her makes her hands halt, pressing her lips together as she puts her hands behind her back. 

The older lady giggles, Nozomi understanding her as she asks if she wants a gift bag. Toji shakes his head, “She’ll hold it.” 

When he looks back to see her still standing with a perplexed expression, still shocked that he even bought it, he snaps her out of her trance as he says, “Take the damn doll from her before I choke you with it.” 

She smacks her lips now, politely thanking the woman as she has to wrap both arms around the plushie, it being a little heavy. She doesn’t know how to feel, but as he grumpily waits for the receipt, a small smile comes to her face.

When they make it to the restaurant, the lights on the streets begin to come on, the buildings and billboards bright to her eyes. She missed this feeling, almost like a child feeling Christmas air. Her plushie sits beside her in its own individual chair, Toji sitting across from her as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, swiftly igniting it as they wait for someone to take their order. Nozomi looks down at the menu, not sure where to take the conversation. 

They’d been getting along, it was no harm in that. She couldn’t be a bitch after he spent three-hundred dollars on something she’d always wanted. 

She exhales as she looks around the crowded restaurant, looking back to him as she begins, “So…do you still live in the states, or did you move back here?”

Toji’s dark eyes remained on her while she looked around at the restaurant, his gaze always observant. He noticed how her eyes seemed to brighten at the view outside, how her mood completely changed after getting her silly doll. 

He takes a puff of his cigarette before replying, “Moved back home. Got sick of it.” 

“Sick of it? I thought you liked New York. I thought you enjoyed being a body-guard, kicking people's asses and getting paid for it,” she mentions, giving a polite smile to the man that hands her the drink she ordered.

Toji’s eyes follow her polite smile before watching her take a sip, replying as he rests an arm lazily along the back of the booth. 

“I did enjoy it. I just don’t like the people out there. New Yorkers are a pain in the ass,” he scoffs before puffing his cigarette again, continuing, “Why do it there when I can kick people's asses here and still get paid for it?”

That makes a small laugh come from her, something he hadn’t heard in a long time. She crosses her leg, leaning back within the seat as she questions, “When did you and Suguru become so close?” 

Toji’s eyes watch her body shift, taking another pull from his cigarette as her question registers in his head. 

“I’ve known the bastard since high school, but we got closer once I moved back. I thought it was funny he fell in love with your other half,” he pauses, looking at her with a smirk, “He’s a big ass softie now. Whipped, even.”

That makes her eyebrow raise, “So your perception of someone in love is being whipped, huh? Makes sense.”

Toji narrows his eyes at her snarky response, taking a moment to reply, “You’ still need me to choke you with your friend over there? I hope she isn’t ordering too, I’m good on money, but that’s pushing it.” 

She rolls her eyes as he adds with a serious tone, “And I didn’t say that. A man should respect his woman, I’ve just never seen him this way.”

“Well I think it’s adorable. Love should be all mushy and gross, that’s how you know it’s genuine. Makes me wonder what I’m doing wrong,” she admits, swirling her straw around in her cup, “I’m really happy for her.”

Toji’s expression doesn’t change as she responds, his cigarette hanging idly between his lips as his arm is still resting along the booth. 

He looks at her, really looks at her, a thought coming to his mind as he suddenly responds, “You’re not doing anything wrong.” 

He pauses, taking another pull before he changes the subject, “You spoke to your dad?”

That question almost startles her brain. She thought for a second that she could forget he’d be at the rehearsal dinner. She hadn’t seen him in two years. She kneels into the menu as she tries to deflect, “How do I tell the waiter I want this?”

Toji sees right through her, knowing exactly what she’s trying to do. He’s observant of a lot of her tendencies. He knows she’s avoiding talking about her father, and knows that she’s trying to forget. 

He’s not going to let her. 

“Show me what you want,” he mutters gruffly, nodding to the menu in her hand.

“Mmm, maybe I’ll just get ramen,” she tries to distract him. 

He eyes her as he suggests, “You can try the Sashimi.”

She scrunches up her nose, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for raw fish. No thank you.”

“You eat sushi all the time, baby. The fish is just cut differently,” he explains, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes.

He puffs his cigarette before speaking again, “Stop avoiding the subject and answer my question. Did you call him yet?”

She pulls back, letting him have the menu as she says, “I’ll see him at the rehearsal dinner. No need to call.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters, tossing the menu to the side, “He’s your father, of course you should call him.” Toji puts out his cigarette, now giving her his full attention.

“Oh hell, here you go with your family matters bullshit. I don’t need a therapy session. You don’t talk to your family either, Fushiguro,” she points out.

Toji’s expression drops at her mention of his family, something shifting in his eyes now. 

“Not the same thing, you know that.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “What am I supposed to say? Hey, thanks for cheating on my mom while she was sick, and then only being there to agree on pulling the plug on her? How’s your new bitch? Oh, did you figure out a tie for the wedding?” She tilts her head, sarcasm laced in her voice.

“Maybe say all that shit, it’s better than nothing. He still loves you.”

“Yeah, because I’m his daughter. Plus—it’s not my wedding, Dr. Phil.  It’s Ami’s and he loves her to death. Would do anything for her, she’s always been Daddy’s little girl,” she flatly says, “This isn’t about me.”

He shakes his head as he begins, “You don’t have to take the backseat to everything or be a doormat all the time. This is about you.” 

He moves closer, “It doesn’t matter who’s getting married. He’s your family, too. You think he doesn’t notice that you avoid him?”

“The phone is a two way street, if he wanted to speak to me that badly, he would’ve,” she crosses her arms over her chest, becoming uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s a two way street. So why haven’t you called him in the entire two years? It goes both ways.”

“Because he hasn’t called me.” 

“So it’s a competition now?” 

“Fushiguro,” she warns.

Toji continues to glare her down, not backing off. 

“It’s not a competition. I’m just trying to understand your logic, or lack of,” he explains, “You keep saying the phone is a two way street. You haven’t called him either, but are pissed at him for not calling you, shit is ass-backwards.”

Her leg begins shaking beneath the table, not necessarily upset with him. The overall topic has her frustrated. Her attention is drawn back to him when Toji sees the tension in her movements, knowing that his persistent questions have stressed her. He grips her ankle gently to stop her from moving, his large hand wrapping completely around it as he places her leg on his lap. 

“All I’m trying to say is you should talk to him,” he says again, the firmness in his voice fading.

When she realizes that she’s only making herself upset, she stops. She had to face her father, and it would be happening tonight. It didn’t have to be a bad interaction, she just wished he never made the decisions he did.

 She looks down at the table as she then admits, “I love my father. But I hate what he did to our family.”

A small silence comes between them, his hand still loosely holding her ankle. 

“You don’t have to forgive him,” he finally says, “But don’t forget that he loves you. Even with his shitty decisions.”

She looks up at him, realizing his sincerity. The silence is filled as the waitress comes back, sitting down her bowl of ramen, also sitting down a plate of perfectly placed fish—raw, as she mentioned she didn’t like. 

Her arms are still holding onto her chest, realizing that for the sake of this weekend, maybe she needed to make a change. She sits up as she reaches for the chopsticks, dipping a piece of the fish into the soy sauce and popping it into her mouth. She chewed for a moment before tilting her head, “Seems like you don’t always have bad taste.”

He’s glad that she was able to open up a little bit, to talk about her family. As annoying as it was, he was beginning to worry about how she would deal with tonight. 

“See? If you weren’t so hard headed, shit would be much easier for you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Stop talking to me.”

“Want me to feed you?—“ 

“Not too much, Fushiguro. I’m being nice to your ass right now.” 

“My bad.” 

She was afraid that their time together would be awkward, but it was the complete opposite. It was extremely natural, maybe even a little romantic. It was unfortunately creating that flipping feeling in her stomach. The one she felt if he even spoke to her, catered to her, adorned her—made her feel like she was his again. She pushed down that rush of emotions as they exited the restaurant, seeing the text from Isamu on Toji’s phone to let them know they needed to be on time to the rehearsal dinner. 

“Shit,” she mutters, “We might be late. Is there a quicker way to get back to our place from here?”

“Down this hill,” he refers, holding the large plushie in his own arm as she was too tired to carry it. 

As they continue walking, she realizes he refers to the road with a large downward path as a “hill,” and it makes her laugh to herself.

As they begin making their way down the lit up street, something within her feels giddy, and she can’t help herself. 

“Race you!” 

She’s already beelining down the road. Her body zigzags on the street as she takes off. She knew there was a small competitive bone in his body, no words as she heard his footsteps already booming behind her. Nozomi shrieks into giggles as he grips her up by her bottom half, throwing her over his shoulder as he continues running. 

She was happy and laughing, a sound he enjoyed hearing. He never wanted it to stop.

When he slowed down and was now walking, she huffed over his shoulder as she strained, “I guess this is better than walking,” gripping for her plushie to hold within the air.

Toji chuckled to himself as he felt her squirm in his hold, holding her tight so she wouldn’t fall, “You’re just upset that I always win,” he muttered with a grin, feeling her arms reaching for the plushie, pulling her up a bit so she could hold it.

Her eyes take sight of the city, another pang to her heart. She missed it here. It brought back so many memories within her childhood. Her eyes halt as she catches sight of a bridge farther down, patting his back as she says, “Hold on,” feeling as he places her down. 

She fixes her dress and hair as she catches her breath, looking over the bridge as she sees a rare sight—A cherry blossom tree. 

“They’re so pretty at night,” she sighs, “I’d kill for these in the states.”

Toji watches her as she takes in the scenery, now standing beside her. 

“I didn’t realize how much you missed Japan.” 

He looks out over the river, agreeing with her statement, “Yeah… shit is nice to look at, always has been.” 

It was then that Toji seen her shiver, his eyes glancing down as she attempted to cover her arms. 

“You cold?”

“I didn’t realize it’d be cold tonight, it was pretty warm earlier,” she says, a shiver exhaling from her mouth, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, no. You’re not.” 

Toji slips off his leather jacket, placing it around her shoulders as he murmurs, “Stubborn ass.”

She huffs out a laugh, seeing her warm breath in the air. She’s now turned towards him as he pulls the jacket to cover her body, her head tilted up to stare in his face, his frame hovering over hers. It was at this moment that she saw him—she hadn’t looked at him this way in a while.

He meets her gaze, his face much closer to hers than just a few seconds prior. The air between them has changed, the shift is palpable. Toji watches as she shudders again, the movement making her body press closer against him. The sight makes him feel protective.

“Toji, I—“

“I’m sorry.” 

She frowns, her eyebrows coming over her eyes as she’s confused. Her stomach tumbled at his sudden apology, and she wanted to beg that it wasn’t for their past. 

“I fucked up, Nozomi. I should’ve never hurt you the way I did.” 

This is the conversation she’d been avoiding. Her throat tightens. 

“Toji…”

Toji sees the mix of emotions in her expression, his own heart feeling heavy as he continues to look in her eyes. 

“I was a dumbass. I know that. I never should have—“ he pauses, feeling his throat constrict from the emotions now bubbling up, “Never should have done what I did, and I know my actions will never undo the pain I caused.” He sighs, voice lowering, “I just need you to know that you mean a lot to me. That never changed.”

She’s unsure of how to feel. He was always too stoic for his own good, never able to say his feelings, and here he was—completely transparent and vulnerable. She couldn’t keep fighting how she felt. She missed him. She wanted to forgive him. 

Toji’s phone then buzzes. Her eyes lowered to see KIM appear on the screen. The message read, ‘Where are you? Hurry back for dinner! It’s boring here without you.’

That was the icing on the cake. It brought back the anger she felt, why she was pissed with him in the first place. All her emotions went sinking into the back of her mind. 

She gives a humorless laugh, removing his jacket and handing it to him as she says, “That must’ve meant something to you too,” referring to his text. 

She begins walking, regardless of how cold she is, “C’mon. They’re looking for us.”

He frowns as her attitude takes a 180 turn, the moment of vulnerability gone as she hands him back his jacket.  Fuck. 

“Nozomi—“

But it’s too late, she’s already walking farther into the night. That was the end of the conversation. For now, at least.

When they arrive back at the house, she feels completely empty. The moment she opened up to him, possibly ready to have a conversation and move forward, it was all ruined. She didn’t know who to blame. Her stubbornness, his idiocy, or the bitch her sister called a friend. She was trying to keep it cute, but even this was too cute for her. 

Her look for the night was more simple this time, a halter top dress, doing her makeup softer than she usually would, her sister requesting her bridal party wear white. Her golden heels with white orchids along the top, braids swimming down to her lower back—feeling pretty might’ve made her feel better for the night to come. 

She came downstairs with everyone else, more to herself this time, especially when she saw Kim talking to Toji in the corner. His black button up was similar to her brothers, silver watch along his wrist and chain matching the jewelry he wore along his neck. 

Her attention was caught by her sister who pulled her arm for her attention as she asked, “You were damn near late, where have you been?” 

“I was just running errands, I’m sorry.”

Ami looks her up and down, “You missed the fitting for your dress. Kim has been calling you all day!”

“What?” She frowns, “I never got any calls from Kim. Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I didn’t have my phone on me, I was fitting for my dress too. It’s fine, let’s just hope you fit your dress.” 

She knew Ami, seeing she was trying not to be upset. But she knew she was. Her eyes flicked over to Kim, and she thought about ripping her dress off and choking her with it.

Everyone made their way into the limousine as they arrived at the rehearsal dinner, and just as they pulled in front did Nozomi realize something— her father was here.

She couldn’t focus. Although the venue was gorgeous and looked like something you’d see in a movie, her palms began to sweat. Most of Suguru’s family had already arrived, her side of the family there as well. She greeted everyone with absentminded hugs and cheek kisses. 

The usual conversations, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your mom’, ‘Why aren’t you married yet?’, ‘You and your sister look nothing alike,’ ‘You sure you both have the same father?’. It was unbearable, but she was used to it.

When she got down to the final family member, that’s when she saw…him. 

A traditional man, stoic and frightening, the only smile she’d ever seen on his face was if he saw her sister, or her mom, but he was different when it came to her. She follows behind Ami as she hears her sister call him, ‘Otosan’ an affectionate term, bowing respectfully. She then says, “Hi, Pa. I missed you,” pulling him into a hug.

He holds Ami to his chest, giving her a tight squeeze. 

“I missed you too, my love.”

He releases her gently, his eyes shifting over to Nozomi as she stands beside her sister. He looks her up and down for a moment, studying her appearance. This was the moment of truth. 

“Nozomi,” he says, “You look beautiful as ever.”  He holds his arms out, asking for a hug.

She doesn’t expect him to be happy to see her, nor was he an affectionate man. They hadn’t spoken in two years. She bows first as before she greets, “Hi, Pa,” taking in his hug, wrapping herself around him tighter than she thought she would.

He wraps his arms tightly around her shoulders, and it feels… strange.

“My sweet girl…” 

He sighs lowly, “Too beautiful for your own good. Still not married? You know the family is getting worried…”

“Pa,” she brushes off, “I’m fine. This is Ami’s day, we can talk about my loneliness later.”

He laughs, feeling the familiarity. It was like nothing had changed. 

“You’re still stubborn as ever, I see.” 

He pats her back before releasing her, looking her up and down once more. 

“You’ve grown more, you look… different,” he says, “Just like your mother.”

The sentence made her heart ache, and she immediately felt tears wanting to brim her eyes. She quickly blinks them away, humming in response. The sweet moment is vastly interrupted as a woman appears. She was smaller in frame between her and her sister, but was definitely older in age. 

She bows affectionately to them as she greets, “It’s nice to formally meet you, Nozomi. Your father has told me so much about you.”

Nozomi holds back her frown, “Uh—nice to meet you as well, and you are?”

“This is Yua,” her father says, smiling from ear to ear, “My wife.” 

Nozomi blinks, “Oh…wife. You got married two years later…” she stopped herself, it wasn’t the time. Her sister clutched her arm to also shut her up. 

She looks at the woman, “It’s nice to meet you, Yua. I’m gonna go find my seat.”

Yua smiles kindly, a sweet tone in her voice, “Oh of course, enjoy yourself tonight.” 

One thing about her father—and maybe where she got it from—he wasn’t afraid to talk shit about anybody, including his own daughter. 

Her father clears his throat once Nozomi is walking away, sighing out, “That girl still has a mouth on her.” 

“You can’t blame her,” Yua says, looking up at him, “She’s probably still hurt.”

“She’s twenty-seven, it’s time for her to stop pouting like a child.”

She hears the small banter between the two, clutching her fist as she sits next to her Isamu at a round table that’s also accompanied by Kim, and Toji. The interaction between her and her father didn’t go entirely bad, but the comments he made still showed who he was, and now sitting close to Kim and Toji, this night still didn’t feel too good.

As soon as Toji notices her at the table, his eyes are glued to her. 

He had never realized how stubborn she really was. 

That was probably one of the reasons why he liked her so much.

“You okay?” Her brother asks. 

She looks up at him, “Yeah, fine.” 

“I saw you talked to dad.” 

She blinks, “Yeah. I did.”

The night is filled with conversations and laughs, Toji watching as Nozomi becomes more and more irritated. 

This rehearsal was becoming a little too much for her as time continued to pass. She felt like this dinner wouldn’t end, her attention coming along Kim who stood at the stage, clinking a small silverware against her champagne glass.

All eyes turned to her, the table quiet as Kim began to speak, “Thank you all for coming out tonight!”

The room responds with applause, everyone anticipating her speech. Kim smiles sweetly— the type that looks fake to Nozomi, but was entirely convincing to everyone else. 

She smiles, “I just wanted to give a little speech for the couple. The love they share started the moment they looked at each other, and they’ve been an unbreakable pair ever since.” 

The entire room is silent, everyone listening to her every word. Toji could see the anger in Nozomi’s face, her eyes almost burning a hole in Kim’s existence.

“I’m so honored to create the dream that you’ve always wanted, your perfect wedding. And as the woman closest to you,” she looked directly at Nozomi, “I’m so happy to call you my sister.” 

Nozomi thrashes her tongue within her cheek, listening as everyone claps, looking over to her sister's table as she gives a smile, which pisses her off even more.

When the speech is over, she stands from the table as she holds her dress up, going over to the open bar they had as she requested, “Got anything brown?”

The bartender nods, “Certainly. What kind?” 

He makes her a vanilla crown and Coke as requested.  She takes it like a shot. The moment she feels at ease when the drink pours down her throat, it’s like a cloud begins to shadow her sun, and here she is standing in front of her—Kim.

“Are you having fun? You barely talked to anyone tonight,” she feigns a frown, “What’s the matter?” 

She leans against the bar, her elbow perched on the counter top.

“I’m fine, Kim,” she brushes off, not ready for her bullshit. But as she takes the last sip of her drink, she has another thought, “Actually, my sister said there was a fitting for everyone’s dress today. Why wasn’t I told about that?”

Kim’s eyes widened faintly, a playful chuckle rolling off her tongue, “Oh, that?” 

She taps her manicured nails against the top of the counter, shrugging as she does so. 

“I must’ve forgotten to tell you,” she grins, “My bad.”

“Of course you did. You’re good at that little thing you do. Being all cute, acting like you’re not an insolent bitch on the inside. Maybe on the outside,” she tilts her head, giving her the same grin in return, watching as her face fell at her words.

She’s startled a bit at Nozomi’s truth. She thinks quickly on her feet as she takes a step forward, “I think the drink is going to your head, love.”

“Maybe. You should order something for yourself as well! But I suggest you wait until I walk away, cause my hand holding this glass is feeling a little itchy, and you might have a headache further into the night.” 

When she expects Kim to simply go back and forth with her, she suddenly shouts, “You’re gonna do what to me?” 

The calculated bitch, she was purposely causing a scene.

Ami, Toji and her brother came running over as Ami questioned, “What’s going on?” 

“Nozomi just threatened to hit me over the head with a glass! I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re scaring me!” Kim presses her hand to her chest, Oscar worthy acting as her hand shakes. 

“What?” Ami looks at Nozomi, “Did you say that?” 

“No!” Nozomi defends, “Well, yes. But not for no reason!”

“Nozomi, what the hell?” Her brother says, “What is going on? Why are you threatening Kim?”

“This bitch just said that she purposely didn’t call me for our dress fitting today!” She exclaims. 

“I would never do that,” Kim defends herself, “I called you a thousand times. You just didn’t answer. I’m sorry, Nozomi.”

“Are you serious?” She blinks, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you—“ she goes forward, Isamu stepping in front of her. 

Ami then cuts off,  “Enough, Nozomi. I have been trying to be patient with you since you got here, but this is too much! Doing this at my rehearsal dinner? Making a scene? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“What the hell is wrong with me? Ask your fucking friend that! Oh, better yet, your new sister! You’re seriously gonna’ blame me for this? When am I ever gonna be taken seriously, and not some fucking drama Queen?”

Everyone in the area is shocked by the commotion, the guests at the rehearsal dinner turning and whispering from their seats.

Ami’s face contorts with anger, “I always take you seriously, but look at what you’re doing right now! I’m constantly at your defense! But you’re acting like a fucking child!”

That.  

It always led back to her being the youngest. Nozomi laughed sharply, “Great. I’m a child. I’m over here pulling myself together on account of your goddamn wedding. Forcing me to be cool with your idiotic ass friend who fucked my man, and is still fucking him to this day! Not only that, forcing me to be here with him! The one who fucked your idiotic ass friend in the first fucking place, because I wouldn’t fuck him! Making me be cordial with my father who I wasn’t ready to forgive, because he fucked his new bitch behind our dying mother’s back—I’m doing all this for you! I’m holding it together for you! And I’m a fucking child? How about you wanting everything your way, but pissed off the minute something goes wrong? That’s a fucking child!” 

“What?” Toji then comes in, “‘The fuck are you talking about?” 

“Don’t be dense. I heard you fucking her the first night I came!” 

Toji blinks, confusion not even the word. His eyes narrow as he says, “I didn’t fuck Kim. This is my first time seeing her since you mom’s funeral, and since I left the states. I left right after you broke shit off with me.” 

Nozomi blinks, now equally confused. 

“What?” 

Isamu then smacks his lips, “Jesus,” chiming in to clear the air, “I was fucking Kim, okay? Toji and her only fucked around that one time.” 

That makes everyone’s eyes bulge out—including Kim’s—now realizing that this was all one big misunderstanding. 

“You’re fucking Kim? Ew!” Nozomi starts, “Seriously? Jesus Christ. When the fuck did you even have time to leave that orchid at my door?” 

“I left that orchid at your door,” Toji then clarifies, “It was supposed to be an apology. I wanted to talk to you, but you stormed back into your room and I didn’t want to piss you off more.” 

Nozomi takes all of this in. She doesn’t know what to say.

There wasn’t anything to say at this point, nor did she want to say anything else. With that, Nozomi does everyone a favor as she exits out of the building, finding her way back to the house. This had been a rehearsal dinner like no other. 

                       ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆

THE NEXT MORNING WAS SILENT, which was unfortunate. It was supposed to be a beautiful day, Ami’s wedding day—everyone was supposed to be excited. But it felt like the complete opposite. The morning was quiet. Nozomi had a lot on her mind, but all of her other bullshit could be figured out later—she needed to make things right with Ami. 

The house had been cleared of all the men as they had to get ready at the venue, the bridal party now on their way to the house, Ami within her room as the makeup artist was also on the way. 

Nozomi quietly slid the door open to her room as she asked, “Can I come in?”

Ami glanced over at the door, a frown on her face, still upset from the previous night. She sighs before nodding softly, “Yeah, you can come in…”

She slides the door closed, standing along the wall. She tries to collect her thoughts, her words. Instead of jumping into the drama, she asks, “How are you feeling? Ready to be Mrs. Getou?”

Ami smiles, her anger softening as her eyes meet her sisters. She lets out a small yawn before nodding slowly, a tired smile on her face. 

“I’m nervous…” Ami admits, “A little too nervous, honestly…”

“It’s no need to be nervous. He loves you, even if you have a crazy ass family,” she tries to poke, “Today’s gonna be an amazing day for you. It already is. It’s filled with love.”

Ami laughs, the comment causing her to snort quietly, “You’re damn right about that. But I’m still a little mad at you…”

Nozomi sighs, “Look, I’m so sorry about last night, Ami. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. I was telling the truth, Kim purposely didn’t call me for the fitting, you know I wouldn’t have missed something as important as that. When she admitted it to me, I just…mushed her being a bitch to her fucking Toji, and I kinda spiraled. You can choose who you want to be friends with, I just don’t like how she treats me,” Nozomi softly admits, looking down to the floor.

Ami sighs, her expression softening. She knew that it hadn’t been entirely her sister's fault, even though she had been the one to cause the scene in the first place. 

“Listen, I’m not mad at you, okay? I wasn’t ever mad at you, I just hate how you never think anything through before doing it. You’ve always been that way, and you need to work on it.” 

Ami stands from the bed, walking over to Nozomi, wrapping her into a tight hug, “I love you, okay?”

“More than Kim?” She questions, trying to make another joke, “I really don’t like that hoe, seriously.”

A soft laugh tumbles from Ami’s lips, a snort following that, “Yes, more than Kim.” 

She pinches her sister's cheek, pulling her head back, “You gotta’ relax, okay? Today is my day, so keep your cool, yeah?”

“Scouts honor,” Nozomi promises, raising her hand up, “I don’t know why you didn’t just make Kim your maid of honor, no shade.”

Ami laughed, “Oh hell no. I want you to be part of the special moment,” She crosses her arms, “She can just stand over there and look pretty like every other bridesmaid.”

Nozomi rolls her eyes, “Yeah. Like a Disney villain.”

“Sidebar—where did you go yesterday?” Her sister then asks. 

Dammit. She was hoping she wouldn’t ask this question. She closes her eyes as she admits, “Don’t freak out. I went out with Toji—“

The squeal was already releasing from her lips, “Oh my god! Y’all are in love again! Wedding bells, are those wedding bells I hear?” 

“Ami.”

“Oh my goodness, he bought you that big ass plushie in your room! That’s the one you wanted mom to get you! I knew your frugal ass didn’t pay thirty-eight thousand yen for that!” 

“Ami.—“ 

“And he gave you an orchid to apologize, cause you love orchids! Oh my god, I’m gushing. I’m blushing!” 

“Jesus Christ, are you done?” Nozomi squints, “It was nothing. He probably thinks I’m crazy now after I accused him of fucking Kim again. But what else was I supposed to think? I probably just fucked everything up.”

Ami rolls her eyes, grabbing Nozomi’s shoulders, her gaze firm as she says, “Listen. You did not mess everything up. If he loved you then, he probably loves you even more now. You just need to apologize to him…after the wedding. Don’t make it about you, okay? Focus on the love we’re all sharing today, alright?”

She nods her head, “Got it.”

Ami smiles, bringing Nozomi into another tight hug, “Good, now go get your hair and makeup done, the artists will be here in an hour, and you’ve gotta’ look the best you can today, alright? You’re my maid of honor, you gotta’ look like the bottom bitch next to the head honcho!” 

“You’re a mess.”

“Not as much as you. It’s really my wedding day, eeeeek!”

They were thankful to have gotten up early, giving just enough time to do everything without feeling rushed. Nozomi of course did Ami’s hair, agreeing with her request to style it within a low bun pulled back to frame her face, sculpting her edges perfectly, adding her favorite flowers within the claw clip holding her hair together. The soft makeup along her expression brought her face out more than heavy makeup would’ve. She was gorgeous without it. Nozomi could feel a lump in her throat about to create, not sure why she suddenly felt so emotional, but she refused to cry. 

Ami’s heart swells at the sight of her sister in the mirror, her eyes softening as she hears her words. Memories of their mother flood her mind—memories of her sitting on the couch, watching her daughters put their hair in intricate styles for dance competitions, or style their hair for a wedding. She felt a pang of sadness in her chest.

Tears start to trickle down Ami’s cheeks, and she quickly wipes at her eyes. “God, don’t make me cry,” she murmurs, “I’m gonna’ ruin my makeup.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she kisses her forehead, “Don’t cry. Don’t want you choking me cause your makeup is ruined. No more tears!” She tells her, taking deep breaths with her before she continues crying.

Ami laughs through her tears, wiping at her eyes as she nods, “Okay, okay, no more tears. Don’t make me start again.” 

The makeup artist began to retouch her face. Everything was silent for a moment before Ami clears her throat, her voice soft as she says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” 

“Do you love him—Toji, I mean?”

Nozomi looks up to the mirror, thinking about the question. She doesn’t lie to herself as she replies, “Yeah, I do. But he’ll never know that.”

Ami’s eyebrows furrow for a moment as she glances back at her sister, “Why not?” 

She turns her head, her eyes soft, “Why would you hold that in? After everything he’s done to show you how he feels, why not tell him?”

“Because today isn’t about me, remember? Now, let the makeup artist finish her job, you can’t keep talking while she does your lip liner,” she distracts, “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“I hate when you deflect,” Ami scrunches her nose, “Whatever. You’re dismissed!”

She began to see the bridesmaids' dresses as she exited the room, seeing that they were simple pink gowns, silky and strapless. They were gorgeous regardless, going to search for which one was hers. But as she continued to look, she noticed a dress hanging along the wall, her name attached to it. Her mouth gaped open. It was entirely different from the bridal parties dresses, the only similarity being the color. 

It was a gown, corseted all around, diamonds and jewels cascading the material all the way up to the top, fluff swimming along where her breast sat, mirroring along the side of her hip. 

“Fucking hell, Ami,” she mutters to herself. 

She didn’t have time to freak out about how extravagant this dress was—she had to get ready. 

She pulls her braids within a low ponytail to accentuate her dress, artistically sculpting her edges. It fits her entirely too well. Her hips struck out, the corset cinched her frame in a way that made her feel the most gorgeous she’d ever felt. When she looks within the mirror, all she can see is her mom. 

She exhales as she goes into the other room to show Ami, her jaw dropping at her older sibling. She’d never looked so… ethereal. 

Her dress was a pure white, covered with soft pearls that gave the illusion they dripped off her body, her entire frame equally corseted, material choking her tightly. 

“Ami,” Nozomi placed her hands over her mouth, not enough to ruin her own makeup, “Oh my goodness,” she became choked up, “You look…”

Ami smiles at her sibling, gently standing to keep her dress from being ruined. She looked down at herself, gently placing her hands along the dress, the gems and diamonds sparkling underneath the lights. 

“Good?” She asks her sister, her voice soft. 

“Amazing,” she promises, “Don’t be nervous. I’m so happy for you. Are you ready? We don’t wanna be late.”

“Let’s get going then, yeah?”

It’s now chaos when they arrive at the venue. None of them had yet to see what it looked like besides the bride and groom, the panic of getting into place leaving everything to a surprise once they walked out. The guests had already arrived, sitting within the white chairs that were covered with pink bows and flowers, wearing their own shades of her sister's favorite color. Here were the groomsmen, perfectly dressed in their tuxes, pink flowers within their breast pockets. They were ready, making sure they were perfectly lined up with the bridesmaid they were assigned to walk with. Ami was hidden within a back room, preparing to be the last one to walk out. 

Nozomi holds her dress as she speed walks out to where everyone else stands, seeing Suguru and Toji standing together. She hadn’t seen him since the chaos of the night before—she couldn’t help but not be happy to see him. Seeing Toji’s suit perfectly frame his broad physique, his best friend stands next to him, his long hair within a bun, tied out of his face. They looked handsome. 

“Ready?” She questions Suguru, “I can’t wait for you to see her. You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

Suguru smiles at the question, an almost embarrassed look on his face. However, he doesn’t deny it, “I’m most definitely going to cry.” 

Toji laughs, shaking his head, “Big ass dork.”

Suguru takes another deep breath before he stands by the door, preparing to walk out. Everyone now stands in place, and that meant it was time for Nozomi to get in position too. She turns to Toji whose eyes she can feel along her body as she asks, “What? Something wrong with my hair?”

Toji couldn’t deny that she looked incredible in that dress—more than incredible, breathtaking. Everything about her seemed to be amplified from the dress. 

She looked amazing, gorgeous, etc, etc.

“Words can’t describe how good you fuckin’ look right now,” he grunts within her ear, reaching out to grab for her hand, kissing her palm before he wraps it around his arm. 

That makes Nozomi‘s face go warm, turning her head back towards the ceremony. She watches as Suguru’s parents walk down the aisle, clicking that it was their turn. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt nervous. 

She nods, “Thank you. Um,” she twists the flower within his breast pocket, “Just—don’t let me fall, okay?”

Toji’s chuckle is attractive, still deep in her ear as he lowly promises, “Not a chance in hell.”

When he slides his arm down to clutch her fingers in his  own, their skin feels electrifying together. She hadn’t held his hand in so long—it felt so good. When they prepare to walk, she tugs his arm as she mutters, “Seriously, Fushiguro. Don’t let me fall. I’ll hurt you.”

His eyes glance down at hers as he promises, “You won’t fall, pretty.” 

They finally walk down the aisle, everyone’s eyes turning to them. The flower petals along the ground are being tread upon as they stroll down the walkway, Nozomi’s heart pounding within her chest. 

He squeezes her hand again, gently rubbing his thumb against her knuckles in an attempt to calm her. It works, but not by much, keeping her mind occupied as they walk.

She can now fully see the venue— cherry blossoms, the main event of it all. They all laid along the ground, pink trees floating above the chairs and guests, slumped down as petals swirled in the air each time the wind blew. She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s holding Toji’s hand, feeling a vast amount of emotions come to her, the sentiments of something as simple as a cherry blossom tree meaning so much more to her.

They finally make it to the end, and Toji releases her hand to go stand near Suguru, his nerves settling as he takes his place next to the groom. The music changes, signaling for the rest of the party to begin walking. Each bridesmaid and groom look perfect together—hell, even Kim and Isamu looked nice walking together.

Everyone giggled as one of Suguru’s younger cousins came tumbling down the aisle, throwing more flowers onto the ground, including a smaller baby boy, who followed after her, holding the rings close to his miniature tuxedo. 

It was finally the moment, the moment everyone had come for. When she appeared at the end of the aisle—a gasp came from the entire venue. Nozomi had already seen her, but seeing her here, holding her father’s arm as she began to walk, her veil that swam the ground, she hated the emotion that began smacking her around. It didn’t make it better that every bridesmaid was already crying—that was enough for her. The music that played, the way she could tell Ami herself was trying to hold back tears, it was the most special moment she had experienced.

Nozomi gripped the flowers in her hand, trying to stop the tears that poured like nothing. When she looked over to the groomsmen side—even they were crying, Suguru’s eyes were red as he couldn’t hold back his emotion. His best friend was of course behind him, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him. When Toji and Nozomi locked eyes, she gave a weak laugh, patting her own face to not mess up her makeup.

Toji couldn’t help but look at the way she was crying, his own eyes feeling soft as his chest felt heavy with an unknown emotion. His face felt warm, almost warm enough to make him tear up, but he tried his best to keep it down by looking away and trying to focus on the groom himself. 

However, every once in a while, his eyes would dart back towards her, admiring the way she looked in the soft lighting, the flower, the corseted dress, even her makeup. It amazed him. Seeing his best friend hold this much emotion towards a woman, it made him realize how much of a fuck up he was with Nozomi—he wanted to make things right.

The ceremony felt quicker than she expected, probably because she spent most of it crying. Everyone cheered and hollered as they kissed, cementing their love. It was now the reception, farther out into the trees, tables, menus, a selection of food, waitresses, anything you thought of at a high-end wedding, it was there. Everyone sat down as it was the bride and grooms first dance, seeing as they held each other tight, ‘SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK,’ by Joji filling the venue, Ami’s smile never leaving her face. 

Nozomi watched with a soft smile, kneeling on her arm. Others began joining them on the dance floor shortly after. Her attention was pulled as she heard her father’s voice behind her, “Omi’?” 

She hesitantly turns to him, “Yes, Pa?”

Her father had a wide smile on his face, his eyes soft as he placed a firm hand on his daughter’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. 

“Can I have this dance?” 

She gave him a gracious smile, “Sure.”

She took his arm, following him to the floor as she held one of his hands, the other going on his shoulder, while his hand went on her hip. They swayed slightly to the music. 

“I’m…really happy to see you, Pa’,” Nozomi tells him softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t called.I just…needed time, when mom passed. I know you wanted me to stay in Japan. But I couldn’t.”

Her father gently squeezed her hip, his eyes soft as he nodded his head, “I know.” He says, “I know it was hard. I remember how distraught you were when mom passed…it was hard on all of us. I couldn’t force you to stay in Japan. You needed some freedom after all that, and you found it in the states.”

He halts for a moment, trying to find his words as he says, “I miss your mom everyday. Despite my bad decisions. She’s always with me, just like she’s here with you.”

Despite his infidelity while their mom was sick, she knew how much he loved her. It wasn’t an excuse, but it could’ve been a way of coping with knowing she was going to pass, it was a loss for everyone. 

“I’ll do better at calling, Pa’. I promise.”

A small chuckle tumbles from her father’s lips, as he shakes his head, “No, you won’t,” he teased, “I’ll just have to keep calling you until you finally answer.”

“You know me so well,” she chuckles, continuing to sway with him. 

The moment was something she couldn’t ask for twice. To make up with her father, it brought a weight off her shoulders. She felt at peace. Maybe she needed to come back home. 

Her final conflict she had to resolve appeared, Toji stepping in as he politely asked her father, “May I?”

Her father nods gently at the man, patting his daughter on the hip one last time as Toji steps in front of her, holding his hand out. His eyes slowly drift downwards, examining the beautiful maid of honor, his chest feeling almost tight.

“There you are,” she says softly, bringing her arms around his neck, an eyebrow raising as Toji questions, “You were looking for me?” 

“Maybe.”

He places his hands on her hips, a smirk forming on his face, “You’ve been avoiding me,” he reminds, “The whole damn time. Barely said shit to me.”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me,” she deflects, pulling his neck down, wanting him to be closer to her than he was, “The rehearsal dinner was a shitshow.”

Toji’s hands tightened on her hips as he pulled her a bit closer, their chests nearly touching. His dark gray eyes pierced into hers, almost staring into her soul.

“I’m not mad,” he mutters, “I’m used to your bullshit by now. It’s expected.”

She exhales, “That doesn’t sound like much of a compliment.” 

“Cause it isn’t.” 

The same song plays, distracting her for a moment. She rolls her eyes, “So what do you like about me then, since I’m such a problem?”

“You’re a smartass,” he stated bluntly, “A smartass that knows how to press my fuckin’ buttons. A smartass that’s stubborn as all hell. A smartass…that also happens to be the prettiest person in the fuckin’ building. The only person I see here.”

Nozomi blinks up at him, her eyes glittering underneath the lights they have within the ceiling. 

“You’ really wanna be with me?” She asks softly, knowing the answer, maybe just needing reassurance.

“Don’t ask shit you already know the answer to,” he grunts, mouth lowering closer to her ear. 

His forehead pressed against hers, Nozomi giggling as he pulled her heels along his own shoes, holding her close. This might’ve been the moment she needed from him. 

They stayed like that for a while. 

The reception is in full force, different family members dancing together, Suguru and Ami inseparable, the music and food perfect for the environment. Nozomi had found a small moment to pull her and Toji away from the reception as the newlyweds took pictures, pulling him deeper into the trees, away from all the people—away from an audience. 

She leans herself against the bark, fidgeting her hands against his tux as she rambles, “My mom actually wanted her burial to be a cherry blossom tree,” she says softly, keeping her eyes along the material of his tux.

She continues, “We didn’t know until we found her wishes hidden inside the mattress. A weird place to put it,” she laughs, but it’s weak, nothing actually funny, “I think that’s why this whole wedding has been so…emotional for me. Besides seeing my sister be in love and so happy. This entire weekend has brought so many memories for me. Things I’ve realized about myself. Things I wanna fix…”

Toji couldn’t help but watch her closely as she opened up. This was the first time in a while that she’s been so…honest. So vulnerable. 

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for the orchid you left at my door,” she says quietly, “Despite the way I treated you, you still tried. And tried, and tried…” she giggles, Toji grunting as he presses his forehead along hers. She then says, “I also haven’t apologized.“

It was as if everything that happened after that was an unfortunate cue.

 Their attention is pulled away from each other as Isamu and Kim walk up to them, her brother loud as he calls, “Yo, where y’all at? Sneaking out already?”

She tries not to be irritated with her sibling. But as she notices Kim beside him giving her the nastiest look, her blood pressure spikes. 

“Just talking,” Nozomi replies, keeping her hand along Toji’s suit. 

“Got him under your claws so I don’t get to him, I see,” Kim sharply replies, and it’s quick, so quick that Nozomi almost doesn’t catch it. 

She slightly sits herself up as she raises an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

Kim shrugs, “You assumed I’ve just been fucking him all weekend, is my comment too far off?”

“No, actually, it isn’t. You fucked’ him before, makes no difference now. A hoe is still a hoe.”

“Who are you calling a hoe?” Kim fires off, coming closer. 

But that wasn’t a problem, Nozomi was ready to put her in a headlock as she came around Toji, “ You know what— I can blame a man for his stupidity. But what I can’t handle, is a stupid ass bitch like you that would do anything for the idiocy that is a man’s attention. You knew how I felt about Toji, and yet you fucked him anyways, and you were suppose to be my friend. You’re lucky I didn’t fuckin’ shoot you.”

“Alright, knock it the fuck off,” Toji mutters, bringing his arm around her hip, lightly pulling her back from Kim who was in arms reach of the girl. 

Kim then says, “Don’t blame me that you couldn’t keep your supposed  man in check. I wouldn’t want you either if you didn’t wanna fuck me, Ms. Holier Than Thou.” 

Yup, that was it.

Nozomi laughed humorlessly, taking a step back as she moved Toji’s arm to let him know she was calm, but it was the complete opposite. 

Her eyes quickly scanned the scenery, seeing no one else around, locking her eyes back on Kim. She steps forward, plummeting her knuckles clean into Kim’s jaw, the crack heard in the echoes of the trees, Kim immediately dropping to the ground from the impact. 

“Yo, Nozomi, what the fuck!” Isamu exclaimed. 

Kim holds the side of her face, turning to the side as she spat blood on the ground. Nozomi’s anger had seeped over her. She didn’t mean to hit her, it just happened. Her knuckles stung, but it’s unfortunate that she didn’t feel satisfied. When she lunges forward to finish her off, her feet are suddenly off the ground, Nozomi grunting as she’s being thrown over Toji’s shoulder again, being pulled away from the reception. 

“Put me the fuck down!” 

She didn’t realize how close they actually were to their family’s house, practically feeling the fire off Toji’s body. He carried her into his room, Nozomi grunting as she hit the bed, breathless as her dress was already tight. 

She glares as she sits up, “What?”

Toji was absolutely livid. He could feel the anger radiating off himself as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes piercing into the woman on the bed. He had never seen her like this before. He didn’t have the time for her bullshit. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He questioned, anger laced in his voice, “You trying to get arrested at your sister's wedding?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten arrested,” she scoffed, “Don’t be dramatic. I been letting that bitch talk crazy to me all weekend. The bitch has literally been flirting with you, all up your fuckin’ ass, and you just—let her,” she spits.

“What part of I didn't reciprocate anything isn't getting through your thick ass skull?” He snapped at her, “I don’t give a fuck if she flirts with me. I wasn't interested. I only give a fuck about you.”

“Oh? So fucking her two years ago showed that you weren’t interested? You know what— let’s talk about it!” She exclaims, “Let’s just put it all out there. We were talking, it was becoming serious. Kim was my friend, a close friend at the time. Just when I was ready to bring my walls down, make things official, be with you, I find out you fucked Kim. And conveniently? It was right after I told you I wouldn’t have sex with you unless we were officially together. You couldn’t commit to me, but you could fuck her. Are we on the same page? Am I missing anything?” 

Toji's eyes darkened. The air between them was thick with tension. He never wanted to talk about this part of their relationship again, but if she was going to bring it up—he had to deal with it. 

“I could barely commit to you at the time,” he stated angrily, “You told me you wouldn't be intimate with me unless we were together. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me!”  She shouted back, feeling her throat becoming tight. 

“You were supposed to wait for me! You said that it wasn’t important, that you loved me! If you didn’t, you should’ve never fucking led me on! That's why I hated you. I hated you for it. You sit here now, talking about ‘what was I supposed to do’— you haven’t fucking changed!” She continues to keep her voice raised.

Her anger seeps through so quickly that she can’t help the vast punch she throws into his chest, fist shaking as she turns away from him to control herself. She wanted to be violent.

He reached out and grabbed her wrists, spinning her around to look at him. His eyes locked onto hers with a dangerous glare as he spoke, “I’ve changed. But you’re acting too fuckin’ stupid to see that. It’s like you’re looking for reasons to push me away. To end what we have.”

“Oh? You’ve changed. Typical. Say it a couple more times and maybe you’ll believe yourself. You haven’t fucking changed. You’re a bitch.” 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Nozomi.” 

“Make me.” 

He could set off a bomb with the fear-inducing look he gave her, practically enraged at this point. 

“You made your bed. Be a fucking man and lay in that shit. You wanted pussy so bad you had to fuck a bitch that fucks everybody, my friend at the time. Now look at your bitch on a string, onto the next, fucking my brother when I wasn’t even worried about you. Now you wanna come back to me on some change bullshit. Fuck you.” 

“I'm not that same man anymore,” he spat, “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, huh? No matter how much I fuckin’ change. No matter how much I try. Your stubborn ass still thinks I’m the same man I was two years ago. You haven’t changed either.”

“And how the fuck haven’t I changed?”

“You’re still the woman who runs from every single emotion. Pushing everyone away from you. You can’t even stand to deal with your own fuckin’ feelings, so it’s easier for you to push everyone out of your life. You’re weak.” 

The words hit her. Actually, hit her. It all mushes together. The loss of her mother, shutting everyone out when she needed support in her time of grief. Toji. Her father. All of it. 

The tears finally come up, dropping down her face as there’s nothing but pure malice behind her voice as she lowly spits, “Fuck you.” 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Nozomi. I would never hurt you the way I did before.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“I love you.” 

Her heart stopped, hearing those words come from him. He was gruff in his tone, but meant exactly what he said. He wasn’t gonna let her push him away. 

“No you don’t,” she says, her voice cracking as she says that, “No you don’t. Stop lying to me!” 

He comes forward, gripping her tighter by her wrist and tugging her towards him, causing her to try to yank out of his hold as she panics, “Let go of me!”

“Say it again,” he challenged, his voice a low growl, “Say that I don't love you. Say that shit again. Say that you hate me.”

“I fucking hate you!” She exclaims, her voice trembling, slamming her fist into his chest as he takes hold of her other arm, “I hate you…I hate you…” 

The tears won’t stop, and she can’t believe her own words. It gets to a point where her entire body trembles, and she throws her hands over her face, sobbing, “Let me go, Toji…”

Toji's heart tightens in his chest when he sees her crumble before him. This was the first time he’s ever really seen her break like this. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her tightly as he held her against his chest, letting her cry into him. 

“Cry, baby. I want you too. Need you too. I’m here to let you.”

She felt extremely overwhelmed, covering her face to mask her embarrassment, but that quickly fades. She reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, clutching her fingers in his hair as she cries. 

He could feel her pain, her hurt, her anger. It practically radiated off of her. But there was one emotion that he could feel clearly. Fear. She was scared.

She didn’t want to be hurt again like the first time, she didn’t know if she could trust him with her heart again. But there was only one way she could find that out. Her crying eventually subsides, tears still along her face as she breathes into his neck, her hand still clutching within his hair.

 She says softly, “I…I love you too…”

Toji felt his breathing stop for a moment as he listened to her words. The three words he’s been wanting to hear for so long. 

“Again,” he mumbled against her skin, “Say that shit again.”

The sound of his voice. It’s different. She hadn’t heard him sound like this in a while, and when he did, it intimidated her. Sex didn’t necessarily scare her, it just scared her with him, for him to be her first. 

“I love y—“ 

It’s interrupted, Toji lowering down as he locks his mouth with hers, clutching a grip along her throat as he filthily kisses her. It’s abnormal. He wanted to entice her, he needed her.

He didn’t hold anything back as he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth, his fingers fully wrapping around her neck as a way to keep her still. He was enthralled, and he was going to show her just how badly he was. 

When he pulled his mouth back, her skin felt on fire. Her eyes blinked residuals of tears, teeth digging into her lip as he kept yanking her forward for another kiss, his mouth on her throat, her chest, her jaw, tongue dragging up her skin, aching for her. 

Her breath hitched as he picked her up, carrying her onto the bed. Her mind is spinning as he hovers over her frame, grasping her by the back of her neck and holding her up, kissing her so fiercely that it made her entire body tremble.

Toji’s mind was reeling. The feeling of her against him, her scent filling his nostrils, the way her skin felt against his lips. He felt like he was in a dream—a hazy, lustful dream. 

He pulled back from her mouth, leaving a trail of kisses down her jaw before moving to her neck. His lips left marks along her skin, wanting her to feel them the next morning when she woke up. 

She finally lets her mouth drop words out as she nervously exhales, “Fushiguro, wait…”

When her words came out with a breathlessness to them, Toji felt his mind go crazy. He pulled back, his hot breath fanning against her skin as he locked his eyes on hers. 

“What?” He questioned in a low tone, his gaze flicking down to her lips as he waited for her to speak.

“You know I haven’t…” she feels embarrassed, “I just…I don’t want to look stupid.”

Toji’s expression softened as he heard her words. He knew her concern, he understood it. But in his eyes, she was anything but stupid. She was perfect. 

“You won’t,” he assured her, his hand moving up to grip her chin, “You don’t look stupid. Let me take care of you.”

She blinks. Her hand slowly reaches back for his hair, nodding her head as she asks him quietly, “Can you…kiss my neck again? It…It felt nice.”

A low grunt of approval rolled from his lips as he heard her request. He leaned in, hovering just above her skin, teasing her, watching her reaction as he finally planted his lips along her neck, right under her ear. The feeling makes her breath hitch, her head kneeling back slightly to rush off the burn she gets from his mouth. 

He left a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, his tongue slowly dragging along one part of her skin in the most torturous way. She shifts beneath him, her chest rising, trying to appear normal—but her skin is buzzing.

He nips at the skin just below her collarbone, and that’s when he hears a sound that sets him absolutely off. 

A gasp. It escapes from her lips as she tries to bite it back. The sound makes his ears go crazy, and he’s instantly driven by one thing now. More.

The dress she wears instantly feels tighter. She’d been around Toji many times, but never fully naked. She kneels her head up, mouth close to his as she murmurs, “Need to um…take my dress off…”

“I know.” 

Her throat goes dry as he flips her body over beneath him, effortless as if she weighed nothing. He begins unzipping the dress, sliding his hand inside the material, his mouth now along the back of her neck. He uses his free hand to grip her hair, fisting it into a ponytail beneath his palms as the dress hits the ground with a thud. Her entire body was now bare to him from behind, only being covered by the ballerina pink thong she wore.

Her skin was like fine porcelain, smooth and delicate. He could see some ink that stretched along her skin, and he instantly was curious to see all of it later. For now, he would leave those questions for another time. His mouth trailed up along her neck before he whispered into her ear. 

“I wanna hear my name from your mouth.” He demanded lowly. “Need to hear it.”

He still holds her hair within his fist, his mouth along her skin again, now along her spine, causing her eyes to flutter closed, unable to respond just yet, only arching her back to show she enjoyed the feeling. Chills rushed down her body as he locked his fingers around her ankle, twisting her towards being on her back again. His mouth was now crawling on the back of her thigh. 

She shivered, a reaction coming from her as she gasped softly, “T—Toji, w—wait—“ 

Yet he didn’t stop, grunting as he continued making out with her leg, dragging his lips across her skin, running his tongue up to reach the back of her foot, repetitively making her lower body throb in a way she hadn’t felt before, like she needed something from him.

Toji was drunk with the feeling of her beneath him. His lips were famished on her skin, marking her up in places that he knew no one would see. When she was now on her back, Nozomi couldn’t help but press her arm over her breasts, her other hand pressing in between her legs to cover herself. She wasn’t insecure in her body, but this was the first time he’d officially seen her naked. She felt…shy.

“Nah, don’t cover yourself from me,” he grunts, “I wanna see my woman.” 

Toji felt her shiver underneath him. He had to taste more of her, to see what else he could make her react to.

His mouth trailed up her leg, lingering near her core. His expression made her entire lower body warm. He leaned forward, darting his tongue out to tease her clit through the fabric of her panties. A low growl came from him in response as he felt her tense underneath him. He lifted his head, looking up at her with a smirk as he tugged her panties to the side, revealing her wet opening to him.

"You're so fuckin’ wet already,” he groaned. 

Her legs nearly locked together when he gave her clit the softest kiss, admiring the pink nub. Her pussy was pretty. Just for him. Leaning back down to lick at her folds, his tongue swirled around her clit before he sucked it into his mouth.

Nozomi’s body shuddered, the feeling almost ticklish, like she wanted to push him away. He instantly locked his hands along the back of her thighs, pressing her knees against the bed as he grunted, nudging his mouth farther into her clit, a slurping sound creating at the way his lips moved. Her hand went to grip his hair if she couldn’t escape, a soft gasp leaving her lips as she whimpered, “Toji…”

The moment she called out his name, Toji felt something stir within him. It wasn't just lust anymore, it was desire. A need to claim her, to mark her as his own.

He continued eating at her, his tongue delving deeper into her folds as he tasted every inch. His hands tightened around her thighs as he held her open for himself, letting her feel his hot breath fan across her sensitive flesh.

"Fuck...you taste even better than I imagined," he murmured, his voice muffled as he dragged his entire mouth along her core, Nozomi jumping as he harshly spanked the side of her thigh in approval. 

Her legs lightly clasped around his face, twisting his head a bit as it felt overwhelming, gripping his hair harder as her body trembled. She whimpered again, pleading to him, “Baby…”

But that didn’t do anything to stop him, if anything it made him continue. Her breath hitched as one of his hands came up, gripping her breast within his palm as the other kept her legs spread.

Toji felt her squirm beneath him, her pleas only spurring him on further. He loved the way she sounded, begging for him to stop yet unable to pull herself away.

“I’m sorry, baby. Can’t help myself,” he groans to her. 

She's trapped beneath his relentlessment as he sticks his tongue out, pushing it inside of her walls, warm and gummy as they fold around his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled as he groaned again, feeling Nozomi’s thighs trembling as she softly cried— He could taste her arousal, thick and potent. It was intoxicating, making him drunk with desire.

“Pussy is so fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts, holding her thighs apart as he circles his head, deepening his tongue inside her, the sight to Nozomi’s eyes completely filthy.

She throws her hands over her face as she softly cries, “Fushiguro….stop…”  her face was entirely red.

The more she begged, the more Toji wanted to hear it. He liked hearing her pleads. He had the intention to make it worse. 

"Shut the fuck up,” he grunted out, “‘Gonna put your whole pussy on my face,” his tongue delving deeper into her. He could feel her walls clenching around him, her juices coating his face as he ate her out.

His hands gripped tighter onto her thighs, holding her open for himself as he continued to feast on her. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her pleas only serving to fuel his desire.

"Oh fuck...you're so tight," he groaned, his tongue curling as he pushed it further inside of her, “Not gonna be able to handle all this dick. Gonna fuckin’ cry,” he won’t stop talking, she wants to punch him at this point. 

Toji couldn't get enough of her—the taste of her. He lapped at her hungrily, his tongue plunging into her depths as his hands held her legs up. He could feel her tightening around him, her juices flowing freely as he devoured her.

"Oh my god, baby, gonna make you cum..." he growled against her pussy, his voice muffled by her folds. "Then I’m gonna fuck you up until you can't walk straight. Can’t think straight.” 

His words in her mind— it makes her legs shake even harder, trapping his head within her thighs again. He snatches them open, the sight of his eyes closed, tongue dipping in and out of her, she felt like she was going to faint. He gets a good leverage of her hips, dragging his tongue back up her clit, sucking it between his lips as the sound echoes in the room, sliding back down as he yanks her pussy against his jaw, practically bouncing her against his mouth. Her abdomen shakes as waves of pleasure come crashing down, something like his tongue making  her feel a stretch in her walls, how was she gonna survive? 

It didn’t help that Toji was beneath her, moaning as if this pleased him entirely, head swiveling around, bottom of his face completely soaked. Toji was lost in the taste of her, the feel of her body writhing beneath him. Her cries filled his ears, her juices coated his tongue, and the way her body shook beneath him drove him wild.

He sucked harder on her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he worked it into his mouth. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he rolled his lips, sucking all at the same time, practically drinking between her legs. 

The moment her legs opened a bit wider for him, Nozomi reached up for her ankle that quivered, her hips matching the jitter as she looked down to him, panting, “Agh…Fushiguro…I—baby…” 

“About to cum, pretty baby?”

“I—I don’t know…” her throat grasps for the oxygen in the room, “F—Feel like I have to pee…”

That makes him grunt, clutching his palms back around her ankles, hovering his mouth above her hips as he makes contact directly with her clit, sloppily slurping at the sticky and wet flesh, dropping his lower lip against her entire core as he slows his mouth down, head motioning in a circle so effectively that he should’ve been dizzy. The sight, the sound, all of it makes Nozomi’s eyes flutter. She tightly snatches his hair as her abdomen tenses up, a sense of defeat as she gushes along his face, Toji reaching up as he sticks his fingers within her mouth, pulling her up by her teeth to make her watch. 

“Cum just like that. Good fuckin’ girl,” his voice is still muffled, entrapping her pussy with his mouth, lapping up her arousal mercilessly, worshipping her body for the pleasure she releases. She jumps as he raises his hand, spanking the side of her ass, gripping the flesh to watch it faint a color of red. 

Her eyes are low, body tired—but they’d only just begun. 

He comes up as he snatches the side of her face, plunging his lips against her own as he messily makes out with her. Nozomi attempts to keep up with him, but her body feels paralyzed, wondering if this was her time to plead the fifth. This man was trying to kill her. 

“Eyes,” he tells her, gripping her chin to look at him, “You’ okay? Need me to stop?”

Despite her own mind in fear of what was to come next, her body was on vibrate, and a bigger part of her wanted more. Needed more. She shook her head, pulling her eyes open as a response.

 She gasps softly as spanks her ass, “Nah. Fuck all that no talking shit, tell me everything you feel. Tell me you want me to keep going.” 

The thought of being vocal made her nervous, embarrassed even. She said softly, “Keep going…” 

He smacks his lips with a grunt of, “You can do better than that,” pulling her into another kiss before he backs up, standing at the edge of the bed to begin removing his own clothes. Nozomi only watches, her face warm and flustered, thinking back to running out of the room each time this man even took his shirt off. 

Now here he was, dark eyes intently on her as he aggressively tugged off his tie, never as gentle with himself as he could be with her. Her eyes drop down as he begins removing his pants, trying to hide the way her eyes want to fall out when he pulls down his boxers—he definitely was…gifted, if she could find the word.

“Don’t look at me like that if you don’t wanna come play with it.” 

She keeps her eyes to herself. 

He almost chuckles, feeling her gaze pull away as he stands before her, now completely naked. His entire frame was beautifully sculpted, abdomen hard, nearly sharp within her sight. He comes back onto the bed, his large arms caging her in by the sides of her head.  

“Like what you see, huh?”

 His lips are close to hers again, lightly brushing along the baby pink of her mouth. Her face is warm again, looking everywhere but between his legs. She says softly, “Don’t do that,” too nervous for his teasing. It’s the little things he does, brushing his mouth against hers instead of actually kissing her that drives her crazy. Her mouth is parted as she wants him to make out with her, but instead he presses light kisses along her jaw, watching as it makes her chest heave up and down, wrapping her arm around his neck, reaching for his hair from behind.

He chuckles, enjoying just how much he can get her worked up. Her need for his mouth on hers was obvious, it only made him want to tease her even more. 

 “You want my mouth?”

His fucking voice—the way he slowly begins locking her legs over his shoulders, it makes her clutch tighter for his hair. A small whine comes from her mouth, breathing into his throat as she begs beneath her breath, “Want your mouth, so bad…”

She’s so vulnerable like this, so vulnerable beneath him. 

“I know you do.” He mutters against her skin, his mouth now trailing up to her ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, you know that? Begging for me, whining to have my mouth on you.”

Her legs being separated by his shoulders make her ache even more, unable to squeeze them together anymore. He still doesn’t give her what he wants. He needed the perfect moment. Her heart beats within her chest, hoping this isn’t as painful as she imagined it to be. 

Toji’s face hovers over hers, face stoic as he watches her expression. He locks his palms around her ankles while trapping her along the bed. The moment feels like an eternity. He takes his tip within his hand, rubbing it against her clit, watching as she shudders from that. He then slaps it along her opening, listening to her pussy squelch, needing to be filled. The silence was deafening at this point. 

Slowly, dreadfully, achingly, he begins to push inside of her. Nozomi’s eyes twitch, her mouth parts open a little after, and she starts to feel a deep pinch in her lower body, a sweet pain that she’d never experienced before. Toji keeps his eyes up, gently placing his forehead on top of hers as he moves a bit, the hold she had along his hair clutches even tighter, and finally, a whimper comes from her lips.

The sound of her whimper causes him to pause, closing his eyes momentarily to control himself. He was already engulfed in her pleasure, but it was the fact that he knew he was her first that was making him absolutely feral. 

Toji felt his breath get caught in his throat the moment he heard that sound come from her. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure, and it sounded so damn good to his ears.

Her legs instantly began trembling. Her arms around his neck tighten as she leans her head back, pulling him forward to press his lips along her neck. The mixture of the two feelings made her legs tremble even more, a shuddering whine coming from her mouth. 

She gasped, deeply, her eyes closing as she could feel tears brimming in them, a pleasure she had never experienced before filling her body.

The sight of her so sensitive causes his mind to snap. Her body is like a piece of glass; he has to hold her with care, otherwise she’d break. He had to be gentle with her, and he had never been this gentle with anyone. 

She’s gasping along his ear, Toji unable to help himself to talk to her as he grunts, “Shit feels good, doesn’t it? This is my pussy, huh?” 

His voice in her ear sends her into panting softly, keeping her grip on his hair. His grip along her ankles doesn’t falter, spreading her legs a little wider, Nozomi pulling his face deeper into her neck as she trembles, “Oh my…ohmygod.”

Her trembling beneath him only makes his heart race that much faster. She’s so reactive, every subtle movement he makes as he’s between her legs brings a new response. He lets her claw into his hair, needing her to mark him in some way as her hands stay there. 

Toji’s mind is hazy as he pushes deeper into her, a low groan leaving his mouth near her ear. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

Her inhales are short, but her exhales are long. She pulls his face up to meet hers, lightly pulling their lips together, trying to kiss him, unable to as her head spins, eyes rolling to the back of her head. She whines softly, “B—baby…I…”

He can’t help the grin that comes to his face as she tries desperately to kiss him, but her body is too sensitive to it. She trembles, her hair sticking to her skin, a glow of sweat along her body. 

It’s pleasure, and only Toji can give it to her. He’ll give her all of it. 

“What, baby?” He muttered against her skin, peppering kisses along her neck as he continued his slow movements. “You’ gonna say my name again?”

He’s barely moving, but the moment he does, she cries softly, dragging her nails into his back, “Toji,” she whimpers his name in the most desperate way, as if wasn’t allowed to.

Each time she says his name, he can’t help but feel heat fill his body. Each cry, each whimper, each breath from her skin as she says his name, it makes him hungry for more. 

His grip on her ankles tightens, using them in order to drive himself deeper. When she cries his name, Toji can’t help but groan against her skin, kissing where he can as he whispers, “Say my fuckin’ name just like that.”

His left hand reaches up for the headboard, finding a grip along the wood as his other hand still holds her ankle. Nozomi keeps her nails dug into his back, face within his shoulder as she brokenly moans, feeling that she’d be embarrassed about the sounds she made later. 

She gasps softly, “I…I feel…different…”

It’s obvious that she’s still new to the feeling. Her whimpers are filled with a hint of pain, but Toji was determined to make this as good for her as possible. 

He wants no thought to be in her mind but him.

“How do you feel?” He asked her between breaths, his chest pressing against hers, his head buried in her neck as he began to pick up rhythm, their flesh creating a clapping sound. He slowly moved her leg, moving it to a spot that would make her feel even more.

Her leg trembles at the movement of her leg, mouth right against his as a genuine, “Ughn—shit,” scatters desperately from her lips, eyes fluttering shut, losing the side of her brain to answer the question.

The sound of her swearing has a dark chuckle fan against her mouth from him. Toji wants to ruin her, and he intends to do just that. He wants to make her so sensitive that she’d be unable to handle just one more touch.

His lips brush hers as whispers to her, his movements deliberate and calculated. “You feel good, baby?” He muttered against her skin, “You’ hear me fucking you? Hear your pussy, baby? She sounds so pretty, doesn’t she? Sucking me in like she can’t let go. Listen.” 

The clapping sound of their skin, the way his hips bury into her, sloshing each time he pushes inside. She inhales deeply, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she breathlessly whimpers, “Yeaah,” she drags the word out a bit to her disadvantage, clutching his hair again, sucking her breathing back to silence as she hears herself losing her sense to talk.

Her voice makes Toji groan. She sounds absolutely wrecked. 

“It’s too much, huh?” He cooes, the bastard, his hand moving from her ankle to her thigh, “Who’s making you feel like this?” 

“You, baby,” she says, eyes rolling back ever so slightly, “You, baby. Fuck, it’s you, baby,” she repeats, as if she didn’t hear herself the first two times.

“That’s fuckin’ right,”  He muttered against her skin, his hand rubbing up and down her thigh as he continued his movements, making her feel every each inch of him, “Nobody else is gonna fuck you the way I do.” 

She’s the one who’s begging for him. She’s whining for him, and only him. She’s saying his name and only his name.

“You feel so good, baby.” He whispers to her, “Pussy made just for me. Wanna eat her again, miss that shit gushing all on my mouth.” 

She’s gripping onto him for dear life. Her reactive moans  is the only thing he can hear as he continued, “You’re so sensitive. If I eat you out, I know you’re gonna cream, might even squirt. Fuck, baby…” 

“Oooohshit,” her mouth parts, Toji grasping a rough kiss at the opportunity of her mouth opening, “Fuckin’ feel you, baby,” she clutches his hair tighter, “D—Don’t mean to pull your hair like that…m’sorry…”

“Pull harder.” He orders her, his voice low as his lips now give company to her ear. 

She tugs a little more in response—soft, making sure she doesn’t hurt him—which causes Toji to chuckle, the deep sound fanning against her lips. 

She nearly pouted, “Don’t laugh at me…”

He kisses her shoulder gently before grunts, “You’re so fuckin’ cute like this. Fuckin’ needy ass. So tough, so mouthy—all you needed was some dick.”

“You’re making fun of me…” she whimpers, turning her face down to his shoulder, becoming a bit

more vocal as her body relaxes. 

“I am,” he admitted against her skin, “But you’re taking my shit so good, baby. You’re being such a good girl, it’s so fuckin’ sexy.”

It seems that his voice is what triggers her, because when she takes in his tone, a particularly deep gasp comes from her chest, her head kneeling back, hips squirming in response. Her pussy tightens. 

Toji grumbles against her neck, “You like my voice, baby?”

She nods her head, “I—agh—like it, baby,” she agrees softly, “Like when you talk to me…” she tries to find her words, feeling her face warm as she also adds, “Like when you’re a little rough with me…”

He chuckles against her skin, her confession only furthering his drive, “Rough, huh?” He muttered against her skin, “I’m trying to be gentle, baby. Don’t do that.” 

“I’m okay,” her voice is soft, but it’s a protest, “Feels good, baby. I…” she drags her nails down his back, “Want more of you.”

The sound of her voice is so soft and needy, so desperate for more of him, Toji can’t keep himself from groaning against her skin, her nails digging into his skin just making him all the more greedy. 

“You want more of me?” He muttered against her neck, his lips brushing along her pulse, “You can barely take the dick I’m giving you now, whimpering and shit. You don’t need more.” 

She pulls him down by his hair, tugging it the way he asked before, her tongue dragging along his skin as she whimpers, “Please, Toji…”

The tug on his hair makes his breath get caught in this throat, and the way her tongue drags along his skin is only adding more gasoline to the fire that’s already burning inside of him. 

“Please what, baby?” He asked her against her skin, her whimpering driving him further over the edge, “You gotta tell me what you want, baby. Use your words.”

She thinks for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what she wanted. She then tells him, “‘Wanna get on top.”

The statement takes him by surprise, his movements pausing as he lifts his head to look at her. Being on top would give her a position of control. But one look at her face, her expression, he finds that he’s unable to say no even if he wanted to. 

“You wanna ride me, baby?” He grunts to her, Nozomi nodding in response as she persuades, “‘Wanna show you I can handle you…” a desperation to her tone, “Want you to feel good too.”

“I feel good as fuck, baby. Don’t worry about that. Come here.”

He leans himself back along the bed, pulling her above him as he states, “Prove that shit, then.”

Now she was actually nervous. Her legs feel numb, and there’s a very faint cramp in her lower abdomen, but the pleasure she felt—a rush of it came over her body seeing him now laid on his back, dark eyes watching her every move. She wanted more. 

She slowly crawls towards him, curiously eyeing the monster that stood at her attention, it jumping when she looks fully at his dick. It was veiny, probably heavy in her hands. She can’t help it. She leans forward as she wraps her lips around his tip, dipping her head down as she drags spit along his entire length, pulling her mouth back with a pop.

 As she runs her tongue over her lips, she feels him clutch her jaw, grunting at the sight of her sucking his dick as he growls, “You’re not ready for that. Come bounce on my dick.” 

She listens— although something in her prefers to be defiant—coming onto his lap, reaching behind herself as she runs her palm along his tip, guiding it towards her opening as she spreads herself with her other hand.  

She sinks herself down, the newfound feeling causing her eyes to drop lower, a soft gasp leaving her lips. It was an aching pinch in her body all over again. She adjusts her hips as she moans, feeling Toji’s hands grip the skin of her ass, balancing her weight.

He groaned at her walls tightening around him, opening his palm as he slammed it against her ass with a gruff, “That’s it, baby…” 

She leans herself into him, placing her hands along his chest as she looks behind herself, slowly raising her hips, gently dropping her ass back down. Her entire abdomen felt on fire, her eyes fluttering closed as her legs throbbed, pulling her hair behind her ear as she shuddered, “Like that?”

He groaned the second she began to move, and he was barely able to hold himself back from lifting her hips himself, making her move. He’s letting her set the pace, making sure to give her as much time as she needs to adjust herself. 

His hands found her hips again, guiding her gently as he let out a husky, “Just like that, baby…” His voice is a harsh whisper, his eyes unable to leave her. “So fuckin’ sexy…” 

The way his voice sounds is different from before, a vulnerability that he didn’t have when she was beneath him. She moved her hips up and down a couple of more times, the final connection sending a wave of pleasure over her body, her breath hitching before a soft moan released. This is where she began to find her rhythm, moving a little faster, her fingers sinking into his chest, digging into the skin as she dug her teeth into her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she attempted to hold back the whimpers that wanted to drop from her lips.

As she found her rhythm, Toji allowed himself to let out a low groan, his eyes closing as he savored the feeling of her body against his. The dig of her nails into his skin only drove him farther over the edge, his hands on her hips only holding her, fighting the demon that wanted to take control. He could feel her slowly gaining more confidence—he was loving it. 

“Riding my shit like a fuckin’ pro, baby…” 

She wasn’t sure why was so shy at this moment, and in order for her to feel good, she needed to relax. She swirls her hips around, running her fingers over her body in a way that makes her hips tremble, immediately placing her hands back along his chest as she moaned, “Need you to touch me…” as she takes one of his hands, placing it along her throat, face warm as she does so.

He clutches his palm around her throat immediately, still holding onto her hip, spanking her again, “Like that? That’s what you want?”

She nods, “Mhm,” sucking in a breath as she feels him using her throat as leverage to hold onto her, her breathing going back to quick inhales, and slow, heavy exhales, “Yeah, baby…love when you touch me like that.”

He’s becoming impatient—he can’t help himself. He gives her a new way to move, pulling her feet flat along the bed, raising his hands higher under her thighs to have a good leverage on her, before he’s lifting her up, dropping her down, bouncing her on top of him, the harsh movement causing their skin to make a loud noise, the impact making Nozomi fully gasp. It causes her to place her hand behind herself along his leg, the other still in front of his chest. 

She understands what he wants, doing just that, moving her entire body as her ass recoils to the slam of his abdomen, something she entirely was too sensitive for, but powered through in order to feel the pleasure that came with it. Her head was down, whining as her lower body shook, dragging up and plopping back down, a heavy groan dropping from her lips as her hair fell around her face and shoulder. 

She squeezed the skin she held onto as she messily moaned, “Oh my goddd—baby. baby, yeah—“ she squeaks, connecting their hips in between, “I can’t….” She pants, “Feels so…aghh.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He was supposed to be letting her have her time on top, but he can’t hold back any longer. He growls against her skin, his voice almost a command, “Lean forward. Let me fuck you.” 

She leans into him, feeling as he wraps his arms around her lower back, his own hips thrusting upwards, the sound within the room like no other. Nozomi places her hand against his bicep, digging into the skin as she bleats, “Ooooh, shit, Toji—“ she gasps to herself, locking her hand over her mouth, shuddering wildly as she then wraps her arms around his neck as she cries, “Mmmm, wait, baby,” she whimpers out, unable to hold her voice back.

He buries his head into her neck, kissing, licking, biting, leaving a mark as he continues. 

“Nuh-uh, thought you could handle it? Thought you were a big girl?” He grunts in her ear, “Take my fuckin’ dick, big girl.”

He takes advantage of his movement, fully locking his arms under her legs, pulling her knees over his shoulders as she’s still on top of him. Her arms are still wrapped around his neck as he sits himself up a bit, holding her fully as he guides her roughly. His palms are hot as he holds the flesh of her ass, lifting her within the air as he yanks harshly, pussy sopping arousal as he slams her down onto his dick, his balls drenched in her cream.  Nozomi gasps against his mouth, blabbering cries faltering against his lips. She can only listen to the sounds their bodies create together, mewling in defeat. 

She pouts along his mouth as she whimpers, “Fuckin’ love you, babyy.”

He captures her lips with his own, his teeth gently tugging on her bottom lip as he grunts against her mouth, “Stop all that whining shit. Thought you hated me.”

She presses her forehead to his, “Don’t bring that up…” seeing how messy she was against him, her hand back in a deep grip on his hair. She goes silent for a moment, holding him close as she listens to their skin stickily connecting. But that didn’t mean he was done talking to her.

He moves himself slightly, shifting their position just enough for him to get a good angle to give a particularly aggressive thrust, enough to force a cry from her lips, “I know you fuckin’ hear me talking to you.”

Her heavy panting goes into a particularly long and raspy moan, her breath sucking in as she tries to fight it, back to pressing her forehead against his as she whimpers back, “Don’t hate you. Can’t hate you, when you’re fucking me like this…” she groans, eyes wanting to roll back again, “Sorry, baby…was so mean to you…”

He relishes in her groans, her whines, the way she’s unable to speak normally, the way she’s falling apart completely because of him. “You should be sorry. Now look at you.” 

He doesn’t halt at all, her small frame being carried effortlessly, lifting her up and down on his dick, his tip damn near reaching her throat. Her breathless pants are embarrassing to hear, but the squeal she makes when he swirls her hips down with a hard drop onto his hips, that's even worse. 

Her arms tremble as she tightens them around his neck, another aggressive moan pushing out her body, pleasurable tears triggering from that one. She gasps, “Oh my—“ she holds herself back, looking him in his eyes as she whines messily, “Forgive me, baby. So fuckin’ sorrry. Imsosorry,” cheeks hot as she listens to his arrogant laugh.

“Sorry, huh? You don’t mean it.”

“Mean it, baby. Fuck.” 

“It’s cause I’m fuckin’ you stupid,” he grunts, tugging her down, her walls gushing through his thrusts, spurting out suctions of air. 

She drags her tongue up his jaw, reaching his mouth as she pleads, “Said sorry already, baby. Know you wanna forgive me…”

He groans at that, keeping his composure as he talks to her, “Say you won’t be mean to me again,” he demanded against her lips, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Always gonna be nice to you, baby,” she whimpers, “Wanna be sweet to you…” she sucks on his lower lip, giggling in a way that makes her feel insane, so full of pleasure, she couldn’t even think.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly, his hands grasping a harsh and unforgiving grip on her hips, “You promise?”

“Promiseeee,” she moans back, “Fushigurooo,” she panics, gripping onto him, “I….my body…I feel numb.” 

She didn’t understand the feeling. She had experienced a certain amount of pleasure, but this was different. While all of this had been symphonies of pleasure, this was an entire orchestra. She was having her first orgasm.

“Just let it happen, baby.” He muttered against her neck, his lips against her skin, “It’s a good thing, I promise.”

Her entire body jolts, shivering in a defeated pleasure, a short scream releasing from her mouth as she holds onto him, her legs trembling as if she’d been electrocuted. Her knees shake over his shoulders as her eyes drop down to see her squirt against him, nails digging into his chest as she cried out, “Tojiii.” 

He presses his forehead to hers, his own body feeling like it’s on fire as she moans, “Ooh, fuck baby. You’re squirting. Keep cumming. Keep cumming. Keep. Fuckin’

Cumming,” he talks in between thrusts, sending her in a state of psychosis. 

The tears that drop from her eyes make her sob in pleasure, knowing his skin was welted with the way she clawed him, her face pressing into his neck as a warmth filled her cheeks. His brain is muffled as she whines, “Cum in me, cum in me. Cum in me.”

He tries to knock sense into himself, but with her in his ear, he grips her skin as he bottoms out, moaning as he cums to her voice. She made him insane.  

Both of them feel exhausted, but not as much as Nozomi. When she finally felt that her mouth wouldn’t release anymore shouts, her body still trembled as she whimpered, bringing her face deeper into his neck.

“Fuck, baby. You’ okay?”

She brings a hand over her face as she nods, unable to do anything else. All her vulnerability returns, realizing she was bare against him, realizing what’d she just done. What they’d just done. 

Her sudden shyness makes him careful. She’s vulnerable like this, and he wants to take the time to handle her, to treat her. He gently guides her body against his, rolling them so she’s against the mattress and he’s laid against her. He gently pries her hand away from her face, his fingers gently tracing over her cheeks. 

“Hey, pretty,” his deep voice greets her. 

Her face turns away, hiding within his shoulder for a moment. Silence goes between them as she softly says, “Hi.”

He lets out a soft laugh at her shy greeting, his hand gently rubbing the side of her body, his fingers gently tracing over her back. 

“You’ okay, baby?” He asked her stain, placing a gentle kiss against her temple, “You with me?”

“Mhm,” she replies gently, “I’m here.”

She whimpers as she feels him spank her attention to him, flicking her eyes as she says, “I’m just thinking.”

He can see the way she twitches from the smack, his voice dropping into a deep chuckle, “Thinking?” His tone is a tease, a playful taunt as he speaks, “I fucked you that good, huh?”

“Fushiguro,” she warns, “Jesus. Fuck off. Is this your way of pillow talk?”

“You’ got an attitude?” he raises an eyebrow.

He hikes her up as he growls into her neck, snatching her skin in a kiss that makes her giggle. She then says quietly, “I just…am curious to know what this means for us. Going forward…” 

She traces her finger over his chest, “If this just happened in the moment, or that you really wanted to be with me…”

The questions almost pissed him off. He’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants her. 

He suddenly captures her chin in his hand, bringing her face up to meet him as he spoke in a deep and serious tone, “I want you. I want all of you.”

The words are genuine, and her heart swells. She leans closer to his face as she grins, “Say it again.” 

She giggles as he raises her leg over his shoulder, spanking her again as he grunts, “I love you, Nozomi.”  

His words make her body warm, feeling as he gruffly kisses her neck, trying to prove his point. The way she smiles, the way the grin looks on her face…he’s completely smitten.  

“Say it back,” he grunts against her skin, his words like a breathless demand, “Say you love me.”

“I love me,” she says softly, giggling louder as he hovers over her now, growling against her skin as he spanks her a couple more times.

He chuckles against her skin at her sarcastic words, his hand gently digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pressed another possessive bite into the skin on her neck, just hard enough to make her squeal. 

“I swear. Say you love me, baby,” he teased her, nipping against her skin, “Please.”

She finally becomes serious, holding up his chin to look directly at her as she says, “I love you, Toji.”

A low groan drops from his lips as he captures her in a deep, hungry kiss, his mouth attacking her own as his hands tug at her body to pull her closer to him, “Again.” 

“I love you,” she muffled, giggling against his mouth, “I love you.”

His body is craving her even more after hearing her words, her voice a drug that’s suddenly driving him crazy, suddenly making him desperate and needy. His tongue forces its way into her mouth, desperate to fuck her. Eat her out. Something. 

She then pulls him back, “We need to get back to the reception before my sister kills me,” she giggles throughout his kisses, “Seriously, Fushiguro.”

He pauses, pulling back from her neck as he groans into her skin, pulling back to grumble against her skin, “Fine.”

“One more kiss,” he bargained with her, “Just one, before we go.”

“One,” she agrees, accepting the kiss from him. He then leans down, “Or two,” kissing her again, “Or three.” 

He can’t help but want to make her giggle. It had been so long since he heard it, he’d never make her stop. She sighs as she says, “Help me with this dress, please?”

“We’re really leaving? For real?” 

“Did you think I was joking?”

“A little.”

“Boy. Let's go.” 

“Didn’t you say you were gonna be nice to me earlier? You were like ‘aghhh, baby! imma’ be nice!’—“ 

“Fushiguro!” 

“…My bad.”

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[danidrabbles]

This was so devastatingly sexy.....

First of all: LOVE the no-outbreak setting, I always enjoy reading about that softer pre-outbreak Joel getting to live his life without being so hardened by everything that happens to him in canon. Second: This taking place on and around Bill and Frank's wedding is such a stroke of genius, what a fun setting!

The tension between them is so apparent from the start, the way he calls her sweetheart, the way she's immediately wound up the moment he's in the room. (The way they're both touching themselves to the thought of the other, oof...)

The moment when she helps him with his buttons and his bowtie was SO good, I loved that they both had this sense of "Is this okay?" but couldn't help themselves.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again. You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and– The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

I could just feel this 😩

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

She's so brave for just going for it. It's so fun and refreshing.

And your Joel kills me his, “If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”, “Shit, sweetheart, she’s soakin’ for me.” and “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”, but ESPECIALLY

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

I love the ending so much, the way he pulls her in for "one final, saccharine sweet kiss", and thanks her, and the promise of more between them... wow. Thank you so much for writing and sharing!!

every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect. 

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now. 

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you. 

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel. 

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life. 

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning. 

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same. 

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point. 

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins. 

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out. 

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so. 

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating. 

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

[moonstruckme]

HI MAE so i didnt send the shy remus x reader ask but i saw that u wanted ideas and i had one. what about reader who's very cocky and like confident and stuff and remus is intimidated by her usually but then theyre at a party or smth and shes all drunk and shes all over him telling him stuff like how shes got the biggest crush on him or like how hes genuinely one of the most attractive people shes ever met and shy remus is js like 😳 while also taking care of her bc shes so drunk and simultaneously trying not to combust

Hi my love, thank you so much for your request!

cw: alcohol

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Really, it should be Sirius’ responsibility to look after you. It is his party, after all. But Sirius has a love for delegating unwanted tasks and also a love for meddling (which Remus theorizes he got at least partly from James). So, naturally, you’re in Remus’ lap. 

“You guys are so nice,” you croon, words strung together like cursive and fingers toying with a loose thread of Remus’ sweater. He’s resigned himself to letting you unravel the whole thing without complaint. “All of you, all your friends are the nicest…the warmest people I ever knew. How’d you do that?” 

Remus smiles down at you. “I think James has always been good at bringing out the best in people.” 

He’s not entirely sure how you came to be lying on your back on the couch, your head on Remus’ thigh and your hands reaching for the dangling thread above you like a cat enjoying some lazy play. If he asked you, Remus doesn’t think you’d know, either. It makes a lovely view for him, your eyes uptilted in his direction and features relaxed and unguarded as a result of the series of tequila shots Sirius had cajoled you into not realizing you’d already had a few drinks. Remus very much enjoys having you this close and being able to look at you so casually, even if your brassy, larger-than-life demeanor often terrifies as much as impresses him. Even if your head on his thigh makes his face feel like a fire hazard. 

“Don’t think he had to work very hard with you. You’re such a sweetheart already.” You say it so simply, an obvious truth, and Remus finds himself staying perfectly still like a rabbit in the woods that thinks it might yet escape your notice. His heartbeat pitters in everywhere from his cheeks to his fingertips. He worries he’s going to have to make a response, but your eyes widen suddenly. “Oh! Sit still.” 

No problems there. Remus moves only his eyes as you sit up from his lap, tucking your feet underneath you and reaching for him with your lip trapped between your teeth in concentration. You touch a fingertip to his cheek and smile victoriously. 

“Got it.” You turn your finger, showing him. “You had an eyelash.” You blow it off your fingertip and onto Sirius’ rug. Remus marvels at the unthinking loveliness of you. “Have I talked to you about your eyes before?” you ask conversationally. 

Remus blinks, ceasing his tracking of the eyelash to look at you. “I don’t think so,” he ventures, though he knows you haven’t. He remembers most exchanges you’ve had, and he definitely would have remembered that. 

“Oh.” Your brows purse softly. “Must’ve been with someone else,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Anyway, it’s important to me that you know, they’re really beautiful.” 

Remus startles, partly at the compliment but mostly at the touch you lay on his cheek, your fingers cool and gentle, like you’re steadying his face for your perusal. You look into his eyes attentively. 

“They’re brown,” Remus says in a soft voice. 

Your lips tilt like he’s said something funny. “Nobody’s eyes are just brown, Remus. There are so many different kinds.” Your index finger draws a short line across his cheekbone. Remus can’t tell you mean for it to or not. “Yours are sort of like a…like a gradient. They get lighter farther down.” 

Remus decides to study your eyes as you study his, and he sees what you mean. The shadow of your lashes makes your irises look darker at the tops. It’s difficult to tell, though, with your pupils eclipsing so much of them. 

“They’re, like, a warmish brown,” you’re saying, gaze unwavering. “Like the color you want your tea to be. You know, there’s some fact or study or something that says brown eyes make people feel safe. Did you know that?” 

“I didn’t,” Remus says. The weight of your attention is taking its toll on him, his body aching to sink into the couch cushions. He wants to ask if brown eyes have that effect on you, but he doesn’t have the nerve. “Is that so?” he asks instead.

You shrug. “I dunno. Works on me.” 

The breath stalls in Remus’ lungs. You’re looking at him like you haven’t said anything out of the ordinary, expression wide open and somewhat unfocused. 

You yawn, removing your hand from his face to half cover your mouth. It’s an awfully endearing show, and over too fast. “I guess that’s probably why—” You cut yourself off with a hiccup. Your eyes flare like you weren’t expecting it, hand jumping back up in front of your mouth. Remus grins before he can stop himself. 

“Oh.” Your smile is an afterthought, a response to his. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Remus isn’t even certain what you’re apologizing for. 

Your eyes have that sweet, attentive look again. “I really like when you smile.” 

Remus feels heat spread up to the tips of his ears. It’s official. He’s got more in common with a live flame than a human anymore. “What were you saying?” he prompts. 

You bite your lip as though you’ve forgotten. “Oh!” Your eyes light. “Just, I guess that’s probably why I have such a giant crush on you.” 

Remus’ heart thuds. He breathes, “What?” 

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, grinning at yourself. “It’s relentless.” Hiccup. “Super embarrassing. But—but you’ve got those eyes, and your freckles, and that sweetheart face…” You shrug again, helpless. Ride out another hiccup. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Remus stares at you. It seems impossible. You have a crush on him? It’s out of the natural order. The world’s gone to chaos. It’s supposed to be the other way around! Remus pines silently after you, you eventually find some big, cocksure bloke who can match you, and Remus continues to pine whilst you go on with your brilliant, dazzling life. That’s the way it’s meant to be. 

“I would…” Remus finds his mouth forming around words he doesn’t recognize until they come out. “I’d know a thing or two about a crush like that.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t look offended. “Well, yeah. I’d hope you knew I fancied you, I’ve only been seeking you out ever since we met.” 

Not what he meant. Remus did not, in fact, know that. 

“I didn’t notice you were,” he admits. 

Your head tilts. “Really?” There’s an obvious follow up question—then what did you mean just now?—but for one reason or another, you don’t ask it. You only lean onto his shoulder, your head slipping a few inches down his arm.

Remus channels all his bravery into an arm around your waist to keep you from slumping further. He vows to himself to tell you tomorrow.

[sugurouge]

— pocky, huh? ft. yamato endo, sakura haruka, suo hayato, togame jo x f!reader

content warnings! public indecency with endo, ofc

a/n: thank you kisa for the request!! i happily yapped about it! <3

— ENDO leads you to an abandoned side street, not particularly the most romantic area to be in, but it offers enough privacy for you two to enjoy a moment alone. You stumble behind him in confusion, not expecting him to pull you away when you asked him about playing that silly game with you.

You've kissed him before, countless times, so why would he make such a fuss about it now? Well, if today is already National Pocky Day, he might as well make it the best damn Pocky Day there ever was.

Endo eyes the strawberry-flavoured treat; the pink color looks adorable in front of your soft lips. Wetting his lips, his eyes lift off from the treat to land on yours, a soft puff of air being exhaled from his slightly parted lips as he walks you up against the wall. He leans into your space, offering you the chocolate-covered end to bite, his gaze dropping down to watch your mouth part.

This is just a simple, silly game. Why is this getting to your head? You look so adorable right now, all hesitant about biting into the candy. It brings a smirk to his face; he could devour you on the spot. "Come on, pretty, it's just Pocky!" he teases, chuckling about your frozen state.

Just Pocky.

Just Pocky, that Endo curtly throws over his shoulder to place your cheek in his palm, fingertips digging into the back of your head to pull you in. His lips meet yours in an instant, his tongue using your parted lips to his greedy advantage as he tastes you rather than any other candy in the world.

The packaging gets crumpled in his hand, all remaining sticks crushed to crumbs, as he pulls you in by your hip, his thigh pushing between your legs to hoist you up. Fuck decency if you moan like that on the open streets, Endo thinks to himself, as his hand makes you softly grind against his leg.

— You already knew SAKURA would be unhappy about this, spewing out complaints about how a game like that is for silly teens. "Then why do you get so worked up about it?" you tease. How could you not tease him? You already got to play with Kiryu earlier; being the gentleman he is, he let you have the last bite and pulled away early enough. Everyone was too aware of the set of golden eyes that watched the whole thing happen, a bit too close for comfort.

Sakura likes you; everyone and their grandma can tell as much.

"Just play. You can always pull away if you dislike me so much!" Oh, don't say that. Don't make Sakura even more conflicted. Nervous eyes dart around the room only to land on your curious ones again. "Fine, okay, okay!" he huffs as he grabs a stick, placing the clean side between his lips before making quick work of the treat. That is, until your bodies draw close, until your perfume envelops him, until he is too aware of the proximity of your lips. And that look you give him? Can you not look at him like you're in love with him or something?

He pulls back, head turned sideways in an attempt to hide how much of an impact you have on him.

Yet you giggle, a smug expression meeting his flustered gaze. "I thought it was just a childish game? Or do you really not like me, Haru?" you feign a pout. Damn, you look so cute. Only a fool would dislike you.

With a swallow, Sakura forces himself to toughen up, to play again. Is this even part of the rules? Ah, who cares. Who has time to worry when you're in front of them, leaning in closer and closer? He sneakily reaches out one hand to lace your fingers with his, leaving you no room for mockery as you stumble forward, lips crashing against his in a deeper kiss than you could have ever anticipated.

— SUO plays super fair. You want to try that silly game? Sure, if that's what you do with friends. Well, to him, you could be more than just a friend. And it seems like you want more from him as well, no? If this is your way of confessing, you better claim your prize quickly.

He's nibbling on one side of the stick slowly, and you're not even sure if he is enjoying this. You already picked the dark chocolate flavour, hoping a richer taste would lure him in. Maybe he really doesn't like you like that?

Suo can practically see you getting lost in your head, second thoughts suddenly hanging from above as you mimic his speed. You just need a little push, don't you? He takes a bigger bite, one that finally leads you two to lean in, to further grab bites of the stick until your throat starts to feel awfully dry, the tips of your noses brush and you can smell his comforting scent. So close to him, so awfully close, he might hear your racing heart.

But instead of leaning in, he waits. He feels the chocolate melting against his lips, fighting the urge to taste the sweetness on you. His fingertips ghost along your neck, he revels in the fact just how quick your pulse is jumping beneath your skin. Then they continue their journey along your jawline, practically drawing you forward to take the final step and meet his lips.

Suo loves Pocky. They taste amazing from your lips.

— Why would you propose a silly game like this? TOGAME thought you were friends. Who the hell plays a stupid kissing game with their friend? It's not like he's been fighting his attraction for you already. "Fine, okay, if it'll make you shut up," he practically groans. Why must he always be such a dick to you just because he can't manage his emotions? And you just shrug it off, all giddy to even get him to play with you. Friends have been telling you about the way his eyes are glued to you whenever he thinks nobody's watching, staring like you’re all he could want in his life.

You just have to find out for yourself.

You tug him down by the zipper of his jacket, forcing him to meet you halfway as you place the Oreo-coated stick between your lips, eagerly offering him the other side. You're greeted by a "tsk" and a shake of his head. "Not even offering me the chocolate after proposing this stupid game." Yet Togame still leans in, biting down on the stick in one, two bites. Your eyes widen; you didn't expect him to be that straightforward, that quick at eating.

Instead of kissing you, he straightens his back, shoulders rolling to fix his posture as the rest of the sweet treat rests between his lips. That defeated look on your face is utterly adorable, he muses. Yet you’re already second guessing yourself; maybe all this talk about him liking you got to your head.

"Happy now?" He looks down to meet your eyes, revealing the light blush on his cheeks.

"No! Why did you lean back? Are you scared of me or what? It's stupid," you protest, words leaving your lips quicker than you realise what you confess to.

A shit-eating grin forms on Togame’s lips, he allows himself a moment to celebrate his victory. "If you want me to kiss you so badly, just say it," he shoots back, with the last pinch of control he can muster up. A sigh follows as you remain silent, brows creased with an adorable pout on your kissable lips. Where did your big mouth disappear to now? Togame wonders.

"Don’t mind if I do..." Suddenly you're on your tiptoes, strong arms circling around your waist to pull you up, to meet his lips and kiss him deeply.

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[jobean12-blog]

My Lady

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 572

Summary: Being the General requires much of Marcus' time and although you understand that it doesn't mean you don't miss him always- not as much as he misses you of course

Author's Note: Every new little snippet we get of this man basically ends me so I just was feeling something small and cuddly and soft because I really just want to curl up on his lap and in his arms forever. Please and thank you! 😁Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovey @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and warm

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

He leans in, mouth hovering just over yours.

“They will be expecting me soon.”

He whispers this against your lips before his kisses trail along your jaw and down to the hollow of your throat.

Crowding your space a little more, he brushes his nose against yours, his soft lips and warm hands moving everywhere.

His face falls to the crook of your neck, and he groans. The sound vibrates all the way down your body and between your legs.

Your hands slide over the wide expanse of his back, the broad width of his shoulders and then ghost across his lips when his eyes meet yours.

“You are not making this very easy my love.”

“Hmm?” you hum with feigned innocence and rock your hips over him.

You’re seated in his lap at the edge of the bed, your thighs straddling his. You dip your head, and he meets you halfway, lips moving with yours, familiar and warm, through smiles and quiet sounds as his hands trace along the curve of your spine and then down to your ass to pull you tighter against him.

His kiss turns soft, the faintest, slowest, most feather light kiss imaginable, and you want a hundred more.

“I suspect Lucious will come looking for me any moment.”

“Then you should go General…before he does.”

Your kiss swollen lips turn up into a coquettish smile and his large hands flex on the softness of your ass.

You brush the fallen curls of hair from his forehead and then run your fingertips along the strong column of his neck.

He catches your hand, brushing his calloused thumb across your wrist, your pulse hammering beneath. He lifts it to his lips, kissing first the inside of your wrist, then your palm and finally brushing his mouth along your knuckles before pressing it to the back of your hand.

You start to push yourself off him, but he reaches out to grab your hips, sliding his hands up until they settle at your waist. He stands and drags you against his chest, one large hand smoothing along the curve of your body and up your arm until he can grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips to his.

He lets out a helpless sound and then a quiet groan, his kiss slow and warm. With effort he pulls back, running his fingertips down your shoulder and arm to your hand. He takes it in his and brings it to his lips again.

“My lady,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as he relishes the feel of your skin.

“General.”

He backs away, his eyes always on yours until he can no longer watch you and has to turn, grabbing his cloak and throwing it over his broad shoulders. He disappears in a flurry of fabric and heavy footsteps, and you fall back onto the bed with a sigh, counting the minutes until he returns to you.

When he does return, you’re waiting, and he takes a few purposeful strides toward you and you move quickly into his arms, pressing into him for more when he squeezes tight. His mouth is on your temple, your cheek, covering your lips in small bursts of kisses, lips opening, his tongue sliding to taste you.

His hands impatiently move over your waist, your hips, his words sliding across your lips as he tells me he missed you, missed you, missed you.

[areislol]

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎liquor — with the genshin men

pairings. diluc, zhongli, kazuha, xiao, neuvillette, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

warnings. mentions of alcohol, intoxication (nothing too bad), fluff, slight angst if you squint, mutual crushing, kazuha being kazuha, emboldened = giving confidence, xiao is the one that's drunk (opposite roles)

synopsis. your accidental (but not so accidental) confessions and their reaction

wordcount. 5.3k

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎love belt - honghyun ft younha

— ragnvindr. diluc

the atmosphere was at its' peak filled with lively chatter, you found yourself seated at a corner table, nursing a glass of mondstadt's finest wine.

diluc, the enigmatic and reserved owner of the dawn winery, sat across from you, his usual stern expression softened as he watched you down your drink.

he let out a deep sigh before warning you once again. "slow down, don't drink too much." he quickly swipped away your cup and placed it down to the side of the table. he watched as you frowned and attempted to grab it but to no avail.

"give– it– back! diluc!" you whisper-yelled, wanting more of the delectable wine. his grasp remained on the wine glass with no intention of giving it back to you.

he knew it was a bad idea when you suggested drinking to celebrate the new, best-selling drink of his. he dislikes wine so it was only you, jean, kaeya, lisa and other people of mondstadt who drank. kaeya had already bought jean and lisa back home.

it was only you and diluc surrounded by drunken idiots who yelled and reeked of alcohol.

it was a definitely a bad idea to let you drink.

you tried your best to grab your glass but after a couple of tries you gave up as you let your cheek rest on the perfectly sanded and glossed wooden table. was it always so clean? diluc did like to keep his tavern clean so...

a sigh. diluc snapped his gaze from the drunk crowd to the chub of your cheek pressed against the table. your index finger slowly drawing circles on the table out of pure boredom.

perhaps it was the intoxicating blend of alcohol and love that pulled your guard down, but you felt a huge urge to pour your deepst secret. but.. which one? hm..

"you know," you began, the words slipping out more easily than you anticipated, "there's something i've never told you before..."

diluc arched an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "go on," he encouraged, his voice a soft rumble amidst the din of the tavern. it wasn't that hard to distinguish your voice against the multiple, loud and cheerful cries.

with a nervous laugh, you continued. "there's this guy i like, he's really handsome and so kind with me..." you explained with a dreamy sigh as you lifted your head up and with the heavy amount of alcohol and tiredness your head fell heavy, but luckily diluc managed to hold onto your cheeks with his palms.

the sound of a chair screeched against the floor as he stood up in a blink of an eye to make sure your head didn't hit the table. you seemed unmoved by this, your eyelids fluttering and fighting to stay open.

"see? so kind to me, i think that would've hurt me if my head really did hit the table hmm?"

your hands reach out and hold his hands in your warm palms while nuzzling his hand onto your cheek. diluc thanked the archons for the fact that you were drunk and not looking at him to witness how he blushed so hard.

you were so cute, how could he not blush? and oh... look at you acting all snuggly to him... wait, what was it you said?

"see? so kind to me, i think that would've hurt me if my head really hit the table hmm?"

before he could form a single thought about your confession, he realised that that wasn't the end of your confession as words began to spill from your lips, unfiltered and raw, catching diluc off guard.

he listened in silence, his usual stern expression softened as you continued on, but he couldn't help but only focus on what you had said earlier.

"i never would have guessed," he murmured, his tone gentle yet reassuring after you finished, face flushed with the mix of embarrassment and the fiery drink.

"thank you for... trusting me with this." you shook your head, waving your hand around. "no no! it's totally fine.. i just hope he likes me back too it has been far too long! i think maybe a couple of years now? do you think he caught on with my feelings or?"

despite your ranting and endless questions, diluc's gaze held you captive. "are you feeling tired?" he said in a means to get you to stop ranting (in the nicest way possible), his voice firm yet kind. and it worked. his gaze softened as you nodded your head.

since he was the owner of the tavern and most people had left, he kicked everyone out although some put up a trouble but it was nothing he had never experienced before.

he lent you his warm, soft coat as a make-shift pillow as you slept through the occasional clanking of the glass and the rushing water. it was way past midnight and finally, everything was cleaned. returning back to the table he stopped right at the end of the table.

a soft and gentle smile made his way to his face. "well, for the record, i like you too, more than you've ever thought." he whispered softly, pushing the hair covering your face.

"i.." he sighed, looking away for a second before returning his gaze back to you. "i'll tell you about my love for you one day. i promise." he finished as the glint in his eyes sparkled, a future with you.. how exciting.

"but it's time to go home now."

— zhongli

the tension between you and zhongli took on a tender warmth. emboldened by the alcohol, you found yourself on the brink of a confession that weighed heavy on your heart.

"zhongli," you began, your voice sharp and quick, "there's something i need to tell you. it's… a veryyy big secret so you mustn't tell anybody."

at the word 'mustn't' you, for some odd reason, sounded it like how a british person would. zhongli hummed softly and set down his glass cup.

he regarded you with a gentle gaze, his expression serene. "you will have my undivided attention, but first we should get going. you can tell me as we walk, okay?" he replied, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.

with a deep breath, you nod your head. zhongli helped you up with one arm around your waist as his other propped your arm around his neck to keep you secure. he quickly passed the bill to the waiter and walked out.

the air was cool and the night sky gave a sense of security. "feeling alright?" zhongli asked, checking up on you for the second time already. "i'm fine," you replied, "when are we going home?"

you were asking that as if you two lived together.

"we're going home now.. just a couple more steps until we're in my car." at his reply you let out an exhausted yet relieved sigh. finally he reached his car and opened door on the the passenger side, carefully and gently seating you down and strapping you safely before getting into his driver seat.

it was a comfortable ride as he drove through the dark roads, the music playing on the speakers were quiet, he didn't want to disturb your tiredness as he noticed that your head seemed heavy, rocking with each turn of the car.

"zhongli..." you whispered, eyes dazed and tired. his eyes were focusing on the road but he paid attention to your words nonetheless. "ah, the secret, right?" he suddenly remembered. you hummed to confirm.

you summoned the courage to speak the words that had lingered unspoken for far too long. "i… i have feelings for you, zhongli," you confessed and through your drowsiness you turned your head to observe his face, although you weren't sure if the fact that you were heating up was because of the alcohol or the pure embarrassment.

"more than just admiration or friendship. i think.. no, i know i've fallen for you in a romantic way. i mean.. i think i know i've fallen for you.. or is it i have fallen for you and i know that? do i know now that i've fallen for you or have i always known... goodness speaking makes my head hurt."

there was a moment of silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air and you felt like you could just vomit in that moment but not from the alcohol. you braced yourself for nothing really, your brain all fuzzy.

coincidentally, he had just arrived at your place. perfect timing.

zhongli's expression softened, a flicker of emotion crossing his features like a shooting star against the night sky. he stayed quiet for a few seconds as his eyes locked in with yours. it was exactly like scene straight from a romance film.

"my dear," he said, his voice tender, "your feelings are not lost on me. i have found myself drawn to you in ways i cannot fully explain."

he didn't care if you wouldn't remember this moment after sobering up, if anything he would be thankful if you did forget as it meant that he would have more time to prepare himself.

your heart skipped a beat at his words, hope blossoming like a flower. "you mean… you feel the same way?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

zhongli nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. "indeed," he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering. "i have long admired your strength, your personality. it's all very... unique." his hands reached out to cup yours, perhaps it was the adrenaline, but you suddenly felt pumped.

you continued to gaze lovingly and into his ember eyes, wow, who's this handsome man?

"so does that mean we're dating?!" zhongli chuckled at your excited voice, were you that eager to date him?

"not.. quite. but we can talk about this once you're sober."

"i'm sober! now tell me!"

"that's not how it works," he sighs.

"okay... tell me tomorrow then!"

"yes ma'am."

— kaedehara. kazuha

kazuha and you sat side by side at your place with your backs against the bottom of your couch, your table in front of you two with cups filled half-way with alcohol and snacks.

today, was a day of relaxation and what good way than to have a couple drinks with your best friend? although kazuha didn't drink, just this once wouldn't hurt.

both you and kazuha shared a few drinks, and with each sip, your inhibitions loosened. after all the giggles, stories and drunken laughter exchanged, you and kazuha sat next to each other, exhausted.

you let your eyes close shut, resting your head on kazuha's shoulder. "ah... i think we drank too much." he spoke with his hand over his forehead.

your head began to hurt, probably because of the alcohol and for some odd reason right now felt like the perfect time to say something—anything.

"kazuha," you breathed, your words slightly slurred, "you know, i've always admired your free spirit. it's like you're one with the wind." you joked before letting out a small hiccup.

kazuha chuckled, his hand still remained on his forehead. "ah, but the wind can be unpredictable, my friend. sometimes it carries us to places we never imagined."

kazuha being kazuha no matter the cirumstances, always poetic.

you nodded, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you. "you're right. life is like a journey, isn't it? we never know where it'll take us."

"indeed. but it's the unexpected twists and turns that make it all worthwhile."

suddenlt, you couldn't help but laugh, feeling strangely connected to the elements in that moment when all of the sudden...

"kazuha," you said, a hint of seriousness creeping into your voice, "do you like anyone?"

at your question he lets his hand fall and looks over to his side, seeing that your head was now off his shoulder and... now so close to his face?

heat (not from the alcohol) rushed to his cheeks. kazuha thought for a few seconds about his answer, the very girl he liked was with him in that moment, place, time and sat right beside him.

"hm, yes. yes i do."

you took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak your mind. "well—" you paused for a couple of seconds before continuing.

"well i like you! you're so kind, so poetic, romantic, your hair is really soft, and you.. you're so handsome.. everyday i see you i think to myself how can a man be so.. so.. so attractive!"

kazuha's smile softened as he placed a hand on top of your head, seemingly ruffling your hair.

"perhaps the wind has whispered secrets to you that even i haven't heard," he said, his voice gentle like a breeze. "i find myself drawn to you as well, in ways i can't quite explain."

your heart skipped a beat, a rush of emotion flooding through your body and mind.

"then let's see where the wind takes us," you replied, reaching out to intertwine my fingers with his. "together."

(apparently getting drunk meant getting cheesy as well)

— xiao

xiao and you found yourselves sitting next to each other, engrossed in the conversations with your friends. it was the after hours of work and all of your co-workers settled on a dinner night for the success of the project launch.

you were laughing with your friends, clinking cups that were filled with liquor. it was a fun and lively time compared to the usual energy-draining workplace.

everything would've been fine if it weren't for your mood slowly subsiding due to the fact that a random woman (that you assumed worked in the same building with you) was very clingy towards you.

xiao was drowning in his emotions. the amber liquid in his glass reflecting his gloomy face. he watched as the woman leaned in a bit too close to the person he fancied, her playful gestures slowly but surely fueled his jealousy.

with each careless touch and lingering gaze, xiao's heart sank deeper with envy, the alcohol coursing through his veins only amplified it.

as the night wore on, xiao became more intoxicated, his words slurred, his movements clumsy and he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in his chest. half an hour later the celebration, came to an end much to xiao's relief.

everyone went their own way alone or with their friends and thankfully the woman had reluctantly gone home as well.

it was just you and him, sitting beside each other on the edge of the concrete path just a bit away from the restaurant, the distant chatter could barely be heard.

the silence was comfortable with neither of you speaking up. xiao enjoyed the little moments with you, especially now that he had you all to himself at the very moment.

"i ordered a taxi, xiao, we'll drop you off at your place first, is that okay?" you asked, breaking the silence. you looked over at xiao whose face was rather flushed and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to fall asleep on the spot.

to your surprise, xiao shook his head. "no. i'm the man, i should be the one to drop you off first..." at his response you chuckled and poked his cheeks (which he didn't enjoy much).

"well we can't do that, can we? you're drunk," you stated just in case he didn't know. he scoffed and looked over at you, his mind clouded with nothing but you. only you.

"i am not drunk."

"really... so if i asked you to walk in a straight line you'd ace it a hundred per cent?" xiao's brows furrowed at your words, you were obviously teasing him. "sure will." he responded with confidence.

you rolled your eyes at his words, muttering "whatever" before focusing on the ground now, not knowing what to say anymore.

"you know, that woman gives bad vibes." at his words you perked up, turning your head to look at him. "what woman?" you replied back. "the one that was flirting with you."

"SHE WAS FLIRTING WITH ME?" you gasped, eyes widening at his words. it all made sense!

xiao sighed, his eyes lowered down on the ground, face drooping... there was something on his mind.

you don't speak or try to ask him any questions, letting him speak at his own pace, carefully finding the right words to say.

"she was all over the entire time, she was flirting with you shamelessly! and i didn't do anything," his eyes averted away from the ground to his hands. "i couldn't do anything."

"i could tell you were uncomfortable, i really did want to help you, trust me.. but.. i couldn't. i..i don't know what stopped me. maybe because i thought that she was drunk and didn't mean it like that.. it's not like i'm your boyfriend or anything. i'm sure if you did they'd—"

"xiao."

the sound of his name stopped him in his tracks. did he ramble too much? maybe he said something that you didn't like...

you had noticed that his once jovial demeanour was now clouded by jealousy, he bared his heart to you, unable to contain his feelings.

"what are you trying to say?" you asked softly, eyes boring into his as if that would help you find the answer you were looking for.

xiao's lips part, just barely. his beautiful golden eyes staring right back at you. why was his heart beating so fast? why were you looking so tenderly at him? if you continued to stare at him like that he might just freak out and run away.

his mouth opened, about to answer when he stopped just before a word got out. shit. what if he said the wrong thing?

after a long pause, he speaks. "just stay away from her, she might hurt you.. if she does just come to me, okay?" he finished, his words full of genuineness.

you chuckle, the tension easing between you. "mhm, i know." you knew xiao had a hard time opening up about his feelings, but it never stopped you from trying, you knew he wanted to say more but couldn't, and that was just fine.

"now, let's wait for the taxi. hope it comes here before you start serenading the street lamps!" you laughed at the thought of xiao serenading and the looks he would get from the passersby's.

he playfully pushed you, after all his talk he was finally sobering up a little now. "yeah sure.."

— neuvillette

currently, you sit on the plush carpet of your best friend's elegantly furnished living room, a glass of wine in your hand, the flickering glow from the television casting soft shadows across the room. the movie plays on, but your mind is elsewhere, more so on the man beside you.

neuvillette sits close, yet not close enough to feel his warmth. his focus seems divided between the screen and the wine swirling gently in his glass.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. the words you've been holding back for so long are on the tip of your tongue, and the moment feels right—intimate and serene.

“neuvillette,” you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “can i tell you something?”

he turns his head to look at you, his eyes, deep and thoughtful, locking onto yours. “of course, anything.” he replies, his voice gentle and inviting.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of your confession now. “i’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while,” you continue.

“i… i have feelings for you. strong feelings," you pause.

"more than just friendship.”

the room falls into a heavy silence, the movie’s dialogue a distant murmur in the background. was it always so distant? neuvillette’s expression is unreadable as he processes your words. your heart pounds in your chest, your grip on the glass of wine tightening.

finally, he sets his glass down and reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. his touch is warm, his grip reassuring. “i had a feeling,” he says softly. “and I’m glad you told me. i care for you deeply as well.”

a sense of relief washes over you, and you squeeze his hand, a smile spreading across your face. “really?”

he nods, a rare smile touching his lips. “really. i’ve been wanting to say something too, but i didn’t want to rush you. i wanted to make sure it was the right moment.”

"was this the right moment?"

"other than the fact that you're drunk... i suppose so."

just are you were about to speak up again but neuvillette was quicker. "but first, are you sure you're not just mixing your feelings up? like i said you are drunk. you're sure you're positive?"

you nod your head at his words. he was so cute... all worried about you. you notice how his brows furrow, his eyes trained solely on you as if trying to read your face—trying to see if you were lying.

"... just for safe measure, we can talk about this next morning, alright?" his soft and gentle voice immediately reassures you.

"mhm." you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the movie forgotten. “i'm glad you feel the same way,” you whisper, your head resting on his shoulder.

neuvillette wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “so am i,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody.

— alhaitham

the sounds of the clinking of mugs and the hum of chatter. you and your friends were gathered around a large wooden table, the night progressing with laughter and singing. the fire cast a warm glow, adding to the cozy ambience.

you found yourself growing more bold with each sip of your drink, downing more shots than you had expected. across the table, alhaitham was engrossed in a conversation with a few others, his usual composed and thoughtful demeanour evident even in the casual setting.

you had always admired him from afar, his intelligence and quiet strength captivating you in many ways. you have had the biggest and the most obvious crush on him but no matter how hard you try to show him your love he never seemed to care or notice.

but tonight, the alcohol had taken over your body, and a surge of courage overtook your usual restraint.

without fully realizing it, you stood up, your chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor, drawing the attention of your friends and a few nearby customers. the sudden silence was almost palpable as you stared at alhaitham, your heart pounding in your chest.

your friends exchanged curious glances, their amusement and surprise evident in their wide eyes and expectant smiles. "what are they doing?" "about time she did something about her feelings!" "ouuu i'm worried, what if he rejects them?"

"alhaitham," you began, your voice a bit louder and more unsteady than you intended. he turned to you, his calm eyes meeting yours with mild curiosity. "i… i have something to tell you."

the entire table seemed to hold its breath, and you could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on you. your friends were gawking, their faces a mixture of shock and anticipation, clearly intrigued by your sudden boldness.

"i've admired you for so long," you continued, the words spilling out in a rush. "your intelligence, your strength, your kindness… i've fallen for you, alhaitham. i just couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

for a moment, there was stunned silence. you could feel your cheeks burning, a mixture of the alcohol and the intensity of the confession making your head spin. then, one of your friends let out a low whistle, breaking the silence and causing a ripple of laughter and murmurs among the group.

alhaitham's expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He stood up slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "thank you for telling me," he said quietly, his voice steady and sincere. "let's talk about this somewhere more private."

with that, he gently took your arm, guiding you away from the table and the prying eyes of your friends. as you walked together toward a quieter corner of the tavern, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and anxiety.

no matter what happened next, you had taken a leap, and in that moment, it felt like the bravest thing you had ever done.

as you reached a secluded corner of the tavern, alhaitham stopped, turning to face you. his hand slid down your arm, gentle but firm, his fingers lingering just long enough to ground you despite the haze of alcohol and nerves swirling in your mind. you barely dared to meet his eyes, but when you finally looked up, his expression was softer than you’d ever seen.

"are you alright?" he asked, his voice low, genuine concern threaded through it.

you let out a shaky laugh, brushing a hand through your hair in an attempt to pull yourself together. “honestly? i don’t know,” you admitted. “i didn’t… i didn’t plan to say that tonight.”

he tilted his head slightly, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise calm demeanor. “i can tell,” he murmured, his tone teasing but kind. “but… i’m glad you did.”

those words hung in the air, and you felt your heart stutter. his gaze held steady on yours, not a trace of judgment, only curiosity and something else—something you didn’t dare to name.

“you don’t have to say anything back,” you mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. “i didn’t mean to make things awkward between us, i just… well, i guess the truth has a funny way of slipping out after a few drinks.” you forced a laugh, though it came out more nervous than you intended.

alhaitham’s hand, still resting on your arm, gave the faintest squeeze. “you haven’t made anything awkward.” his voice was gentle, reassuring. “you’ve only been honest. and if i’m being honest…” he hesitated, as though weighing his words carefully. “i’ve been waiting for a moment like this. i just didn’t think it would happen in the middle of a crowded tavern.”

the warmth that spread through you was immediate, erasing the haze of doubt. his gaze softened, his eyes tracing your face as if memorizing each detail. “i’ve felt the same way for a while,” he continued, his tone growing even softer. “i just didn’t know if it was mutual, and i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

you swallowed, feeling a surge of emotions you could barely process. “so… we’ve both been pining in secret this whole time?” you asked, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

he let out a quiet chuckle, nodding. “apparently.” his hand drifted down to take yours, his fingers interlocking with yours in a gentle but deliberate gesture. “and now that we’re here, maybe we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

your heart skipped as he held your hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckles in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. you looked up at him, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions enough to let you speak freely. “does this mean you’re going to take me out on a real date? no tavern, no group of friends watching us like a spectacle?”

alhaitham’s eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. “oh, absolutely. a proper date,” he agreed, his voice soft but firm. “somewhere quiet, just us.” he paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “if that’s what you want?”

you nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle warmly in your chest. “yes,” you whispered, barely trusting your voice.

the quiet that fell between you was no longer filled with tension or fear. alhaitham’s gaze lingered, a silent promise in his eyes, and when he finally spoke again, his words sent a thrill through you.

“then i’ll make sure it’s unforgettable,” he murmured, his hand tightening around yours just a bit.

— childe

you’d both had a few too many, the tavern buzzing with energy as laughter and music filled the air. childe sat across from you, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, a playful grin plastered across his face. it was rare to see him unwind like this, his usual deadly focus replaced with an almost boyish charm that made your heart beat a little faster.

“you know,” he drawled, leaning across the table with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “i don’t think i’ve ever told you how i feel about you.”

you chuckled, brushing it off as just another one of his flirtatious jokes. “oh really? well, i’m sure i’m in for quite the confession,” you teased, taking another sip of your drink.

but childe’s expression only grew more earnest, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “i mean it,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone that somehow cut through the tavern’s noise. “i’ve thought about it for a long time. i think i’m in love with you.”

you burst out laughing, giving him a playful nudge. “oh, please, childe. that’s the alcohol talking.”

he blinked, looking a little taken aback, but then a wide smile spread across his face. “you think i’m joking, huh?” he asked, leaning even closer. “you think i’m just messing around?”

“of course you are!” you replied, laughing. “come on, mr. ‘harbinger-of-the-fatui,’ confessing his undying love in a random tavern? yeah, right!”

but something in his expression shifted then, the playful look fading as he stared at you, his eyes unusually intense. he leaned back slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on his glass, and when he looked back up, his smile was softer, more vulnerable. “i’m not kidding, you know,” he said, his voice low and serious. “i really am in love with you.”

his words hung in the air, suddenly sobering. you felt the weight behind them, the sincerity in his gaze that caught you off-guard. gone was the playful, teasing childe; he looked at you now as if you were the only person in the room, his gaze unwavering, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, almost hesitant.

“look, i know i joke around a lot,” he continued, his hand fidgeting slightly. “maybe i flirt too much, and maybe that’s why you don’t believe me. but… this? this is real.” he paused, as if trying to find the right words. “i don’t let just anyone close, but with you… it’s different.”

you stared at him, still reeling, your heart beating faster with each word. he was serious—more serious than you’d ever seen him. the realization hit you like a wave, the weight of his confession settling over you, making it hard to breathe.

“childe…” you began, searching his face for any hint of his usual teasing, but there was none. only a raw honesty, his vulnerability laid bare.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, looking away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “i just needed you to know. i know it sounds crazy, and i know you probably have a million reasons not to take me seriously.” he gave a small, nervous laugh, his fingers brushing against yours on the table. “but i wanted to be honest with you. because you… you’re different. you’re someone i’d be willing to give everything for.”

his fingers tightened around yours, a gentle but firm grip that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes searched yours, as if hoping for some sign that you felt the same, and in that moment, you couldn’t deny the spark that had always lingered between you, even if you’d always chalked it up to his flirtatious nature.

after a beat, you gave his hand a squeeze, your own voice coming out as a soft whisper. “i… didn’t realize you felt that way. i thought… well, i thought you were just being childe.”

he chuckled, a hint of his usual playfulness returning, though his gaze remained steady. “guess i have to step up my game, then,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “because for you? i’d give up all the games.”

[ghostlyferrettarot]

♥︎Pick a picture:💕⭐️Channeled messages from your future self⭐️💕

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

⭐️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!⭐️

💕Masterlist💕

💙Pile 1:

"You are closer than you think to the life you truly desire, just trust the process."

"The change you fear so much is the door that will lead you to what truly belongs to you."

"Do not underestimate the power of patience; what is to come will be much greater than you imagine."

"Your intuition already knows the answer, it is time to listen to it and act with confidence."

"Remember: everything you have overcome has prepared you for what is to come. There is no turning back."

"Sometimes, moving away from the known is necessary to make room for the new and extraordinary."

"The love you give yourself is the first step to attracting what you deserve in all areas of your life."

"It is time to let go of what no longer serves you; the universe has something better in store for you."

"Your personal power is unbreakable. Do not let anyone or anything make you doubt your ability."

"Opportunities are in front of you, you just need to take the first step with faith and courage."

Hi Pile 1! Your future self is so wise and clever, they are in a powerful position for sure. It's time to take the first step you need, you are capable and are ready for what's next!

💖Pile 2:

"The calm before the storm is the sign that something big is coming, get ready to receive it."

"Your efforts have not been in vain. The universe is preparing the ground for your success."

"You don't have to have all the answers now. Sometimes, the most important thing is to trust the path."

"You are breaking free from what was holding you back. Peace and clarity are closer than you think."

"Your energy is aligned with change. Don't resist the inevitable, embrace the transformation."

"The time to heal has come. Emotional release is your first step towards fulfillment."

"The stars have aligned your destiny for a greater purpose, trust that everything happens for a reason."

"It's time to manifest what you want. The universe is listening to your deepest thoughts."

"You are in the process of rebuilding yourself, give it time."

"What seems uncertain now, will become clearer in time. Allow yourself to trust the journey."

Hi pile 2! You are in a transformation process and your future self wants you to know that everything will be fine, just give yourself the time you need and don't push to hard; be gentle with yourself, a big hug for you pile 2.

💕Pile 3:

"Your capacity to achieve great things is far beyond what you imagine. Trust your potential."

"The opportunities you seek are on your way."

"You are ready to receive everything the universe has prepared for you."

"Every challenge you face is an opportunity in disguise. You are being prepared for something much greater."

"The key to success is constant action. Don't stop, the universe is aligning everything for you."

"Doors are opening, and you hold the key. Don't doubt your ability to take advantage of every opportunity."

"Your dreams are valid and attainable. The first step is to believe in them as much as you believe in yourself."

"You are attracting success because you are aligned with your purpose. Keep believing, keep moving forward, the best is yet to come."

"Your capacity to love and create is infinite. Everything you put your heart into doing, becomes art."

"You are exactly where you need to be. Every step you take brings you closer to the person you are destined to be."

Hi pile 3! You are definitely working hard for your dreams and I see that you will be someone very successful! Feel that you are someone artistic, who connects with the most sincere parts of yourself when creating, this will lead you to find your way. Keep going pile 3!

💕💖Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated 💖💕

[dilf-rot]

Hot Summer - MDNI 18+

TAGS: Wolverine x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Logan has a knot, idc if wolverines are not a canid species I’m doing my best ok, Femme Reader, Friends to lovers sort of deal, Mentions of rut / heat, maybe a little feral?, also im giving this bitch fangs because he should have them, smut with very little plot, creampie, helping a horny mutant in need, PinV, oral (fem receiving) ((for like 1 moment)), marking / hickeys / scratching, this is literally just smut with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 2560

A/N: Hey, remember when I asked if you would still love me if I wrote Logan with a knot? Yeah well here it is, may it comfort you in this terrible world <3 

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites  (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!) 

—------------

The summer at the institute was always a little boring, or even very boring. You were one of the few students who hadn’t made plans and ended up stuck in the mansion, doing mindless tasks and trying to not be bored out of your mind. It was mostly empty, and as you walked the halls, you hardly even noticed the change in atmosphere. It had just been you, Charles, and a few other kids that would pop up every now and then. So, you were rather surprised when you rounded the corner and saw him standing there. 

“Logan,” You call, and he turns to look at you. Your breath catching in your throat as you take in the sight of him, sweaty and a little dirty from whatever he had been doing. “I thought you were out for the summer?”

“Yeah, was. Chuck called me back, gotta fix up some things.” He looks you over, and smiles, the flash of his sharp canines sending flutters right through your stomach. 

“Oh, well it’s good to see you.” You try not to stare, wondering if he has somehow gotten even more alluring in his brief absence. The length of your shorts, and thin fabric of your tank making you feel much more bare now than before. “I’ll let you get back to it,” 

“Thanks, doll. We’ll catch up when I’m done.” Something in his voice feels different, but you try not to focus on it as you head over towards the kitchen. He did look rather good, maybe even more than he usually did. Though you had been trying desperately not to think of him in that way, to preserve one of the few friendships you had built here. But the image of him dripping in sweat, in a dirt stained beater and jeans that were tight in all the right spots. That image would make things harder for sure. The thoughts of his teeth sliding along your neck, his rough hands clinging to your hips. 

You pushed those thoughts down as best as you could and decided you would attempt to read, lounging in the corner of the kitchen, book in hand. Your eyes flicking across the pages, barely absorbing the words, just trying to give yourself a reasonable distraction. You weren’t sure how long you had been doing this before Logan had made his way into the kitchen. 

“Reading?”

“Barely-” you laugh, but are briefly silenced when you look up to see Logan, shirtless. He has his dirty tank in his hand, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t even that hot out for the season, and yet he was somehow soaked in sweat. You couldn’t imagine the work Charles had him doing to be that strenuous. 

“Oh yeah? Something on your mind?” He loops the fabric of the tank through one of his belt loops and walks over to the fridge. 

“Uh-” You can’t help the way your mind practically goes blank as you watch him. He’s taken a beer from the very back of the fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, hopefully he hadn’t chipped it or that would be another thing to add to his list of repairs. 

“You want one?” He references the drink in his hand, you nod and stand up from your chair. Whatever book you were reading was quickly forgotten and left on the floor. You stand next to him leaning against the counter as he opens the beer for you and hands it to you. He must’ve bought them and hid them in the back of the fridge whenever he had gotten back to the mansion, cause you couldn’t recall seeing any in there for the past few months. 

As you take the beer from him your fingers brush against his, and as if he had been shocked he flinches. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure, but you can tell something is going on. You step closer to him, your hip almost touching him. He leans down towards you, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

You want to turn your face towards his, to swallow him up in a kiss, to beg him to tell you what he was thinking. But as he moves closer to you, you find yourself paralyzed.

“You smell good,” he breathes in, his face inches away from your neck.

“So do you…” You turn your head to avoid his gaze. He smells better than usual. Something about the smell of sunshine, dirt, and whatever sawdust or debris had been falling onto him made you want to reach out and grab him, but before you could, he corners you. Your back against the counter, his hands finding your hips and effortlessly lifting you on top of the counter. He presses himself against you. You're caged in by his large arms, the muscles taut and glistening.

His face against your neck, his teeth almost brushing against your skin. His rough fingers digging into your hips. The fabric of his jeans rubbing up against your thighs, now wet from his sweat and your sudden excitement.

“Logan-” you whine, practically trembling, and he seems to remember himself.

“Sorry, doll.” He steps back and looks you over, a devious glint in his eye. Without another word he is gone from the kitchen. You are unsure of what to do, or what even was happening but eventually follow him.

He has resigned himself to his room, and you can hear him pacing back and forth behind the door. You knock gently and the sounds stop. He opens the door just a crack, he seems even sweatier and disheveled from when he had found you in the kitchen. His eyes piercing and intense, his pupils blown wide, his breath slow and shaky. 

“Logan, are you alright?”

He grunts in response, shaking his head. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks you over, and opens the door wider. You step inside and he quickly shuts the door. He looks even wilder than he had in the kitchen, still shirtless, only in his jeans. Which you try not to make note of the very large and obvious bulge in the crotch. His hair is messy and disheveled, you imagine he had been running his hands through it as he was pacing around.

“Logan?” You walk towards him and he makes a strangled sound. “Are you feeling ok?”

When he turns towards you, your heart races and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pathetic. Rendered down to some poor animalistic creature. He walks slowly towards you, and when he is a mere step away he grabs your hands and pins them up above you, your back pressed against the door. 

“You should go,” He growls into your ear as he brushes his nose against your jaw. “Too dangerous for you to be in here.”

“Why? You’re not gonna hurt me,” You lean into his touch, resting your head against his.

“Might,” He drops your wrists and tries to step away, but you follow. Keeping the gap between you as small as possible. He groans as you run your hands along his arms, trying to be gentle and encouraging so that he may tell you what’s going on. Before you can ask, he takes one of your hands and slides it underneath the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes widened as you feel the weight and heat of his cock in your hand. You curiously push your hand down more and feel a swollen bulb at the base of it. Oh. 

Oh. 

Now you understood. You had at some points wondered just how animalistic his mutation was, but now you got it. Late summer was a rather common breeding season for a variety of mammals and it seems as if Logan was one of them. 

“Let me help you,” You slide your fingers up the length of him, tracing the prominent vein on the underneath of the shaft.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” He shudders as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

“Why not?” You smile up at him, and you feel him straining to not thrust up into your hand.

“You might regret it.”

“I don’t think so,” you lean up so that your lips are nearly brushing his, and his restrain snaps.

He closes the distance and practically devours you, kissing you rough and desperately. 

It was as if a fire had been reignited within him and he could do nothing to put it out. His hands grasping and clawing at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against him. His lips leaving frenzied kisses against your jaw and neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin and his tongue soothing the small marks left in their wake.

He lifted you easily, dragging the both of you towards the bed where he tossed you down against the mess of sheets and pillows. His hands running along the curvature of your body, as if removing himself from you would cause him great pain. His face was wild, that of a crazed man who finally had found whatever he had been searching for.

You were utterly breathless and your heart beat rang in your ears loud as could be. He makes quick work of your clothes, tossing them off somewhere, his hands hardly leaving your body for more than a few seconds. He drags himself away from you for just long enough to find himself kneeling in front of you, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders, his head between them, looking up towards you with the most pathetically hungry expression you could have ever imagined.

“You’re sure doll?” His voice is strained and rough. 

You nod, your hands finding their way to tangle in his hair to softly encourage him to continue. He growls and presses his lips to your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin and taking the flesh into his mouth to nibble and bite at. Trailing up and down the length of each thigh, relishing in the small whines and moans leaving your mouth as he decorates your delicate skin with marks. Feeling satisfied that you were now his in this moment, he brings his attention to the aching spot between your thighs, dragging his tongue up through your folds to lap and suck upon your clit. The feeling electric and mind numbing. He slides his tongue along your clit in sloppy circular motions, sucking it in gently, generating small whimpers from you. He growls as he hungrily slurps you up, his patience growing thin as he becomes entirely enveloped in your scent. 

He pulls away from you, a small whine leaving your lips as you sit up and rest on your elbows to watch him. He quickly kicks off his pants, and you gasp when you see him. The tip of his cock is red with need and practically dripping. You feel a bit more intimidated now as you stare wide-eyed at the bulb throbbing at the base of his cock. You could only pray that it would fit. 

Logan smirks and hovers over you, caging you in with his large arms. “Having some regrets, princess?”

“No,” you lift your hips up to shamelessly rub yourself against his erection and he groans. One hand moving down your body to roughly grab your hip pushing you down into the mattress. He slides his cock between your wetness, your breath hitching when the head of his cock bumps against your clit. Your arousal coating him, the slick wet noises make your head spin. 

“Please,” You whine. He presses the tip against your entrance and you try to lift your hips closer to him, begging for it to slide inside. Your breath hitching when it finally does. He moves painfully slow, the drag of his cock slowly stretching you out. A sort of burning rising in your stomach as you strain to be closer to him.

“So desperate,” He huffs, wrapping an arm around you and holding you close against him as he bottoms out. Your whines make his heart ache. “I’ve got you princess, I’m right here.”

You claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can reach. The knot at the base of his cock pressing into you, you feel like you could break. Heat spreading over your entire body. You can’t get close enough. You want him to devour you. To take what he needs and worry about you later, but he’s being so gentle that it makes your eyes water. 

His pace stays slow, once he feels you relax, he pulls himself back before pressing in again. Slow, deliberate, patient. He watches your face as you try to play tough, acting like you can handle it despite your trembling. When you flutter around him and a broken moan falls from your mouth he falters.

“I don’t think I can be gentle for much longer,” He whispers against your neck, kissing right below your ear.

“So don’t be,” your whimper flips a switch in him. He would have preferred your first time together to be different than this, to be softer and sweeter. To be kinder to you. But when you beg to help him, and try to take him so good, he can’t help himself. 

He barely hesitates before his pace quickens, and the sheer force of his movements is enough to make your brain fuzzy and dumb. The headboard smacking into the wall with every rough movement, the bed frame creaking beneath you. You’d feel bad about all the noise if you were in any position to feel anything other than Logan ruthlessly fucking you. 

His cock stretches you in such a way that each thrust presses against that sweet spot inside you. The knot at the base pressing against your clit. The slap of it sends little waves of pleasure throughout your body. His pace hardly falters, as you grip onto his arms, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to take it. To help him through it. Wanting him to use you and be satiated. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he groans as he feels you tighten around him. You tremble and whine, shaking as your orgasm takes over and you can hardly think of anything as his motions begin to falter too. 

He shudders as he pumps into you, his ruthless pace being diminished into small quick thrusts. You groan as you feel the knot slip in, and he cums. You feel so utterly full as more and more cum is spilled into you. So much so that it’s dripping down onto the mattress beneath you. Your eyes rolling back in your head, and you can feel drool leaking from your open mouth. Your body feeling limp, you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open and steady enough to look at Logan. He seems hardly affected. 

“We’re gonna be here a while, Doll. Don’t get tired on me already,” Logan grins, pressing his lips against your neck and you shudder as you feel his sharp canines graze the sensitive skin.

At least the rest of your summer would be far from boring. 

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off. 

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.” 

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,” 

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh. 

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.” 

“Thank you?” 

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation. 

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure. 

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.” 

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.” 

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now. 

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.” 

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.” 

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm. 

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready. 

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations. 

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,” 

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong. 

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.” 

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.” 

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,” 

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,” 

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,” 

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?” 

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off. 

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all. 

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional. 

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot. 

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows. 

“You okay?” He checks. 

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,” 

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,” 

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,” 

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,” 

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him. 

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?” 

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,” 

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks. 

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else. 

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?” 

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought. 

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?” 

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,” 

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you. 

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,” 

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words. 

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,” 

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle. 

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again. 

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip. 

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,” 

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter. 

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,” 

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day. 

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?” 

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things. 

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?” 

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?” 

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner. 

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage. 

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation. 

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?” 

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?” 

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily. 

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,” 

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his. 

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again. 

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too. 

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,” 

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s. 

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,” 

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?” 

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?” 

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair. 

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours. 

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him. 

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position. 

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,” 

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful. 

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,” 

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,” 

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,” 

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you. 

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?” 

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,” 

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling. 

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar. 

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good. 

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?” 

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need. 

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,” 

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes. 

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?” 

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.” 

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes. 

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you. 

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue. 

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again. 

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything. 

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly. 

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this. 

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you. 

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate. 

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him. 

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding. 

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent. 

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile. 

His shoulders relax just a little. 

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.” 

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out. 

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,” 

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high. 

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut. 

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,” 

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step,  “Eight makes one team! Fighting!” 

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers. 

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all. 

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest. 

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is. 

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back. 

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly. 

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are. 

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself. 

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror. 

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link. 

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads. 

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it. 

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link. 

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap. 

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door. 

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?” 

“No,” You assure him. 

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,” 

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,” 

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.” 

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue. 

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,” 

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,” 

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.” 

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,” 

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight. 

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,” 

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus. 

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…” 

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change. 

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.” 

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,” 

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,” 

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you. 

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,” 

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho. 

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you. 

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?” 

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways. 

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,” 

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no. 

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,” 

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back. 

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience. 

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,” 

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage. 

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest. 

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops. 

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm. 

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number. 

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are. 

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing. 

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday. 

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel. 

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think. 

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says. 

“I waited,” You manage. 

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,” 

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?” 

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now. 

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?” 

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,” 

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,” 

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it. 

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door. 

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text. 

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it. 

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day. 

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,” 

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?” 

“It feels pretty real,” 

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,” 

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves. 

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?” 

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,” 

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,” 

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.” 

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words. 

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.” 

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,” 

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,” 

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing. 

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?” 

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see. 

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in. 

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,” 

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,” 

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head. 

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous. 

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,” 

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it. 

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,” 

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own. 

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge. 

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark. 

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,” 

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you. 

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?” 

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?” 

“Does it always feel like that?” 

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,” 

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,” 

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him. 

“Younger,” You say.  

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,” 

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had. 

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?” 

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other. 

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger. 

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,” 

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other. 

You wonder what more will feel like. 

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone. 

You nod. 

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face. 

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,” 

“You can feel that?” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,” 

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands. 

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw. 

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline. 

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,” 

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face. 

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back. 

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful. 

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time. 

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind. 

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,” 

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart. 

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs. 

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you. 

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,” 

His lips are on yours. 

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back. 

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other. 

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back. 

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh. 

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,” 

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound. 

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body.  You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again. 

 His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss. 

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue. 

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access. 

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly. 

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction. 

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth. 

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you. 

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him. 

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,” 

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”  

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,” 

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex. 

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you. 

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” 

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again. 

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,” 

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor. 

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you. 

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,” 

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.” 

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart. 

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,” 

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,” 

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,” 

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,” 

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic. 

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.” 

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,” 

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike. 

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?” 

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?” 

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,” 

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.” 

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders. 

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?” 

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years. 

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you. 

Your tight hands uncurl. 

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,” 

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,” 

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters. 

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,” 

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips. 

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,” 

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether. 

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.” 

He’s yours. 

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips. 

“This is real,” You murmur. 

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again. 

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again. 

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,” 

“Together,” You nod. 

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?” 

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,” 

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before. 

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,” 

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed. 

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone. 

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer. 

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?” 

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right. 

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,” 

“This is nice,” You smile. 

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,” 

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?” 

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.” 

 “I had no idea,” 

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly. 

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?” 

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,” 

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,” 

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,” 

He laughs. 

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess. 

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,” 

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,” 

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,” 

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching? 

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?” 

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?” 

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,” 

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,” 

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks. 

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,” 

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive. 

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,” 

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,” 

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.” 

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,” 

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,” 

You nod. 

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.” 

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling. 

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,” 

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,” 

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,” 

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?” 

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,” 

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace. 

“What time?” He glances back to the clock. 

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,” 

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,” 

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,” 

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,” 

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase. 

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,” 

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you. 

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,” 

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,” 

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in. 

“What?” 

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction. 

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?” 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,” 

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him. 

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,” 

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets. 

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,” 

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him. 

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other. 

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it. 

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank. 

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,” 

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?” 

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.” 

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,” 

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?” 

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken. 

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,” 

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,” 

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,” 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,” 

“For status?” He surmises. 

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,” 

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again. 

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,” 

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?” 

“It could,” 

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.” 

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears. 

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,” 

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop. 

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.” 

Your smile at his warm expression. 

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,” 

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?” 

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,” 

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?” 

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,” 

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,” 

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”  

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.” 

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth. 

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back. 

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,” 

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,” 

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,” 

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,” 

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank. 

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest. 

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen. 

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?” 

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,” 

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away. 

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?” 

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by  Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum. 

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,” 

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper. 

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair. 

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?” 

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh. 

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.” 

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going. 

“Naive is what it is,” 

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?” 

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?” 

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.” 

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho. 

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod. 

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.” 

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.” 

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features. 

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,” 

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.” 

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know. 

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,” 

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.” 

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces. 

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.” 

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits. 

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link. 

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.” 

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,” 

Your mouth feels dry. 

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.” 

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,” 

You both wait. 

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.” 

Yunho nods. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand. 

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.” 

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,” 

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,” 

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,” 

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,” 

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,” 

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.” 

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?” 

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns. 

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages. 

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these? 

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,” 

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,” 

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room. 

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.” 

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?” 

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,” 

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,” 

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful. 

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand. 

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off. 

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains. 

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,” 

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,” 

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go. 

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive. 

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,” 

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room. 

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor. 

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?” 

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed. 

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,” 

“With some guy?” She stands. 

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth. 

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,” 

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy. 

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you. 

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.” 

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words. 

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.” 

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?” 

“I’m not letting this go,” 

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.” 

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing. 

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?” 

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?” 

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?” 

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?” 

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,” 

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water. 

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.” 

“Okay,” 

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks. 

“Fine,” 

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,” 

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool. 

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances. 

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look. 

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional. 

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see. 

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him. 

You miss him. 

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this. 

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process. 

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness. 

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact. 

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am? 

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses. 

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning. 

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face. 

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply. 

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile. 

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says. 

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first. 

That’s good - You send back. 

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply. 

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type? 

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess? 

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him. 

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat. 

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous. 

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand. 

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again. 

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply. 

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t. 

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting. 

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.  

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night. 

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast. 

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night. 

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night. 

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet. 

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath. 

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones? 

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table. 

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done. 

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser. 

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan. 

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,” 

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?” 

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words. 

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.” 

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together. 

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.” 

You want me? - You ask. 

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.” 

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows. 

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?” 

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach. 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,” 

I was tossing and turning. 

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,” 

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in. 

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it. 

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,” 

Wearing? 

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?” 

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,” 

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray. 

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.” 

Me too 

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.” 

Me either - You confess. 

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?” 

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?” 

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,” 

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you. 

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong. 

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.” 

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it. 

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around. 

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.” 

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants. 

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.