#there are certain times when it actually gets harder

[fumiscripts]

✦ SO, BABY, HOLD MY HAND NOW

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

content:: kaiser never would've thought he'd be falling first and harder. after an inner debate, he decided he'll ask you out on valentines. he's not sure what to do, though one thing was for certain: he wants to make you happy

valentines fic ,, fluff ,, 877 words

additional:: WHIPPED loser kaiser who tries to act nonchalant, implied childhood friends if you squint, he prolly would not do allat but like c'mon man it's valentines let's have a little fluff, ts is so sappy like actually, kaiser attempts to pin after reader, ending is open heh

Kaiser believed that he was a nonchalant, male manipulator.

But, really, he could not be any more dramatic than this.

Seriously, what was wrong with him? Thinking corny, cheesy thoughts about you like he liked you. He's killing himself inside every time his mind points towards the idea of holding your hand, or whatever couples do, cringing at himself— which was a shocker, as he never seemed embarrassed from whatever bullshit he constantly does— and tweaking out violently. And not the kicking feet and giggling type of tweaking. The pulling hair, screaming into a pillow type of tweaking.

He's Michael Kaiser, for fuck's sake, not some hopeless romantic! Why was he even thinking of you? You're so mid compared to him. Seriously, you didn't deserve to be going through his head 24/7. You didn't deserve the way he feels warm whenever he sees a smile grace your face, didn't deserve how stupidly much he wanted to be the reason for it— to be the reason you're happy.

Well, you're close to him, that much he can say. To the point the two of you had witnessed each other while on their most vulnerable. Kaiser found himself sincerely caring for you—but that doesn't mean he liked liked you.

So what? He could wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you around by your hand whenever the two of you were walking, and you could still be friends. In fact, he does lots of the latter. A lot of hand holding. He could say the weight of your hand was perfect against his–

God, he really needed to stop.

The way it’s nearing Valentines is not helping. Usually, he’d find these days boring and meaningless— but now that you’re in the picture? Yeah, no, it’s different. While crashing out over his feelings, he had come to a simple conclusion: He’s gonna ask you out. In the most extravagant way possible because he’s Michael Kaiser. Plus, if he was to ask you for a date with him, he needs to at least make it seem like you were the one desperate for him, and that he was only doing it as a favor. Really, he just wanted to take you out, though he denies it.

On the day, you were greeted by a notification from him, a short one, to not make it seem like he had been staring at his phone for minutes, debating how to write the message.

“Dress up, we're going somewhere.”

The text stated, making you wonder what the hell he’s making you get ready for so early in the morning. But you made the effort to follow along, anyway. If he was up to tomfoolery, you were in. Maybe you'll shit on couples, who knows.

You could hear him pull up an hour later, just in time when you were finished doing your morning routine. Opening the door, you were greeted with him leaning against the wall— acting all cool and composed, when he had been pacing back and forth anxiously while waiting for you to open the door— Kaiser spots you and pushes himself up, leaning on the doorframe, instead.

“Hey,” he forced the word out, trying not to let the way you looked so good get to him. His palms were sweating. Why were they sweating? He's not nervous. Totally not… was he? Kaiser forced out a smile, shoving an obnoxiously flashy bouquet of blue roses in your direction, having it from behind his back to in your arms. Seeing your puzzled expression, he rolled his eyes, shifting his position again to tilt his head, looking down at you.

This was his attempt at making a scene with close proximity, like what he had seen in those low-budget romcoms the both of you watch for shits and giggles. Really, he does not have any experience in relationships— all of this was ripped off straight out of movies and books he read, just to try and impress you.

“Happy valentines,” Kaiser greeted. Before it could seem too mushy and sweet, he followed up. “Since I just know you're lonely and all, I decided why the hell not take you out on a date? Better than being single while sappy couples are kissing all around you, hm? How lucky you are, scoring a date with me of all people.”

The surprise written on your face quickly transformed into a hint of slight annoyance. “...I never complained about being single on valentines…? Are you sure you didn't just wanna ask me out? I'm not shaming you for that,” you say, having a slightly amused grin right after. Kaiser wanted to wipe it right off your face.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, before offering you his hand. A simple, romantic gesture. “Yes, I'm asking you out.”

You stared at his hand, raising an eyebrow. To which he sighed, heat rising up to his face at the thought of being out here and doing something soft and romantic with you— wanting to see you smile and enjoy the day because of him. You weren't stupid, you saw the soft hues of red on the tips of his ears, and the way those blue eyes softened just the slightest as he muttered something out.

“Just hold my hand now.”

happy late valentines y'all 😓

taglist (ask to be added) @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku, @lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2025. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[muhlsworld]

SURPRISE VISITS

pairing: nika muhl x fem!reader

synopsis: nika surprises you and the team

WARNINGS: fluff ?

you can find the request here!

it was game day today. you and the rest of the uconn women’s basketball team were getting ready for shoot around before the game. you guys had just lost to tennessee and were coming back times harder for this game.

once you and the team had arrived to the court you were met with a pleasant surprise. you were the first to walk in and that’s when you saw her. your girlfriend. nika muhl. standing there with a stupid grin on her face.

you had no idea that she would be here. you immediately ran up to her and hugged her. “what are you doing here? why didn’t you tell me,” you asked her. “i wanted to surprise you and the team and well i had some free time.” you said with a shrug. “you ass you could’ve told me.” you said shoving her playfully. “i wanted to surprise you baby.” she said.

the rest of team finally realized what was going on and realized that nika was here. paige immediately ran up to her and bumped you slightly. “moveeee my twin is here.” paige said. you laughed slightly because you knew how much she missed her best friend. “twin i missed you so much, it’s so hard taking care of all these children without you.” she said sarcastically.

a few minutes went by as everyone was catching up with nika until geno yelled at everyone to get ready for practice.

practice was over and that left you guys with a bit of time to spend with nika. you guys went back to your dorm before you had to get ready for the game.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” you said as you lay in nikas arms. “me too.” she said as she softly stroked your hair.

after about an hour of laying together nika spoke up. “as much as i love spending time with you like this, you need to get ready for the game.” you shook your head scooted closer to her. “i don’t need geno yelling at me when im no longer on the team.” she said with a laugh and you laughed too.

you guys had won the game by a landslide and you were certain it was because nika was at the game today. you didn’t know how long nika was staying for but you wanted to make the best of it.

instead of going out, since it was a school night, you and the rest of the team had decided to have one of those movie night you used to have before nika had graduated.

since she left it didn’t feel right to have one without her. but now that she was back it was the perfect time to have one.

you and the whole team spent most of the night awake talking to nika.

towards the end of the night you and nika were cuddled up on the couch while everyone else was scattered across the floor asleep.

“thank you so much for coming.” you said in a whisper. “we all really miss you. it’s not the same without you. but today felt like you never left. we really needed it.” you said softly again. nika simply nodded and gave you a quick kiss before you both fell asleep.

A/N: i actually kinda like this one. send in more request 🙏

[natalicss]

Glitter & Crimson

kwon ji-yong x american pop star!reader

summary: you and ji-yong live busy lives. as both of you start preparing for new albums and tours, as well as manage long distance during the holiday of love, the pressure of it all seems to get to you. set in the same universe as like we were in paris

warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, reader is working herself too hard, mentions of not eating, not proofread, implied age gap (reader is mid twenties), reader crashes out a lil bit, if i missed any lemme know and ill add it (i still don’t know how to use tumblr)

word count: 4.2K

nat’s notes: hey y’all!! in honor of valentine’s day i wanted to write SOMETHING, and this is what came out. i don’t actually know how romantic this is but…it’s more of american pop star & jiyong sooo im not gonna complain. i also didn’t tag anyone cause…for some reason that scares me so whoops. OH the little divider thing below is by strangergraphics btw

Valentine’s day, a cliche holiday that people often either love or despise. You usually felt pessimistic, for years. For years, you spent the holiday with your friends, going out and drinking nights away, dancing in clubs and wearing flattering outfits. If you weren’t doing that, you were curled up at home surrounded by your favorite snacks as you binged watched your favorite show. You didn’t like Valentine’s day, but you took the day to take care of yourself.

And then you met Ji-yong.

It was almost embarrassing, how easily that man swept you off your feet. A whimsical fairytale of unexpected friends to lovers. He made every day an adventure, one way or another. Never a second did you doubt your love for him. Not even when the two of you went months without seeing each other, swept up in busy schedules. Not even when the two of you kept your relationship a secret from fans and the industry for years. That didn’t go well, considering you two leaked it yourselves by locking lips at a Chanel fashion show…oops.

You grew to love Valentine’s day, the both of you using it as an excuse to share how much you adored and cared about each other even more than you already did. Flowers, chocolates, romantic dates, you two had done it all at this point. So, you couldn’t help but feel a little ache in your heart as you walked into your LA dance studio, getting ready for tour rehearsals. 

While Ji-yong was busy himself with rehearsals, preparing for his new album, his new show, and everything else that comes with G-Dragon’s comeback, you were worrying about your own. Your fifth album was released a couple months ago, and the pending start of your tour was coming quicker than you anticipated. After the fashion show, and a few remaining days with your boyfriend, you had no choice but to return back to America and continue getting ready. You two barely had time to bask in the reality that everybody knew about your relationship, now separated by the ocean.

Your days were filled with chaos. From the Grammys, to meeting with stylists and trying different pieces, to rehearsals for choreography, to overlooking the stage setup and the designs, to picking out your microphones, meeting with various crew members, you barely had a moment to breathe. With the time difference adding on to that, you and Ji-yong found keeping in contact a bit harder than usual. For years, it didn’t matter. If one of you was busy, the other wasn’t, and the two of you could compromise schedules, take phone calls at random times, and find more free time to travel back and forth. But this? This was different. 

You were standing in a large studio with your backup dancers and your choreographer, all of you covered in sweat, your body's aching, and your hearts pounding against your chests. Valentine’s day was this week, and you tried hard not to focus on it. It was your first Valentine’s day that you wouldn’t be with your boyfriend. And while in reality, that wasn’t that big of a deal, it hurt knowing that you weren’t even certain when you’d see him next.

Trying not to dwell on it, you focused on your work. Pushing yourself farther than usual. You moved with precision and acted as if the studio was your stage. Your choreographer, who you’d been working with for years, watched you intently as you and your dancers swung your hips to the beat. You held a microphone to your lips, singing along to your latest single. You strut, looking at the mirror and the would-be crowd. You felt every movement. It burned. It ached. It stung. Your lungs felt like they were going to collapse. You hadn’t worked this hard, this long, since your first world tour. Back then, you felt like you had something to prove. New to the industry, blowing up alongside some of the best artists. You wanted to show that you were meant to be there. 

In a way, you felt like that now. Five albums later, your fourth world tour, and you felt that need to prove that you still were that American pop-princess they crowned you to be. Maybe it was the press finally getting to you. Comments on how your last tour wasn’t as extravagant, how you haven’t been in the media as much the last few years, resulting in a potential downfall in your career. Maybe it was the need to please the fans, knowing they’ve been waiting for almost two years for this tour. Knowing they were going to want it to be good, better than before. Maybe it was your team, who constantly had their own thoughts and opinions on what your setlist should be, what outfits you should wear, where your tour dates should be. It was normal, expected when you’ve been in the industry. Knowing that still didn’t diminish the weight on your shoulders as you moved your legs with an articulate move.

One of your dancers, Raphael, was trying to hide the concern on his face as the two of you continued your dance for another song. He had been one of your dancers since your second tour, and a good friend along the way. He knew you better than most people here, other than maybe your best friend who was quietly watching from the sidelines. He’d seen you working hard like this for weeks. Even before you left for Paris, he had started to get worried as he watched you push and push and push. You could take a lot, you were strong and ambitious, things he admired. But everybody had a limit. 

He thought you would have gotten some rest after your performance in Paris, taking a few days off to spend with Ji-yong before coming back to LA. That had given him some temporary relief. But when you got back, his concern was back more than ever. He noticed how little you did anything else. You were hardly eating, coming into your work days with circles under your eyes, you had started to become more agitated when anyone made mistakes, especially yourself. You barely took breaks. When the other dancers were sitting down, drinking water, eating their lunches, you were still on the floor, practicing harder moves and trying to perfect them.

Raphael was staring at you now, watching as your body faced him, your head still angled towards the mirror as you sang. Your hand pressed into his chest, pushing him slightly as the two of you moved in sync. He walked backwards, watching you closely. Your eyes were glossed over with exhaustion, red from lack of sleep, and your skin was sticky with sweat. His eyes danced over you, watching the way your hand shook holding the microphone. The way your legs started to move with less precision. You missed a note. Other dancers noticed, keeping up with their own routine but sending looks at Raphael and each other. 

You slowly blinked as you moved with them, seemingly out of it. As you spun, everything around you seemed to, too. Your vision blurred, the room rotating in odd angles as you started to stumble in your steps. Part of you knew something was wrong, but another part of you refused to accept it, pushing. You kept the microphone up by your lips, continuing to sing despite the way your lungs were burning for more oxygen. Your choreographer stood up straight, her eyebrows furrowing. You pulled the microphone away to continue a dance break, but as you started the first difficult move, the room began to spin in a nauseating way. 

Your brain couldn't catch up as you started to fall forward. Raphael wrapped an arm around you, yelling your name in panic as the two of you collided with the floor. The choreographer quickly stopped the music, everyone in the room starting to crowd around you. Your friend came over, bottled water in hand, and their phone as they looked you over. In a few moments, your eyes fluttered open, and in the one moment your body stopped overworking you could feel the way every part of you was hurting. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Your choreographer asked, looking you over. “Give them some room,” Dancers started to step back, their eyes never leaving you. You groaned, sitting up slowly as Raphael kept a hand on your shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly, reaching for the water in your friends hand. “I just haven’t drank enough water today. I’m good.”

Raphael and your friend shared knowing looks. “Y/N, maybe you should take a minute. You just passed out, again-” “I’m fine!” The two of them watched as you pushed off the floor harshly. You still swayed in your steps, but you remained upwards. You started chugging the water, crushing the plastic before throwing it towards the trashcan. You shook your limbs, as if that would erase the exhaustion. “Again!” 

Raphael clenched his jaw, knowing that you couldn’t go on like this. If you did, tour wasn’t going to last more than a couple shows. You had passed out at a practice a couple weeks ago, too. When you and your crew were getting ready for the Gala Des Pièces Jaunes event, you had over-exerted yourself and collapsed. That time, Raphael hadn’t been able to catch you, and you had landed harshly on the floor. And though he had been there to catch you this time, you might not be so lucky if you were on stage. He looked in the direction of your friend, who was back on the side lines. They were thinking the same thing.

But you weren’t listening. At every concerned comment your friend made, you brushed it off with a dismissive huff, and any time Raphael suggested to you to rest, or eat, or take a day off, you shot back with a snarky remark. You were too busy to take a break. You had too much counting on this tour. You had to be perfect.

So, they had to reach out to the one person you would listen to.

Ji-yong was entirely unaware of exactly how much work you were putting yourself through. He knew you were busy, as he was doing many of the same things you were. And sure, he noticed some tension in your voice when he asked you about your days, but he thought it was just anxiety. You’d always been so nervous when big projects were coming up. It was what made your shows so amazing, the way you cared about your work, your fans. The message was clear in every lyric, every dance, and more. 

So, when he got a phone call mid-afternoon from Raphael, he was a little confused. The two of them were friends, of course, but they hardly talked one-on one. Still, he answered it, bringing his phone to his ear as he excused himself from the room filled with management. “Hello?”

“Hi, sorry to bother you man,” Raphael says. In his voice, Ji-yong can here something that he couldn’t exactly place. Like something was lurking behind his tone.

“No, it’s fine,” Ji-yong says kindly. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a lingering silence, some shuffling on the other end. Raphael sighs as he takes a moment to find the right words. “No, uh, not really. It’s Y/N.”

Ji-yong tenses, his thumb playing with the rings on his fingers. “What’s going on?” He asks warily.

“Has she told you about the tour?”

“Parts.” Ji-yong says, trying hard to keep his tone light and unnerved. “She’s been busy, so we haven’t talked about it in detail.”

Raphael scoffs slightly, “She’s been busy, alright.” Ji-yong hears Raphael shuffle more, “We’re worried about her, man. She’s been working herself to the bone.”

Ji-yong blinks. “Is she stressed?” He thinks about all the things the two of you did to cope with anxiety. Whether it was breathing exercises, meditation, listening to music, he thinks about mentioning it to him-

“She’s more than that. She’s barely sleeping, eating, she passed out at practice again–”

“What do you mean again?”

Raphael exhales loudly, “She didn’t tell you about that either?” He is chuckling lowly. Ji-yong is looking at the floor, his mind all over the place. “For that gala, she was working so much, she fainted at practice a couple days before the show.”

Ji-yong is pacing, unable to stop himself. How had you not told him? How had he not noticed? He always asked you if you ate that day, he always texted you little reminders to eat breakfast, drink water. You had always done the same for him, too, knowing his own struggles with his mental health and working himself too hard. A guilty ache in his gut made him suddenly feel uncomfortable in his skin.

“She’s not listening to anybody. We’ve all tried telling her to take a break, to eat, to take a fucking nap. She just gets mad.” Raphael’s words make Ji-yong wince, painfully understanding what that was like. “Which is why I called you.”

Ji-yong is looking around the building he’s in, looking out the window. Seoul moved around him like it always had. His team was in a room just a few feet away, working away at his album, his tour, his press tours. And yet, all of that felt silly now as he thought about you. His partner who he truly cared about more than himself. He clenched his jaw, scratching at his hair as he tries to think clearly. He could call you, scold you for your carelessness for yourself and try to knock some sense into you. But he knew you better than that, just like you did. You knew how upset he’d be at you for working too hard, so you hadn’t mentioned it, leaving out key points in conversation. And he knew you wouldn’t listen, not to a phone call. 

So, desperate times call for desperate measures.

As the week of Valentines continued, so did you. You continued working hard, refusing to acknowledge worried comments from your co-workers. Even your manager had tried to say something, only to get snapped at (which didn’t happen often). If your choreographer conveniently got sick, like today, that didn’t stop you from going to the studio and continuing practice alone. 

The music blared from the speakers, but your own heavy breathing and the squeaking of tennis shoes was louder in your ears. You chose not to sing today, the only leniency you’d give your body. Instead, you focused on the set, practicing a new song that was going to be released with the deluxe version of your album. You moved your arms with the music, tilting your body in various directions, imagining your dancers were there to help create the perfect image. You swing your body in a sensual motion, sinking lower to the ground. Your body was screaming at you, almost begging you to stop as you stood back up. You glared at your own reflection. You could see it. The exhaustion. The stress. You could feel the pressure scratching into your muscles like claws.

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared at yourself. You had lost weight, probably from the lack of meals and the extreme amounts of exercise. Your eyes red with bags under them. You looked almost sick, from how tired you were. You could feel it. And yet you didn’t let your body stop. As a particularly intense part came up, tears streamed down your pale cheeks as you pushed. Every move was hit exactly as it should be. Extreme, fast, smooth, and a hint of flirtation as you beamed at the mirror like your fans were watching from the other side. You ignored the way your throat burned at the sobs threatening to escape you. You ignored the way your arms were aching every time you moved. You ignored how your feet suddenly felt to heavy to move.

Until you hit the floor.

Your legs had given out on you, letting you land in a heap of limbs. You scrunch your face up in pain, tears falling more rapidly. You pushed yourself up slowly, staring down at the floor like it had pulled you down. It wasn’t good enough. You weren’t good enough. This tour was going to fall apart, and it’d be entirely your fault. Your fans would be disappointed, your dancers and your crew would lose their jobs, your team would be mad at you, and you would have to face it all alone-

You let out a scream of frustration, slamming your hands against the floor repeatedly. The scream eventually contorted into a strangled sob. Your body shook, no longer having the energy to get up. You leaned back down, your forehead resting against the floor a you heaved. All of the stress, the overbearing pressure, the weeks of working hours and hours a day. It all washes over you like a bone crushing tsunami. 

You didn’t notice the door opening, something dropping to the floor, and running footsteps until someone grabs you.

Initially, you flinch at the touch. Expecting it to be Raphael or your friend, you shoot up from the floor, trying to scoot away from them. But instead, you’re facing a wide-eyed mint-haired Ji-yong. Your boyfriend. Who was, last you checked, supposed to be in Seoul, not LA. 

You blink. Were you hallucinating? For a moment, he just stared at you. He’d never seen you like this. Stressed? Tired? Absolutely. But this was different. Oddly reminiscent of his own past. The thought shook him to his core. His expression softened as he reached for you, his hand falling on your shoulder. You looked back at him, his touch bringing you back to reality. This was real, he was in front of you, and he’d just walked into your studio to see you in a pile of tears. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice hoarse. You look him over, he looked in much better condition than you. Except for the worry in his eyes that made you shrink back into your guilt.

“Your friends called me.” Ji-yong explains, reaching up and pushing your hair out of your face. You felt warm to the touch, too warm. “They’re worried about you, and so am I,” You looked away from him. You didn’t want to face the guilt, the anxiety, the feelings bubbling up in you the last few weeks. “Talk to me,”

You could only shrug, meek. You looked around the studio. “It’s not going to work.” You whisper. He frowns. “The tour. It’s going to fail. I’m going to mess up, or it’s not going to be good enough, and everyone is going to hate it, and I can’t risk that. I can’t mess this up-”

“Jagiya,” Ji-yong’s voice cuts through the air with an unexpected warmth. You look at him. “All of this will be perfect, but none of this is worth basically killing yourself for.” He slides closer to you, “You can’t give it your all if you’re like this. You of all people know that.” He was right. His clear calm words sinking into you. “You’re not going to mess this up. You’re not going to disappoint anyone. You’re not going to fail.” You feel tears roll down your face, and then you feel his touch. As he wipes them away, you lean into his palm for comfort. 

“I missed you,” You whimper.

“I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered back. Slowly, you came forward. You let his arms wrap around you as you curled into his chest, letting out a slow sigh as you finally let your body relax. He ran his fingers through your hair, holding you close. He rested his chin on top of your head, sitting in silence for a moment. His heart hurt with you, for you. You had always been your own biggest critic, he shared a similar testament for himself. But seeing you like this, something so unlike you, made his chest ache. “For the rest of the week, you’re relaxing.”

You sit up again, wide, fearful eyes looking at his calm ones. “I can’t! We have dress rehearsal-”

“You’re not arguing with me on this. Your choreographer already agreed.” His tone was slightly more stern, remaining soft whilst still showing how serious he was. You pressed your lips into a line. “I’m here all week, and you and I are both going to rest.” 

“But you have so much to do. The album-”

“Can wait a few days. I promise.” He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s get home. I’ll run you a bath and we can watch your favorite show.”

You stare at him, pondering the offer. But he can see as your expression softens, the dark cloud looming over your features fading away. “Can we make hot cocoa?” You ask quietly. 

He can only smile. “Of course.” He tells you. You crack a smile, then. He slowly starts to stand up, pulling you with him. As he turns to grab your bags, you tug at his wrist. He spins back to face you, gasping as you kiss him harshly. His hands find their home on your waist, pulling you into him. It had been a few weeks since the two of you saw each other, and neither of you expected your reunion to go like this. You poured out every feeling into the kiss, letting him know just how much you missed him, how much you loved him, how truly excited you were to see him underneath your layers of exhaustion. 

He never let go of your hand, managing to carry both your dance bag and the bag he’d haphazardly packed before basically running to the airport in one hand. The two of you looked at each other, the conversation slowly flowing into non-work related things. It was like he could see the weight lifting off your shoulders. His presence alone bringing some sort of peace to you. He knew you needed this, and in a way he needed it too.

And when Valentine’s day finally rolled around, he’d made sure to pull out the stops. You’d woken up to breakfast in bed, a ribbon-wrapped box with an expensive necklace, flowers, flowers, and more flowers. You’d done what you could for him, too. Getting him some new rings and scarves, a sentimental handwritten note filled with words of adoration and love. For part of the day, the two of you stayed in your tangled sheets. Fingers tracing bare skin and soft kisses. Whispers of love and arms wrapped around bodies. 

When the evening came, Ji-yong had told you to dress nice. The two of you ended up at your favorite restaurant, the first nice place you took him to when he came to visit you for the first time. Of course he’d been in LA plenty of times before, but the time with you was different. It was more special than all the rest. And now, he remembered that fondly as he watches you sit at the same table (merely a coincidence, or fate he thinks), your eyes finally filled with that familiar love and light. You looked at him, smiling wide. He could die happy knowing he was ever the cause of that smile. 

“I love you, you know.” You said casually, admiring him. He blinks, his cheeks flushing a soft pink that was still noticeable in the warm light. You tilted your head, smiling even more. This is it, you think. This is what you wanted life to be like. You and Ji-yong. You realize that everything else could disappear, fall apart, slip from your grasp, but as long as you had him you’d be okay. This wasn’t the first time marriage crossed your mind, but it was the first time you ever imagined your wedding and confidently believed it would eventually become reality. The idea of walking down the aisle to your Ji-yong. Picturing him looking at you dressed in white. Spending the rest of your life with him. It all seemed like a dream, but it felt like it was all exactly what you wanted.

Ji-yong reaches for your hand over the table. He’s sure he’d never let you go if he had the choice. He looks at you, watching the way you’re glowing even in the dim lights. The way you looked at him enough to make him melt. He knew that you were it for him. You were the person he wanted to come home to every night. The person he wanted to kiss every day before he walked out the door. The person he would hold when he was upset. The person he’d bicker with until you were grey and old. The person he’d have a family with. It wasn’t a question, and there wasn’t another possibility to him. It was all a matter of time. Whether it was tomorrow, next week, next year, whenever. He didn’t know where his life was taking him, but he knew it was all going to be with you.

“I love you, too.”

[chanranghaeys]

☀️ here, there, and everywhere

This journal belongs to: me. If found, please contact this number. (And please do not read it—unless you want to read the ramblings of a person who fails to deny their feelings for a certain someone.)

pairing: lee chan x gn!reader word count: 2.5k+ genre: fluff for (belated) happy chan day and carat day! rating: pg tags: college friends, they grew up, time skips between entries, mutual pining, happy (open) ending, stream of consciousness, excessive italics, please read the whole thing as if it were a private journal of sorts warnings: mentions of alcohol, death of a family member (brief mention, off the page)

a/n: this is a self-indulgent piece on my ultimate crush and the love of my (kpop) life, lee chan. i can’t keep denying you, so here we go. in an alternate universe, you would’ve been my best friend that i loved to hate and hated to love, until one of us finally gave in to our feelings and hoped for the best. happy birthday chan! you’ve given me nothing but color in my life ever since i became a carat. i wish you all the beautiful flower paths ahead ✨

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Dear Chan,

You must think me pathetic if you ever found one of these letters.

It sucks…this little crush I’ve discovered I have on you. And I am only saying this ONCE on the page. And to no one else. Because when you talk about a crush, it only grows, right?

So I'll just talk about it to myself.

I hate crushes because they are so unexplainable. They’re unexplainable feelings that latch on to you so hard and never let you go until you fumble and mess up and just make an utter fool of yourself.

I first found out I had a crush on you last month.

I had long admired you from afar through your dancing. You’re beautiful when you dance—in the zone, focused, bursting with energy. I’m genuinely jealous of how you can do the things you do with your body, how you tell such beautiful stories with every little move you make.

But it was that time during a production runthrough—the simultaneous evaluations—where you made that one mistake almost fatal to your team on that one sequence you spent weeks perfecting.

Yet there you were onstage, just laughing it off. So instead of your team being anxious or frustrated, they just laughed along with you.

It turned out to be the best performance of the night, your laughing played off as banter and camaraderie by the guest audiences.

That’s when I first felt the intense grip of this thing called feelings on my poor little heart.

Absolutely disgusting.

Anyway.

This “writing letters I'll never send to you” is all just for me to really process all these feelings I’ve discovered for you. No other reason aside from that. In my head, this is a form of acknowledgment so I can easily get over whatever this is.

So yeah. Feelings. A crush. On you—someone younger than me—of all people. I can’t believe it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We were crossing the street when you suddenly held my hand. You did that to pull me to the other side of the road farther from the direction of the car.

“Be careful,” you said.

I shouldn’t feel special. Maybe you do this with everyone else anyway.

I hate how I can’t help but feel just a teensy bit special. Indulge me on this.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I hate how you’re so stubborn. I hate how you’re so passionate. I hate how you’re such an amazing dancer. If I didn’t know better, I’d be so goddamn jealous of you.

Well, maybe I already am.

But above all that, I feel so in awe of you.

I hate how amazing you are in everything you do.

I hate how you’re actually inspiring me to be a better person. Little by little.

You’re inspiring me to be more diligent, to work harder, to believe in myself and my artistry way more than I ever thought I could—even through the infinite doubts.

Because that’s what you do to me.

“You can do it!” you said. “I’ll be right in the audience cheering for you, too. Because you’re my number one supporter, I’ll also be your number one supporter.”

I hate how you’re right. Why do you always have to be right?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

I don’t understand why you would do such things to me and for me.

It was such a simple and offhand remark.

“Is that a new necklace?” you asked.

“Nah,” I replied.

“It’s pretty. I don’t usually see you wearing that necklace. Where's the other one? The silver one with the daisy pendants?”

It was only because that one—my favorite one—broke and I didn’t have the time to have it fixed yet. Too busy with org scheds.

And you know what you said?

“Give it to me. I’ll have it fixed.”

What in the actual—

You didn’t have to do it, Chan.

Yet there I was, handing over my most prized possession...to you, my...friend.

You better give it back to me fixed, or else.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

We’re in the library pretending to study for this godforsaken exam. I’ve practically given up on it.

(lol just kidding I can’t do that)

So we’re on a break. You’re sitting right in front of me, writing something down in your own notebook. Good thing the tables are a bit wide. I really wish that you won’t be able to see your name plastered on top of this page.

I never pegged you for someone who writes. In my head, I will take this as my own influence over you after my constant stories of how journaling and writing is such a simple thing that can heal you so easily and thoroughly.

Maybe my influence, and Seungkwan’s as well. At least he’s a good influence.

It was so funny, even, how you made a huge show of showcasing your little black notebook. When you opened it, I saw that it was already bookmarked at the halfway point.

So you do write. You have been writing.

Stop making my crush on you grow. Stop.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You were so drunk last night. I don’t think you’ll remember any of it today.

But I remember everything crystal clear.

You’ve had how many bottles of soju at that point. You slung your arm around me and leaned your head on my shoulder. Never mind how fast my heart was beating at that point. Whether from alcohol, or you know what, I will never know.

You told me, “You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

Your best friend.

A friend.

A stake to the heart would’ve hurt less, in my opinion.

But then again, better a best friend than nothing at all.

I wish I was as drunk as you were last night. Maybe I could forget that one sentence and just carry on living as if this thing between us is nothing.

As if us holding hands the entire night last night under the guise of you “needing a steady hand to hold so you wouldn't fall because you were drunk as hell” is no indication of any thing.

Whatever this thing is.

Sincerely,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I promised not to write anymore—believe me I tried. We’re best friends, right?

Best friends meet up for breakfast before going separate ways for the day, right?

Best friends make sure to ask if you’re home at the end of every day, right?

Best friends have random snacks or your go-to pick-me-up drink delivered to you when they know you’re having a terrible day, right?

Best friends do that, right?

Even if they’re both in separate relationships already?

I’m so confused. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t make it make sense.

Maybe it’s just me and these lingering and unresolved feelings. I hate them.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Thank you for meeting me as soon as I called. Thank you for holding me as my world fell apart. Thank you for comforting me even as my tears fell. Thank you for being reliable. Thank you for giving me my comfort ice cream. Thank you for helping me through this breakup even though I know you’re on the brink of your own.

Thank you for being a friend—my friend.

Thank you for always catching me whenever I fall.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m sorry about the breakup…or am I?

I’m not too sad about it, I’m sorry. I always knew they were a bit off for you. But I hope I’ve been the right kind of friend that you need right now.

Or however you need me. I'll be here for you, the same way you were for me. You know that right?

I know you held back a few tears when we were at the cafe earlier. You loved them, for sure. I know how far you go for love—that's how true your love is.

But you should've seen the look in your eyes. It tells me you’re not too too sad about it either.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Yeah, definitely just me.

Maybe it was more of me wanting to see the spark in your eyes again after you kept denying that it had been gone for so long.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

You should've seen your face earlier. It was so…

With all of your hip-hop and R&B playlists, I never pegged you to be one to appreciate any of the oldies.

“This is my favorite Beatles song,” I said.

You immediately stopped scrolling the phone hidden behind the book reading the book in your hand to listen to “Here, There, and Everywhere” playing from the cafe's tinny speakers, straining to make it out above the chatter of the establishment.

You said you'll pull up the lyrics to read, and as you did, the smile on your face grew ever so slowly with every word that your eyes traveled to. You started to slightly bob your head to the beat while mouthing some of the lyrics as the song continued on.

Okay, fine, I was watching you. You didn't notice anyway.

“It’s a great song,” you said. You looked up with this sense of meaning in your eyes. I feel like mine had a look of question marks in them.

Your fingers danced on your phone. I’m sure you added it to one of your playlists. Well, I hope.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is the last letter I’ll write. I promise.

It’s graduation tomorrow. If you give me nothing and nothing happens within the next month of tomorrow, I will stop this nonsense and maybe try to finally get over these feelings I seem to have for you.

Whatever it is.

I just…don’t think I can bring myself to do it first.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

This is so random but you just suddenly crossed my mind. And I remembered this notebook full of so-called "unsent letters to you."

I wonder how you are and if you're doing okay. I don't know why we grew apart after graduation. I just...I don't know. I can't even think about it without my head aching.

It does kind of feel like there's a hollow void in the shape of you somewhere in my body, particularly somewhere around my chest area.

(nope, I won't say it)

I hope you're doing alright.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I can’t believe you came. It's been five years since we saw each other, three since we last spoke, yet you came—the person I least expected to see in the wake.

I never thought there'd be another letter but how could I not write anything?

I didn’t realize how painful and heavy it was to lose my grandfather until you hugged me. You were the first one to see my tears. You were the only one brave enough to hold my broken pieces without caring if you'd get cut by my sharp edges.

How you were able to do it even after all these years will forever be a mystery to me.

Thank you for catching me before I further shattered myself.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’m still reeling from recent events.

It was so nice to see you again last night, though. Thanks for dragging me out of my apartment. It’s been so long since we went out like that, just for some frozen yogurt, which naturally turned into a few drinks because after all, it’s still the two of us together.

But good lord help me, I’m still in a daze. How can I be normal when I just dropped the biggest truth bomb of my life thus far?

I told you, “Maybe I’ve always wondered what it would be like if we ever tried before.”

But you know what you said? You know what you frickin’ said?

“I wish you told me earlier. Why didn’t you?”

Well, why didn’t you??????

I swear I could’ve combusted on the spot if I could. I swear I just said that so I could finally let go of this weight from my chest.

But you know what you did?

You walked me home. You made sure I was safe.

And then you visited this morning with coffee and breakfast to nurse the drinks from last night.

You’re just outside my room right now, sitting on my small couch, playing Beatles songs from the speakers. You’re waiting for me to finish whatever I’m doing here because you’re taking me out to see this movie I told you I wanted to watch. Why?

“We have to make up for lost time,” you said.

Chan, what are you doing? Just tell me so I know what I should do.

What do I do with you now?

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Happy Chan Day!

I hate you.

I wish you told me about your party earlier! I mean, even hours earlier, not like an hour or two right before.

Okay, I know it’s a spontaneous birthday party and all—I GET IT. But please tell your friends to at least invite your other friends beforehand? So we can also prep stuff for you, okay? I moved around so many schedules for this—for your party. How could I not?

So I hope you’ll forgive me for not preparing your gift yet. I was planning to get it in the coming days when my sched was relatively freer. Still, I’m really, truly sorry for not getting you a gift. I know you like getting gifts because you like giving them as well.

You know, it’s your birthday, yet you were the one who said something that was almost like a gift to me.

You said, “Don’t bother with the gift. As long as you’re here with me, I don’t really need anything else.”

Chan, I still hate you. I think.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

I’ve come to the harrowing realization that I’m in love with you.

No scratch that. I love you. Throughout all these years, I’ve always loved you.

How’s that for a hit-me-with-a-firetruck realization?

Yours truly (I wish),

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Dear Chan,

Do not laugh at me. Do not be condescending. Do not dismiss me—your best friend. Do not leave me hanging. Just…do not.

When I show you this, just don’t.

Just read it.

Yours truly,

Me

— ✐ᝰ.ᐟ —

Hey, you.

If only you knew how many pages I’ve written about you. Glad to know I’m not the only one doing so.

It started on that day we were in the library. I’d already written about so many things, but that was the first time I ever wrote about you. I’ve never stopped writing since.

And even in pages full of you writing about me, I still write about you.

You’ve always been here, there, and everywhere to me.

Yours, truly and only yours,

Chan

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

NOW PLAYING: seventeen's playlist - song # 2

“To lead a better life / I need my love to be here // … // will be there and everywhere / Here, there and everywhere”

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Great!" Travis said, grinning. Once the Twins were gone, he could recommend Russell's actual channel.

Russell was already wondering if this was the best idea. Yes, he had given them payment. Yes, he had offered them the perk of free, and yes, he had said as long as he had employed them, Antonio wouldn't lay a mental hand on them. But that still didn't mean they couldn't decide they preferred Five's employment.

"I think it's better if none of us think about it too much," Leofric said, with a subtle look of disgust, "Gloves would be suitable in this matter."

"Yeah, you're right," Bill said, before he looked down at his own gloved hands, "It'll save me burning this pair when I'm done with them at the very least."

"That's a good positive way to see it," Simon said, "It's a little extra strength training."

While Antonio quickly regained his composure, he couldn't resist taking a subtle glance over at Ratchet, just to see what kind of effect that might have had on him.

He missed the smile on Willow's face, having been too busy watching Erica and Ratchet, but it seemed that it had been a quick easy task for the elf too.

"I'll have to be ready next time," was all Antonio said then, "Now where were we?"

"We're, we're not, not expecting it," Russell said. He wasn't about to tell them it was their own money they were spending. But nonetheless, he took out an extra thirty dollars from his own wallet and held it out, "Just, just come, just come back safe, all, all right? And, and get yourselves some-something nice while, while you're at it."

Bill gave a nod then. He almost wanted to make a snarky comment about how smithing the tools into something better would be harder if they didn't come back safe without them, but he could see that Russell was trying to offer some kindness despite everything.

Who knows, maybe that would help the Twins see things their way just that bit more?

"Look forward to seeing you back here, boys," Bill said, giving them a fanged grin and a cheerful wave as they left. Then he looked at Leofric when he was certain they were out of earshot, "Did you get their scent?"

"Yes," Leofric said, "If I do need to find them, I'll be able to smell them."

"Willow and I can also keep track of them with their phones," Simon said, "So we'll know what they're doing."

"I will!" Or at least she would look up the channel. It was a little difficult to keep up with videos while living in a different universe.

Though it wasn't the time to bring that up either. They were about to send the Twins out on their own, not knowing if they were going to come back. There was no need to give them more information that they could potentially share with Five while left unsupervised.

"I'm not sure I want to know what else he's been doing with these." Rook muttered. It wasn't hard to do so, but thinking about the implications only made her wish she had a way to clean her magic. "Add some gloves to the list."

"And we get a free workout, right?"

"-right?"

It felt like petty punishment, especially with how long that list was. Tommy held it up so his brother could read it as well, then watched Erica disappear in the dark pit on the floor. Somebody was about to get a good scare.

That person couldn't be Willow, though. She was already reaching into her coat before Erica had even made her entrance. Hopefully, neither Lucien or Antonio were going to notice her own smile at her double's shenanigans.

The cyborg handed over a neatly folded roll of cash, "This should suffice."

"Thanks!" Erica grabbed the money and leaped back into her portal, "I'll be louder next time!"

"Like that's going to help." Lucien grumbled.

The money was slapped onto Timmy's palm as soon as Erica's feet touched the ground. "There! Now you can go buy us stuff."

The brothers consulted each other through a brief look after the money was counted.

"This will take a while."

"And don't expect any change back."

They could barely do anything with that budget. The Twins didn't wait around to say their farewells and headed for the exit. It wasn't very interesting work, but at least they weren't looking for sage again.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER ELEVEN

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

You were going to throw up.

Not in the cute, haha-I’m-nervous-but-still-functional way, but in the actual way where your stomach was twisting and turning like it was personally offended by your existence.

Because this wasn’t just any event.

This was the Grammys.

The biggest night in music. The night where HOT DIVISION—your band—was nominated for two awards. The night where the entire world would be watching them.

And, more importantly, the night where you were responsible for making sure everything went smoothly.

Which meant no wardrobe malfunctions, no missed cues, no PR disasters—just a flawless, effortless evening where everything went according to plan.

No pressure.

The limo ride to the venue was filled with a mix of excitement and chaos. Ji-Yeong was buzzing, practically bouncing in her seat as she scrolled through Twitter, reading fan reactions in real time. Se-Mi was dramatically practicing her “Oh my god, we won? I had no idea!” face in the mirror. No-Eul was—well, No-Eul, calm and composed, quietly observing the madness.

And Sae-Byeok?

She was sitting silently beside the window, arms crossed, her jaw set in that unreadable way that meant she was thinking too much.

You, on the other hand, were gripping your phone with a death grip, mentally running through your checklist for the hundredth time, trying not to spiral.

Okay. Arrive at the carpet. Do the interviews. Smile. Keep them moving. Don’t let Ji-Yeong say anything that will get her canceled. Check their places for the ceremony. Manage post-show plans. Keep them out of trouble. Oh god, this is a disaster waiting to happen—

A gentle squeeze on your hand pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, looking down to see No-Eul’s fingers wrapped around yours.

It wasn’t obvious—wasn’t dramatic or attention-grabbing. Just a quiet, steady warmth, grounding you.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how tightly you had been holding onto your phone, your shoulders hunched with tension.

No-Eul gave your hand another squeeze.

“Breathe,” she said simply.

And somehow, you did.

Sae-Byeok saw the whole thing.

She had been sitting across from you, watching the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way your breathing had gone shallow. She had felt the nervous energy rolling off of you, had wanted to say something—do something.

But before she could, No-Eul had beaten her to it.

And now, Sae-Byeok was watching you relax under her touch, watching the way you leaned into her comfort, watching the way No-Eul was able to calm you down in a way she hadn’t.

And it pissed her off.

Not at No-Eul.

Not really.

But at herself—for hesitating. For sitting there, watching instead of acting.

She clenched her jaw, looking away, forcing herself to ignore the uncomfortable twist in her stomach.

This wasn’t the time.

The limo pulled up to the venue, and suddenly, it was real.

The red carpet stretched ahead, cameras flashing, reporters lined up, calling out names. Fans were screaming, banners waving in the air, the energy electric.

And then the door opened.

Ji-Yeong stepped out first, exuding effortless confidence in a stunning baby pink gown—soft, elegant, the fitted bodice flowing into a delicate train behind her. She looked like a princess who could either charm you or absolutely destroy you, depending on her mood.

Se-Mi followed, dressed in a sleek black suit with a deep red pocket square, her hair styled in effortless waves, looking every bit the rockstar she was.

No-Eul stepped out next, wearing a similar black suit, but with a silver chain accenting her waist, her look sharp and refined, effortlessly cool.

Then Sae-Byeok.

And god—if looks could kill.

Her suit was jet black, tailored to perfection, the crisp lines making her look absolutely lethal. Unlike No-Eul’s refined style, Sae-Byeok’s was dangerously effortless—like she had barely tried, and yet, somehow, she looked like the most powerful person in the room. A single silver ring adorned her finger, a thin chain peeking from beneath her shirt collar.

And then there was you.

You stepped out last, the moment slow, almost surreal.

Your dress—deep wine red, shimmering subtly under the lights with tiny jewels woven into the fabric—hugged your figure perfectly. It was elegant without being overwhelming, a statement without trying too hard.

And on your feet?

The heels No-Eul had bought for you.

The second you stepped out, the cameras focused on you—flashes going off, murmurs passing through the crowd.

You weren’t the celebrity.

But standing next to them, you looked like one.

Sae-Byeok’s jaw tightened.

Because now, it wasn’t just No-Eul who had noticed you.

It was everyone.

And she hated that she wasn’t the one standing next to you.

The energy in the Grammy arena was electric.

You sat sandwiched between Se-Mi and No-Eul at your table, your heart still racing from the red carpet frenzy. The girls had handled the interviews like pros—Ji-Yeong had been her usual chaotic self, Se-Mi had flirted with at least three different reporters, No-Eul had stayed effortlessly cool, and Sae-Byeok had been… quiet. Focused.

You weren’t sure why.

Now, settled into your seats, you tried to relax as the ceremony unfolded around you.

Tried being the key word.

Because holy shit, they were nominated for two Grammys.

And the nerves were absolutely killing you.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Se-Mi murmured, nudging you playfully. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the stem of your champagne glass. “I might.”

Ji-Yeong, who had been casually fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of her spoon, grinned. “Well, if you do, at least make sure to do it dramatically. Give the cameras something to talk about.”

No-Eul rolled her eyes, but there was warmth there. “You’re worse than the reporters.”

The show continued, performances lighting up the stage—Olivia Rodrigo’s haunting vocals, SZA’s effortlessly stunning set, a rock tribute that had Se-Mi absolutely losing her mind.

And then—

Then it was time.

The first award.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Album goes to…”

The presenter—a legendary rock artist whose posters had once covered Se-Mi’s childhood bedroom walls—paused, tearing open the envelope with a smirk.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!

For a second, there was silence.

As if none of you had actually processed it.

Then—

Ji-Yeong shrieked, grabbing Se-Mi’s arm in a death grip. No-Eul let out a rare, genuine laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply, a small but unmistakable smile breaking through.

And you?

You felt everything all at once.

Pride. Relief. Overwhelming joy.

They did it.

They hugged each other, still half in shock, before making their way up to the stage.

You stayed at the table, watching them from below, your chest aching in the best way possible.

Ji-Yeong, of course, grabbed the mic first. “Holy shit—wait, can I say that? No? Whatever—holy crap, we just won a Grammy.”

The audience laughed.

Se-Mi took over, grinning. “This is insane. We started as four idiots playing in garages, and now we’re here. Thank you to everyone who believed in us.”

No-Eul spoke next, her voice steady, sincere. “This album was everything to us. To our fans—this is yours as much as it is ours.”

And then—

Sae-Byeok stepped forward.

She wasn’t one for long speeches. Usually, she let the others take the spotlight.

But this time—

This time, her eyes searched the crowd.

And found you.

“This award means everything,” she started, her voice softer than usual—but firm. Sure. “But there’s someone who isn’t up here with us who deserves just as much recognition.”

Your breath caught.

Sae-Byeok’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Our manager. Our best friend. The person who’s been with us since the beginning, making sure we didn’t completely ruin our own careers.”

Laughter rippled through the audience, but you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

“She’s the reason we’re here,” Sae-Byeok continued. “The reason this album even happened the way it did. She’s the one who picks us up when we fall, who believes in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves. And she never asks for credit.”

She exhaled, gripping the mic a little tighter.

“So this is for her.”

You felt your eyes sting.

“She might not be on this stage,” Sae-Byeok said, a small, almost-smirk tugging at her lips. “But she’s just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.”

The applause was deafening.

And you—

You had never felt more seen.

You could see a camera pan toward you and you waved, holding back tears with a smile. They weren't tears of pain; just pure tears of joy for your girls.

You were still reeling.

Still trying to process the fact that Sae-Byeok had just dedicated a Grammy to you in front of the entire world.

Your heart hadn’t slowed down since she stepped off that stage, her words still echoing in your head. Your best friend. The reason we’re here. Just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.

You weren’t going to cry.

You refused to cry.

But when Sae-Byeok sat back down next to you, her knee brushing against yours, her gaze flickering toward you as if to check if you were okay—yeah, you almost lost it.

Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, forced out a small, shaky laugh, and muttered, “That was—um. That was a lot.”

Sae-Byeok smirked, her voice low, just for you. “You deserved it.”

And that was definitely not helping your whole don’t cry on national television thing.

Before you could respond, the next award category popped up on the screen, and suddenly—holy shit—it was happening again.

The presenter smiled, glancing down at the envelope in her hands.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Performance goes to…”

A pause. The dramatic build-up.

You gripped the edge of the table, heart pounding.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!”

For a full second—absolute chaos.

Ji-Yeong screamed so loudly that Se-Mi actually jumped, knocking over her champagne glass. No-Eul blinked in shock before breaking into a rare, wide grin. Sae-Byeok exhaled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it.

And you?

You just sat there, hands covering your mouth, watching them win again.

Two Grammys. In one night.

Your girls.

Your band.

They pulled you into a tight group hug before rushing back onto the stage, still half in disbelief.

Ji-Yeong, ever the chaotic menace, grabbed the mic first. “Okay, now we’re freaking out.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Se-Mi practically bounced next to her. “I don’t even know what to say—holy shit—”

“Language,” No-Eul muttered, but she was smiling.

Sae-Byeok took a step forward, shaking her head slightly as she looked out at the audience. “This song…” She paused, looking back at the girls. “This song was everything to us. It wasn’t just about making music—it was about proving to ourselves that we belonged here.”

The audience quieted, hanging onto her words.

“And now, standing here, holding this—” She lifted the Grammy slightly. “—it still doesn’t feel real.”

Se-Mi leaned into the mic. “But it is, babe.”

More laughter. More applause.

Then, before they ended their speech, Ji-Yeong grinned mischievously. “Oh, and one more thing—” She turned toward you, still seated at the table, eyes wide. “Our manager? Our favorite person in the world? She’s two-for-two tonight.”

Se-Mi nudged the mic closer. “Which means she officially has to party with us after this.”

No-Eul smirked. “No excuses.”

Sae-Byeok, standing slightly behind them, simply met your gaze.

And for a moment—just a moment—everything else disappeared.

No cameras. No flashing lights. No roaring applause.

Just her.

And the silent, knowing look that said, We did it.

We did it together.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[the-delta-quadrant]

idk why people tend to act like only medical transition has any bad repercussions when social and legal transition too are constantly under attack

trying to ban using someone's correct name or pronouns at the workplace or school, outing kids who socially transition at school to their parents, the whole bathroom thing, the fact that legal transition is impossible for british nonbinary people, the fact that legal transition in general was made very difficult in germany for the longest time until last november and that nonbinary germans couldn't legally transition until just a few years ago, the fact that the US is destroying passports of people who legally transitioned, the fact that german bureaucracy makes it so that social transition sometimes requires legal transition because a lot of places will refuse to change your name if you don't have legal documents, that an X in your passport makes if dangerous to go to certain places, that the mere concept of pronouns is mocked to death, that nongendered terminology for gendered languages is mocked to death, that places in germany are actively banning the use of nonbinary-inclusive language, that i got mocked at my graduation ceremony for daring to ask for inclusive language, that my second ever therapist refused to actually help me with my real problem because all he wanted to talk about was my gender, that my loan with my bank kept getting denied over and over until we realised it was because my Mx title caused a problem in their system, the fact that i had to fight for my legal transition for 6 years all the way up until i was signing my paperwork because they falsely forced a middle name on me, that socially transitioning at school increased bullying, slur calling etc, that transgender people "coincidentally" became a debate topic in class after i came out, constantly legislating transgender people out of existence and so much more

none of these have anything to do with medical transition and yet they're actively making transgender people's lives harder or even dangerous, fucking with our health and livelihood. or do you all really think these are someone exclusive to medical transition.

[fliexx]

Thangyu :D

——————————————————————

MLM

werewolf au

Squid game never happened 

Se-mi best girly 

Se-mi smokes cigarettes 

Jealous Thanos of Min su

Min su being dragged into drama

Suggestive / smut later 😏

Friends to lovers 

Roommates but they sleep in the same bed ( totally makes sense :)

Namgyu knows about wearwolf Thanos

Thanos can retract his ears and tail 

——————————————————————

“ ah—OH! and then Min-su started talking about some bullsh*t like I’m ‘too clingy,’ like—WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?? I hate his guts man..but then he gave me some cookies so I kinda forgave him. I mean, what else do you do when you get food as an apology gift? After that, me and Min-su. . .” 

Thanos never thought he’d feel so possessive of his ‘best friend’ until now.

Namgyu’s rambling went on to deaf ears as Thanos drifted into thought. For someone Namgyu supposedly “hates”, he talks about him a whole lot. It was pissing him off at this point. Every other topic, Min-su this, Min-su that—but Thanos tried to ignore it. instead, he focused on what Nam-Gyu’s hand was currently doing; scratching behind Thanos’s ear. 

Nam-Gyu’s body tangled with his, Thanos arms wrapped around his waist as he subconsciously pulled the other closer. He noticed that Nam-Gyu managed to keep his sweater sleeves up closer to his knuckles even while giving Thanos’ affection. His constant sweater paws itched a scratch right in his brain.

Nam-Gyu’s warm breath hitting Thanos’s sensitive furry ear while he absentmindedly rambles off, it all made it even harder to pay much attention to what he was saying, the other man’s hands occasionally pitching Thanos’s neck when he notices the unfocused expression on his face.

With how close the two of them are, Thanos mind drifts to certain moment Nam-Gyu talked about earlier.

-

Sh*t, what time is it? It’s probably midnight…no doubt a full moon. A horrible time for a werewolf to be out and about.

And yet, here Thanos was, carried away partying and getting high with Nam-Gyu all night—which was partly interrupted a few times due to Thanos growling at anyone he saw as a threat or someone getting too close to his best friend. It wasn’t like it was a problem to the best friend in question, Nam-Gyu egging him on to go fight or kill someone. He was too high to actually understand what he was saying in the moment.

While walking (stumbling) back to their apartment, they spotted Min-su and Se-mi walking in their direction. Thanos wasn’t surprised. he smelled them before they came into view. He was too hammered to alert Nam-Gyu, so as soon as the shorter male saw them, he ran and gave Min-su and Se-mi (mostly Min-Su) a bear hug.

“OMG—MIN-SU, SE-MI! I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU GUY IN FOREVER! OH MY GOD, YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CLUB TONIGHT—SO . . .” Nam-Gyu began to loudly ramble, retelling what had transpired beforehand. he didn’t notice Se-mi as she moved to stand by Thanos.

The way Nam-Gyu clinged to Min-su, tangling their arms together, casually closing off distance between their faces, acting like Thanos wasn’t there…it was starting to irk him. Thanos glared at Min-su the same way he glared at the men who had tried hitting on Nam-Gyu in the club. They were either dead or close enough to it.

Thanos struggled to keep his ears and tail from revealing themselves in public. He didn’t care about it that much, having already done so in a club crowd, but Nam-Gyu was worried about a bystander seeing him, so he kept it under wraps.

“WHAT’S TOO CLINGY? WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN BI- wait is that a cookie? is it laced? Thanks Mi-suuu~” 

Se-mi watched as Mi-su tried to bribe Nam-Gyu off of him with snacks (which worked,) she noticed Thanos glaring daggers at the two of them—mostly Min-Su—with his hands balled into unconscious fists. Se-Mi smoked her cigarette before calling out to Nam-Gyu.

“ HEY Nam-Gyu! Looks like your dog’s got a problem with you being so touchy , shouldn’t you take him home to cheer him up?” Se-mi chuckled at the thought of calling Thanos a ‘dog,’ but it seemed Thanos didn’t find the humor in it, turning his deadly gaze towards the woman instead.

Se-Mi held her hands up in defense, just in time for Nam-Gyu to come over and save the day (night?). 

“ Aww…is my puppy jealous of little old Min-Su? you don’t have to be..C’mon, we can go home!” He cooed. While he dragged his werewolf boy away, Thanos was to flushed to notice Nam-Gyu sneaking a pill or two from Thanos’s cross necklace. 

-

That whole ordeal led to Nam-Gyu coddling Thanos the whole way home, making out in the doorway of their apartment, exchanging a plethora of kisses and hickeys on the couch, grinding against each other on the kitchen counter, and finally cuddling in Thanos’ bed.

Well—their bed, as Namgyu has been sleeping there for months, only going into his room for clothes and time to cool down after an argument with his ‘best friend’, which hardly happens.

Thanos had started to focus on the scent emitting from Nam-Gyu rather than the situation with Min-Su and Se-Mi. He smelt like a cross of roses and underlying weed. Not overwhelmingly, but just enough to calm Thanos’ senses.

Namgyu gently held Thanos’ chin in between his fingers, turning his face up and using his thumb to part his lips. He pressed a pill on Thanos’ tongue, much to the other man’s contentment.

“Does my puppy feel better?” Nam-Gyu asked, his tone almost belittling. And yet, it brought butterflies to Thanos’ stomach, the way he spoke without a care in the world about what that nickname does to him. 

How his smile always looked so sheepish. How his eyes were lidded, how he pulled his sleeves down until only his fingers showed. how he shivered a bit because of the cold temperature of their apartment.

Thanos eyes scanned every detail, everything itching into his brain until he couldn’t take it anymore. Thanos pinned Nam-Gyu to the bed, cutting off the man’s surprised gasp with a rough kiss. He couldn’t help but growl whenever he heard whimpers leave the other.

Nam-Gyu wasn’t sure where the sudden aggression had come from, but he was doing anything but complaining. 

“Ngh .. Su-Bong—“ He whined out. Hearing Nam-Gyu call him by his name flipped a switch that he wasn’t aware existed. Thanos’ growled before biting into Nam-Gyu’s neck, earning a shameless moan in return. He was being really loud, but neither of them cared enough to stop.

While he continued his assault on the smaller man’s neck, his tail thumped against the bedsheets. He couldn’t help the animalistic sounds that left his own mouth every time he felt the vibrations of Nam-Gyu’s whimpers. 

——————————————————————

Got Lazy :0

BETA EDITED !!!! -@jarijarii

[shinyj3lly]

dude you have no idea how much i hate the “oh they don’t see it” argument especially when those people are actively on those idols platforms (youtube, instagram, tiktok, etc) like you’re literally on their personal account calling them INSANE things and you think they won’t see it 😭.

oh with le serraphim i remember i had so many mixed feelings about the documentary. on one hand i think it was extremely important for people to see that hey idols DO see this shit on other hand the timing on when they released it ended up causing another massive hate train (i’m not a stan of them but NOBODY deserves what they went through) (also this is whole this is just a dumb argument because we do know that idols have taken their lives because of online hate :/)

oh you’re from lebanon 😲 i’m from america but a lot of people underestimate how big this country is, if i wanted to the a concert i have to travel at least 6h (that’s not even counting the fees i’d have to pay for the actual traveling, hotels, etc) now i do acknowledge that i have a better chance of actually going in comparison to people that don’t even have idols go to their country (but like im not rich and i think people underestimate how many people travel to see a concert)

YES ! idols don’t get paid very well for promotions that they usually get paid a small amount. i’ve also seen some people argue that when idols become more popular they get paid more by music programs but i think they’re simply being optimistic, like older idols end up not promoting for long periods of time and if you compare promotions now to like 2015 (?) they’ve cut it in half now it’s only about 2 weeks when it used to be a month or longer

and yes true the companies aren’t just paying for the idols and everything you stated doesn’t even include all the visa’s they have to pay for and different countries have different criteria’s for them (a lot of people don’t realize how expensive they are 😭) oh i think the relationship between south korea and whatever country also plays a big role into it (ik for america certain countries have it a lot harder when it comes to visas than others)

and YES LMAOOO i’m a music major 🙂‍↕️ i got the courage to actually do it because of ateez 🖐🏽🙂‍↕️

I was having a bad day and decided to watch some hongjoong tiktoks until I stumbled upon this shit ass account and I'm actually so pissed

Like girl called hongjoong a gdragon wannabe, said that he's selfish, taking "opportunities" from the vocalists of the group, and that he's the one not giving lines to his members

How can people be so stupid, I mean he's still making money and doesn't care about whatever these dumb haters are saying

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i'm kind of amazed how most of the stardew marriage candidates just want you to be their manic pixie dream whatever by agreeing with everything they like and plying them with compliments or praise or whatever (which is fine but a bit. Much) but for shane his romance is just you being there for him while he figures his own shit out... dunno why i never wanted to romance him before he's so good

[dream-sans-mogai]

This will probably get looks from performative and ultimately harmful non-transfems despite my being transfem but-

Some y'alls only interaction with feminist history and theories, radical feminism regardless of its intersectionality and really any feminism deeper and louder and meaner than blatant choice feminism like the barbie movie and whatever TF taylor swift thinks shes got going on is through your occasional and short interactions with terfs and it shows. You call vagina art terfy and it fucking isnt. Its feminist art. Your brainrot is making you a fucking mra. The fact y'all think talking about the man vs bear situation is about/started/ran by terfs (and encouraged some really questionable other transfems shitting on it despite it clearly just being about women's safety and yes all men, not transphobia.), everything from questioning wether certain groups belong in our community to thinking a word is a slur or having a lesbian icon (I have sources don't test me) or not to not liking a certain band has been called "terf rhetoric". I'm all for us Transmascs talking about how terfs affect us cause they absolutely do and their harm to the transmasc community can not be understated but like.... Y'all are not allowed to call Jack shit terf rhetoric anymore. Like nothing. You don't know what it means, you litterally call transmedicalism and sysmedicalism terf rhetoric. Do you mean exclusionist? Say exclusionist. Terfs are not the end all be all hate group. They have a very specific complex mindset that affects so many people in specific ways. Someone hating Neopronouns is not fucking terf rhetoric. It's nbphobia. Holy fuck. Learn what words mean.

(intersectional trans radfems exist, radical feminism isn't terfs and swerfs and historical radfems would laugh in their faces for their idiocy)

[secret--history]

the whole 'there are not very many Great Causes worth fighting for these days' from Julian scanned as WAY more out of touch than the moon landing thing for me the first time i read tsh

[icewindandboringhorror]

I love all of these goofy product photos where the water bottle is extremely obviously just photoshopped onto a stock image of someone pretending to hold something or whatever.. very convincing..

[snekdood]

i think ppl gotta get acquainted with the difference between systemic privilege and social privilege, which can overlap, but not always.

[ame-to-ame]

Rereading ayaka is in love with Hiroko senpai!!! Last time I read it I don't think it was finished/I didn't finish it but ack. Now I also want to be in love 😭😭😭

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”