#this was supposed to be longer but it was also supposed to be posted months ago

[berrytheicecream]

“Baby Steps” - Young Zaun Siblings fic

(In which Vi attempts to teach Claggor, Powder, and eventually Mylo how to read. She likes her new family. She just wants them to feel safe).

(I’ve briefly talked about this scenario in one of my other posts, and this is kinda like fleshing it out. I love it sm. In order not to make this beginning part that long, my yap is at the bottom of yall wanna see it. Like my last fic, Vi is 9, Clag is 8, Mylo is 7, and Powder is 5. BUT!! I’ve changed a few of my hcs after listening to what others thought. Thinking back on it, having the boys being found like a few DAYS after the riot feels WAYY too quick. So now, Claggor was found two weeks after the riot, and Mylo a month and a half afterwards. Not too long bc any longer and they probably wouldn’t have survived out there on their own.).

(ALSO!!!! A lot of the concepts in this fic are based off of the official spinoff game “Jinx Fixes Everything” in Act 2, including the book Vi uses. You can watch it here!)

(if you wanna connect these fics story wise, this takes place a while before the Claggor cooking fic. Anyyyways, I just rlly like thinking of how the younger version of the siblings would’ve initially gotten along and started to trust each other and see each other as family. god this fic took way too long to make for literally no reason 😭😭)

The muffled, incoherent shouts and footsteps from upstairs had yet to stop. It kept the basement quiet, even with the four of them in there. Even after the riot had ended, people were still seeking refuge at the bar. From injuries, or attacks, or infections, or the Grey, or starvation—anything and everything that sprung from that one, singular event at the bridge.

She hadn’t even properly talked to Vander that morning. He’d been too busy attempting to keep things in order upstairs, to take responsibility over all the chaos. But people were confused, and angry, and they were fighting and lashing out and it was just so loud. So unbearably loud, lasting so uncomfortably long.

Vi felt Powder scoot closer to her, gripping onto the fabric of her clothes tightly for comfort. The pink haired girl held her in her arms, staring at the door leading to the one place she could consider home.

The Lanes was her home, but never once had it felt safe like homes were supposed to. She’d felt safe with her mom and dad, and she was trying everything in her power to feel safe here, as well.

And yet she still found herself on edge, even if she’d known Vander before. Still found herself cautiously protecting her baby sister despite them being in their own little corner of The Last Drop.

Though it wasn’t necessarily just theirs anymore.

She had brothers now.

Two boys, both just as lost and concerned as she was. The elder of the two, Claggor, sat on the sofa, flipping through the pages of an open book while glancing up at the door in the same way she had. Fear or sadness didn’t strike his face, but the apprehension was visible in his posture. And the younger, Mylo, lay on the other bed Vander had just assembled for them—because he hadn’t expected to bring in more than two children—on his side and facing the wall while hugging his legs.

They were desperately trying to feel safe, too. She knew that.

“Vi…?” Powder whispered, and she jolted from the sound. She looked down at her sister’s doll-like eyes, heart swelling with a sense of pity. “What’s going on…? Where’s Vander?”

“…Vander’s busy. There’s just a lot of people who need help up there, Pow-Pow.” She grimaced, her hold on her growing tighter. “It’s a bad time for everyone.”

The blue haired girl’s voice was reduced to a whisper as she looked up at the ceiling, flinching at the thuds from what were likely wine bottles slamming against tables. “…Why are they so angry?”

Vi hesitated, feeling anxiety course through her veins. “They’re not…angry.” She shook her head. “They’re confused, and scared, and hurt, and aren’t themselves cus…cus they’ve lost a lot.”

“…Maybe they need a hug.” Powder spoke softly.

Sometimes it was painful to be the one to fully comprehend what was happening. Sometimes she wanted Powder to understand, so she wouldn’t be alone.

But she was too young. So instead, she said, “Yeah. Maybe they do.”

“Well, I…-!” The yelling seemed to ease as only faint mumbles and murmurs were heard from outside, and Vi felt a sigh of relief leave her mouth.

“See? Vander’s takin’ care of it.” She tried her best to put on a hopeful tone, and Powder’s nervousness seemed to fade, if only a little. She smiled at her older sister.

Claggor stood up at the silence then, the look of worry from earlier having eased slightly. “…Um,” His voice was shaky, attention slowly turning to him. “V-Vi…?” The name left his mouth as if he’d struggled to remember it.

“Yeah?” Claggor had been with them for a few weeks. But clearly, he still wasn’t fully accustomed to his situation. While he was definitely calmer and quieter than her other siblings, he would stammer and freeze up a lot. He’d avoid going upstairs when the bar was crowded, and sometimes he struggled to even speak at all with Vander, instead just remaining quiet when the man was nearby.

He’d started growing a little more familiar with his new life recently. But it was still far from comforting.

The brunette finally walked up to her, outstretching his hands to reveal a book in his grasp. “…Can you read this story for me?” She blinked in confusion at the sudden request, taking the book from his hands. “M-My mom was the one that…she read to me when I got stress-y.” He glanced back at the door, flinching at every loud noise from above. “I-It’s just really hard with it being so loud up there. And I don’t…know if Vander can come down right now.”

Vi looked down at the cover, the corners of it damaged and harsh against her fingers. The illustration was chipped and covered in dust, clearly an old book Vander must’ve found laying around and gave to them.

A rat lay illustrated right in front of her, the title spelled in bold letters.

“Sump Rat Dreams”

Something clicked in her mind then—or at least, whatever bits of it wasn’t clouded with a constant whirpool of stress from the past month. She glanced up at her eight year old brother, then to her sister.

They were desperately trying to feel safe, too.

And maybe she could do something about it.

“…Do you know how to read, Clag?”

He picked at his nails, gaze dropping to the ground. “Um…no, not…not really.”

“Mm.” Vi turned towards her sister. “And I know you don’t,” She pinched Powder’s nose, making her giggle. Vi turned to both of them, forcing an enthusiastic tone onto her voice. “Okay then. We’re gonna have a little reading lesson.”

Interested sparkles grew in their eyes, with Claggor taking a small, more open step forward . “…Y-You know how to read? Like, really read?” He spoke with amazement, and she nodded. “How…?!”

“…My mom taught me,” Vi forced down the way her heart stung with pain, refusing to let her face and posture falter. She shook the thought off, moving to sit on the ground against her bed to leave more room for her siblings. “Come on,” Powder was quick to follow her, crossing her legs and sitting beside her while Claggor did the same, just on the opposite side.

The eldest opened the small, mostly illustrated book, skimming through the words. She quickly realized it wasn’t exactly beginner-friendly. Definitely easier than other books, but not her first choice for teaching. She would’ve used the books her mom had if she could’ve.

Admittedly, she wasn’t even that good at reading on her own. But she had to teach them how to read. She knew she had to. To get their minds off of the commotion upstairs, and to help them grow while Vander was busy.

If they really were going to be her new family, she had to help all of them in someway. Even if it was as small as reading.

Her family.

The pink haired girl’s eyes subconsciously drifted to Mylo. He was the newest—only having arrived three days ago—the most agitated, and arguably the most distant. He hadn’t really engaged in conversation unless he needed something, but his actions said enough.

When Vander found him, he’d bitten his finger out of defense. And now, even with a roof above his head, he shoved them all away when they got close. Snarled at them angrily when they did anything. Jumped at the littlest sound. Readied himself in case he needed to fight.

But a part of her didn’t blame him, though. 

He’d been out on the streets longer than she had in the aftermath of the riot. Had seen things she hadn’t. When Vander had brought him in, he’d looked horrible. Sometimes she’d get frustrated at him, but that thought always creeped back into her mind, and all that remained was pity.

“…Wanna join us, Mylo?” Vi offered, and he flinched at the sound. He glared back at her for a few moments before sneering, choosing to face the wall once again, now hugging himself. “…No. Alright.” She returned her attention to the book. “Um…so there’s different parts to this—wait, where should I…” She flipped a page and turned towards the brunette before placing the book in his lap. “Clag, tell me if there’s anything there you understand. Then I’ll know what level you’re at with this.”

“Wuh-? Oh, uh…” He squinted, looking at the words for a few beats before letting out a sigh of defeat, refusing to meet her eye as a look of shame crossed his face. “Um…I-I dunno. I mean, I’ve seen some of the stuff here on signs around the market, but…I dunno what it means. S-Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. That’s why we’re learnin’ this. No one’s born knowin’ everything. Let’s just start at the beginning.” She forced a comforting smile to form on her lips for the boy, and the shame and discomfort seemed to seep away as he smiled back. Vi took back the book from his lap, clearing her throat, pointing at the page. “See these words?” The two nodded, eyes glued to her finger. “Each symbol is called a letter, and they have sounds connected to them. You can put a bunch of letters together and make a word, and then you can put a bunch of words together and make a sentence. That’s the order—letter, word, sentence. Got it?”

Claggor’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “…So like building blocks?”

“Yeah.” Vi smiled softly, ruffling her brother’s hair, pleasantly surprised by his small laugh. She placed the book down on the ground for them all to see. “But you cant immediately go to sentences. To understand that, you gotta understand words, so you gotta understand letters. Let’s start there.” 

“I remember mom teachin’ you that.” Powder observed, tapping her hands on her knees rhythmically. “There’s a lot of them, though. Is it hard?”

“No, but you gotta actually try.” Vi snickered softly. “Okay. Letters come together to make the alphabet. Do you know the alphabet, Clag?” The boy shook his head. “Okay. So, the alphabet’s all the letters together.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “But I, um…thought the letters together were words?”

“That’s different. Cus…with words, you’re puttin’ specific letters together to make something. In the alphabet, they’re all still their own thing, just kinda organized. Um…” She looked around her. “Pow, pass me your chalk.” The blue haired girl eagerly stood and rushed to her small stash of belongings, digging through them to find a single pink chalk.

Vi flipped open the book, looking at the blank inner cover, opening her palm for Powder to place the chalk in. She slowly began to scribble down each letter, trying to make her sloppy handwriting comprehensible for her siblings. Eventually, she reached “Z,” and so she stopped. “…That’s the alphabet. All 26 letters.”

Powder blinked in confusion.“…How much’s 26?”

“We’ll…do numbers next time,” The pink haired girl reasoned, dreading the thought of it. “Just know that’s all of them. And they all come with a sound.” She pointed to the first one. “A—Say it with me.”

Claggor and Powder look at each other, mouthing “…Aeeee…” slowly just as Vi had pronounced it.

“Yeah! Good job, you two!” She smiled softly at them, and they both returned the look. A look of bliss and innocence and joy.

It was nice to know she was the one bringing it to their faces.

“Wait, and…and they all have a different sound…?” Claggor winced. “That’s, uh, a lot to remember.”

“Yeah, but…you’ll get the hang of it. Just takes some time and practice.” She reassured him. “But there’s good ways to memorize it! Like…A stands for A-pple. There’s…different sounds for A, actually—I forgot. B-But we’ll get there later…!” The pink haired girl cleared her throat, eyes moving to the next one. “And this one’s Bee. Beeee. Like the animal. Can you-!”

The shouting and commotion upstairs began again.

Vi instantly stopped, reaching for Powder and Claggor, hugging them close. The blue haired girl squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, while the boy grimaced and made himself smaller. “…It’s okay.” She murmured, looking at the door. “It’s okay.”

She could hear a glass bottle shatter, and if she focused hard enough, Vander���s voice was audible. His words weren’t clear, but the stern and concerned tone in his voice was enough.

He was trying his best to stop it. Stop all the suffering, and the confusion, and all the emotions ravaging wildly through the Lanes.

Somehow, his efforts had momentarily payed off, as the fighting was short lived and the bar stilled upstairs, faint murmurs and chatting returning.

Vi slowly loosened her hold on her siblings—still holding onto them carefully—and looking at them to make sure they were alright. Powder was still tense, eyes squeezed shut. Claggor wasn’t too different, even if he tried to appear to be. “…It’s okay.” She repeated once more, trying to get the phrase through her own head. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“…W-Why are they so scared?” Claggor asked weakly. “Vander said…we have to come together when we’re scared.”

“…It’s not easy for some people, Clag.” She explained. “When you’re scared, it…sucks. And you don’t feel like yourself. So you…do stuff you wouldn’t ever do.”

Powder blinked. “Why…?”

“There’s no real reason, Pow. It’s different for everyone,” She gave them one last squeeze before lowering her arms, ending the embrace. “But it will get better. I promise. Vander’s takin’ care of it.” She forced a grin onto her face for their sakes. “Plus…if anything happens, I’m here. I’ll protect you guys. I’ll take anyone down and kick their butt if I gotta!”

Hopeful sparks shone in their eyes, the tension leaving their body as they looked up at their big sister. And she could read it in their faces, see that their demeanor shifted upon seeing her own smile, her courage.

It made the weight on her heart feel more tolerable.

They felt safe. Even if just a little, her siblings felt safe.

The eldest paused for a few moments, taking a deep breath. “…You guys ready to get back to reading?”

They both nodded, so she reached for the book once more. As she did so, her eyes caught Mylo sitting beside them—quietly, slightly farther away, just out of her sight had she not turned her head. He still hugged his knees uncomfortably, staring at her. “What are you lookin’ at?”

Vi blinked a few times, face softening with care. “…Nothing. Just didn’t hear you. Are you doin’ okay?”

“I-I’m fine. Don’t ask dumb questions.” He scowled, crossing his arms. “I just…got bored.”

“We’re learnin’ to read…!” Powder beamed at him, trying to replicate what her big sister had done, as if her tone and optimism could share with him the comfort she felt.

“I know, idiot! I could hear you from over there. I’m not deaf!” He snarled at the blue haired girl, making her smile falter as the excitement faded from her eyes. Mylo lifted his gaze to see the disapproving look on Vi’s face and the concerned one on Claggor’s, instantly cowering and looking away once more.

The eldest sighed, adjusting the book in front of her so they could all see it. “…You're not an idiot, Pow-Pow. I mean, you’re learnin’ to read—you’re a little genius.” Her sister’s spirit slowly lifted once more, nodding. Vi turned her attention to the younger boy. “…Mylo. Apologize. Please?”

He scoffed weakly, brows twitching with hesitancy. After a few beats of silence, he grumbled, “…Fine. Whatever. Sorry.”

The pink haired girl stared at him, and he refused to look back. Despite her disappointment, she didn’t see his hardened gaze or harsh sounding voice. She didn’t see what the boy wanted her to see.

She saw a scared kid.

“…You can stay, Mylo.” She muttered softly.

“What-?”

“…You can stay,” She repeated. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re safe here. I promise.” A small smile built up onto her lips for the boy, who gained the courage to lift his eyes up at her, hardened and defensive gaze softening slightly. He nodded, scooting closer to them. “Okay. So, C. Cee. C for…C-laggor.” She gave her brother a light tap on the nose with her finger, making him giggle. “That’s…also got different sounds to it. We’ll get there, promise.”

“…When’s my name gonna show up?” Powder asked impatiently, practically bouncing where she sat. “Is it next?”

“It’s a couple of letters away. And technically…Mylos’ would be next.” Vi glanced over to her the younger boy, who lifted his head up at the mention of his name. Powder whined weakly at that, pouting. “But then you’d be next.”

They all looked down at the book, waiting for her to continue, all their attention on her. Eager to learn, hopeful that they’d end up as knowledgeable as her.

They were counting on her. Vi knew that. She was the eldest, it made sense.

And they were her younger siblings. Even if her brothers weren’t related to her by blood, they were still her brothers.

So she would keep going. Keep trying.

For them.

𓍹ׄ⭒ׅ𓍻

“Down in the Sump, where the muck and bile all mix together in a foul, toxic pile, there once lived a sump rat who dreamed of much more.” Vi flipped the page, voice soft. She raised her head for a second to check on the three before looking back at the book. “…She dreamed of wide windows and bright open doors. She dreamed of a chance to get out of this place, to best all of her friends in this great big rat race…” Her voice trailed off as she looked up.

A warm smile build onto her face.

The three were asleep—or at least, finally at peace. Claggor and Powder hugged onto each other, with the youngest having her head resting against her brother’s shoulder.

Mylo kept his distance. He wasn’t even turned to face his siblings, and she was the only one able to see his face.

But that didn’t matter to her.

What mattered was that he was actually asleep. Asleep, and not tense or defensive, not tossing and turning and shivering from fear and paranoia. In the past three days since Mylo had joined them, Vi hadn’t been able to sleep as much as she’d hoped—though that had been a pattern. She didn’t sleep when she came with Powder. She didn’t sleep when Claggor arrived. And now, she was still restless.

They were all for different reasons, but for the past three days, it had been because she was too focused on the Mylo’s breathing, and how even though she slept across from him, she thought she could hear his heartbeat pounding rapidly.

He was even more terrified at night than during the day. She couldn’t imagine what nights were like outside, out open in the Undercity. It was already dark and freezing in the mornings, and she knew briefly of how horrible it was at night.

But she didn’t know it like Mylo did. She didn’t live through it. So he’d always be tense at night, even in the warmth of the indoors, and now he wasn’t. He finally wasn’t.

It was a relief.

The air finally felt still now. Calmer. Quiet. She knew Vander was likely cleaning up, but she couldn’t hear him. The world had fallen asleep.

Yet her head was still wide awake. Yelling. Repeating. Remembering. Every little detail, every sound, every sensation. It just made her heart squeeze tightly with agony, and she slowly set down the book on the desk beside her to look down at her pants.

Her whole body felt exhausted. She hadn’t even done much, but all her limbs were aching and burning. Her mind was spinning, throat closing as she tried to focus on the faint sound of the unstable, rickety ventilation which rung loudly around the basement.

She’s grown used to the sound. She knew she had, she’d been able to sleep through it before.

But now it felt so much louder. So much faster, frantic, as if it would break at any moment.

Vi anxiously lifted her head up to see her siblings once more. Her family, she knew. They didn’t share the same blood like she did with Powder, but they were her family. Her brothers.

Children. Children, who had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of life’s coin. Children who were still confused, and didn’t know all the horrible things that the Undercity had to offer. Children younger than her, even if not by much. Children like her.

Children who were counting on her.

The worried expression changed to one of determination as Vi took a deep breath, hands balling into fists. She stood from her seat, gently brushing hair off of Powder’s face. Tilting Claggor’s head into a more comfortable position. Carefully adjusting the blanket over Mylo’s shoulder. He surprisingly didn’t flinch.

And as she took a step back to look at the three, she hastily swallowed back the apprehension creeping through her veins, straightening her posture.

She was their big sister now.

The pink haired girl looked down at her fists, feeling her nails sink into her skin from how firm they were.

They were her younger siblings.

Her body moved quicker than she thought it could, moving towards the two lone candles sitting on the desk beside the book.

She had to protect them.

Vi blew out the candle, darkness surrounding her in an instant.

No matter what.

(foreshadowing/symbolism/metaphors go crazy in this one actually. also did y’all realize the siblings died in alphabetical order or am I looking way too deeply into this…tho I guess powder didn’t actually die at the end lawl)

(Anyways…Vi’s definitely felt a need to take care of her siblings, especially at the start when they were all still scared and weren’t used to this new family. As the eldest, she felt responsible over them, even if it was a lot of pressure for a literal 9 year old. Of course as she aged, this hasn’t left, but slightly evolved. Idk how to exactly word it, but her responsibility over her siblings has changed from when she was little compared to what we see in the show, mostly thanks to Vander and her own desire to fight. Her hatred for Topside only fueled this need to take care of her siblings).

(But as for the reading stuff: Felicia probably realized that there was a chance she could die at any moment, especially in a place like the Lanes, and taught Vi to read and write when she was 7-ish, and even then it took a while because she didn’t have a lot of time or resources to do so. She was literally ABOUT to start teaching Powder, and planned to do so more after the riot, but…that never happened. As for the boys, a similar thing happened with them—their parents just didn’t rlly have the time or energy to sit down and teach them bc of their jobs. Also yes, kids naturally learn to speak and understand words out loud without education while reading/writing has to be taught, it’s human brain stuff idk).

[la-principessa-nuova]

this is what i ended up doing btw

which lead to this exchange:

and then he didn’t respond for a bit, and then a little over an hour later:

and responding to this was the hardest text message i’ve ever sent, even though it only took me 12 minutes:

if only that was the end of the story…

because one bit of context that is missing in all of this is that leading up to coming out to my dad, I had come out to the rest of my family, and my older sister wasn’t in a position to provide emotional support, and my mom and younger sister were not handling it particularly well, and I remember one day laying in bed and bawling my eyes out while thinking about how alone I felt in it, and realizing how badly I felt like I needed the support of a parent on my side

And even though my dad has always been bigoted and had said a lot of strongly anti-trans things, there is a part of me that was holding out on the hope that he might be that, because he was the only unknown, and therefore the only chance I have left at a family member filling that role for me. and despite his views, his deepest moral true north is being there for family.

but at the same time, he has never been particularly good at connecting emotionally, so my hopes were not super strong. So when I saw this, yeah, really meant something, but also I’d always struggled with telling my family that I love them and that made it really hard to respond on top of the strong feelings.

then like 20 minutes later i was just saying how he was handling it surprisingly well to someone and then i get this:

which i didn’t respond to for a couple reasons. one of them was that the choice of wording with “always being strong” just triggered some feelings of being misgendered even though it probably wasn’t intentional, but I was even more sensitive to it then than I am now

but then as much as i appreciate him taking responsibility for the effect his drinking had on me, there is some awkwardness in associating it with me being trans like as if it fucked me up into being trans. but maybe he only meant it as in why i didn’t tell him sooner, which to be fair is probably at least in part related.

but also like it’s not the first time my dad suddenly apologized with a long text at night and saying he was done drinking (although usually not referring to already being a few months in), and I know how those have gone before when I have engaged with them.

then i didn’t say anything for a few days because I was busy with other things, and the a few days later he sends me this:

And this part is where the difficult part of his reaction really began. because it’s really hard to respond to this in a way that doesn’t just escalate into arguing, because he is acting like it’s so unreasonable that I would have assumed that he might have a bad response to me being trans and that I would have kept this from him for so long, but he was saying horrible things about trans people on at least a weekly basis, and probably much more often recently had I been around to hear more.

Like to pick one of the worse examples, he has said that all trans people should be lined up and shot. And he has come home throwing a temper tantrum because he was so offended that he saw a trans woman at Jo-ann Fabrics.

Perhaps then it’s reasonable that I had gotten a bit more distant as I got the means to no longer live in that house.

and of course, following up the message with a photo of the two of us when I was little is just so hurtful because I don’t know how I’m supposed to read that other than look how happy we were when you played the part of a boy properly. and it might sound like I’m overly reading into it, but based on what my parents have said since then this seems like what their intention would’ve been, but it comes across to me like he’s trying to remind me what I‘m “really” like and how much happier I was as a boy, with a hint of “please don’t take my son from me”.

So it took me a day to respond, and in the meantime I must have talked to my mom and she mentioned that he was upset about the last name change, which I had completely forgot about at this point.

I responded with a very long text that I would like to include but it’s just so much so i’ll summarize it, but if you want to read the whole thing:

but basically, I went into how why i hadn’t been visiting as much and how AuDHD makes that more difficult, and how hearing him say awful things about trans people hurt so much, and how associations with some family trauma ruined the last name for me, as well as the practical reasons I had started using it as a last name that lead to me getting used to the new last name.

my dad responded a reasonable amount of time later for the length of the message and his reading ability not being great, with a positive and supportive response

then the next day just as i was wrapping up my therapy session and saying how well it was going…

as you can see in that screenshot, it was almost a week before i was able to say anything to him after that and I never responded to it directly. but yeah, not just the horrible phrasing and overreaching but also just the thing about researching it and people being depressed as if there isn’t empirical research showing the opposite effect. yeah… i did not respond and i feel justified in that

I probably did see him in person at some point that week, but I’m pretty sure I would have said the bare minimum, and I definitely did not address that

funny thing is, I made the decision that if my parents ask me about it at this point that I will pretend that I’ve already had bottom surgery and see how long I could get away with them believing that, but it hasn’t really come up in a way where I could try to pull that off, haha

well, i guess this is going to be an interesting weekend

fuckin yolo i guess

[halfbakedideas]

Curry. It's Blue

The Doctor makes a curry. It’s surprisingly really good, if you ignore the colour.

Inspired by this post by @whatsfourteenupto.

hi; sorry it's been so long since i posted one of these, i got distracted by uni stuff and hurtcember, oops. this one is almost laughably short, oh well.

i am still writing these. sort of. i've got a couple more in various stages of completion but hurtcember takes priority, so don't expect a new W14UT ficlet 'till early january at earliest.

—x—x—x—

The Doctor had managed to convince Sylvia to let them cook dinner that night. She had argued, resisted giving up control of the kitchen to the one who had burnt the pasta that he had been entrusted to watch over less than a week ago but she did eventually relent.

“You better not burn down the kitchen,” Sylvia warned.

“Or make anything explode, again!” Donna chimed in. She still wouldn’t let live down the microwave-toaster incident.

“I won’t!” the Doctor told them.

It would not help his case right now to mention that the only kitchen that they had ever managed to not only set fire to but completely burn down was the TARDIS’s.

“Now, go get out of here,” They shooed both Sylvie and Donna out of the kitchen.

Those two had cooked dinner the last time that everyone had been around but he had found a curry recipe on a sticky note in the TARDIS’s library that they wanted to try making. Not to mention that both ladies needed a break (yes, they were looking at you, Sylvia, at that last bit).

With the kitchen to themself, the Doctor set about making his curry. They headed into the pantry for the spices and a pot. Then he went out into the TARDIS for the recipe. Donna had stared at them rather intently 

Everything that followed after that seemed to go smoothly until he got to the chicken. Specifically deboning the chicken.

In the end, after a relatively minor internet rabbit hole, they decided to just use the sonic to do it.

Meanwhile, earlier…

Donna headed down the hallway, in the direction of the laundry, only to be stopped by her mother who had just came down the stairs. The two of them were far enough away from the kitchen that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Do you think they’ll be able to pull it off? Making an entire dish without burning it or mucking it up?”

“I have no idea; we’ll just have to see at dinner,” She headed into the laundry and picked up the washing basket, balancing it on her hip. “It’s been half an hour and nothing’s exploded or randomly appeared, so it should be fine,”

“Nothing has appeared or exploded that we know of,”

Donna passed by her mother and the kitchen on her way to the washing line outside. When she passed the kitchen it was to see the Doctor Ponting the sonic at a full chicken and pulling out its bones a moment later.

…So it had a deboning setting. Yeah; dinner will be fine.

In the end, by the time that everyone had arrived for dinner, the Doctor had finished whatever they had made. What turned out to be an oddly-blue chicken curry and a very normal looking vegetable casserole.

“Is it…safe to eat?” Melanie asked, eyeing the chicken curry suspiciously.

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’. “The colour’s from a spice that should be completely safe for human consumption,”

“‘Should be’?” Sylvia echoed, concerned.

“Blue or not blue, that curry smells delicious,” Shaun chimed in, reaching for the serving spoon and dishing himself some of the curry.

The rest, the Doctor included, watched as Shaun tried some of it. Waiting and watching to see if anything happened.

Nothing did.

A minute passed. Two. And even a third. Yet nothing happened to Shaun at all.

“That is very good curry, Doctor,” he concluded.

That was all the confirmation that the others needed to try it for themselves. Rose, meanwhile, went straight for the almost-suspiciously normal looking vegetable casserole.

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

I'm feeling nostalgic and thinking back to last October, where we were seeing Theighty Nein live show in London and 2 days later living our best lives at MCM London...

I guess it's a fine day as any to say I'll be going to the MCM again this week, we had so much fun last year, that even thought there's no CR event this year, we're doing this again ! And I'm so happy because I've been working my ass off for months on my new cosplay... The one and only Lady Delilah Briarwood. Here's few pictures that do not do it justice, since my mannequin is weird :

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[riarnu]

:u

[badlymadeocs]

Kitagawa Izumi - BNHA

Age:

15

Hero Name:

Undecided

Quirk:

Izumi can manipulate buoyancy, the force exerted by a fluid on an immersed object. Under normal circumstances, buoyancy acts upwards, typically against the weight of an object and with a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object.

He is capable of enhancing, diminishing, redirecting, or nullifying the buoyant force on an immersed object (whether in air, water, or another fluid) and can cause it to float, sink, appear/feel lighter or heavier, or experience a neutral buoyancy. The user may also be able to alter the center of buoyancy, changing the stability of floating objects (e.g. sailing vessels) and may cause them to tip over.

He, however is incapable of controlling the direction in which an object will float while using his quirk.

Backstory:

Izumi grew up watching his parent's tumultuous marriage, surrounded by constant fights and being viewed as another excuse to fight. When he was 8 years old they finally divorced but the fighting only got worse and worse.

Before middle school he only had one friend, this friend wanted to be a hero and made him promise to go to hero school with her so that both of them could be heroes together, unfortunately this friend turned out to be quirkless and due to bullying had to move out of town. Unfortunately with no way to communicate between them they lost contact over the years.

After this he started to fully isolate himself from his classmates.

Personality:

Izumi has an eerily calm personality, to the outside world he seems to be somewhat detached from anything. He is not the type of person to give much thought into people's opinion of him, simply doing whatever he wants with no regard for any kind of consequence. He's also prone to fits of melancholia from time to time and has difficulty forming connections with people his age

Even though he is training to be a hero, Izumi has no aspirations for his own future, simply living life one day at a time and when asked for the reason to wanting to become a hero his only answer is: "why not? It's not like I have anything better to do." In truth, being a hero wasn't a choice he made by his own volition but the result of an unfulfilled promise and he has conflicting emotions about whether he should continue down this path.

Ps: Yes he has a baby face but he really is 15.

[avanchnzel]

since i havent posted a damn thing in god knows how long. some wips and some other things. its all my WoL. ignore that. good day.

not comprehensive. first picture is what im actively working on. le sigh we cringe on

[thankskenpenders]

Thoughts on two specific areas of the writing in Sonic X Shadow Generations

The best new 3D Sonic game in over a decade (or even two, depending on who you ask) dropped late last year. And I didn't write anything about it! Sometimes life happens. Well, I've finally sat down to finish Shadow Generations, and by now everyone has already been singing its praises for three months. This is the rare instance where the entire Sonic fandom, and even mainstream reviewers, are in agreement on something. The level design is the best it's been in a long, long time and the cool factor is off the charts, embracing Sonic's peak cringe era in an incredibly confident way. It's great. If you're even reading this post, you probably don't need me to tell you that. So I won't!

No, what I'm really interested in here is the writing. Because this is me we're talking about. But I actually don't want to talk about the main narrative of Shadow Generations, which is really solid little story about Black Doom trying to mold Shadow into his perfect soldier. No, I'd like to zero in on two other aspects of the writing here: the revisions made to Sonic Generations, and Gerald Robotnik's unlockable journal.

The updated Sonic Generations script

The new package mostly presents Sonic Generations how you remember it. There are some tweaks, but it's not a major overhaul. Graphically, I don't think the game has been touched much, if at all. I certainly can't notice any difference without a side-by-side comparison, despite playing it on a PS5. The most notable update is that the game's script has been rewritten by Ian Flynn.

Naturally, this caught my attention. Generations always had a nothingburger story, so with Ian rewriting Pontac and Graff's lame dialogue there was nowhere to go but up. (I don't like to pin the blame for those games' stories entirely on them, as a ton of it was dictated to them by Sonic Team, but, well, I don't think they're very good dialogue writers.) But it's less a complete rewrite and more like Ian was brought on as a script doctor for some minor touch ups here and there. Many lines of dialogue are completely identical to how they were originally written in 2011, and many others only have slight wording changes. Ian was clearly not allowed to request additional scenes or extend the ones that already existed. He has to match the original beat for beat so that they can reuse 99% of the cutscene animations. Don't expect it to be a whole new experience compared to the original.

Still, I think the new script is an improvement, albeit a minor one. Various things have been tweaked to maintain characterization consistency. Cream calls Sonic "Mr. Sonic" instead of just "Sonic." Instead of calling Sonic "buddy," Rouge uses the pet name "Blue," like she tends to do in things like the IDW comics. Espio doesn't have to remind you in the dialogue that he's a ninja, and he no longer has a line making it sound like he has some kind of soul reading power. I also like that Modern Sonic now actually has responses to what his friends say when he rescues them, rather than being silent like Classic Sonic. They won't blow you away, but they make Sonic feel a little more engaged with everything.

In general, the altered dialogue just seems tighter to me, and some of the more childish or trite wording of Pontac and Graff's script has been altered. Here, let's actually make a direct comparison, just because this stuff is interesting to me as a writer. Here's a couple lines from after the Egg Dragoon fight late in the game, in the original script:

Modern Eggman: Ooooh... I can't believe this! I was supposed to beat you this time. Modern Sonic: Aw, I'm sorry! I didn't get that memo. I beat you every time! [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat this guy every time. It's like it's our job or something!

This is a simple exchange. Eggman is mad that he lost. Sonic is unflappably confident because he always beats Eggman, and he explains this to his younger self. But the wording here isn't particularly good. Eggman's simple and direct wording makes him come off like a little kid who's mad because his older brother beat him at Mario Kart, rather than a mad scientist who just had his plans foiled. It's making light of the situation.

And I've never liked Sonic saying "It's like it's our job or something!" That doesn't feel like a thing Sonic would say, it feels like a thing an outside observer would say about Sonic. This is a frequent problem with so-called "MCU dialogue," where quips meant to echo the commentary of a casual, somewhat disinterested audience are inserted into the story itself so that the writers can be like "See? We get it. We're genre-savvy, too!" It also just reminds me of bad Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric lines like "Rings! It's like they're made for me!"

And then here's Ian's rewrite:

Modern Eggman: I recalibrated everything! This was supposed to be my time! Modern Sonic: Oh, please, keep dreamin', Egg-head. I beat you every time. [Turns to Classic Sonic] No, seriously, we beat him every time. Our score card's flawless.

Eggman's still mad about his defeat, but the line "I recalibrated everything!" makes it more specific. He put all this work into the engineering side of his latest scheme and got tunnel vision, thinking if he got his creations just right there'd be no way he could lose. "This was supposed to be my time!" also turns it into a time travel pun, which is a bonus. He's still pitching a fit over losing, but it feels more like Eggman pitching a fit, rather than sounding childish.

And then instead of saying that beating Eggman is "like his job or something," Sonic says he's got a flawless score card against Eggman. He doesn't take Eggman seriously as a threat—at least, not to his face. He acts like it's all a game. But he conveys this in a way that feels truer to the character, rather than feeling like the words of a real world observer poking fun at the tropes of the Sonic series.

Is this amazing, A+ dialogue that blows me away? No. Again, it's not a completely different scene from the one we already had. Ian had to fit the beats of what was already there. He couldn't go all out and write an all new story confirming his longstanding headcanon that the Time Eater is a remnant of Solaris or whatever. But the wording here makes the existing story land a little better and feel truer to the characters in subtle ways.

But to me, the main change is that the Sonics and Tailses seem to have a more solid understanding of what's going on with the timeline and the Time Eater, compared to how idiotic they sometimes seemed in the original game. Which is good! No more standing outside Green Hill and wondering why it seems so familiar. Thank god. As part of this, yes, there are a few more references to past games in the dialogue, like Sonic briefly being confused about the fact that they're time traveling without the Time Stones, or South Island and Westside Island being acknowledged as the normal locations of Green Hill and Chemical Plant. Yes, ha ha, insert joke about how Ian loves references here. Look, it's Sonic fucking Generations. It's a game built entirely out of nostalgic references. Just own it! And, again, in this instance Sonic and Tails come off as less stupid when they make it clear that they do, in fact, remember their adventures from presumably less than a year ago in-universe.

Eggman, too, seems to have a better understanding of the powers he's toying with. Where in the original vesion his focus was simply on going back in time to undo his previous defeats and he seemed kind of oblivious to how much the Time Eater was actually fucking up the universe, here Eggman says he wants to use the Time Eater to give himself complete control over the entire timeline. Eggman also makes way fewer references to his own failures and shortcomings. Of course he won't admit that Sonic has defeated him time and time again. To him, he's never truly lost��Sonic just keeps delaying the inevitable total victory for the Eggman Empire.

So, yes. The new Sonic Generations script is better. It won't blow anyone away, but it's better than it was. It's been elevated from "kinda lame" to "fine." No, if you really wanna see Ian flex his ability to breathe new life into old Sonic stories, look no further than...

Gerald Robotnik's Journal

Hoo boy.

The story of what happened aboard the ARK has always been... a bit confusing, to say the least. Fans with encyclopedic knowledge of the script for every route of Shadow '05 may disagree, but it's the truth. We've had all the pieces to understand the story for a long time now, but that info was given to us out of order by a pair of unreliable narrators—Gerald, who became a vengeful lunatic shortly before his death, and Shadow, who was subjected to multiple rounds of amnesia and altered memories. Some of the ambiguity left by Sonic Adventure 2 was cleared up in Shadow '05, but that game also retconned in a bunch of new elements to Shadow's backstory (aliens!) that lead to further confusion. Not to mention the fact that that game had multiple routes and only revealed the truth about Shadow if you sat on the ultimate final boss battle for WAY longer than the fight would normally last. Or the fact that Sonic X made its own tweaks in its telling of the story. Or the fact that none of these things ever had the best English translations. I can't blame anyone who hasn't played those games in two decades for not remembering the truth about these characters and getting some details mixed up.

What we needed was something to piece together all of the info we have into one coherent backstory, told in chronological order. And thanks to Shadow Generations, we have that, in the form of an official journal tying together what we knew from Sonic Adventure 2, Shadow '05, and Sonic Battle into the tragic tale of Gerald's rise and fall.

Ian Flynn was the perfect man for the job here as the guy who started his career by tidying up the mess that was the first 159 issues if Archie Sonic. This is what he excels at: taking disparate bits of weird Sonic lore from multiple different sources, boiling them down to their most interesting elements, and connecting it together in a way that will make the audience see the dramatic potential he's always known was there. Rather than feeling like a cynical exercise in franchise building, going back and explaining things that never needed explaining so that people can add more bullet points to the wiki, he puts a new spin on things that retroactively enriches those past stories. The story here means something to the characters involved and gives us a better understanding of them as people, rather than as plot devices to motivate Shadow.

(And, of course, Ian didn't do this journal alone. He wrote the story, but I also have to give a huge shout out to Evan Stanley, who made the final product. All of her handwritten journal entries, sketches, and "photos" included throughout. The physical damage done to the journal over the course of 50 tumultuous years, passing from Gerald to Eggman to a certain special someone at GUN. The way Gerald's handwriting gets less and less legible as his mental state declines. So much love was put into what could have been a mere text dump in a menu, and it really elevates it to the next level. Congrats on officially getting hired by Sega, Evan, you've sure as hell earned it!)

The main idea the journal conveys is that Gerald was under a lot of pressure from a lot of different parties—GUN, the President, his colleagues aboard the ARK, Black Doom, even his own family—and boy did it get to him. The known incidents aboard the ARK mentioned in previous games are put together here to form a story where everything slowly spirals out of control as Gerald keeps compromising his morals to further his research, thinking he'll eventually find some way out of all this because he's a genius. I won't recap that whole story here (if you haven't already played the game and read the journal entries, I would highly recommend at least reading it on the Sonic wiki), but I'd like to highlight my favorite elements of the story, as Ian tells it here.

1) The Eclipse Cannon

Here's something that never quite made sense in Sonic Adventure 2: why does the ARK have a laser that can blow up the Earth built into it? It was supposed to be a peaceful research colony. Sure, Gerald went crazy and swore revenge on the Earth, but, like... when did he have an opportunity to go back up to the ARK and modify it? Did he have someone else do it? How? The ARK was raided by GUN and shut down! And then they arrested him, held him in prison for an unclear period of time, and executed him by firing squad when he was no longer useful! It doesn't add up. Shadow 'the Hedgehog '05 would give its own answer by introducing the Black Arms and saying that the Eclipse Cannon was always supposed to be a secret trump card against the Black Comet. But, like... we know that's kind of a bullshit answer, right? You don't need enough power to blow up a whole planet just to destroy a comet.

Well, the new journal retains what we already knew, but it paints a much more complete picture.

See, long before Gerald ever made a Faustian bargain with Black Doom, he had already made one with an even greater evil: the military. GUN gave Gerald much of the funding for the ARK, Gerald's personal utopian research station in space, but it didn't take long for GUN to start pressuring him to design them weapons. Gerald tried to get GUN off his back by personally contacting the President of the United Federation, and the President gave him an alternative: how about, instead, you just use your genius brain to figure out the secret to immortality for us, so our soldiers can be immortal? Gerald was initially sickened by the notion and found it completely absurd, like chasing a shadow... but given no other option, the sarcastically named Project Shadow soon began in earnest. (Maria would later put a more positive spin on the name after Shadow's awakening, pointing out that a Shadow can show us the direction of the light, like she says in the game itself.)

Of course, this search for the ultimate life form didn't go very well, and without any results on that front GUN kept hounding him for weapons. Gerald would throw them a bone here and there to get them off his back. His research on Chaos resulted in the Artifical Chaos prototypes, which he worried would be used for warfare but could at least theoretically be used for search and rescue missions in floods, in his mind. But that wasn't enough. So he gave them Chaos Drives to power their mechs. And that still wasn't enough. He's got Emerl. He'll give them Emerl. They're not impressed by Emerl. They'll shut the whole ARK down if Gerald doesn't give them something big.

Fine! GUN wants something big? Gerald builds a huge fucking laser cannon into the ARK. However, as a middle finger to GUN, Gerald makes it so powerful that it would destroy the Earth if it was ever fired at any target on its surface. In other words, GUN now has their ultimate weapon of mass destruction, fulfilling his contract, but they can never actually use it. Oh, the delicious irony. (And also Shadow will blow up the Black Comet with it in 50 years yada yada yada.) Is this perhaps extremely shortsighted and naive of Gerald, to believe that such a weapon would never actually be used just because of the risk? Of course. But hey, that's Gerald for you. And I love this as an answer.

(Also, this, uh, kinda echoes something from real life! Remember the bit in Oppenheimer where he says all nuclear war will become unthinkable, and Edward Teller responds "until somebody builds a bigger bomb"? Yeah, Teller went on to conceptualize a superweapon codenamed Project Sundial that would have been able to kill all life on the planet, as the ultimate deterrent for war. This was never made for obvious reasons, but hey, there's a basis for this sort of thinking outside of heightened sci-fi! There's a whole Kurzgesagt video about this if you're interested.)

2) The Biolizard

The Biolizard is, of course, brought up as the initial failed prototype of the ultimate life form, from before Gerald met Black Doom. We don't really learn all that much about it that we didn't already know, but I just love the way it's framed in the story.

As you can see above, we actually get to see a picture of Maria holding up the cute little salamander that would end up mutating into the Biolizard through Gerald's experiments. (Researchers want to figure out how to replicate salamanders' regenerative abilities for humans in real life, too, so this was a natural starting point for the project.) And then, after it grows to a monstrous size and goes out of control, Gerald has to lock it away in an unused sector of the ARK. He needs to keep the poor thing alive for his research into harnessing Chaos Energy, building life support systems directly into it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell Maria what happened. So it just becomes this first dark secret weighing on his conscience. The Biolizard becomes Gerald's Tell-Tale Heart beating beneath the floorboards of the ARK. I love that.

3) Lost Impact was the breaking point for the ARK

Remember the level Lost Impact in Shadow '05? The flashback level on the hero path where Shadow is running around fighting Artificial Chaos enemies on the ARK 50 years ago? Yeah, that wasn't just a random incident. That was important, as we now know due to its placement on the timeline.

See, Emerl's rampage aboard the ARK that was chronicled in Sonic Battle and Dark Beginnings set off a domino effect. Emerl riled up the Artificial Chaos, causing Gerald to lose control of them. They became violent, and so Shadow had to stop them, as depicted in Lost Impact. The thing is, that incident sent an SOS signal to GUN telling them that shit was going down on the ARK. Gerald didsn't fully understand the trouble he was in and assumed that he'd simply be reprimanded by the higher ups, or maybe face legal action. But, well... the next time he heard from GUN, armed troopers were raiding the ARK.

So Lost Impact was the straw that broke the camel's back. I just really like that detail.

4) Maria

And, of course, there's Maria herself. Maria has often been more of a symbol than a character, this perfect embodiment of everything that's good and pure in this world who gets killed to motivate Shadow and Gerald's revenge plots. But I really like the wrinkles this journal adds to her and Gerald's story, and their relationship. This is the most fleshed out they've ever felt.

For one, the journal leans into the idea of Maria's intellectual potential. The rest of the Robotnik family is all geniuses, after all, and she was proving to be a really bright kid. She excelled in her studies on the ARK, and she even helped design Shadow's jet skates and inhibitor rings. When Maria died, the world didn't just lose a symbolic personification of purity. She genuinely could have been a hugely influential scientist who did so much good for the world. That's what Gerald wanted for her. But we'll never know, because GUN killed her.

Speaking of her family, their presence isn't just mentioned for the sake of fleshing out the Robotnik family tree. It's mentioned that as Gerald struggled to find a cure for Maria's illness through his genetic research, he faced mounting pressure from his family. They didn't want Maria to be up on the ARK forever. They wanted Gerald to hurry up and find a damn cure, or otherwise just send her back home to Earth so she could be with her family again. She'd been up on the ARK for so long that Gerald's coworkers started thinking that she had been born up there. Eventually she gains a baby sister on Earth who she's never met. A rift forms between Gerald's two sons, and he's unable to really deal with it because he's so consumed by his work. There's this sense that the family is falling apart, and that everyone is dreading the possibility that Gerald will never find a cure and that Maria will just spend her final years up in space and die far away from her family, because Gerald just couldn't let go. If that happens, it'll break the whole family. But he can't stop now. So he just keeps working. Curing Maria is the only way to win his family back, in his eyes. It can't all be for nothing.

But my favorite detail regarding Maria is this one paragraph:

Maria is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I've caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanishes when she's slighted.

This is SUCH a great addition to the story! It's always been true that Maria doesn't really seem all that ill, just looking at her in cutscenes. With this one little comment, Ian flips that issue on its head and turns it into a story about invisible disability. She doesn't act like she's in chronic pain, so she must not be, everyone thinks. And this really, really gets to Gerald, as does the pressure from his family. He's dedicating his whole LIFE to saving her, and they think she's faking it?! It's such a small addition, never referenced elsewhere in the journal, but it adds so much flavor to the story, as does the implied family drama. It grounds Gerald and Maria and makes them feel more like real human beings, rather than being pure archetypes. It's just enough info to let my imagination run wild filling in the blanks.

You also get the feeling that Maria being such a walking ray of sunshine was the only real source of joy Gerald had left in his life before Shadow was awakened, and the only thing keeping him from snapping under pressure sooner. All this stuff just keeps piling on, everything's spiraling out of control, but at least Maria is keeping her chin up, right? It makes so much sense that losing her would make him go off the deep end when it's framed like this.

It's just... man, I never thought I'd care so much about Gerald and Maria. But that's the Ian Flynn touch. After years of less than stellar Sonic writing that seemed to be embarrassed of itself, I'm so happy to have new games coming out that fully embrace the history of the series like this, making its world feel so rich and real instead of just serving as an excuse for a string of platforming levels. I don't even like Shadow '05, but I'll be damned if Ian and the rest of Sonic Team didn't make something amazing by "yes, and"-ing Shadow's cringe past here. Sonic has truly reached levels of "we're so back" never thought possible.

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[raghadayyad]

Hello my dear friends🇵🇸

I am Raghad Ayyad from Gaza, specifically from the Shuja'iyya area in northern Gaza. I am 19 years old, a second-year pharmacy student.👩‍⚕️❤

I belong to a family who have been displaced since the beginning of the war from the north to the central area, which is supposed to be safe. I have been displaced more than 6 times within the central area to escape the bombing that is chasing us everywhere.

Ten days ago, with the deterioration of the situation and the continued bombing in the central area, orders were issued to evacuate the area in which we live. We were forcibly displaced for the seventh time to Khan Yunis.

Now we live in a tent that is completely uninhabitable, but we cannot find another place.🥺💔

My father is paralyzed in his right leg. Several months before the war, he underwent hip replacement surgery in Egypt. He was supposed to return to Egypt to complete his treatment, but the war prevented him from completing the treatment he desperately needs. He still suffers from continuous and severe pain, to the point that painkillers are no longer effective, if they exist, because the medications are not available to him in Gaza.

My dream and my father's dream was to graduate from the Faculty of Pharmacy, which I loved so much. I was doing my best to get the highest grades, and my father promised me that he would establish my own pharmacy as soon as I graduated from university, but the occupation destroyed my dream and my father's dream by demolishing my university and everything we owned. I lost a whole academic year, and the second year will start while we are still in this war, and I fear that I will lose another academic year. All I want is to get out with my family and survive this genocide so that I can achieve my dream and continue my studies and graduate from the Faculty of Pharmacy, and continue treating my paralyzed father.

I am not the only one in the family who lost an academic year. My sister Basma was supposed to finish her high school studies and then move on to university, but she lost her academic year, and my brother Mazen and my sister Nuha, who are studying in middle school, also lost an academic year.

We all dream of completing our education. We all need to get out of this genocide to complete and rebuild our lives, and this is not easy after everything we lost in this war. It will take us a long time to rebuild our lives.

I urge everyone who supports Palestine, especially those who support education and treatment, to help me and my family.

We depend on you and we have no hope but you.✌✌

I would be grateful to all of you if you stand by us and support us.❤

My campaign vatted by

✅️ @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #346 )

✅️ @funds4gaza

✅️ @bilal-salah0

Thank you very much everyone.

@palestinegenocide @apollos-olives @queerstudiesnatural @palistani @buttercuparry @burtlebabe @oorevitcejda @neshamama @mansbutchery @sar-soor @brutamente-meiga @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @moayed01 @schoolhater @gayorc @acesthwtics-blog @neptunerings @black-and-white @omegaversereloaded @omegomagnit @heritageposts @feluka @drangues @afropvnk @transmutationisms @horrorandhalloween @commissions4aid-international @imjustheretotrytohelp @jezior0 @approvers @turian @journalsforpalestine @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @kyra45-helping-others @tortiefrancis @fromjannah @criptografarei   @amygdalae @ankle-beez @dykesbat @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @deepspaceboytoy @post-impressionisms @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees @appsa

[saintobio]

blank canvas. (3)

in an attempt to rekindle an already fractured relationship, you open your eyes to the harsh reality that some things, once broken, can no longer be repaired.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, degradation, explicit smut, toxic relationship

notes. 8.3k wc. here’s the last part !! although there will still be an epilogue, which will be posted a few days from now (let’s not jinx it lol). but thank you for supporting this three-part fic :’) feedback and reblogs are most appreciated!

part 2 | epilogue

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. 

Sighing, you stood behind the counter of your floral shop, absentmindedly picking on the rose petals like an infatuated teenager. It was almost ridiculous what you were doing out of boredom. And although the sweet scent of the flowers surrounding you were supposed to feel calming, it did little to lift the terrible weight on your chest. 

Two weeks had passed since you had given your virginity to Satoru. Two weeks since you tried to move on from Sukuna.

Others might say you were too irrational with it. Others might say you did the right thing. But honestly, what was so good about having sex with a guy you barely knew when you spent years refusing to do it with your actual boyfriend? 

Yes, you were definitely, undeniably irrational with it. You realized it all too late after you had already given your virginity to another guy. You weren’t even sure what compelled you to ask Satoru to do it with you, but at the time, it felt right. It felt reasonable that you were trying to get over an ex-boyfriend, out of spite, for not setting boundaries with other women while you were still together. You thought it would be fair to play a similar part in this tragic tale, that it wouldn’t be too bad not to set boundaries with other men who showed attraction to you, too. 

After all, Sukuna had countless women constantly latching onto him, while Satoru was the first guy within your past relationship who developed an interest in you. 

Besides, it wasn’t some kind of fairytale scene when you two slept together. Because to Satoru, it was nothing but a casual encounter. He did his best to make sure that you enjoyed it from finish to end, and you appreciated his sincerity in guiding you throughout, yet you couldn’t deny to yourself that all you had been thinking of at the time was Sukuna. You contrasted everything Satoru did with Sukuna—like how Satoru was slow and sensual, while Sukuna was rough and vulgar. Satoru enjoyed cuddling afterward, whereas Sukuna would likely go straight to sleep. Satoru was too clingy and playful, while Sukuna was more reserved and mature.

The worst part was, your heart still preferred one over the other. And it wasn’t the guy with the white hair and blue eyes. 

Satoru was a good guy, and he had genuine intentions, but after being intimate with someone you weren’t in love with, you understood that your potential relationship would never be as good as your previous one. You longed for a man like Sukuna, because despite his typical bad boy persona, he was anything but boring. Being with him was a thrill, and no matter how toxic it was, you were addicted to him.

And that’s wrong. Your lips curled into a frown. 

You glanced out the window for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your eyes drawn across the street to Sukuna’s tattoo shop. The neon sign that once buzzed with life now hung dark and lifeless. Every now and then, you could see some of his old clients passing by the shop, hoping for a chance that their favorite tattoo artist was back in business. But Sukuna still hadn’t reopened the shop in days, for almost a month now as a matter of fact, and his absence filled you with a gnawing sense of worry and longing. 

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, while that was certainly true, it also drove you crazy. Why hasn’t he opened his shop? you wondered, biting your lip. Did he move out? Did he forget about me entirely?

You turned back to your flowers, but your hands stilled as your thoughts consumed you. What would Sukuna think if he knew someone else had taken your virginity? The thought made your stomach twist. You could already hear his voice telling you that you had given yourself to someone else out of desperation, but it clearly didn’t work. If anything, it only made you miss him even more.

Your fingers traced the petals of a rose as memories flooded your mind. The way Sukuna used to look at you, his intense eyes softening just for you. The way his laugh would rumble through his chest when you said something funny. You missed him. You missed everything about him, even the way he could infuriate you with his arrogance.

A sigh escaped your lips as you placed the finished bouquet in a vase. The floral shop was quiet today, save for the distant hum of traffic outside. The city would be busy again during rush hour, but for now, you leaned against the counter, your gaze drifting back to the tattoo shop across. He’s probably with his ex, you thought, feeling a lump form in your throat. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if he still thought about you. Did he miss me too? Or had he moved on completely?

You pressed your hand to your heart. You wanted to be with him. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how much you regretted trying to move on so quickly, how much you wished you didn’t break up with him. You had no backbone when it came to Sukuna. But the fear of rejection, the fear that he no longer cared, kept you rooted in place.

Pushing yourself off the counter, you walked to the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed.” It was best to close off early today. You needed a moment to yourself, a moment to clear your head in the safety of your bedroom. But as you locked the door, you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing one last glance at Sukuna’s shop. The light flickered at first, making you wonder whether you had just imagined it, but then your heart skipped a beat when you saw the lights completely turning on inside.

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself drawn to the sight. If it was him in there, maybe this was your chance to talk and clear the air. Or maybe, it wouldn’t be wrong to simply check on him since he had been away for almost a month. What if something terrible had happened to him during those past weeks? What if he had gotten sick? With hesitant steps, you eventually crossed the street and approached his shop. There, you could see him through the window as you got closer, shirtless and his rib wrapped in a bandage, clearly covering a fresh new tattoo. In seeing your presence, he looked up, but his eyes passed over you as if you weren’t even there.

You knocked lightly on the glass door, and he glanced up again, but his expression remained indifferent, like he was trying to suppress his emotions. He didn’t move to open the door as you expected. In fact, he seemed to be arguing with himself in his head.

“Hey,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Can we talk?”

Sukuna didn’t respond right away when he wiped his hands on a rag, still not meeting your eyes. Your heart ached from the heavy silence, but before you could say anything more, the sound of a car engine broke the stillness of that scene. 

An expensive McLaren car pulled up to the curb, and you were quick to recognize its owner. 

It was Satoru rolling down his window, a bright smile on his face as he looked at you. His beam was almost blinding, distracting you from the presently awkward situation you had placed yourself in.

“Y/N,” he greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension. “Did you miss me?”

Oh, Jesus. 

The words hung in the air like a bomb, and you felt the color drain from your face as you thought of how dangerous this situation would be for you. When you saw Sukuna’s eyes flicker with interest, his posture stiffened as he finally paid attention, and you realized it was too late. Way too late. 

“Is that guy bothering you?” Sukuna finally asked, his voice unusually calm as he approached the door. The closer the proximity, the more your heart started to race. It was running at 250 km/h like it was on track. 

Satoru’s smile then faltered, now sensing the shift in the atmosphere. It was his first time meeting Sukuna, and based on the stories you had shared with him and Suguru, he was smart enough to recognize that the tattooed man was your ex. 

“I got what you asked for.” Satoru ignored Sukuna and looked back at you, holding up a small bag. “Birth control, right?”

Never in your life did you want to disappear like a puff of smoke. The sudden turn of events was so wild and unexpected. You could see that Satoru was enjoying provoking your ex-boyfriend, but the whole exchange was making you feel nauseous. The tension was so overwhelming that you couldn’t speak, or move, or do anything at all. You were simply frozen. 

It was also at that time when Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his gaze moving between you and Satoru. The pieces began to click into place, and a dark realization settled over his features. “You slept with him?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory.

“Sukuna, I…” Your breath caught in your throat because you couldn’t find the damn words to respond. Should you deny it? Should you say it wasn’t anything like that? There was no way you could get out of this situation even if you wanted to. 

But Satoru stepped out of his car in your defense. “It’s none of your business what she does—”

“Shut up, you douchebag,” Sukuna snapped, his glare turning deadly. He looked at you with sharp eyes, ones filled with a mixture of hurt and fury. With the way he was glaring, you knew he was murdering you in his head. “So this is how you move on?”

Your eyes stung from the incoming tears. You wanted to explain, to tell him that you only did it out of spite, but the words just wouldn’t come. You knew it was still wrong and that it would be a huge slap to his face hearing that you had hooked up with someone else before him. You hadn’t even confirmed anything, yet the intensity of Sukuna’s gaze already made you feel like you were suffocating. 

As the two men stood there, locked in a silent standoff, you recognized it as the loudest silence you had experienced in your life. That was, until Satoru broke that silence by reaching for your hand. “Let’s go,” he said gently, guiding you towards his car.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes lingering on Sukuna, but the look of betrayal on his face was too much to bear. It was either you turn away and leave him behind or you stay there and explain to him. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the courage to do the latter. 

— —

The roar of Sukuna’s bike echoed through the night, slicing through the darkness as he raced down the highway like a motorcycle racer on a professional track. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, jealousy and rage fueling his every movement. With every thought of you, his knuckles felt cold. 

Look, he wasn’t planning to pursue you after you left with that guy, but his ego just wouldn’t allow it. After piecing the situation together, something inside him just snapped. Like a timebomb. A very dangerous one. He couldn’t control his emotions, and he couldn’t just let you go like that. Damn it. Almost two years of forcing him into celibacy, and you suddenly threw yourself at a guy you just met?

He revved his motorbike, scoffing bitterly behind his helmet. He was riding recklessly, without a care to the other vehicles he almost crashed into. Fuck. He had spent nearly a month sulking over your pathetic breakup, he had tried his hardest to avoid you, when all this time, you were out there offering your virginity to some random trust fund-looking guy. How ridiculous was that? How utterly, goddamn ridiculous was it? Maybe you had just revealed your true colors right there. You had always felt uncertain about Sukuna because he had nothing but a tattoo shop and a decent motorbike. Now, you’ve met the picture-perfect guy your parents always wanted for you, so you found it easy to spread your legs open and allow some other guy’s dick inside.

You were worse than a whore. 

The wind whipped against his bare chest, but he paid no mind to the cold. He didn’t care anymore. Even if the police were to chase after him, he didn’t fucking care. His focus was on the red taillights of your new guy’s McLaren car ahead of him. Sukuna pushed the throttle, his bike accelerating with a ferocious growl, causing a scene along the highway. 

He mapped the situation in his head. Who was faster in this highway chase; the McLaren or his bike? While the McLaren 720 had a higher top speed, Sukuna’s Yamaha YZF-R1 was highly agile and could be more maneuverable in tight spaces. In a straight-line chase, the McLaren would eventually outpace his bike, but in scenarios involving a lot of maneuvering, he could have an advantage.

Too bad for you and your new guy though, since this highway was Sukuna’s domain. His superbike had already passed through the tightest of spaces in the midst of traffic during rush hour, so he was a clear winner here. 

And in saying that, the distance between you closed rapidly, and soon he was right behind the car, the bike’s engine roaring like a beast unleashed. With a piercing screech of tires, Sukuna maneuvered his bike alongside Satoru’s car, forcing him to pull over by kicking the driver’s side door. The car drifted and screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, and Sukuna followed suit, cutting the engine and dismounting in one fluid motion. His precious bike, now discarded on the floor, all for the sake of confronting the woman he thought had loved him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru demanded, stepping out of the car with a confident swing. He tried to look tough by using their height differences against him, but he wasn’t intimidating to Sukuna at all. 

“Get out, Y/N,” Sukuna ordered, his voice dangerously low as he ignored Satoru and the countless cars honking behind them. His eyes were locked on the passenger side where you sat, your expression an amalgam of fear and hesitation. “I said get the fuck out!” 

“Dude, chill out.” Satoru tried to put a hand on his shoulder, only to have his hand swiftly rebuffed. “I’m not letting her go with a man who’s clearly upset.”

“Stay the fuck outta this,” Sukuna growled, his fists clenched at his sides. The white-haired punk should take that as a warning. He should back out before his fist lands on his precious face. Plastic surgery isn’t cheap nowadays. “Y/N, if you don’t wanna cause a scene, I suggest you get the fuck outta there.”

**

Your chest rose and fell as you looked between the two men. You knew Sukuna well enough to understand that he wasn’t going to back down. And with a line of angry cars honking at the unnecessary traffic jam you were causing, you had no other choice but to open the door and step out.

Satoru's first instinct was to gesture for you to stay back. “Y/N—”

“Satoru, it’s okay,” you said softly. “I need to talk to him.”

The white-haired man hesitated at first, clearly worried for your safety, but with your insistence, he eventually nodded and stepped back to give you space. Sukuna’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched that interaction between you two.

“‘Kuna, can we at least pull over on the side and not talk in the middle of the highway?” you practically begged, your voice trembling as a few cars managed to squeeze their way between the McLaren and the YZF-R1, throwing harsh curse words towards you and your ex-boyfriend for the road blockage you had caused. Sukuna didn’t even flinch. All you could see was the anger in his eyes, and the pain lurking just beneath his irises.

“I’m perfectly fine talking here,” was Sukuna’s reply, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me why you’re with that douche. I think you owe me a damn good explanation, angel.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. You just wanted to get this conversation over with. “W-We broke up. It shouldn’t matter to you anymore.”

Beep. Beep. “Get off the road, you idiots! You’re holding everyone up!”

Beep. Beep. “Who do you think you are, blocking traffic like this?”

“Is that so?” Sukuna scoffed, taking a step closer as he cornered you. “You moved on pretty quickly, didn’t you?”

You flinched at his tone, but you knew you had to tell him the truth. You knew you would not be able to escape this situation if you didn’t admit it sooner or later. “Something did happen between me and Satoru,” you finally confessed, feeling uneasy from the lingering eyes of the heated drivers. “I didn’t plan it, it was just…”

Beep. Beep. “This is a highway, not a soap opera set!”

Beep. Beep. “Take your drama somewhere else!”

Sukuna’s eyes were clouded in disgust, the color of his lenses becoming red from the fire of his fury. “So you really gave it to him?!” he demanded, his voice rising. He looked like he could punch someone at this rate. “After everything we had, you gave yourself to someone else?!”

Beep. Beep. “Learn to drive and pull over if you want to argue!”

You could feel your entire body shaking, but you tried to hold your ground. “I-I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it would help me forget about you.”

“Forget about me?” Sukuna’s laugh was harsh, almost maniacal, because he was truly losing his shit. “You think you can forget about me by sleeping with some random guy?” He took another step closer, his presence far more overwhelming than the rest of the vehicle surrounding you. “You’re nothing to me now,” he snarled at your face, the reality of his words cutting through your heart like a knife. “You’re just another girl who threw herself away.”

Tears spilled over as you watched him turn his back on you, preparing to mount his bike again. “And what about you, Sukuna?” you challenged, despite his obvious departure. “Do you think you’re any better? You act as if you wouldn’t have cheated on me if I hadn’t confronted you about it!”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his anger and pain warring within him. Then he shook his head, his expression hardening as he pulled down the visor of his helmet. “But I never cheated,” he said that fact coldly, “So, don’t expect me to stick around and pick up the pieces. You’re just somebody’s leftover now.”

He turned away, the finality of his words hanging in the air to wreck you in half. As soon as he sped up the bike, he vanished into the highway, accelerating from 0 to 60 mph in 2 seconds. The roar of his bike was louder than a thunderstorm. He didn’t even care for his own safety. And as you watched him go, you could feel the rain pouring out with your heart breaking all over again, like a vase cracking against the floor, its pieces forever irreparable. 

His words hurt more than his actions ever did. And you were never one to handle it as good as you thought you would be.

— —

“I’m not trying to be biased here or anything,” Choso said, lighting his cigarette as he leaned against his Harley Davidson bike. “But even if you weren’t my step-bro, I still think you did the right thing. I wouldn’t be able to stomach hearing my ex-girlfriend be fucked by some dude after years of not giving it to me.”

Sukuna crouched next to his R1, the polished bike gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the garage. He had his shirt lay discarded nearby, leaving his toned torso exposed as he worked on changing oil. Sweat mixed with grease smudged across his chest and arms, emphasizing the taut muscles and the intricate tattoos that covered his skin. If he had women here, they would have fainted already. The sight of him sweaty and shirtless while working on his bike would have been an eye candy for them, but he didn’t need to think of that now. He merely focused on moving his hands deftly, loosening bolts and draining the old oil into a container. The methodical process offered him a momentary distraction from the chaos in his mind.

“It’s simple,” Sukuna spoke, pausing to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and inadvertently spreading more grease, “The albino guy looks rich. She just proved to me she’s nowhere near being a good girl when a rich guy’s involved.” 

The memory of his ex-girlfriend as she was picked up by another man replayed in his head. He couldn’t stop imagining how your first night went on. Did you let him fuck you raw? Did you let him hit you from the back? Did you let him cum inside? Did you go for round two? Did you choke on his cock like a good girl? 

He remembered what your naked body looked like. How soft your breasts felt like. How sweet your pussy tasted like. Now, another man had a taste of it, and he couldn’t be any more disgusted. It was sickening to think that another man’s cock got to feel you inside before he did. And that you willingly allowed it. 

“Fuck that,” he muttered to himself, tightening the new oil filter. His eyes narrowed in concentration, but his mind drifted back to the breakup. He’d always prided himself on being in control, on not letting himself be caught in temptation. But you had pushed his buttons too far, and even though he still never betrayed you, he was sick in the stomach to see that you were the first one who did. 

“Women,” Choso agreed, grinning as he shook his head. “If she wasn’t Yuki’s friend, I would’ve cut her off.” 

The wrench slipped from Sukuna's hand, leaving it to clatter to the ground. He cursed under his breath, bending down to retrieve it, his movements were fluid and graceful despite the tension in his body. “You don’t need to cut her off. It’s between me and her. She still treated you like a brother.”

The younger man raked his fingers through his raven hair, checking himself out on the bike’s mirror. “Nah. She was closer to Yuuji than me, anyway.” 

Sukuna stood up, wiped his hands on a rag, and poured fresh oil into the engine. The task was almost done, but his thoughts remained tangled. Seeing you with someone else couldn’t stop igniting a fire in him, a possessive rage he couldn’t quite shake. He missed the way you two were before, the way you couldn't get enough of each other when you were together. He missed the connection you shared, because it was something he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

Finishing the oil change, he straightened up, staring at his reflection in the bike’s mirror. The man looking back at him seemed foreign, his usual arrogance tempered by a vulnerability he didn’t care to acknowledge. He then ran a hand through his hair, smearing more grease, and sighed.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to the old times,” Sukuna spoke his thoughts out loud, with his step-brother merely staring at him. “I’m single now.” 

With a final glance at the bike, Sukuna grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, the fabric sticking to his damp skin. He needed a ride to clear his head, to feel the rush of the wind against his face. As he swung a leg over the R1, threw his helmet on, and revved the engine, the powerful roar echoed through the space, drowning out his thoughts for a moment.

“Be careful out there!” was Choso’s last reminder.

He sped off, the world blurring around him, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t escape the image of your face or the sting of jealousy that burned in his chest. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, and your face haunted him at every turn. 

As he rode, his anger simmered, his frustration building with each passing moment. The pain of betrayal gnawed at him, further fueling his reckless impulses. You’re such a piece of shit. All this time, you were claiming to be this too good of a girl who was as innocent as a bunny. When, as a matter of fact, you and your new boy toy were fucking each other like rabbits. It was funny, really, how you made him wait two years for nothing. He was your boyfriend, and yet you deprived him of sexual pleasure by pretending you were scared of it. What kind of stupid virgin would throw herself to a random guy when she’s scared to lose her virginity to her own boyfriend? 

Such bullshit. With a growl of frustration, Sukuna veered off course, his bike skidding to a stop in front of a familiar building. The apartment loomed before him as a dark silhouette against the night sky. It had been several weeks since he had seen her, but tonight, he didn’t care.

His fists clenched at his sides as he marched up the steps to her door. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger and desperation swirling inside him. He was going crazy and he wanted to blow off steam. He wanted to let his frustration out, so he banged on the door, the sound of his fist colliding with the wood echoing through the quiet street.

After a moment, the door swung open, and a stunned Yorozu stood before him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. Surprise flickered across her face as she took in his appearance, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Ryo… What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The last time they spoke, he was very vocal about having a girlfriend and wanting to keep things professional. 

Sukuna, this time around, didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I need you.”

Yorozu’s eyes widened in surprise. “But you—”

“Please, Yorozu.” He pressed a hand against the door, cornering her in between. “I really, really need you right now.” 

She wasn’t naive. She understood his implication, and he had certainly conveyed that he was no longer with you. And without hesitation, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter without a word. Sukuna felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as he was inside her place, his mind consumed by the need to forget, if only for a moment.

The door closed behind him, and in the darkness of the apartment, Sukuna grabbed Yorozu’s face and kissed her lips, drowning her in the heat of passion. Things were a blur after that, because he wasn’t thinking clearly. Because he wasn’t in his proper mind. He was letting his rage cloud his thoughts, his bitterness driving his every movement. The next thing he knew, they were stumbling into her room, unable to break their intense kiss. He had kissed her like there was no tomorrow, like her mouth was suction that he couldn’t escape. 

And soon enough, she was naked in her room, knelt before him as he forced his cock inside her mouth. He couldn’t get a sense of time. He couldn’t even tell if it was already midnight. All he knew was that his next few hours were spent with Yorozu, this time around, with him burying his digits in and out of her soaking pussy. 

“Haaah!” She arched her back as an intense wave of pleasure hit her insides. “R-Ryo!” 

Fuck. Fuck it. Sukuna, without warning, put his cock inside her cunt. And her fucked her with rage, jostled her body like a sex doll, while her eyes rolled backwards in overwhelming satisfaction. She was grinning in absolute ecstasy, her breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit her sensitive spot before he leaned forward to suck her perfectly round breast. 

Listen, he blacked out after that. So, if you were to ask him what happened after that session with Yorozu, he wouldn’t be able to answer you because he genuinely passed out from exhaustion. All he remembered was them fucking each other’s daylights out, and the next morning, she took good care of him like she was his girlfriend again. 

No, she wasn’t. 

In fact, Sukuna was labeled an asshole for ghosting her. He didn’t contact her after that night, nor did he have any further encounter with her. Instead, he went back to his old life way before you. An addict, an alcoholic, a womanizer. 

For the next few months, that became his life without you. 

He slept with different girls every few nights, especially his clients. It got to a point where he couldn’t even recall their names, and he couldn’t remember having brought them to his apartment the night prior, because he was often too high off his mind. Every girl who came to his tattoo shop for an appointment became his companion during the night. And today, one of those girls was among the many who annoyed him afterward.

“Hey,” the girl spoke in a lascivious manner, running her slender fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure if her name was Rina or Kiko. “You slept throughout the afternoon. Do you wanna go grab something to eat?” 

Sukuna groaned, covering his head with a duvet. “Why are you still here?” 

He didn’t need to see her face to know that confusion settled her delicate features. “But I thought we were…” 

“Leave,” was his harsh reply. “You’re just a one-night stand to me.” 

— —

“So, Y/N,” Suguru began with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Why haven’t you made Satoru yours yet?” 

You rolled your eyes at Getou’s antics. He was clearly on it with his best friend, and their goal today seemed to be to tease the heck out of you. “Maybe I like to keep him guessing,” you retorted with a smirk, though your mind was far from the playful banter. 

“But there’s nothing to guess!” Satoru, on the other hand, protested. He was even displaying a childish pout. “We’ve seen each other naked, you know—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you swiftly covered his mouth with your hand, earning a cackle from Suguru in return. Thank goodness there weren’t that many people in the cafe today, because you were never safe around those two. They were inseparable, like two peas in a pod, sharing one brain cell. Like yin yang.

“Shut up,” you merely replied. 

“Baby, don’t be shy,” Satoru teased again, giggling like an immature child together with Suguru. “You’re an adult who did adult things.” 

You sighed, wondering if you would ever get a break from these idiots. “This is exactly why I don’t date you.” 

It was a joke, of course. The delivery, however, was a bit dry. But nonetheless, your statement caused Suguru to laugh at his best friend who, in his defense, tried to recover his trampled ego by denying your statement. 

“She’s lying,” Satoru denied, as if convincing Suguru was his top priority, “You never told me your cousin’s hard-to-get.” 

 “Yeah,” agreed Suguru, playfully, “Definitely hard-to-get. The only girl who can make Sukuna pussy-less for two years.”

“Hey!” It was Yuki who intervened, knowing full well that Getou was below the belt on that joke. “Enough of that.”

In truth, you felt it was a touchy subject for you. Anything related to Sukuna, especially that aspect of your past relationship, was something you avoided like a plague. You wanted no mentions of him, and of what he did, and of what you didn’t do. He had simply become that person who can’t be named, like Voldemort. 

But the thing was, it was unavoidable sometimes. You weren’t mad at Suguru for bringing him up. You knew that him and Satoru, ever mischievous, were just playfully ribbing at you, but you couldn’t muster up the same enthusiasm to banter back. You were just upset because hearing Sukuna’s name reminded you of the very reason why you hadn’t been in the happiest mood today.

If it wasn’t obvious to them, your mind had been elsewhere since this morning, too fixated on the influx of girls you noticed had been frequently visiting Sukuna’s tattoo shop lately. You knew you didn’t have the right to feel jealous anymore, you knew you should no longer care about what he does with his life, but you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that something was off.

And Yuki, sensing your distraction, gently pulled you to the side for a private conversation away from the chatter of your friends. 

“Hey, Y/N. Everything okay?” Yuki asked, her tone soft and understanding. She wasn’t forcing you to open up, rather, she was allowing you to share only what you wanted to. 

You did hesitate for a moment before finding it safe to confide in her. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. And those girls at his shop... I don’t know, it’s just been bothering me."

Yuki listened attentively, her expression empathetic. “Y/N, I know this might be hard to hear, but have you considered that Sukuna might be seeing other people?”

Your heart sank at Yuki’s words. You had entertained the thought before, but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real. “Is… Is he?” 

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted reluctantly. “But Choso told me he’s been sleeping around.” Yuki then placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, anticipating your heartbreak from the news she delivered. And she was right. In just a few words, it felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife on the chest. “I'm sorry, Y/N. I agree, you deserve someone who respects and cherishes you. If Sukuna isn’t that person, then maybe it’s time to let go.”

You forced a nod, feeling a mix of sadness and regret wash over you, but you didn’t want to break down in front of Yuki. You definitely didn’t want to cry with Satoru and Suguru around. You knew deep down that Yuki was right, but accepting it was just another matter entirely and you weren’t sure if you were prepared for it.

“Listen, why don’t we go out?” she offered, a smile of encouragement spreading on her peachy lips, “Let’s have a drink or something. Anything just to keep your mind off of him. What do you say?” 

— —

It was a mistake. 

You fidgeted uncomfortably on the barstool, feeling out of place amidst the pulsating music and the raucous laughter that filled the rooftop bar. Yuki, Getou, and Gojou seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, chatting animatedly over their drinks like it was a scene that they were used to. But for you, this environment was foreign territory. You weren’t accustomed to the loudness, the crowdedness, the palpable energy that thrummed through the air. Heck, you didn’t even drink alcohol. You couldn’t stand the taste nor could you see the benefit of drinking. 

But you didn’t want to be a party pooper. Yuki did you a favor here, and it was for you to get your mind off the man who kept torturing your soul over and over. If you were to leave now, it would just beat Yuki’s purpose of tagging you along. 

You were supposed to enjoy it. You were supposed to have fun, dancing with them, singing along to the music. They weren’t even the type of music Sukuna listened to. 

“Y/N, bottoms up!” You weren’t sure if it was Satoru or Suguru who said that, but they both offered you a small glass of vodka, urging you to drink it in one shot. 

As much as you wanted to, you had to refuse, speaking over the loud music. “I’m good, thank you.” 

And as you scanned the room, your eyes inadvertently locked onto a figure across the bar. 

Amidst the throng of people. 

The one person you wanted to avoid. 

Sukuna. 

He stood out effortlessly in the crowd, exuding an aura of confidence and charisma that drew your gaze like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t believe it. No, you just couldn’t believe it. You could be hallucinating because it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be here. 

But as soon as his eyes met yours, you knew he wasn’t just a figure of your imagination. Deep in your heart, you knew it was him. You couldn’t be mistaken when those eyes, those lips, those goddamn tattoos, were all him.

Though, as you two locked gaze, his expression told a different story. They were a jumble of surprise, guilt, and bitterness. He seemed just as startled to see you as you were to see him. But beneath it all, there was an undeniable tension, a silent acknowledgment of unfinished business between you.

No, you can’t walk away from me. Excusing yourself quietly, you slipped away from the table, unnoticed by your friends, and made your way through the crowd of people towards him. He was already walking away at that point, ready to avoid your presence as if seeing you was torture for him. But didn’t he know? You were too stubborn for your own good. You relentlessly followed him, squeezing in between a drunken crowd, realizing that Sukuna was heading down. 

In the abandoned part of the building’s parking lot, you finally caught up to him, your heart pounding in your chest as you faced him. 

“‘Kuna,” you called out, “Please.” 

Sukuna turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with dark, intense eyes. “Hey,” he replied coolly, his voice a low rumble in the night air as he walked closer to his bike.

“You’re not supposed to ride when you’re drunk,” you began. 

To which he sneered at. “Why? You think I’m here to offer you a ride back home, angel?” 

Aggravating as ever. He was still that arrogant bastard you knew, and loved. “No, you’re probably doing that to someone else.” 

“Why don’t you go back to your filthy rich boyfriend?” 

“Are you jealous?” you bit back, now feeling a palpable tension transpiring between you, but you tried not to let it stop you from speaking to him. “Whatever happened to me and Satoru was just one time.” 

Sukuna scoffed at your statement. “I didn’t ask, angel.” 

Truthfully, he was the most frustrating man in the world right now. And dealing with him was definitely the hardest job ever, but your purpose of running after him wasn’t to bicker. All you wanted was to confirm something that had been bothering you. So you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “Have you been sleeping around?” 

His expression remained stoic, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of defiance. “Are you jealous?” he mocked, returning the same question back to you. “So what if I am?” 

You couldn’t tell what overcame you more; was it the pain or the anger? But surely, a hundred percent, your frustration was definitely boiling over. “So you are,” you huffed, “See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, isn’t it? This is what you’ve always wanted to do! To sleep with those girls!” 

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the tension was crackling in the air like electricity. Then, without warning, Sukuna closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your jaw.

“You don’t get to turn this back around on me,” he spat, swallowing the obvious pain in his voice, “You’re the one who started it all.”  

Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the heat of his body so close to yours, his touch igniting an altogether new fire within you. Despite the anger building inside your heart, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you together like two black holes ready to destroy one another. 

“I fucking waited for you,” he continued, his voice now deepening in a more sincere tone, “I know I was wrong for not setting boundaries, but I never, not once, cheated on you. I never fucking did! But you couldn’t trust me, right? You couldn’t fuckin’ trust me.” His pupils dilated as he raised his voice. “You’re so caught up in being too goddamn insecure about yourself when all I wanted was to have intimacy with you—”

“All you wanted was sex, just admit that!” you yelled back, jerking his hand away as tears began to fill your eyes. “And maybe I was right for giving my first to someone else, because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it when you’ve always pressured me into giving it to you.”

Sukuna’s laughter filled the air, a disbelieving chuckle that bordered on frustration. He threw his head back, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Without hesitation, he snatched his helmet and hurled it across the floor, the sound of impact startling you.

“I never fucking pressured you!” His voice was raw with emotion as he walked back towards you, frustration and hurt evident in every step. “You’re the only girl I genuinely respected. You think I enjoyed being celibate for two fucking years?! No, the fuck, I didn’t! But I waited. I waited because I didn't want you to feel forced! It was all in your fucking head, Y/N. Your doubts, your uncertainties about me. I’m a man too, damn it! Of course, it frustrated me, but that doesn’t mean I would ever leave you or cheat on you.” And just when you thought it was over, he spoke again, his words now silencing into a painful tone, his eyes shining from the tears blanketing his gaze, “Did you think you were the only one who was insecure? Every damn day, Y/N, I was scared you were gonna leave me. That you were gonna find some other guy, someone who could give you everything you want—a big house, a nice car, a successful life. I didn’t have all that. And it kills me every single day knowing that that’s exactly the type of guy you went after the moment we broke up.” 

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, as Sukuna’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the words to refute his accusations. Because deep down, you knew he had a point. Your doubts, your insecurities—they had clouded your judgment, poisoned your perception of Sukuna. And now, faced with his raw honesty, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words.

But accepting that truth was a bitter pill to swallow. It meant acknowledging your own flaws, your own role in the breakdown of your relationship. And it meant coming to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, you had let your fears drive you to push away the person who had truly cared for you.

As Sukuna stood before you, frustration and hurt etched into every line of his face, you felt a pang of regret twist in your chest. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to admit that you had your wrongs, too. But no words came out, choked by the weight of your own self-doubt.

“I…” you struggled to respond. It was a battle you weren’t ready to fight, so your only option was to run away. To turn away like a coward, and to flee the agonizing reality of your relationship. 

But Sukuna didn’t let you. Instead, he closed the remaining space between you, his lips crashing down on yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

In that moment, all thoughts of anger and confrontation melted away as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of Sukuna’s touch. Lost in the heat of the moment, lost in a puddle of strong emotions. You fell deeper into the trap of your undeniable sexual tension, your bodies becoming entwined in a passionate embrace in the empty parking lot. 

His lips were soft against yours, his tongue rolling in the opposite motion as you kissed him deeper. More, more. He was hungry for more. And so were you. 

So when he kissed your neck, you allowed it. 

When he squeezed your breast, you allowed it. 

When he raised your skirt, you allowed it. 

You released a moan into his mouth as he sat you on top of his motorbike, standing in between your legs as he reattached his lips back to yours. Your mouths enveloped each other perfectly. The bittersweet taste of his tongue, now moving south down your neck. 

“Sukuna…” 

While his mouth was busy doing its own work, his hands too were occupied in touching areas he had once explored. One hand travelled to your thigh, squeezing your flesh before he reached your crotch. Two fingers touched your underwear, as if he was checking if you were wet, before he pushed them onto the side to set your cunt free. 

You ended up wrapping your arms around his neck, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingers played with your entrance. Your clit, your sensitive bud, also wasn’t ignored when he began moving his fingers in a circular motion. 

“Mmmh!” 

What was going through his head? You knew he was aroused, but why did his gaze look so dark? It was too grim, to the point where it scared you. But you were far too distracted when his other hand went to grab a hold of your tit, squeezing your mound, and kneading the soft skin. He had pulled down your neckline to release your tits in the air, quickly attaching his mouth onto one breast as soon as they were out in the open. 

“Haaah!” 

You were going crazy, both from the fingers that were entering your cunt, and the mouth that was sucking your tit. You had your back arched into a C, your arms grabbing onto his shoulder as he became more and more aggressive with his touch. 

And you weren’t exaggerating when you said he was being more aggressive with it, because when he pulled himself away from you, it only lasted for a few seconds before he grabbed your waist and twisted your body around. In a blink of an eye, he had you position against his motorbike, with your body leaning against the seat and your ass high enough for his crotch. 

“S-Sukuna, s-someone might walk in—”

He had pulled your underwear down, letting it stay in between your knees, before rubbing your pussy from behind. His breath was warm when he whispered into your ear, “Don’t act like you hate it.” 

He wasn’t wrong with that either. Because while he was touching your entrance, testing if the tip of his cock would smoothly glide in, you became an animal in heat, ready to be devoured by him. You had to cover your mouth, forcing yourself to keep your voice down as he finally buried his cock six inches deep inside of you. 

“A-Aah!” your body jerked forward as Sukuna rawdogged you from behind. “S-Sukuna, aah!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he cussed under his breath, feeling a painful stretch on your scalp as he pulled your hair, “Did he fuck you this good?” 

“Mmh—no!” 

The sound of skin-slapping was reverberating across the empty lot.

“Did you let him cum inside?”

“N-No…!”

He was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He, too, was moaning from the feeling of your velvet walls milking his cock like a warm glove. So he continued to thrust inside you, his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside faster, and harder, and deeper. 

Your buttocks were becoming too sore, the stretch of skin on your bum vibrating in waves every time he hit you balls deep inside.

And while you were a moaning hot mess below him, a realization suddenly hit you in the face like a truck. Throughout your relationship, this was all he had ever wanted to do with you. He had always talked about doing it slowly, in a romantic set up with candles lit and petals around, in a place where you can lay yourself comfortably. You dreamed of him whispering I love you’s into your mouth as you two made love. You fantasized about him lovingly looking into your eyes as he reached his high. You used to picture him out, intertwining his hands with yours as he tells you you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

Yet now, you were doing it in the basement parking lot. In a dark, dirty place. Bent over against the uncomfortable seat of his bike. 

And more importantly, he was treating you like a whore. 

Tears welled up your eyes as you felt Sukuna pull out after finishing. For a minute, he gathered himself together, his head pressed against your nape as he sighed. 

“It’s not working, Y/N,” he mumbled against your skin, voicing the exact words you were afraid to hear.

“I know…” You sniffed, pulling the strap of your dress back up and adjusting your skirt back down.

He didn’t need to say anything more. When he gave you one last kiss on the forehead and wrapped you in his jacket, you understood the full weight of his words. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was about everything that had led you here. 

It didn’t work because you had already shattered your perceptions of each other. Both tarnished the way you saw one another. He would never come to terms with the fact that you gave yourself to another guy, just as you could never accept that he had slept with the same girls you had always warned him about. It would only lead to a constant game of back-and-forths, of pointing fingers, of toxic love.

So you watched him mount his bike, rev the engine, and look at you one last time before speeding away. His figure disappeared into the dark like a shadow, like a dream you only once knew. 

That was the last time you ever saw Ryomen Sukuna in your lifetime.

[prosypepper]

growing old with kento nanami

word count: 2.8k

warnings: post-shibuya arc, descriptions of: surgery, recovery processes, depression, insomnia, trauma, therapy, coping mechanisms; pregnancy, marriage, crying. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this WILL have a part 2 and maybe 3! it will be very long so i'm splitting it up. even though the warnings seem kind of sad i promise it's a happy story :)

part 2 | masterlist

“marry me.”

proposing to you was nanami’s first conscious thought after being in a coma for 5 days after shibuya. you were reading a book, peacefully keeping him company in his hospital room, not even noticing he was awake. your eyes fluttered up from your book, back down, and then up again.

“marry me, please,” he repeated. you stayed silent for a moment, eyes widening and mouth dropping. he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“kento, oh my god,” you yelped, dropping your book and rushing to the hospital bed to look at him. his eyes were open, only slightly, and the weakest smile he could bear rested on his lips. you gently settled your hands on each side of his face, barely hovering over the charred skin. he looked so tired, and yet, he was asking you to marry him.

kento groaned when you hugged him, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you squeezed him gently and with care. a weak hand rested on your back, in between your shoulder blades. he was too weak to repeat his question again. but the only thing on his mind was if you would be his wife.

“yes, yes, i’ll marry you,” you cried into his chest, wetting the fabric of the hospital clothing.

neither you nor nanami himself understood why he proposed to you in that moment. after waking up, his journey to recovery began with slow but steady progress. it took several months of intense rehabilitation and support from both sorcerers and doctors for him to regain his mobility. with their help, he was able to walk and move with a surprising degree of agility, nearly returning to how he was before shibuya. he also had a few cosmetic surgeries, in an attempt to minimize the scarring from all he had been through. within a few months, he was able to see his skin smooth out and hair grow from the side of his head. he wouldn’t look the same, ever; but you didn’t care. you loved kento, as he did you, the fact you were able to celebrate his recovery made you feel like the luckiest woman on the earth.

the loss of his previous strength and abilities weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over his spirits. yet, amidst the struggles, he found solace in small victories and the support of those around him, your support meaning the most to him. although kento was deeply troubled by the realization that he could no longer pursue his life as a sorcerer, he came to accept it as the best possible outcome given the circumstances. this acceptance marked a pivotal shift in his perspective, allowing him to focus on rebuilding his life in new ways. before he turned in his resignation, he had made sure to recommend ino for a promotion. it was his last wish as a sorcerer.

after the almost year-long recovery process, kento surprised you with a beautiful ring, one of the ones you had talked about before he went on his trip. he proposed again, in the place you first met, this time without weak hands and barely audible words. he was able to find a job, one not nearly as draining as his job from before he returned to jujutsu – and began making plans for your wedding. the planning process didn’t take long, he wanted the wedding to make you happy.

your and kento’s wedding was outright beautiful. it was a stunning venue on a beach, hundreds of guests attended, friends and family alike. kento shed a few tears when he saw you walking down the aisle, clad in the most gorgeous attire he’d ever seen you wear, as his bride. his voice shook as he said his vows – vows that he wrote, almost a good 1,000 words – and he made you a million promises. promises he wouldn’t dare to break, promises to grow old together and live the life you both deserve.

at the reception, you told kento you had a surprise for him, and ran off to go get something from one of your bridesmaids. he was confused at first, because he didn’t need any more surprises, he was the happiest he’d ever been. a newlywed, married to you. but when you came back to the table, two small pieces of paper in your hands, he didn’t think it would be possible to be more joyous.

“we’re going to malaysia, for our honeymoon, kento,” you excitedly told him, showing off the two plane tickets scheduled in a week.

nanami was speechless, a huge smile with teeth plastered across his face, and he gave you the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone.

when the two of you traveled to malaysia, kento was at peace. he had never seen a place so charming and breathtaking, he remained entranced by the culture and landscapes. the two of you spent your time hiking in nature, watching waterfalls and having lovely picnics wherever felt right. kento was so ecstatic, a smile constant on his face as he watched his surroundings with never-ending wonder. he thanked you a million times over.

you had never seen him be so alive. he promised you that one day, he was going to build a house, right on the beach, just for the two of you.

once you were back at your shared apartment, the reality of the past year and a half hit kento like a train. so much time had been spent recovering, constantly in and out of the hospital, planning for your wedding and improving both of your lives, he never had a chance to reflect on the genuine trauma he went through.

you didn’t notice for a while, but kento grew depressed, and restless at the same time. he began to spend his nights awake, insomnia brewing like piping hot tea, staying conscious until the early hours of the morning, doing any exercise or meditation to calm himself down and go to sleep. yet the visuals replayed over, and over, and over. the blood, the curses, the flames, the death. it hadn’t bothered him before, he thought, but he just never gave himself the time to soak it all in. and the depression – the depression was an all-new low for him. when kento wasn’t working, he was at his house, in the bed, while you were working or off running errands. you only noticed his new behavior when you woke up in an empty bed at 4 a.m. one night, 3 months after your honeymoon.

“mm…kento?” you called, footsteps heavily plopping down the hallway towards the bright lights of your kitchen. when you entered the room, you saw kento sprawled out on the floor, knees bent, with sweat rolling down his forehead. stepping over towards him, you kneeled down to look at him, and his head rolled to the side to look at you, too.

kento’s eyes looked so tired, the eyebags you hadn’t seen in years were full-fledged, his eyelids were droopy and exhausted. just by the emotion his eyes conveyed, you could see he was silently suffering, and he had been that way for a while.

“kento, what’s wrong?” you asked, bringing a hand to the side of his face to rub a thumb over his sweat-glistened cheek.

“i don’t…know,” he replied, defeat in his voice, “i can’t sleep. i haven’t slept. i don’t know.”

your husband always had a plan. he always knew everything; he always took care of the unknown and intimidating parts of life. for kento nanami to say “i don’t know” meant something was wrong, seriously wrong.

“sit up,” you softly demanded, gently pulling his shoulders off the floor. you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and kento mirrored your actions, slumping when he finally sat up. “kento, honey,” you began, taking his hand in yours and resting it on his knee, “what’s going on?”

he was never one to talk about feelings, to talk about emotions felt deep down, because he wasn’t sure how to convey anything that would make him vulnerable. but as he sat in front of you, chest slightly heaving, such a burnt-out expression on his face, you knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but that something needed to be said.

“i can’t…” kento muttered, stopping himself for a second, “i can’t stop thinking.” he finally admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows with concern.

“about what, honey?” you sweetly asked, thumb caressing the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing back and forth.

“everything.” he stated, eyes flashing away from you to look at the floor next to him. you knew what he meant, though, but you had never seen him so pained from his work, especially from something that happened so long ago.

“tell me, baby,” you soothed him. you grabbed his other hand, causing him to look back at you pitifully. kento stayed silent for numerous moments, unsure as to what you could handle. but you were his wife, someone he was supposed to be able to confide in.

“so many people…died…” he mumbled, “i almost died. i saw what it looked like, i faced death.” his words began to come out quicker, “i’ve never seen that many people die, not even in shinjuku, and there was so much blood, and gojo almost, he almost-,” kento’s voice began to get shaky and uneven, a crack in his words as tears stung his eyes. “gojo almost died, too, and…i almost died, i saw it,” he repeated, “and yuuji – looked so upset, and takuma got hurt,” he clenched his eyes shut, words still coming out as a single string.

you moved closer, shifting onto your knees and wrapping kento in a comforting embrace. he clung to you immediately, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if trying to anchor himself in reality. his body shook with the intensity of his sobs, each breath coming in ragged gasps. the rawness of his anguish was palpable; his cries were filled with a pain that seemed almost too immense to bear. the image of the carnage replayed in his mind, a relentless cycle that he couldn’t escape. kento’s tears soaked through your shirt, repeating with his incoherent murmurs of horror. his face, once so composed, now twisted in an expression of deep, unrelenting despair.

kento wailed into your chest for hours that night, unable to stop his shuttering and repetition of the same phrases. he only calmed down when the sun began to rise, slowly illuminating the insides of your home. once kento parted his head from your chest, he looked you in the eyes, asking for help without saying a word. you wiped away his tears and grabbed the sides of his face, promising him you will get him anything he needs. kento fell asleep around 7 a.m. that morning, with the help of you running your fingers through his hair, shushing him and telling him it will all be okay.

he believed you. kento nanami put all his faith in you, his wife, to help him fix his problem he hadn’t an idea on how to mend. and so, you did everything in your power to help him. you spent countless hours on research, finding therapists that specialized in helping people like him, and you came across different mechanisms to help him cope. most of all, you continued your duties as a supportive wife, constantly telling him to get up and go to the supermarket, or out to the library. little by little, these smaller things combined together to work out, and kento began to get better. it was a breath of fresh air, as well as a weight lifted off both your and his shoulders, when he began to smile again, and shifted his view of life to a more positive outlook. he was alive, he began to feel alive again.

kento nanami was finally beginning to live the life he desired and deserved, all with you by his side.

a couple of weeks after kento’s 30th birthday, you came rushing into his office, tears of joy — and anxiety — pricked in your eyes. soon as his eyes landed on your seemingly upset expression, he was concerned.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand up. you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it, and you dug around in your purse to pull out a small plastic baggie. when you tossed them to kento, it only took him a few seconds to realize what you were there to tell him.

“…you’re pregnant?” kento beamed, rushing over to you to wrap his arms around your waist. he quickly lifted you up in the air, grip so tight as if he never wanted to let go, your feet kicked happily.

kento always wanted to have kids, but being a sorcerer, he always thought it was too dangerous. you had some conversations about it after shibuya, and the both of you agreed that if it happened, it happened. and your children would have the best life possible, of course; but the glimmer of hope you had for having kids slowly burnt out over time with both of you increasing in age. in that moment, though, kento had so much hope and pure happiness, just at the thought of growing a little family with you.

the first few months of your pregnancy were hectic. between doctor’s appointments, mixed with morning sickness and fatigue, you thought it would never end. although you were happy to start a family, negative emotions easily overcame you, and kento noticed. he tried his best to be there for you, but his work schedule conflicted with your lives, and he soon realized he needed a change in his life. he needed to change your life and his, because he would be damned if he was going to return to the same boring life as he had before.

using his savings and bonus money from his job, he bought you a house. a real house, with acres of land and space for your family to grow, so much bigger than the previous apartment you shared with him. a house that he owned, a house that would contain all the joy for your future. he made sure it was grand, with a huge kitchen, and multiple bedrooms – not caring if only two of them were filled, or if all of them housed someone. before kento showed you the house, he set up a nursery.

“where are we going?” you inquired for about the 50th time that day. you had been in the car for hours, and all kento would say in return is, “you’ll find out.” nonetheless, you were excited, kento had always given you the best surprises, but you had never driven so far with him.

“we’re here.” kento stated, pulling into an empty concrete driveway big enough to fit 6 cars.

“where are we? did satoru move?” you asked, the huge display of a home proving to be a bit intimidating for you. kento didn’t reply this time, he only scurried out of the car to come and open your door, helping you get out with a kind hand.

you didn’t even understand what was going on until you walked up the front steps, and a few keys jingled in kento’s hands until he found the right one to unlock the door. the door to your new home.

“wait...wait. kento,” you said, standing still as your husband strode inside, “what is this?” the familiar tears of joy rushed to your eyes, and you just stood there with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

“this is our new home, honey,” kento chimed, reaching a hand out again to welcome you inside. you took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly, and stepped inside your house.

“oh, kento,” you blubbered, throwing your arms around his neck, tears beginning to trickle down your face.

you and kento explored the house for hours, marveling at all the space and beauty he bought for you. you thanked him a million times over, crying at each new space you discovered in the house, you felt sheer gratefulness for your husband and all he did for you. and kento, well, he did all of it to thank you, to thank you for never losing hope in him, and to thank you for the joy you’d made him experience. he was so undeniably in love with you, just as he had always been, and he promised himself he was going to do everything in his power to live the life he deserved with you. he was going to live up to every word he made in his vows, every promise he made with you, each and every word he had spoken to you was going to show in your lives.

even from the moment he met you, he knew he was going to spend his life with you.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @starlightanyaaa @lagataprrr @hazzelle-kento

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[ekybrini]

Alienated | Will Smith

request: Hii can I please request a fic with Will Smith? Maybe with a plus size / curvy reader? Like a hurt / comfort fic with lots of angst then lots of fluff? Thank you!

— ⟡ summary | After overhearing hurtful comments you start pulls away from Will, feeling insecure. Will’s confused by your silence, not knowing what went wrong, while you struggles with your feelings and the doubts creeping in.

— ⟡ warnings | rude comment relating to ones body figure (not said but implied)

— ⟡ word count | 3.6k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im sorry to the person who requested this almost a month ago!! after spring break some of my teachers decided that some students don't have a life outside of school and gave us possibly twice the work we got 1st semester. also these next to months are going to be BUSY with my ap classes and ap test that are coming up!! so if anyone request something I won't be able to get to write it soon, but I will when I have time!!! also my inbox is glitching which isn't allowing me to see everyones request until a week later so it may take a while for me to see it.

The music thrums softly through the upscale restaurant, glasses clinking, conversation flowing easily between players, staff, and their plus ones. It’s supposed to be a celebration, a night out with the team, no pressure, just good food and laughter.

You’re here with Will, of course, lingering at the edge of the room while he’s caught up in conversation with a few teammates. He looks so at ease, laughing, effortlessly slotting himself into the dynamic of a team that has quickly become his second family. You’re happy for him, proud, even.

But the longer you stand there, the more out of place you feel.

You’re scrolling through your phone, interested in whatever mindless feed is in front of you, when the words drift over from somewhere nearby. Soft enough that they probably think no one is listening but loud enough to cut right through you.

"I mean, Wills is an NHL player now. You’d think he’d be with someone, y’know…"

"Yeah, like, I’m just saying, he could have anyone he wants. And he’s with her?"

A laugh. One of them laughs.

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

You don’t recognize the voices. That almost makes it worse faceless, nameless strangers who don’t know you, don’t know Will, don’t know anything about your relationship. And yet, their words still sting.

You force yourself to breathe, staring down at the screen like you didn’t just hear every syllable. It doesn’t matter. Who cares what they think? But the words cling to you, wrapping around your ribs, constricting until your chest feels tight.

You knew people might think this way. You’re not the type of girl they expect an NHL player to be with. You don’t fit into that glossy, effortless mold the one that looks good in Instagram posts and fits neatly into the public eye.

But Will doesn’t care about things like that. Right?

You chance a glance across the room. He’s still laughing with his teammates, unaware, completely unbothered. He hasn’t looked for you in a while. Hasn’t checked in.

The thought slithers in before you can stop it. Has he ever thought the same thing?

The noise of the restaurant suddenly feels overwhelming, pressing in on you from all sides. You need air.

Your hands shake as you fire off a quick text to Will. “Hey, not feeling great. Heading home. Love you.”

You don’t wait for a response. You slip out quietly, out of sight before anyone can stop you.

The night air is sharp against your skin as you step out of the restaurant, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that will keep the words from sinking in any deeper. You walk quickly, head down, weaving through the crowded streets, desperate to get away.

You don’t even realize how fast you're walking until you reach your car, hands fumbling with the keys. Your breath stutters as you slide into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind you. Silence. Blessed, suffocating silence.

And then it all crashes down.

Your fingers dig into the steering wheel, knuckles white as you try to keep yourself together. But the words keep playing in your head, over and over, like a song you can't turn off. He could have anyone he wants. And he’s with her?

You swallow hard. It’s stupid to be this upset. It’s so stupid. They don’t know you. They don’t know him.

But still.

Your mind drifts back to every little moment that suddenly feels like proof that they’re right. Hasn’t it been months since Will posted a picture of you? At the start of the season, he’d proudly introduced you to everyone, arms slung around you, never caring who was watching. But lately, it’s different. He never hides you, but he doesn’t show you off either. He talks about hockey, the team, his new life in the NHL, but when it comes to you it’s quieter.

Your stomach churns as you unlock your phone. No text back yet. You check your notifications again, just to be sure. Nothing.

He’s busy. You tell yourself that, over and over. He’s with the team. He’ll probably see your message soon and call.

Except, part of you wonders if he even noticed you were gone.

The drive home is a blur. You don’t remember changing lanes, don’t remember stopping at red lights. It’s all muscle memory, your body moving on autopilot while your mind replays the night in excruciating detail.

Every moment twists inside you like a knife. The way those voices had laughed, casual and cruel. The way you’d felt smaller, invisible, like you didn’t belong there. The way Will hadn’t noticed you leaving.

You shake your head, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

Stop it. Stop overthinking. He loves you. You know that.

But doubt lingers, coiled in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

By the time you pull into your driveway your hands are trembling. You cut the engine staring blankly at the dashboard, willing yourself to get out. For a long moment you just sit there, the quiet pressing in on you the weight of the night sinking deeper into your bones.

Your phone buzzes.

Your heart jumps as you glance at the screen. A message from Will.

“Hey, you okay? Just saw your text. Sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”

You swallow, something thick and heavy settling in your throat.

Sorry I didn’t notice earlier.

It shouldn’t hurt. He’s busy. He’s out with the team. Of course, he didn’t notice right away.

But all it does is confirm the awful thought you haven’t been able to shake.

He hadn’t noticed.

Not when you left the restaurant. Not when you didn’t send a follow up text. Not when you weren’t by his side for the rest of the night.

And if he didn’t notice that, how long before he stops noticing you?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard hesitating. The urge to just type yeah I’m fine is strong. To pretend everything is normal. To bury this feeling before it can spill over into something you can’t take back.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

Instead you lock your phone and step out of the car heading inside without another word.

You toss your keys onto the counter, take off your shoes and sink onto the couch pulling a throw blanket over yourself even though you’re not cold. You should shower, should change, should do something to shake this feeling off.

But instead you curl in on yourself staring at the darkened screen of your phone willing to sleep.

The blanket wrapped around you offers little comfort. It's not warm enough but not heavy enough, not enough but it’s all you have. The quiet hum of the refrigerator fills the silence but it only makes the emptiness louder.

You roll onto your side pulling your knees to your chest as you stare blankly at the arm of the couch. You still haven’t answered Will’s message. He’s texted again.

“Wanna call me? I just got home. I can come over if you’re not feeling good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

The worst part is, you want him to come over. You want him to hold you, want his voice to drown out the thoughts that have been running wild since the restaurant. But something inside you pulls back, whispering don’t let him see you like this.

Because if you tell him how much those words hurt, the way he didn’t notice you leave, the growing silence between you, what if he agrees with them? What if he says the one thing you're barely holding together against?

What if he doesn't even realize something’s wrong?

So you leave his texts on read.

And you lie there your fingers trembling over your screen wondering if it would be better to lie and say you’re sick. Or tired. Or just need space.

Instead, you say nothing.

The minutes pass slowly. Your phone buzzes once more before finally falling quiet, the screen dim.

It feels like giving up. Like choosing the silence. But it also feels like protection. Like if you just keep it all inside, you can manage the pain on your own without letting him confirm your worst fear. that maybe he is ashamed. That maybe, deep down he’s been slowly letting go without saying it out loud.

You bury your face into the pillow and let the tears slip out silently, each one hot against your cheek, each one dragging a new weight down with it.

You’ve never felt so small.

You must fall asleep at some point, but it doesn’t feel like rest.

When your eyes flutter open it’s still dark outside the sky outside the window a murky shade of gray. You’re still curled on the couch, blanket twisted around you, head aching and throat tight. The room is freezing now but you can’t bring yourself to move.

You blink up at the ceiling for a while, heart heavy in your chest like a stone that refuses to settle.

Your phone lies face down on the floor beside you. Part of you hopes there’s a good morning text from Will waiting for something gentle, something normal, something to tell you you’re overthinking all of this.

But when you flip it over and see the screen the hope fizzles.

“Hope you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

No call. No follow up. No joke to make you smile.

You want to scream at yourself for being disappointed. He did text. He’s checking in. It’s kind. It’s more than what most people would do. So why does it still feel like not enough?

You stare at the messages, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. You even type out a few things 

Sorry, just tired. 

Delete.

It’s nothing 

Delete.

I’m fine.

Delete.

Can’t talk right now.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

you toss the phone aside and push yourself upright. Your limbs feel heavy as you shuffle to the kitchen, half heartedly starting the coffee maker even though you know you won’t drink it.

You catch your reflection in the microwave door, eyes puffy, hair a mess, mouth drawn tight and quickly look away.

All morning, the world moves around you like you’re watching it through thick glass. You answer texts from friends with one word replies. You scroll through social media numbly, skipping past every glimpse of Will’s life photos from the restaurant, comments tagging his name, short clips of the team laughing over drinks. He looks happy. Carefree.

You didn’t even cross his mind, did you?

The ache sharpens again.

And when your phone rings around noon his name flashing across the screen you freeze. Your stomach flips, and your fingers twitch with the instinct to answer.

But instead, you watch it ring out.

You’re not ready. Not when you don’t know what you’ll say. Not when the pain still feels too raw to hide.

Because if he hears your voice, if he asks you what’s wrong, you're afraid everything you’ve been trying to swallow will come spilling out in a mess you can't clean up.

So you do what you’ve been doing best lately.

You stay quiet.

And Will just keeps texting you.

The pings on your phone are the only signs that the world outside your apartment hasn’t stopped spinning. You read every message the second it comes in your breath catching every time his name lights up the screen. But you never reply. You don’t even type anything this time.

You can’t.

Not when everything feels so tangled. Not when you’re still trying to figure out if this ache in your chest that's been building and building.  

Your mind replays the night at the restaurant in a loop every look, every word, every laugh that didn’t quite reach your ears. The conversation you overheard keeps echoing in the quiet spaces of your home, loud in the places where it hurts the most.

It’s not his fault. You know that. He didn’t say those things. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t join in. But he also didn’t notice you slip away. He didn’t chase after you.

And that's the part you can’t ignore.

So you leave his texts unopened now. Not out of anger, but out of fear. Because answering means feeling, and feeling means you’ll have to say something. And once you say it, it’s real.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the floor watching clips of the recent sharks game. Time slips by in moments that blur together quiet tears, unanswered texts, the sound of your own heartbeat thudding painfully in your chest. The apartment is cold. Or maybe you just feel cold. It’s hard to tell.

Your phone buzzes again.

You don’t check it. You can’t. You already know who it is. And you already know you don’t have the strength to lie.

You wish you could say something. Anything. But how do you even explain it? That some careless strangers at a dinner lit a match you’ve been holding too close to your chest for years? That their words didn’t start the fire, but they sure as hell helped it spread?

You hated how easily it got to you. Hated how quickly you’d turned inward. Hated even more that Will had no idea.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been laughing with his teammates, being his usual goofy self. He hadn’t even heard it. But the silence that followed? The way he didn’t notice you leave? It stuck to your ribs like shame.

You hear a knock.

You freeze. For a second, you think you imagined it. Then another one comes, louder this time, familiar even in rhythm. Your heart stutters.

Will.

Panic floods your body before you can stand. You’re still in the oversized t shirt you threw on this morning, hair a mess, eyes probably red and puffy. You didn’t think he’d come. You thought he’d give up.

Part of you wanted him to.

But most of you didn’t. Most of you just didn’t know how to let him in without unraveling.

Another knock. Then his voice, soft through the door: “y/n? It’s me. Can you open the door?”

Your hands tremble as you unlock it, the click louder than you expected. When the door swings open, he’s standing there with that boyish face that always makes you feel safe. But now his brow is furrowed, his eyes scanning you in quiet concern.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Your throat feels tight. He steps forward, slow, like he doesn’t want to startle you. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was getting scared.”

You look down. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His expression softens hurt flickering across his face. “You haven’t answered me in two days. You missed the game. You’ve never…” He pauses, exhaling hard. “I didn’t know what was going on. You just disappeared on me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, eyes burning. “I just couldn't.”

“Couldn’t what?”

You shake your head trying to keep it together. But the pressure in your chest tightens and suddenly it’s all too much. You press your lips together trying not to cry but your eyes betray you. Tears slip out before you can wipe them away.

Will steps inside and shuts the door behind him without a word. Then he’s there in front of you, hands on your arms, not trying to fix anything, just being there.

“Talk to me,” he says softly. “Please.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to do this. But you also don’t want to keep hurting alone. So you let yourself whisper the words you’ve been choking on since that night.

“I heard them,” you murmur, voice barely audible. “At the restaurant. A couple girls...they were talking about me. About how someone like you shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

Will blinks. “What?”

You laugh bitterly through the tears. “They said you could have anyone you want. And they couldn’t believe you were with me. And I know it’s stupid, I know it shouldn’t matter, but it felt like they were just saying out loud the thing I’ve been afraid of since we got together.”

He stares at you like he’s trying to understand a language he’s never heard before. Like none of this makes sense to him because it doesn’t.

You keep going, because now that the words are out they won’t stop.

“You haven’t posted about me in months. You barely introduce me as your girlfriend to your teammates. You act like I’m just there sometimes. And maybe you don’t mean to. But it’s hard not to wonder if you’re ashamed of me.”

Will’s mouth opens but no words come out. His hands tighten around your arm and for a moment all he does is breathe slowly and heavy like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

Then finally he whispers, “I had no idea you felt like that.”

You drop your gaze but he gently tilts your chin up so you have to look at him.

“I'm not ashamed of you. I love you. And I hate that you even had to wonder.”

Your bottom lip quivers. “Then why don’t you show it?”

He pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your shoulders so tightly it knocks the air from your lungs but in the best way. His hand cradles the back of your head, voice muffled against your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think I needed to prove anything. I thought you knew. But if I made you feel less than ever, that's on me.”

You bury your face into his chest, letting the tears fall freely now. 

You don’t know how long you stay wrapped in his arms.

Long enough for your breathing to even out. Long enough for the sobs to stop wracking your chest. Long enough that your t-shirt is probably damp from tears and your fingers are curled tightly into the fabric of his suit like you’re afraid he might slip away if you let go.

But he doesn’t move. Not even a little.

He just keeps holding you. His thumb gently strokes back and forth along your shoulder. Every once in a while he presses the softest kiss to your hair. Nothing rushed. No expectation. Just quiet love in every little movement.

When you finally pull back a little your face is hot and your nose is stuffy. “Sorry,” you whisper.

His brow furrows. “For what?”

“For all of this. For shutting you out. For crying all over you. For ruining your suit.”

Will doesn’t even blink. “You didn’t ruin anything.” Then, quieter, “And don’t ever apologize for feeling something.”

He brushes a thumb gently beneath your eye, wiping away the last of your tears. “I’m sorry you had to hear what was said. You should’ve told me I would’ve dropped everything if I knew. I wouldn’t have let you leave that night without me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. I just didn’t want it to be real. I kept thinking I’d wake up i'd forget about it. But it just got worse. I kept replaying everything in my head. What they said, the way they said it, how no one stopped them-”

“They’re assholes,” Will cuts in, a sudden spark of frustration in his voice. “I wish I’d heard them. I wish-” He stops himself, jaw clenched. “No one talks about you like that. Not while I’m in the room.”

You stare down at your hands. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered. They weren’t saying it to me. They were just saying it. Like it was obvious. Like I wasn’t good enough for you and everyone was just too polite to say it out loud.”

Will exhales sharply and then does something you don’t expect.

He stands up and offers his hand. “Come with me.”

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Come sit with me on the couch.”

You take his hand because it’s instinct now falling into his touch letting him guide you. He pulls you gently toward the couch, sits down, and tugs you into his side like he needs you close.

You curl into him, resting your head on his chest. His arm wraps around your back, fingers tracing soothing circles along your spine.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I love everything about you. And I’m sorry I haven’t shown that enough. I thought you knew. But if you didn’t, if I ever made you feel like a secret or something I’m hiding then I’ve been doing this all wrong.”

You feel the words settle deep in your chest, warm and grounding.

“I guess I just didn’t want to be a reason you got made fun of,” you whisper.

Will sits up slightly, just enough to look at you fully. “You are never a reason for anything bad. And if anyone can’t handle the fact that I’m with the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, that’s their problem.”

You swallow hard, emotions tugging at your throat again but this time, the tears feel different. Softer. Safer.

He smiles gently. “I’m posting you everywhere, by the way. I’m making you my lockscreen. You’re gonna be so sick of me.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” His voice is firm, but tender. “You’re mine. And I’m proud of that. I want people to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You press your forehead into his collarbone, heart beating a little steadier than before. “Can you spend the night?”

Will kisses the top of your head, his voice low and certain. “always”

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot  ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

  [Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”  

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

  “We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”  

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in crimson as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.  

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

  [Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

  [Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

  [Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

  [Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

  Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

[hrts4nagi]

i tira-miss-u!

♡. . ! valentine's day special

synopsis :: it’s been 3 months since you broke up with nagi seishiro. he soon realizes how important you were to his life. and all he can do is try to win you back, but the question awaits, will you take him back?

pairing :: ex-bf! nagi seishiro x gn! reader, exes to lovers?

wc :: 3.6k

a/n :: happy valentine's day! i came up with this on the whim after seeing this tweet and became inspired :> hope u enjoy!

୨ ୧

when you proposed the break up nagi was ever so nonchalant. the two of you parted ways, no bad blood. just a plain old mutual break-up. ever since you moved out of your previously shared home, nagi’s starting to realize how empty the apartment was. and he did not like it, one bit. 

he would turn around looking for you in the middle of the night, patting around on your side of the bed to be met with a cold empty space. he calls out your name asking where his cleats went, to no response. at the convenience store, he finds himself reaching for two cups of noodles out of pure instinct. he looks at chokki, frowning that chokki’s partner was also gone. 

it becomes all the more clear to him, nagi wants you back. 

scratch that. 

he needs you.

how was he supposed to do that within a week from valentine's day?

he dies in a game with a large GAME OVER plastered over the screen. he grumbles placing his phone face down. 

it was practically mocking him.

nagi can't help but think how his apartment hasn't felt like a home ever since you left. he misses the sweet vanilla scent of the perfume you wore. the scent nothing but a distant memory, leaving a painful reminder that you were no longer his.

he sighs at the thought. it was bothersome how he longed for you yet nagi wasn't sure how to get you back.

nagi: hey reo

reo: what’s up

nagi: i want y/n back

reo: congrats? but weren’t they the one to break up with you

nagi: yeah and?

reo: nagi, you can’t just show up on their doorstep asking them to take you back

reo: you have to show them you care

nagi: okay

nagi: i think i have an idea

reo: i’m trusting you with this one

before he knew it, nagi seishiro was standing in front of your apartment door with your favorite flowers in hand. he looks down onto the flowers, was he really about to do this? no second thoughts, he had to if he wanted any chance of getting you back. with a shaky breath, he knocked on your door. 

“huh, sei? i mean nagi? what are you doing here?” 

his eyes light up at the sight of you. though, nagi frowns at your lack of nicknames but that was to be expected. nervously, he holds out the bouquet to you.

“i got you flowers.”

“wow, uhm thank you?”

he looks at you expectedly, awaiting a response. you tilt your head in confusion. “did you need anything else?”

“oh, uhm no that’s all.”

“well, thanks again!”

you slowly close the door with a smile. being met with the door once more, nagi sighs. he had absolutely no clue how to execute his plan. he walks away in defeat, texting reo on the way back to his place.

nagi: it didn’t work

reo: what did you do?

nagi: i gave them flowers

reo: and then?

nagi: that’s it.

reo: …..

reo: we have a lot to work on

after a much needed pep-talk, operation win y/n back was put into action! reo sat nagi down in front of a projector to give him some well needed advice on winning you back! reo’s baffled on how nagi pulled you in the first place with his lack of competence in the romance department.

he scrolls through instagram noticing you posted something new to your story. nagi knows he shouldn't click on it. i mean wasn't that one of the many un-offical break-up rules? but alas, his curiosity gets the better of him. to his surprise, you posted the flower bouquet along with one of your favorite songs as the background. a smile breaks onto nagi's face.

maybe all hope isn't lost.

୨ ୧

step #1: take them to their favorite places!

nagi knew you were an avid animal crossing enjoyer, ever since you two played it together for the first time. it was where many dates of yours took place! specifically, in the aquarium area of blathers museum. you even had an animal crossing collection yourself. with that, nagi somehow had a good idea for once!

there happened to be an animal crossing aquarium that opened recently, so nagi knew it was the perfect opportunity to take you out! with new found confidence, he found your contact and initiated the plan.

nagi: hi y/n

you: oh hey nagi!

nagi: are you free tomorrow?

you: yeah why?

nagi: cool, i’ll meet you at 12.

you: nagi????

nagi showed up bright and early at 11:55 am at your doorstep. you blink, astonished. you already prepared yourself a youtube video to watch to keep you busy.

nagi seishiro was never on time.

typically, you'd be the one who ended up going to his apartment to wake him up for his slumber. it was a pleasant surprise to see him early for once.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“you ready?”

“yup! where are we going anyway?”

“it's a surprise, just trust me.”

hesitant, you follow letting the white-haired boy lead the way. he notices you falling behind, due to the long strides he takes. nagi takes your hand so you can match his pace, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people. your heart flutters at his actions.

your eyes widen in surprise, looking up at the vibrant, yellow sign which read animal crossing aquarium experience. 

“how did you know? i’ve been meaning to go but tickets were always sold out!”

“lucky guess.”

“what are you waiting for? let’s go!”

you drag nagi by the arm leading him into the museum, while he stumbles at the sudden action.

from exhibit to exhibit, he watches you awe at the various sea creatures who used to be visible on the other side of the screen. he smiles fondly at the scene of your eyes lighting up in pure, child-like joy. nagi really missed seeing your face.

nagi notices the gift shop selling all types of animal crossing merchandise. slipping away from the scene, he purchases a tom nook headband for himself and an isabelle one for you. he gently places the headband on your head with your attention focused on the fish. 

you blink in surprise turning to face him, pulling out your phone camera for a better look. you laugh noticing the yellow ears falling onto the side of your head. you turn the camera towards nagi where he throws up a peace sign in response as you snap a picture of the two of you.

“hey, can you also do a 0.5? it’ll look better from your angle!”

“sure.”

nagi pulls you slightly closer as he captures the picture of the two of you. the two hearts feeling warmth at the familiar action. the aquarium ventures continue. the two of you end up by the penguin enclosure where you excitedly snap multiple pictures of the animals. when you weren’t looking, nagi snapped a candid polaroid of you watching the penguins. he stifled a laugh, noticing how you were mimicking the penguins on the other side of the glass.

“hey, wait here.” you nod unsure what he was planning.

dumbfoundedly, you watch nagi approach a stranger asking him to snap a picture of the two of you. before, it was always you who asked strangers to take pictures for you. it felt foreign watching nagi do it, but it was a nice type of foreign. you notice him wielding the polaroid camera you bought him for his birthday last year. the cinnamoroll sticker you placed near the lens still in the same spot you left it. 

nagi hands you back the camera, you fan the polaroid back and forth waiting for the film to develop. the picture slowly comes into color as you freeze at the realization. he recreated the scene of one of your many online dates at blather’s museum. 

“nagi, did you recreate this from one of our animal crossing dates?”

“yeah, i did. do you like it?”

“i do like it, a lot actually.”

“good cause there’s a lot more where that’s coming from.”

the two of you ended the day with matching souvenirs and shared laughter over slushies. (you and nagi fought back and forth on whether red cherry or blue raspberry was the superior coice. the two of you came to the mutual agreement that the combo of both flavors was the winner).

nagi: gn pretty! i’ll see you tmr @ 5 :) 

୨ ୧

step #2 - do the little things!

yet again, nagi seishiro showed up at your door with a variety of your favorite snacks in hand claiming it was time for a movie night. lucky for him, you had no plans! as usual you welcomed him into your apartment. he rests his bag on the floor and your eyes widen seeing the keychain you put on still in the same place.

“you still have that sugarbunny keychain on?”

“huh, oh yeah. i couldn’t really bring myself to take it off.” 

“to be honest, neither could i.” 

nagi clears his throat, breaking the silence. “so, what movie?”

“surprise me!”

nagi scrolls through the movie titles on the screen before landing on your name. a classic pick for movie nights. you clap your hands in joy at his choice. you usher to the kitchen grabbing the snacks he brought along with popcorn. you notice nagi watching you, sticking out your tongue at him in response. he roles his eyes playfully. you return to the couch as he grabs a blanket sprawling over the two of you.

“this reminds me just like old times. i thought you'd forget.”

nagi puts down the remote, making direct eye contact with you. “what? how could i forget?” you pause trying to find your words.

“i don't know,” you start. “it's just that i always felt like a second option.”

“oh, im sorry i really didn't know.”

“it's okay, at least you acknowledge it now.”

the two of you stare at each other in comfortable silence. nagi rests his head on your shoulders. to his surprise, you let him. the dialogue from the movie provides comforting background noise. 

“can i stay like this? just for a little?”

“go ahead.”

out of instinct, your hand finds the top of his fluffy white locks as you softly rake your fingers through his messy hair. nagi hums at the familiar feeling, snuggling closer to your neck. he hopes you can’t hear the rhythm of his heart going at an inhumane speed from the contact. and you hope the same.

the knock on your door startles the both of you. to the point, where nagi shot up in fear, your shoulder already feeling cold from the lack of warmth.

"the pizza."

"oh yeah, i'll get it."

what a way to ruin the moment.

୨ ୧

step #3 - make-up for past experiences!

nagi remembered how you would beg him to take you out to this fancy restaurant months ago. as usual, nagi found dressing up to be quite bothersome. he didn’t really feel the need to dress up and throw on fancy clothes. he preferred just a hoodie and sweats. i mean, have you seen his closet? all those thoughts melted away when he saw you in your formal attire. 

he made a mental reminder to thank reo for securing reservations to the place. 

nagi thought you looked absolutely breathtaking, your hair was styled nicer than usual. the attire you chose for the night fit in all the right places. the sight of your collarbones made it hard for nagi to look away. red truly was your best color.

“woah, you look really good.” nagi admires, his eyes feel heavy on you.

“i can say the same thing, sei.”

a soft smile appears on his face at the familiar nickname. he always loved the way you would say his name with such fondness. he could hear you call his name all day. 

the two of you are seated near the window, overlooking the city skyline. your jaw drops at the view as you snap pictures of the horizon matching perfectly to the numerous tall buildings. 

“i swear i can see my apartment from here!”

“how much is this place anyway?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

nagi brushes off the question. “don’t worry about it, all i did was make sure you liked the menu.”

that was a lie. 

nagi begged reo, practically on his knees, to book this specific spot since he knew you loved city views like this. not to mention, he also forced reo to make said restaurant add a special menu item or two, just for you. 

who knew having connections would be so useful?

the waitress comes by and takes your orders where nagi orders for you two. you sit there playing with your hands. you couldn't stop staring at nagi. he was already handsome but when he made the effort to dress up, it was almost a total makeover. he even styled his hair slightly differently and all you could think about was your hands getting lost in his locks. you thank whoever chose this look for him.

you snap out of your daze as nagi finishes ordering.

“you two are super cute by the way!” the waitress compliments.

“thanks.” 

you blush at nagi’s confirmation. it’s not like you minded being mistaken for an couple, since you used to be one. but you weren’t exactly sure where your relationship with nagi lies, with labels and all. it wasn't exactly commonplace sharing a candle-lit dinner with your ex at an overly expensive restaurant.

after some idle chatter, the waitress comes back with both of your dishes, placing them onto each respective side. nagi watches as your smile drops, noticing tomatoes on your dish. you hate tomatoes. you sigh defeatedly, reaching for your utensils. before you could even say anything, nagi grabbed your plate and moved the tomatoes to his. even giving you some of his sides which he knew you’d enjoy.

you sit there, bewildered at his actions. he quietly slides the plate back over without another word. you hum in satisfaction, enjoying your dish free of tomatoes. 

nagi was reminded that night how much better food tasted eating alongside you.

୨ ୧

you kick your feet in your bed like a teenage girl, fawning over her crush. the same attire you wore to dinner sprawled onto your sheets. you felt like a lovesick fool. laying your cheek on one of your plushies, which nagi definitely won for you. you sit up at the realization throwing the poor bunny to the ground. 

your mind was in shambles. nagi seishiro really changed, he’s become everything you that he lacked in the past and yet there’s that voice nagging at the back of your head.

what if this is all temporary

what if he really doesn’t mean any of it

what if.

you shake your head wanting to get rid of those thoughts on your mind, but you couldn’t. there’s a part of you that’s scared. scared that everything will go back to the ways they used to beforehand. and you didn’t want that.

if you were to say you moved on from nagi seishiro, that would be a big fat lie. you never stopped loving him over the course of the break-up. you still yearned for him as he yearned for you. unsure at your predicament, you opted to text one of your friends for some well-needed advice.

you: HYO I NEED HELP

hyoma: what happened this time?

you: okay so you know how i broke up with nagi like 3 months ago?

hyoma: all too well… you were slumped for two weeks straight.

you: moving on…

you: okay so he showed up at my doorstep a couple days ago and he’s been taking me on all these dates and i think i still love him and i want him

you: like REALLY bad

hyoma: woah woah woah

hyoma: can we back track here?

hyoma: WTF WERE THOSE FLOWERS FROM HIM THAT YOU POSTED ON YOUR STORY

you: guilty!

you: but yeah

you: he’s been super sweet and has been so proactive but a part of me is still scared

hyoma: how so?

you: i dunno

you: i feel like i’m gonna wake up tomorrow and all of this is just a dream :( 

hyoma: hmmm

hyoma: from what you’ve said, he’s changed for a reason

hyoma: if he’s making you THIS lovesick, i think that’s all the confirmation you need

you: ur the best, love u bro <3

hyoma: yeah yeah same here

hyoma: now go get ur man!!!!

୨ ୧

step #4 - just be upfront and honest!

once again, nagi is at your door sporting his usual outfit composed of a comfy oversized hoodie and fleece sweatpants. you thought that was his best look.

“i got you flowers but i realized they would eventually wither so,” he reveals a flower bouquet lego set. “i bought these, so you will always have flowers with you. you won’t have to water them either so that’s a plus.”

he still hid his other hand behind his back. “what’s that in your other hand?” you question.

“that’s for later.” he shuffles against the wall hiding the object from your view, sneakily sliding it into the fridge. you laugh at his antics before waving him over to start on the lego flowers with you. you dump out the box and start organizing the pieces into piles. you start working on the flower bundles while nagi builds the stems. 

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“why did we break-up?”

you ponder, setting down the lego piece deep in thought, trying to find the right words.

“truthfully, i always felt like i was the one putting in all the effort in our relationship. i was always the one doing the planning but most of our dates didn’t even end up happening. sure, i loved spending time with you but i felt neglected from time to time. i felt like you didn't even want to be in a relationship with me, so i broke it off before you could hurt me." you look down feeling tears swell into your eyes. 

“y/n, can you look at me?”

you shake your head not wanting to look into his eyes that you loved so much. softly, he tilts your chin up frowning at the sight of your downcast face.

nagi hates himself for being the sole reason for your tears. 

"i would never break-up with you. to be honest, i've been a mess ever since you left me." nagi confesses. he hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth once more.

“can i kiss you?”

“if it’s you, you don’t even have to ask.”

that was all the confirmation nagi needed. he looks into your eyes before gently grabbing both sides of your face as your lips interlock. the way your lips mold together was like a perfect fit. nagi pulls away first, retracting his head but his hands never leaving your face.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry for everything i did in the past. i’ve made so many mistakes and i regret every single one. i didn’t realize how important you were to me until i lost you. and that’s why i’ve been trying to make up for everything this past week. which i know is not enough but i was an idiot, well i still am one, but i’ve come to realize that i’d rather be your idiot than just an idiot.”

you press a finger to his lips to stop his rambling. you let out a playful scoff at his words, a smile bringing its way to your face. 

“hm, i don’t know? are there any more compelling reasons for me to take you back?”

“chokki misses his partner by the way.”

“oh yeah, what about chokki’s dad?”

nagi looks away in embarrassment. “he misses you. like a lot.” you smile, grabbing his cheeks and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“lucky for him, i missed him lots too!”

“i got you one last thing,” he holds out a heart shaped tiramisu to you. how could he forget your favorite dessert? 

“i tira-miss-you.” you giggle at the slight pout resting on nagi's face. you dip a finger in the dessert tasting it humming in satisfaction at the sweet taste before wiping a dollop onto his face.

his pout deepens. suddenly, you're being lifted into the air, bridal style as he makes his way to your room. you start flailing around, begging him to put you down. 

“sei!” 

“shh.”

he gently rests you on your bed and lays himself on top of you. “i just want you in my arms, is that too much to ask for?” you sigh, letting him envelop you in his arms.

“so, does that mean we’re back together now?” you flick his forehead, slightly annoyed.

“of course, you dummy.”

“hey y/n.”

“yeah?”

“i love you, like a lot. i never stopped.”

“you're silly sei, i never stopped loving you either.”

operation win y/n back, success!

nagi seishiro was lazy to everything, but for you, he'd do anything. and i mean anything. he would even quit gaming if you asked him to. not like you’d be cruel enough to ask that of him. no matter what, nagi seishiro would go to great lengths if that meant putting a smile on your face. 

୨ ୧