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moonlinos · 3 months

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Invisible string (pt. III)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: After so many years of being closed off from the idea of love, you finally allow yourself to feel it freely with Minho.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, swearing

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: A part of this chapter was almost shamelessly inspired by the song that inspired the plot in the first place, Invisible String by Taylor Swift. Also really inspired by my favorite Minho vlog, Lee Know Log 4 🩷

To those who have asked to be tagged in this story: would any of you be interested in being tagged in any new work I post later? Let me know! And thank you for reading and giving me such a great experience posting my writing here for the first time 🩷

← part II ♡ ⟳ part I

You spend the entire flight home processing everything that had happened during the trip; from Minho’s words, to your kisses and touches, to you ultimately acknowledging your own romantic feelings for him. Although it all felt sudden, it had been a long time coming.

As his car stops at the front of your house, Minho steps out and walks with you, your backpack in hand.

“I know you’re scared. I understand that even more now that I know about your past relationships,” he speaks softly as the two of you stop at the front door, “And I want you to know that I’m gonna be patient.”

You nod slowly, although the desire to answer him is still so prevalent in your mind, the words lodged in your throat and yearning to spill out. But you’ve made the mistake of jumping into relationships far too often, always driven by your emotions, and every time, the outcome has been disastrous. You don’t want that to happen with Minho.

So, you settle on a question that has been eating away at you.

“Why do you like me, Minho?”

His face twists into a deep frown before ultimately softening. Carefully placing your backpack on the step leading to the front door, he sighs.

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that,” he assures you, his rough hands touching your shoulders before moving down your arms to entwine with your own. “You don’t even realize how fucking amazing you are, do you? I’d move mountains, fight anyone and do anything if it meant I’d have the privilege to see you smile.”

And, just like that, you feel your lips stretch out into a small smile at his words. He grins at you.

“Just like that. I’d do anything to see that,” he says. “And you take care of your friends simply because you love them, never asking for anything in return. You collect plushies like me, you appreciate the criminally underrated flavor of lemon cake, and you worked at the same convenience store as me, and spilled coffee all over my notebook on the day we met. That’s why I like you; because you’re you.”

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes, so you quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your shoes. With a nod, you wrap your arms around Minho, taking in his scent and reveling in the comforting warmth of his body. Little did he know, you were just as willing to do whatever it took to keep him near you. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead as you break away from his embrace.

“I’ll call you later, okay? Thank you for the trip.”

As soon as you step inside your house, Eunha is quick to come running towards you, her hands dirty with flour as she abandons her unbaked cookies on the counter and pulls you into a hug.

“I missed you so much,” she whines, “How will I survive living without you next year?”

You chuckle, watching as her lips turn into a pout.

“I’m sure we’ll suffer equally, if that makes you feel better.”

She fakes a sob, turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Hyunjin is in a crisis, apparently,” she tells you, wiping her hands on her apron. “He called me three times just today to ask if you were back already.”

You let out a sigh. Hyunjin was more often than not either glum or vexed due to his trials and mishaps in finding love. He once joked that you two would end up having to marry each other with how things were going. You dreaded his reaction to the news of Minho soon entering your life in a new way.

“The hotel’s Wi-Fi was a joke, but I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone,” you tell Eunha, who giggles as she cuts her cookies into heart shapes. “What? Why are you giggling like that?” You ask her with a grin, approaching the counter.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I didn’t even think to check my phone,” she playfully mimics your voice, looking up at you, “I’m guessing you had fun, then?”

“I did,” you beam, “It was everything I thought it would be and even more.”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “Even more?”

“Even more,” you reiterate. “I had so much fun with Minho. I forgot how good it feels to just let go and allow myself to feel what I want to feel.”

Eunha’s lips curl into a small smile. She hums, lowering her head in a feeble attempt at pretending to focus on the cookies in front of her. “And what did you want to feel this weekend?”

“Like maybe I can finally fall in love again.”

Your friend lifts her head, her eyes wide. “Love?” she exclaims, “You, the girl who has spent every day since I met you talking about how love isn’t important, is wanting to fall in love?”

You chuckle at her reaction, shrugging dismissively. “In my defense, I had my reasons. Plus, some things made me change my mind.”

“More like someone,” Eunha teases, and you roll your eyes at her, but a smile spreads on your lips unwittingly. “I’m happy for you,” she beams, “and I think you should definitely fall in love again — not maybe.”

You sprint across the small kitchen space, circling around the counter to wrap your arms around Eunha and squeezing her as she lightly pushes you away, warning you about flour getting all over your clothes, but you don’t mind.

Because you love her, as you’ve learned this past weekend, and you don’t mind the mess when it comes to someone you love.

It’s only as you enter your room that you check your phone, which is filled with notifications from Hyunjin, much like Eunha had said. After ten missed calls, it seems he resorted to simply texting you.

Hyune: hey I know you’re in japan but can you answer the phone? Hyune: I promise I’ll be quick. just wanna talk to you Hyune: hear your voice idk I feel really alone rn and really bad idk lol Hyune: mingyu has his girlfriend over. can you believe they’re still together? Hyune: can you believe he has a girlfriend and I can’t even find someone to give me the time of day lol Hyune: can you believe every date I go to ends with me crying lol Hyune: sorry I’m being annoying and the messages aren’t even being delivered, you’re clearly having fun sorry Hyune: sorry Hyune: guess that’s why nobody can endure me for more than two dates Hyune: have fun 🤍 I love you

You feel your heart ache as you read his messages, answering with an apology. But before you can hit send on your second message, Hyunjin has already replied.

Hyune: it’s okay. I’m sorry I even sent those in the first place

Me: Stop apologizing Me: You know I love you and I’ll always be here for you Me: Where are you?

Hyune: at my dorm Hyune: staring at the ceiling

Me: I’m coming over

True to his words, Hyunjin is lying on the floor of his dorm’s cramped living room once you open the door. There’s a small canvas propped up against the wall, a myriad of shades of blue forming the shape of a face. Your best friend’s talent never ceases to amaze you, and you have to fight the urge to stand still by the front door for a few seconds simply admiring his new painting.

“Look at this sulking Pisces,” you click your tongue as you approach Hyunjin, who only opens one eye to shoot you a glance.

“I’m in a fragile state and this is how you greet me,” he all but pouts before sitting up as you sit cross-legged beside him on the floor. “How was the trip?”

You shrug. “It was fun. We only had one day to explore the city, so we didn’t do much,” you say simply, tapping your fingers on your thigh.

You don’t want to sit and talk about how much fun you had during a trip when Hyunjin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes are staring directly at you. He was sad, and his sadness was palpable throughout the entire living room — his bitten lips, his painting, his hands covered in dried-up blue paint; everything was dripping in sadness. This was a constant with Hyunjin, but lately it had become even worse. He has an overwhelming desire to love and be loved, but his every attempt at fulfilling this desire is futile for reasons you cannot wrap your head around.

“I like the new painting,” you smile, focusing on the saddened blue face. Hyunjin scoffs beside you.

“It’s fucking terrible,” His hand shoves the canvas face down on the floor. You bite your lip. “Can’t even paint shit I like anymore. Every time I try, it always turns out muddy and sad.”

“What happened?”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Well I’m pathetic, so it’s still the same old reason. I had a date with this girl on Saturday, but she canceled at the last minute. Texted me something about me being too clingy after she agreed to go out with me, about how she knows she would feel suffocated if we dated.”

You furrow your brows together, anger bubbling up inside your chest. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, but don’t worry!” Hyunjin gave you a forced smile. “She made sure to remind me that it was her, not me, and that lots of women out there like guys like me. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, turning his attention toward his hands before scratching some of the dried paint off. You sigh.

“Hyunjin, she isn’t wrong about that. You know that, right? You’re not the one at fault.”

He scoffs. “Sure seems like it when every date I’ve gone to since starting university has ended up with me being rejected for the same fucking reasons. It’s always me. Too clingy, too sentimental, too emotional,” his voice is almost a whisper as he speaks. He turns to face you again. “Remember how I would stop sleeping with you whenever I liked someone? Wanna know why I stopped doing that? ‘Cause I know it’s not gonna go anywhere anyway, so what’s the point? It never goes anywhere, and then I’m left alone again. Maybe I should just accept it, y’know? Some people are just meant to be alone, and clearly I’m one of them.”

Your anger has now morphed into sadness. You hate the way Hyunjin talks about himself, hate it even more how it seems nobody can appreciate the amazing person he is. Being caring and sentimental is not a flaw, and you pray that he never allows other people’s opinions to sway him into thinking that way. You pray he finds someone who can appreciate these qualities in him the same way you do.

“You’re not alone, Hyune,” you assure him, taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re surrounded by friends who love you so much, and while I know that’s not the type of love you yearn for, it’s still love.”

Hyunjin smiles softly at you before pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours. It’s sudden but not entirely unexpected; the way you and Hyunjin dealt with shitty things in life and unpleasant feelings together had always been through sex, and you knew it always made him feel at least a little better afterward. And so you let him, returning the kiss even as part of you felt wrong doing it when your entire being was consumed with thoughts of only Minho.

As soon as he kisses you, he swiftly pushes you down onto the hardwood floor and hovers over you. Hyunjin’s fingers undo the buttons of your cardigan before slipping under your shirt, caressing your skin as his lips trail kisses down your neck. Soon enough, his body is pressed up against your spread thighs, and you know where this is going — but as much as you want to make your best friend feel better, you cannot bring yourself to do it.

“Hyune,” you softly call out, and he hums against your throat. “We can’t do this.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist. “Mingyu always comes home late when he goes out with his girlfriend. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not that, Hyunjin. I just—”

“Do you not wanna fuck on the floor?” He asks, coming up to look at you. He cocks his head to the side. “We can just do it on the couch then, I really don’t wanna have sex with all those pictures of Mingyu and his friends staring at us in our room.”

“Hyunjin, no—”

“It’s not like we never did it on a couch before, stop being dramatic—”

“I’m in love with Minho.”

It comes out before you can fully comprehend what you’re saying, the word love slipping past your lips effortlessly. Hyunjin stills on top of you, his body rigid and tense.

“Oh,” is all he offers you. You nod slowly, fingers picking at a drop of paint that stained the collar of his shirt.

You whisper, “I really am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I’m not surprised. I just— now you’re leaving me, too.”

You shake your head. It’s ludicrous to you that Hyunjin could imagine that you would ever even entertain the thought of leaving him. Running a hand through his messy hair, you pull him in and press a kiss to his nose. Hyunjin hides his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

“Sorry, that was pathetic. I shouldn’t have said that,” he apologizes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I just love you so much. I thought we would…”

You furrow your brows as he trails off his words. You thread your fingers through his long hair. “We would…?”

“End up together somehow,” he speaks slowly, his voice muffled, and your heart drops.

Hyunjin harboring these feelings about you was something you would never have imagined. You were certain he was content being your friend and having sex with you only until he found the right person. He went on several dates, after all. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces upon learning about his hidden desire for the future he used to so often joke about: you two ending up together simply because you were each other’s only choices.

“Hyunjin,” you start carefully, “I love you, too. So much. You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. We don’t have to be together romantically for us to be in love, y’know? I realized that just recently.”

You feel him nod his head, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

“I’m just sad I won’t have you anymore. I’m gonna miss us so much,” he places a small kiss on your collarbone. “Whenever I felt like I was in a dark pit with no way out, every single time you were there to bring me out of it and make me feel okay again. I love you so much for that.”

And you can only softly smile at his words before your heart shatters all over again as you hear him quietly begin to sob in your skin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, although you know he won’t reply. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met. My love for you goes beyond us having sex — that wasn’t even important to me in our relationship. It was just something good on top of something already amazing.” With a slow nod, he lifts his head and gazes at you with red, teary eyes, causing your heart to ache even more. “I’ll never leave you. Ever. I’ll still answer your four hundred three a.m. texts, still let you hide away in my house, still happily listen to you complain about your days, and still hold you when you cry.”

Hyunjin pouts like a child, and your heart swells with fondness.

“Really?” He asks, and you chuckle with a nod.

“Really,” you assure him. “Me being with someone will never change our friendship, or my love for you. I mean, we won’t have sex anymore, of course, but I’ll still talk shit about your roommate with you so I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s tearful expression vanishes, replaced by a small teasing grin. “I am gonna have to jerk off significantly more, so I don’t know about forgiveness,” he jokes.

You push him off you with a chuckle, sitting up as he tries to regain his balance.

“When did this whole thing with Minho even happen?” Hyunjin asks, setting his painting back against the wall. You shrug, buttoning up your cardigan. He hums. “So, are you already together?”

“Not yet,” you say, “but I’m gonna answer him after our class this week. If he fucking lets me, that is. He says he wants to be patient, but I don’t want to be patient. The only thing I wanna be is with him.”

Hyunjin’s whole body contorts as he groans. “Ew, what the fuck? When did you become such a sap?”

As you shove him back once more, you both burst into laughter while Hyunjin stumbles back and spills a mug filled with dirty paint water all over his floor.

The rest of the day goes by with you and Hyunjin painting together, a much broader array of colors and a much happier end result on the canvas: beautiful flowers painted by him standing alongside clumsily drawn hearts, stars, and other doodles painted by you. After signing your name above his elegant signature, you inform him the painting is leaving with you — it’s hanging up on your wall as soon as you arrive home.

Hyunjin is your best friend; it’s been this way for the last two years, and it’s indisputable to you that this fact will remain no matter what happens. As you watch him hunched over your painting, insisting that his flowers could be more detailed — even after you assured him a thousand times that they were perfect — you curse yourself for not realizing how beautiful this love between you two is. You hope he cherishes this love as well, in spite of his desire for the two of you to be together in the future. You know deep down this idea stemmed from his fear of solitude.

You’re not worried about him at all, though. He’s a precious soul, and anyone who fails to recognize that doesn’t deserve him. He’s simply getting rid of the wrong people in order to find the right person, someone who sees him as you do.

The love you feel for Hyunjin is unchanging, and if you had any say in it, it would be everlasting.

Your next Japanese class with Minho comes too soon, and you find yourself unprepared. Every trace of resolve you had after returning from your trip dissipated bit by bit every time you saw or talked to him. As soon as you saw his figure step into the coffee shop on Monday to pick up his usual order, you realized that every single scenario your mind had conjured up fell flat. Minho was beautiful, amazing, breathtaking — he deserved something grand and earth-shattering, not a simple answer from a girl who wasn’t even half as good as he was.

It certainly did not help that he, always true to his words, respected your time. Not once during his coffee trips or your never-ending talks through the phone did he mention the topic. And it was slowly but surely driving you insane.

You bite your lips so much on your way to university you’re sure your lipstick is gone by the time you enter the building, and you’re surprised your poor bag isn’t riddled with holes in the cloth from your insistent picking. You shouldn’t feel this nervous — Minho is the one waiting for an answer, after all. For all he knows, you could be simply building up the courage to let him down gently. But you are nervous. You’re terrified he will listen to your clumsy words and decide he deserves someone better. Or, worse yet, will only realize how undeserving of his love you are once you’re in a relationship.

And you don’t think you can face another heartbreak where you’re left to mend your gashes all alone.

You enter the building with shaky hands, fiddling with the strap of your bag and walking toward your classroom on autopilot as your mind is too busy running over all the ways in which this could go wrong.

All faded, however, once you saw Minho waiting for you in front of your classroom. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his phone, his body wrapped in a cozy-looking black sweater and sweatpants, a keychain of a cat plushie hanging from his backpack matching his phone case. You stop a few feet away from him. He deserves the world, and that terrifies you. Still, his presence alone melts away every ugly word of doubt and every piece of worry inside your body until the only thing you can feel is the swirling of that familiar pinwheel spinning inside your chest.

You greet him with a long hug, hoping he can’t feel your heart beating through your own sweater.

After class, he walks you to work, enthusiastically telling you about the progress he, Chan and Seungmin have made on their game. You nod and hum along to his words, but you can’t, for the life of you, focus on a word he’s saying. All you want to do is tell him you like him — god, you like him so much — but every time you’re close to doing it, the ugly words return and scream that he deserves more than an underwhelming confession on a gloomy, empty street.

You stop walking as you two reach the bench located just far away enough from the hustle and bustle of students on campus, the one where no one bothered you when you sat here by yourself for three years, the one that had oddly become your favorite bench among all the other identical ones scattered throughout your university.

Because it was here that you and Minho had your first real conversation, it was here where you two laughed and gasped at all the little coincidences between your lives, and it was here where you began to build a friendship with this wonderful guy who would unknowingly change you for the better.

It was the perfect place, and you berated yourself for not realizing that sooner.

Minho’s voice calling out your name pulls you away from your thoughts, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you gently toward his body. You hum before colliding against his chest as he chuckles.

“You just stopped walking,” he says, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “I know you hate work, but I didn’t think it was this serious.”

And when you properly turn to look at him, Minho is smiling so beautifully under the somber sky of winter, as if he is the embodiment of sunshine — always glistening and radiating such a comforting warmth no matter how glum the world around him is. And, at the sight of him, you just can’t stop your words. Never mind how gloomy this campus seems or how lackluster your words are — Minho’s presence alone makes everything become golden.

“I like you because you’re you,” you mirror his words at you, “Because you laughed in my face for spilling coffee all over your notebook when I didn’t even know you, because you love coffee just as much as I hate it, and because you believe in silly myths about riding paddle boats together,” You blurt out, words completely unbidden by your brain. Minho’s eyes widened for a beat before slowly turning into crescent moons as a smile spread across his lips. You take a deep breath before continuing, the words flowing out of you so quickly you’re worried he won’t be able to understand you, “And you opened my eyes to the love I feel for my friends, which I was so fucking stupid and blinded to. But, most importantly, you taught me that love isn’t bad. It can never be bad because you’re love, Minho. You’re full of love, and there’s not an ounce of anything bad in you. And you make me feel deserving of this love, even though I still don’t understand how I can be deserving of something so beautiful.”

Minho’s arms are pulling you into an embrace before you can process everything you said, and by the time you seem to come to your senses, you realize tears have welled up in your eyes. He holds you close to him silently for a while, his left hand delicately massaging your scalp as you clutch onto the fabric of his sweater as if he might be taken away from you if you let go.

“I like you, too,” he whispers against your hair, and you feel your lips contort into a pout.

“You already told me that,” you grumble. “I just word-vomited my feelings to you and this is all you have to say?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “What else is there to say? I like you so much I don’t think I can put it into words. I might just say something stupid if I talk about it too much.”

You furrow your brows, pulling away from his embrace to face him. “Something stupid like what?”

“Like saying I love you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Yet again, Minho has rendered you speechless. He shakes his head dismissively, a smile still etched onto his lips.

“No need to say anything. I told you it was stupid,” his eyes drift over to the bench beside you two, and his smile grows. “Guess this has to become my favorite bench too.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s cut short by your tears spilling out again. Minho quickly turns to look at you again, his expression shifting into a mixture of happiness and worry for you as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

And as the sun begins to set, the street lights flicker on, casting a warm, yellow glow over everything around you. You cup Minho’s face and press a chaste kiss to his lips, then to his nose, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into an embrace once again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love you yet. I’m sorry,” you apologize, both to him and yourself.

Minho simply hums, kissing your cheek. “I told you I’m patient, because love is patient. I would wait an eternity for the privilege of hearing you say you love me.”

You and Minho have officially been together for almost two months by the time winter break arrives. You’ve done everything couples do, except for two things: say I love you and go all the way. You’ve done every other possible thing — well, Minho has done every other possible thing to you, with you discovering that Minho particularly loves eating you out, often laying on your lap on your couch after work and rubbing his head against your thighs like a cat, humming and sighing until he has your attention before all but begging you to let him go down on you. Whenever you offer to do the same to him, in any way, he immediately turns the offer down, saying he’s satisfied just pleasuring you. It always leaves you with a million questions, as you notice him have to adjust himself in his pants or coincidently go to the bathroom, but you don’t question it.

The two of you also found ways to get around the whole L-word situation. I missed you becoming your go-to phrase for when you want to scream out that you love him, but are still unable to, while he usually just makes you swallow both your words and his own that are lingering inside your mouth with a kiss.

You had fallen into a routine quickly, with you visiting Minho most evenings after your shift to just lay on Chan’s stiff leather couch and watch him work. You two always hang out with his co-workers slash friends for a while before leaving for the night — Seungmin becoming like the pestering but loveable little brother you never had — and you head to your house in Minho’s car before you sneak him into your home so Mrs. Choi remains none the wiser.

Her ‘no boyfriends spending over two days at the house’ rule can’t possibly apply if she doesn’t even know Minho is there in the first place.

And so, he’s been basically living alongside you and your housemates. This outcome was almost inevitable since Minho hates his roommates while you love each other’s company.

You’re now packing your things with Hyunjin, who’s been sitting on your bed for the last half-hour rather than helping you as he’d promised. In the past month, he’s been able to come to terms with the fact that his ideal future with you was nothing but a coping mechanism after a month of sulking every time Minho was around. He deleted every shitty dating app on his phone and now focuses on finding love naturally, recently going out with a girl he met in one of his classes. The first time they met was the epitome of a meet-cute, with her accidentally bumping into him and spilling black paint all over his shirt. It brought back memories of when you first met Minho, and you had high hopes that this time things would work out differently for him. But, judging by the scowl on Hyunjin’s face and his nonstop complaining, you were wrong.

“But, be for real, why did it take her six dates to realize she doesn’t think we’ll work out?” He grumbles, spinning one of your necklaces around his finger like it’s a toy. “I paid for every meal, made sure she got at least two orgasms every time we went out, and she just suddenly decides we won’t work out? Fuck off.’’

You chuckle, closing your suitcase after triple-checking that you packed Minho’s Christmas present and walking over to where Hyunjin is sitting, snatching your necklace from his hand.

“Maybe she liked the free food and orgasms too much to let them go.”

Hyunjin scowls. “You’re saying that’s the only reason she went out with me?” He feigns offense, shaking his head. “I hope Minho’s parents hate your guts.”

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, watching as he bursts out laughing. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how nervous I am.”

“There’s no way they won’t like you,” He assures you, “You’re fucking amazing, not to mention their son loves you. That’s more than enough reason to love you too.”

You clutch the necklace in your hand, humming before turning on your heels to check your drawers for anything you might have missed. Hyunjin using the word love makes you a bit anxious, an unwelcome reminder that you still haven’t been able to overcome this stupid emotional blockage preventing you from telling Minho you love him. The first and only time you’d ever said you loved Minho was that evening at Hyunjin’s dorm, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Without saying a word, you both understand the love that exists between you — it’s unspoken, but deeply felt — and you’re aware of that, but the fear that one day he’ll grow tired of waiting is painfully tangible inside your mind.

When Minho invited you to spend Christmas with his family, you hesitated at first. Meeting your ex-boyfriends’ families had never been so significant. You were a teenager at the time, the implications were different and the stakes didn’t seem as high. This time, it feels as if getting Minho’s parents to like you is indispensable. How will he go on dating a woman his parents deem unfit for him? Especially with how highly he speaks of his mother, you’re sure her opinion of you will weigh on his mind.

You can only hope they love you half as much as you love their son.

The car ride to Minho’s parents’ house was around half an hour.

Half an hour you spent picking at a loose thread on your skirt and overthinking so much your head ached by the time he parked the car. You hated how nervous you were, but Minho’s parents liking you was a non-negotiable.

After insisting on carrying your own suitcase — just in case his parents might think you’re an overbearing girlfriend if they see Minho carrying your bag for you — the two of you walk up the stairs and into his home. The first thing you notice is how cozy-looking everything is; from the family pictures neatly placed on coffee tables and on the walls, cat furniture and toys mixed in with their actual furniture, down to the fuzzy blankets thrown over the couches.

The second thing that catches your attention is the quietude permeating throughout the house, as well as the fact that the first family member to greet you two is an orange cat.

“Oh, did you miss me this much?” Minho asks in a sweet, singsong voice, similar to how you would speak to a baby. He crouches down to pet the cat, who is now entangling himself between his legs. He introduces you by your name, because Soonie is truly just another family member to him. You chuckle, kneeling next to him and carefully extending your hand toward the orange ball of fur.

“Hello, Soonie,” you speak quietly, afraid you’ll spook him. He eyes you carefully before sniffing your fingers and, ultimately, rubbing his head on your hand. You sigh in relief, petting his fur with a smile.

Minho’s cats liking you was also a non-negotiable.

You place your suitcases in Minho’s childhood bedroom, his parents letting him know they will arrive a little late after going Christmas shopping. Looking around his small room, you smile at all the small things that scream Lee Minho. The pictures of him and his friends back in high school are the first thing you notice, glued to the wall in front of his door lopsided. His thick-rimmed glasses and bowl cut make you smile as you analyze one of the pictures, where he and four other boys hug and smile widely in a karaoke room. Then, of course, his extensive plushie collection sat against a wall to your left — all stacked on top of each other like a mountain — which he proudly shows off to you.

“Y’know, I had to basically fight a little girl at the Sanrio store for this one,” he says, a bit too smugly, while holding a plush of Kuromi dressed in a ladybug costume. “I was sixteen, though, so I think that excuses my behavior. I would never do that nowadays.”

You narrow your eyes, humming skeptically. “Sure you wouldn’t.”

Minho just chuckles, meticulously placing the doll back in its place beside the cherry on top of a rather large Pusheen pudding plushie.

“Oh! You have to see my books.” He takes your hand in his, dragging you toward the wall facing his bed. A bookshelf expanding from the floor to the ceiling makes your mouth drop. You hadn’t noticed it before, with it being hidden away in the corner of the room. The bookshelf is decorated with fairy lights — which Minho promptly switches on — and filled with beautiful books, from intricately designed hard covers to intricate sprayed edges, every single book in his collection has something special about it.

He uses a small metal ladder to reach the top of the shelves before handing you a book so thick your wrist almost bends upon grabbing it. It’s a collection of seven Jane Austen novels, all in a gorgeous blue and golden hardcover. You eye the book like it’s a precious jewel, carefully running your fingers over the details engraved on the cover. Beside you, Minho lets out a breathy laugh, stepping down from the ladder and bumping your shoulder lightly.

“You can open it,” he tells you, but you’re still too mesmerized by the book to look at him. “It’s what books are for, whether they’re pretty or not. You have to open it and read it, otherwise they lose their purpose.”

You nod slowly, but remain unmoving. Minho’s hand suddenly rests on top of yours, and he opens the book for you. The page is entirely annotated, with highlighters and thoughts jotted down on pencil in messy handwriting. Looking up at him, you are met by his smile.

“See? The book is fine, the world didn’t end. I have these special editions because I enjoy collecting pretty things, but I always read them,” he explains, “I like when books reflect the emotions I felt while reading them. I annotate, scribble, highlight — I once threw a special edition Stephen King book across the living room and into a wall. There’s an indentation on it till this day.”

You gasp. “Minho, what the fuck?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I know, I know. All book sins in the eyes of many people. But, like I said, that just reflects the emotions I felt while reading that book. I look through any of these pages and I know exactly what I felt at that time of my life.”

You nod, your lips absentmindedly curling into a smile. Minho truly is something else. You skim the page opened before you, reading some of his annotations and laughing quietly to yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

As you close the book, he speaks again, “They’re a bit like people, aren’t they? Pretty and put-together on the outside, but once you really dig in, it’s all a mess and cluster of feelings and passion.”

You and Minho spend an hour lounging around the living room, with you meeting his other two cats during that time. Soonie and Doongie’s adoration toward Minho is clear, with both orange cats always rubbing against his leg or tangling themselves in his sneakers by the door as you two cuddle on the couch. Dori, however, remains laid on his cat tree, barely sparing the two of you a glance. Minho jokes that Dori hates him after he left his first mom, even showing you further proof in the form of a video where the gray cat bites his nose while he sleeps.

Upon hearing the key turn on the front door, your heart is quick to jump. Minho’s parents have arrived.

Sitting up on the couch, you gently push Minho away from you. He shoots you a questioning look.

“What? I don’t want them to think we were doing something indecent.”

“Indecent?” Minho repeats with a chuckle. “We were cuddling, not consummating a marriage on this couch.”

You grumble incoherent words under your breath, shrugging. “I know. I just want them to like me.”

“They were more than okay with seeing me cuddle my ex when I was a teen. We’re both adults, I’m pretty sure they won’t think you’re a filthy harlot.”

You gasp, hitting his chest and hissing through your teeth. “A harlot?”

Minho lets out a long, hearty laugh just as his parents walk through the door.

“Oh, there you are!” You hear his mother’s voice call out as soon as she steps inside the living room. You turn to face her and you’re greeted by the same smile you see on Minho’s face every day — they look so similar you have to hold back a gasp. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You stand up from the couch and smooth down your long skirt, smiling while she walks toward you. You’re caught off guard when she pulls you into a hug as soon as she’s in front of you, her arms squeezing you as she sighs happily into your hair.

“Mom,” Minho calls out, “You’re scaring her.”

His mom pulls away with a chuckle, her left hand pinching her son’s cheek before resting on your shoulder again. “He’s the one who’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she refutes. “And, god, you’re so pretty! Minho told me you were beautiful, but I just assumed it was the infatuation speaking.”

You feel your cheeks flush at her words, biting back a smile. Minho had talked to his mother about you — had said you were beautiful. You swear if you died tonight, you would die a happy woman.

As his mother steps away from you and into the kitchen, rambling on about how crowded the shopping mall had been, a man comes into your field of vision. He nods courtly before extending his hand, which you shake a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Minho’s dad,” he simply says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Minho has been very happy on the phone since meeting you.”

And with that, he’s off into the kitchen, following his wife. You’re left a bit dazed. Minho truly was a perfect blend of his mother’s appearance and his father’s calm personality.

Beside you, Minho pulls you into a side hug, his chilly hands caressing your arms. “See? It’s impossible not to love you.”

You freeze for a moment, before relaxing as you realize he’s talking about his parents loving you. You curse yourself inwardly for being so damn emotionally constipated, but let out a sigh of relief nonetheless.

You were worried for so many different reasons — that you wouldn’t measure up to Minho’s first girlfriend, that your personality would be scrutinized until your flaws finally emerged, and that this would be the catalyst for Minho to realize you’re not worth it. Not worth waiting until you can tell him you love him, not worth waiting until you feel like sex isn’t going to just ruin everything between you, not worth the hassle and the chore that is loving someone like you.

But as he walks into the kitchen with you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, like he’s proud to show you off to his parents, the level of reliability he radiates is enough to melt away all the annoying little worries you had inside your head.

Christmas eve comes two days later, and you’re rudely woken up in the morning by the sound of Minho’s voice cursing under his breath as he drops something on the floor by his bed. You groan, rubbing your eyes, and he turns to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kneeling down next to the bed and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight, I think.” His fingers brush your hair away from your face. “I didn’t set an alarm ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake you up, but guess my inability to be quiet did that anyway.”

You chuckle lightly, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you up so early?”

“Gotta start cooking dinner soon,” he explains.

“Already?” You ask, perplexed. You knew he cooked Christmas dinner all by himself every year for his family, but you never conceived just how much work that would be for a single person.

Minho is unyielding despite your best efforts at persuading him to stay and cuddle you for a few more hours, and watching him cook is always oddly attractive to you, so you find yourself joining him in the kitchen, wrapped up in one of his many cat print sweaters.

At first, you simply sit up at one of the counters and watch him, mesmerized and all but drooling at the way he rolls up his sleeves, the prominent veins making his arms look so sexy while doing such a mundane thing like chopping fucking vegetables. Not to mention his hands, so beautiful and big as he rubs the seasoning on something you don’t even care to identify because you’re just too busy thinking about those hands all over your body. Only now do you notice how no real sex for almost two months has really taken a toll on you, what with the way you have to cross your legs just to try and relieve some tension because your mind won’t stop thinking about Minho’s veiny arms caging you against this counter and his big hands—

Minho calls out your name, and you snap out of your fantasies, humming as you reluctantly turn your attention toward his face with a dazed expression. He seems to find it funny, as he chuckles before repeating himself, “I asked if you would like to help. I can teach you some of the easy stuff. Must be boring just sitting there and watching.”

Oh, but it isn’t boring at all.

But you’d never tell him that, so you nod before hopping off the counter and awaiting further instructions. Turns out you’re worse at cooking than you had thought, so you’re relegated to chopping duty, which you hate for two reasons — firstly, chopping vegetables is boring, and secondly, you’re now deprived of your view of Minho as you stand with your back turned to him while he cooks.

It’s around five p.m. when Minho’s mom joins you two in the kitchen, and by that time you’ve done all you could, so you’re back to your spot on the counter. She smiles at you before ruffling Minho’s hair as he closes the oven.

“My baby is such a wonderful cook, isn’t he?” she praises, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I am very boyfriend material, aren’t I?”

You chuckle as you watch his mom carefully fixing his hair which she had messed up, Minho scrunching up his face as she then fixes his wire-frame glasses on his nose.

“I’m so glad you’re wearing your glasses again,” she comments, cupping his cheeks and squeezing before letting go. “You look so handsome.”

“You should thank her,” Minho smiles, turning to look at you, and you shoot him a puzzling look. “Remember on your birthday, when you told me I looked good wearing glasses?” He asks, and you nod slowly. “That’s why I stopped wearing contacts.”

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the words to answer him. You can feel your cheeks dusting pink as his mom coos at the two of you, saying something about young love that has you gnawing on your lips to hold back the silly smile you want to let out.

Minho’s mom leaves the kitchen shortly after, his father calling her from the living room. He takes this as his chance to approach where you’re sitting, hands resting on your thighs before he presses his lips against yours.

“I wanted to look handsome for you. It’s kinda pathetic, isn’t it?” He chuckles against your lips, and you simply shake your head, tangling your fingers in his black hair that has now grown past his eyes.

“It’s actually fucking adorable,” you assure him, pulling him into another kiss, one much deeper than the last.

He quickly uses his hands to spread your thighs apart, pressing his body into yours as you wrap your legs around his waist. The effect this man has on you is mindboggling; the mere slide of his tongue against your lips has you shivering. It certainly doesn’t help that you are now in the exact position from your imagination earlier today.

Minho always tasted like your own personal favorite flavor, always deliciously swirling on your tongue whenever you kissed him. He always renders your mind fuzzy and silly as bliss consumes the entirety of your being. You can only imagine how sex with him will feel like, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your worries be damned. You needed him more than you could handle.

But just as Minho pulls you closer to his body — your core dangerously close to his crotch, and sucking on your tongue in a way that has you mewling against his lips — his mother calls out your names, and you two quickly separate, startled as if you were burned. She informs you his grandmother has arrived and you two walk to the living room to greet her. You silently thank the universe for her not walking into the kitchen; the last thing you want is for Minho’s poor grandmother to catch you two making out on the counter like two teenagers.

She is a sweet lady, certainly not as old as you expected her to be, and she always has a smile etched onto her lips stained with red lipstick. You don’t even have to ask to know she is his mother’s mom, as the three of them share the exact same smile you grew to love so much.

You find yourself even more comfortable today, as you help both women set up the table for dinner — his grandma meticulously placing a beautiful lace cloth over the table while telling you about how this was one of her late husband’s first gifts to her when they first moved in together.

It felt as if you were part of the family.

And as you turn on your heels to grab the fancy silverware from a cabinet, your eyes meet Minho’s gaze. With a smile on his face, he stands by the kitchen door, watching you, and your heart swells with joy.

This was everything you never thought love could be.

Christmas dinner was amazing — as you knew it would be. Minho’s cooking is always fantastic, and pure happiness is written all over his face whenever he was complimented. The way he offers to serve everyone, watching intently as each of you took the first bite before he finally allowed himself to eat as well, his lips upturned into a grin and his ears red as you all hummed and gasped at how tasty everything was. It’s his love language; from the way he carefully and methodically prepares the food, to the way he enjoys watching other people eat more than eating himself. He shows his love through his cooking, you realize, and you smile as you think back to numerous times you woke up in the morning with a beautiful table set with breakfast for you after he spent the night at your house.

You haven’t put it into words yet, but he has unquestionably been showing his love for you through his little actions.

And that’s what you want to do tonight as well.

After watching a cliche Christmas movie with his family, you two are now the only ones awake with you drying off the dishes Minho’s washing. He looks beautiful even now, with his hands clad in neon green dishwashing gloves.

“Minho,” you call out, poking his rib with the plate he just handed you. He squirms with a giggle, warning you to not tickle him. You simply hum, continuing as nonchalantly as you can. “Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

His hand stills, dropping a knife on the sink as his head turns abruptly to look at you, eyes bewildered. “What? What, and you ask me this now? While we’re doing the dishes?” He sputters, and you grin with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, placing the plate on top of the counter. “I just… really wanna do it. Really want you.”

Minho turns off the tap — at least five knives left ignored at the bottom of the sink — removes his gloves and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, not what I expected to happen on Christmas night, but I’ll take it.”

You both stare at each other for a beat, before inexplicably bursting out laughing. Maybe it’s the sheer suddenness of your request, or the absurdity of the situation you were in when it happened, but you can’t help it.

As you both calm down, Minho pulls you into his arms and informs you that he will have to go out and buy condoms, since he truly wasn’t expecting anything to happen. You don’t fault him, the two months you’ve been together were filled with you all but running away from sex. You couldn’t help it, your brain always dragging you back to that night in Japan, and the way he avoided your gaze in the morning. Although you knew it was irrational, and that he was simply shy, your self-sabotaging skills were too great, and your mind insisted that if you had sex with Minho too soon he would think you were nothing but a slut. That’s what you were told most of your life, anyway, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your brain was almost conditioned into assuming the same.

But Minho had proved time and time again that he was not like the awful guys before him, and that all your worrying was unwarranted and foolish. You were depriving yourself of something you wanted badly out of sheer insecurity and attachment to experiences so far in the past it was almost masochistic at this point.

You insist on joining him on his impromptu trip to the convenience store, only throwing one of his sweaters over the dress and tights you wore for Christmas dinner.

Minho holds your hand as you two walk down the empty street, Christmas lights from the houses and stores making everything seem almost like a movie. You spot the familiar logo from across the street, and Minho bumps his shoulder with you while you head toward the convenience store chain where you both once worked.

“This is actually the exact one I used to work at,” He tells you as you look through a fridge hidden away in the back of the store. “I loved working the graveyard shift. I rang up so many couples awkwardly buying condoms like they were buying hard drugs.”

You chuckle, settling for some pudding you two could share later. “Will that be us tonight?”

He shrugs. “We’re adults, it’s normal to buy these things. Unless you want me to act like I’m buying crack cocaine, then I’d be happy to indulge you.”

You stick your tongue out at him with a light shove, turning to look through the rather lacking options on the condom shelf.

“Grape flavor?” Minho makes a face as he eyes one of the boxes. “Who the fuck would want the artificial taste of grapes when fucking?”

You shrug. “Could be worse, imagine banana-flavored condoms. I think I’d throw up all over your dick.”

“That’s sexy,” He jokes, and you let out a loud chuckle, earning you a look from the only other person at the store this time of night on Christmas eve.

Among your other options are a green glow-in-the-dark condom — which would only make you think of Shrek while Minho fucks you — and a strawberry-flavored one. You decide to play it safe, grabbing a box of plain, thin condoms and placing them in the basket Minho’s carrying.

“Let’s just go for the safest option,” you tell him, “We’ll have plenty of time to play around later if you want, though I’ll go on birth control once we’re back home so we won’t even need them anyway.”

You watch as Minho’s eyes widen for a second, his eyebrows shooting up almost comically.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t short-circuit now. I need you functioning to fuck me.”

“Keep saying shit like that and I’ll be broken before we even make it back to my house,” he states matter-of-factly, and you chuckle, shaking your head at his words. But Minho’s expression remains unchanged. “I mean it. It’s been over a year since I’ve had proper sex. I’m surprised I didn’t combust the second you said those words to me in the kitchen.”

With a chuckle, you pull him to your side and walk toward the cashier. It’s a poor teenage boy, no older than eighteen, clearly bored out of his mind and wishing to be anywhere but here. As he rings up your items, Minho points to his phone that’s resting on the counter.

“That’s Ahri from League of Legends, right?” He asks, and the boy looks up, his eyes sparking with interest. He nods. “I don’t play, but I’m a game programmer, so I know a little bit about it. What’s your rank?”

“Grandmaster,” the boy answers proudly, his face lighting up with a hint of joy, probably for the first time since his shift started.

“Oohh,” Minho gasps loudly, basically hyping up this random boy at the convenience store. You watch the interaction with a silly smile on your face. “And you’re still young, wouldn’t be surprised to see you at World’s someday.”

The boy shakes his head dismissively as Minho hands him his card, but smiles nonetheless. Once he hands you your things, he speaks again, “Are you from around here, hyung? Let me know when you have a game out, I’d love to try it. See if you’re any good.”

Minho raises his brows at the obvious teasing lilt in his voice, lips upturning into a grin. “How about this? I’ll give you the beta code and you can start your career of testing games for money.”

“You’ll pay me?” The cashier marvels at the words, and Minho simply nods. He jots down a code from his phone into a scrap piece of paper on the counter, the boy’s face now a complete shift from the expression he wore when you first walked in, all because of Minho and his ability to be kind and sweet no matter the person or circumstance.

As you head back to his house, only the two of walk along the shy streets as the clock hands turn past midnight. Among all the bad people in this world, you’re indescribably happy that a man as good as him is the one walking beside you down this street, firmly holding your hand.

You arrive home and quietly head straight into Minho’s room. You thank any higher power that might exist for the fact that his room is the only one on the first floor, as you would have to endure your desperate need and desire for him until you got home if it wasn’t. Any of Minho’s family members walking in or hearing you two have sex would make you want to flee the country and change your name.

He joins you after storing your puddings in the fridge, making you jump with his arms wrapped around your waist while you were blankly staring at the pictures on his wall. You sigh, the realization of what was going to happen only really dawning on you now that you stand in Minho’s bedroom, and your mind starts to wander and doubt everything all over again.

“I kind of ruined the mood by asking to have sex, didn’t I?” You ask as Minho places a chaste kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“There was really no mood in the first place,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “We were washing the dishes.”

You roll your eyes, once again more annoyed at yourself than at him. You could only hope that your awful propensity of bringing up these irritating thoughts of yours at the worst possible moments didn’t drive Minho away from you. Could only hope you were worth it in the end.

“I know, it’s just…” You trail off with another heavy sigh. “This guy I dated hated that. Said I should just initiate it instead of asking like it was a business transaction.”

You feel Minho shake his head. “That’s stupid. Why would I think that?” He sounds incredulous, and hearing him say it makes you realize just how asinine that thought really was. “We had to buy condoms, anyway. It’s also good that you’re comfortable asking me that. It’s as it should be.”

And you can only smile, biting back a giggle because of course he thinks that. It’s as if Jane Austen came back from the dead simply to write Lee Minho.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you turn your head to look at him. “You should really stop thinking about… them,” He hesitates, “Your exes, I mean. Stop comparing, assuming everything will be the same and have the same sad ending. You need to let go of that in order to truly heal. I hate how every time I’m good to you, or do the bare fucking minimum, your mind spins it into something being your fault. I hate what they did to you so much.”

You feel your breath get caught in your throat, tears threatening to spill much like they do every time you are faced with this topic. But you hold them in. You don’t want to cry, not right now, not when everything is so perfect with Minho. So, instead, you take in his words. He’s undoubtedly right, and you must force yourself to face this uncomfortable truth.

Slowly, you promise yourself. You smile at him, a silent promise to him, and you know he understands you when he smiles back, his lips pressing a kiss to your lips.

He lets go of you and rummages through his drawers, and you look around once more. His plushie mountain, the pictures of his childhood and high school days. You scrunch up your nose.

“Will it be too weird to have sex in your childhood bedroom?”

From where you’re standing, his back turned to you, you can faintly make out the tip of his ears turning red as he runs a finger through his hair.

“Well, not really…” He trails off, “I had sex with my ex-girlfriend here all the time when we skipped school together.”

You let out a gasp. “Lee Minho skipped school?”

He chuckles, closing his drawers and immediately wrapping his arms around you. He’s a lot more touchy since you brought this whole topic up, you notice.

“My parents were always at work, though, so this is my first time doing it while they’re right upstairs,” He explains, bringing his finger up to your lips and lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “So we’ll have to be quiet.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, nodding. You know all too well you’ll probably be too quiet. Once again your trauma playing a part in this, the words an old boyfriend harshly spilled about you being too loud and vocal have always been present in your head. Now that you think about it, all these moments and words are like post-it notes stuck to your mind, and you skim through like a student cramming for an exam every day in search of one that applies to your current situation. It was excruciating.

Hyunjin tried his best to change this about you, always assuring you he liked to hear you during sex when he noticed your pursed and bitten lips, and that you should be vocal about what you want and like. But you always settled for nods and quiet hums instead.

Minho presses a quick kiss on your forehead then. “I’m gonna shower ‘cause my hands still smell like onions and garlic after washing them a thousand times,” he tells you. “I’ll be right back.”

As you’re busying yourself looking through Minho’s extensive collection of books, a meow pulls your attention toward the door. It’s Dori, the gray cat you’ve decided is your favorite since it’s the only one you can easily recognize. He stares for a beat before approaching you, and you kneel carefully to stroke his soft fur. You soon find yourself sitting down by the bed with Dori on your lap, purring away as your mind travels to a future in which you and Minho adopt cats of your own, all while living together and making plans for the rest of your lives. It terrifies you slightly to allow yourself to have these thoughts because if things were to go wrong with Minho, this would only be another ‘what if’ that would haunt you.

Another post-it note to your already cluttered-up mind.

But his words from earlier come back to you just as you begin to panic. You have to let go of the past and stop assuming only the worst outcomes are attainable. And so you simply smile at the imagination, letting your mind run wild while Dori falls asleep on your lap, his gray fur all over your red dress.

You and Dori both jump as Minho all but slams the door when he returns, a towel in his hand drying his damp hair. He cringes at the sound, cursing under his breath. Dori leaves your lap, and you stand up with a pout. He definitely is your favorite cat among the three.

“Sorry,” Minho whispers, as if that will compensate for the loud noise. You take in his appearance; a green Christmas sweater and bright red sweatpants. You bite back a smile, because that’s so him.

“Your outfit is doing a great job of seducing me,” you jest, and he shrugs with a cocky grin.

“I know no woman can resist a Christmas sweater.”

He pulls you into him with a hand around your waist, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. You notice he’s more frantic, less careful than he usually is, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress as his hands slide up your back. He pulls away, breathless and flushed, and just looks at you for a moment. You can see the shift in his eyes, yearning swimming all over his brown orbs.

Clumsily, he shuts off the lights behind him then switches on the fairy lights adorning his bookshelf, his left hand still firmly clutching your body. Until it suddenly loosens, and you cock your head to the side.

“Okay, you gotta leave,” he says, and you follow his gaze, landing on Dori, who stares up at him almost defiantly. Minho lets out a sigh, opening his door before walking toward the cat and motioning toward the exit as if he will understand him. “Come on, I’ll give you treats later, hm? But you need to leave now, Dori.”

You fail to hold back a chuckle. “Why does the poor baby have to leave? He looks so comfortable snuggled up on the floor.”

“I can’t have sex while Dori watches,” he deadpans as if it were an obvious answer. “It’ll be weird.”

“Minho, it’s a cat. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s still weird! And I…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. He’s still facing the door when he blurts out, “I told you, I’m already really fucking nervous ‘cause it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I might not be the best.”

You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Minho, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is!” He finally turns to face you. “Remember back in Japan? I came too fast, it was embarrassing. That’s why I never let you touch me.”

You jokingly pout at him. “Thought you just liked eating me out.”

“I fucking love eating you out, but I’m not exactly refusing that you do the same because I want to,” he explains, “I’m just scared I’ll be bad at it.”

You furrow your brows. “Bad at… getting a blowjob?”

Minho’s ears are dusted a light pink, and he throws his hands up. “Well, yes! Back in Japan I didn’t even know what to do with my hands. I don’t know what you like, and I haven’t been with anyone else to know what most people like so…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck, I was so nervous that night, you have no idea.”

“You were nervous?” You let out a huff, recalling Minho’s clear shift in demeanor that night. “Looking into my eyes the entire time and pinning me down to the bed, that’s you being nervous?”

His entire face now flushes red, and he returns his gaze toward the door, where Dori paddles out of the room graciously. He promptly shuts the door, locking it this time.

“I was nervous,” He tells you, taking a step toward you. “I kept looking at you ‘cause I couldn’t believe that was actually happening. Felt like you were gonna disappear if I looked away,” His hands cup your face gently, and your lips unknowingly curl into a smile. “And when you looked at me in the morning, all I could think about was how awful I was the night before.”

You have to fight the strong urge to laugh because god, that’s why he was acting shy and avoiding your gaze. You berate yourself for even thinking otherwise, for ever assuming Minho could be like your ex-boyfriends. His words ring even more true than before.

You let out a groan, realizing you two have been putting off having sex for such mindless reasons. When he shoots you a questioning gaze, you simply say, “Minho, we’re both fucking idiots, d’you know that?”

And before he can say anything else or even entertain the idea of overthinking any more, you pull him into a kiss. With a surprised hum, Minho gently pushes you back, and your knees meet the softness of the mattress causing you to fall back into his bed. He climbs on top of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“You still gotta tell me what you like,” he repeats, his lips all but pouting at you. You smile up at him.

“No,” you say simply, pushing his hair back with your fingers as it fell into his eyes. “It’s better if we figure that out together, isn’t it?”

Minho chuckles, promptly pressing his lips to yours, your hand tugging at his hair gently as his tongue glides across your lips, causing a soft whine to slip from your throat before you can stop it.

“I like that,” he says between kisses, “When you make these pretty noises.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words and take that as your chance to take the first small step in healing, adding a post-it to your mind, reminding you not to suppress any noise that Minho coaxes out of you tonight.

The atmosphere in his room feels perfect — like heaven, as he would say. The soft yellow glow emanating from his bookshelf made everything seem dreamy; his honey skin looked stunning, and his eyes gleamed like the stars in the sky every time they met yours.

It was undoubtedly so much more intimate and passionate than any other time you had sex before, and you were both still fully clothed.

It was just like what Minho had told you many months ago.

His hands travel through your body until they rest on your back, finding the buttons of your dress, slowly opening each one as his lips trail down your neck, softly sucking on the skin. As he gingerly slides your dress down your torso, you realize that this will be the first time you two see each other naked. Yet, you don’t feel nervous. You want nothing more than to be close to him, with no barriers between you, to finally be tangled with him like the roots on the ground.

Minho unclasps your bra, his gaze unmoving from your chest as he slips the garment off of your skin and drops it on the floor. It’s almost as if you can feel his gaze burning you, your chest tightening and your breath hitching in your throat. He licks his lips, leaning down to wrap them around your nipple, his hand promptly finding your other breast and softly massaging it. You let out a choked gasp, tugging at his hair.

You feel his lips stretch into a smile before he softly bites the bud.

“So you like this,” He mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to your nipple. “Duly noted.”

You giggle at his words, your hands tangling in his hair once more. His kisses travel up again, from your chest to your neck, until he’s back to kissing your lips. Both of his hands now massage your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his rough fingers and pinching them lightly, causing a rush to spread across your entire body. You feel your arousal trickle down your slit as you grow more desperate.

“Minho,” you call out between kisses, and he hums against your lips. “Do something,” you all but beg him, yearning for some release as you feel the small, unrelenting pulse between your thighs grow stronger with each stroke of his finger across your chest. Your hands now grasp at his sweater, tugging it over his head, the fabric also discarded somewhere on the floor of his room.

Your hands travel over the expanse of his chest, fingertips taking in every inch of his soft skin. Breaking away from his lips, you push him back softly so you can revel in the sight of him; his delicate collar bones, his strong arms, and soft stomach. He’s beautiful, breathtakingly so, and you don’t know what you did to be deserving of him.

“Enjoying the view?” He jokes, and you breathe out a laugh, your gaze flying up toward his face — his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed a pretty red.

“Minho, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper absentmindedly, and he smiles at you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“You should see how you look,” he whispers.

His left hand soon slips underneath your dress skirt, fingertips grazing your skin over your tights. You feel goosebumps trickle along your thighs following his every touch, so eager to feel his hands on your skin you’re sure you’ll rip your tights in half yourself if Minho doesn’t get rid of them soon.

He seems to grow as impatient as you, lifting your hips with a strong grip to slide down your dress, tights, and panties off of you all in one go. In no time, you are now laid bare before him, and Minho is swift to trail kisses down your stomach, sloppy and messy, painting your skin with his saliva as his mouth waters at the mere prospect of tasting you.

With a heavy sigh, he stares at your glistening wetness before promptly wrapping his lips around your clit without a warning and sucking, ardently, vulgar sounds filling his small room much like they do every time he eats you out. Always messy, always eager, humming against your pussy and sighing as his eyes glaze over with pure want.

You squirm like lighting has shocked through your entire body. No matter how often you experience the satisfaction of Minho’s lips on you, it always leaves you trembling like it’s the first time. His right hand slides up the expanse of your stomach until it reaches your breast again, his thumb lazily circling your nipple. You purse your lips as his fingers tentatively trail across your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before lapping at it slowly, the small bud swollen and aching.

You’re quick to remember to open your mouth, letting out the heavy sigh that had stuck to your throat as his finger enters you, Minho still licking and sucking your sensitive clit, nipping harshly and making your sigh fade into a whine. Hand tangling in his hair and tugging, you elicit a low groan from his throat, which you feel reverberate through your slick folds.

Your thighs shake as he adds a second finger, and soon a third, thrusting them inside of you and stroking your walls more vigorously than he usually does, as if he somehow also feels your pleasure and needs to lead you to your high as quickly as possible.

Minho’s hand leaves your chest, and you bite back a pout, his fingers now gripping your hips before pushing them up so he can reach deeper. It isn’t long before his fingers drag across the spot inside of you that has your muscles tensing up, a strangled moan falling from your lips at the sensations coupled with the unrelenting feeling of his tongue on your clit. You come undone around his fingers and lips with a harsh tug of his black hair, rutting your hips against his face desperately, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as you do.

He laps up your juices as you slowly come down from your high, tongue flicking inside of you and sucking hard before he presses a long kiss to your cunt. Your entire body jerks in response to the overstimulation.

His kisses travel toward your inner thigh, your lower stomach and breasts until he reaches your neck, where his teeth nip at the soft skin, sucking harshly before his tongue soothingly licks at the spot. As Minho positions himself between your thighs again, you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind goes hazy for a beat as you feel the thick outline of his cock press against your bare core.

“Minho,” you call out again, your voice significantly more whiny this time around, shaky and breathless, “Wanna taste you.”

He groans against your skin, pressing small kisses up your neck until he ultimately stops against your open lips. He breathes out a heavy sigh.

“Really want that, too,” he rasps out, voice hoarse as his dark eyes travel across your face. “But I really wanna fuck you. Shit, I need to fuck you so badly you have no idea,” He groans. You feel his length jump at his words as he presses your foreheads together and locks his gaze with you. “That’ll be hard to do if your pretty lips go anywhere near my cock.”

You breathe out a chuckle, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Then get to it,” you simply say.

Minho’s lips curl into a grin. “Will you remember to be quiet for me this time? My baby sounded so pretty coming around my fingers.”

Your cheeks flush, just how loud you were before only now dawning on you. Fuck. Your words get stuck to your throat, your mouth opening but making no sound, so you settle for a nod.

He chuckles. “Good,” he replies with a kiss to your agape lips.

Minho sits up, detangling himself from your body briefly. He reaches for the box on his bedside table, scrambling with the cardboard before clumsily tearing it open and retrieving a condom. It’s only then you notice how his hands are trembling, from nervousness or pure lust. Either way, you find yourself smiling at the sight.

You reach out to run a hand along his arm soothingly, watching with hungry eyes as he tugs at his drawstrings before freeing his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Minho hisses as he rolls the rubber over his length, shaky hands stroking himself one, two, three times, all while you eye him, watching greedily as if you were his own personal captive audience.

He lowers himself once again, hand now sliding across the length of your thigh before gripping the flesh, nails digging into your skin as he eyes you with an almost pleading gaze.

“Can I—”

“Please do,” you answer, almost frantically, before he even has the time to assume you might say no. You inch your thighs apart even more so Minho can slot himself perfectly between them.

Your mouth waters as you catch sight of him gripping his cock once more, tapping it against your swollen clit and eliciting a whine from your lips as your hands scramble to find purchase in his strong arms. Minho’s eyes then find yours much like they did back in Japan, and you know you are done for. His dark gaze once again felt all-consuming — desire and adoration swimming along his brown eyes, looking at you as if he were in a daze. Your grip on his arms tightens as he lazily slides his cock up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your arousal. Minho’s lips fall open as he continues his movements, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your folds almost painfully slow.

He leans in to close the small gap between your lips, before whispering something you can’t quite understand against them.

“I fucking love you,” he repeats himself more clearly, and finally pushes forward, his girth pushing into you as you gasp, feeling as if all the air has been stolen from you.

You aren’t sure if your reaction is due to his words, or the way his cock is working you open so good, or maybe it was a delicious blend of the two. All you know at the moment is Minho, Minho, Minho, your mind foggy as his name rings inside your head like a mantra.

“Don’t gotta say anything back,” he tells you in a breathy voice, “Just want you to know I love— Fuck,” he groans as he is now fully sheathed inside of you, and you clench at both the feeling and the words spilling from his lips. Of course he would choose now to tell you he loved you. “Love you so much, so much I’d do anything for you. Would wage a war with the world if you asked me to…” He babbles, words slipping past his lips like they were the easiest thing for him to say. Like he meant it so deeply, he didn’t have to put any thought into it. His words only die as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Minho pulls his hips back in one swift motion, hands lifting your thighs around his body as he thrusts into you, evoking a rather loud noise from the back of your throat which is smothered by his kiss.

“You take me so well,” he growls against your lips, “We fit perfectly.” He breaks the kiss to look down at where your two bodies are connected. It felt as if you were one, melting into each other little by little the more Minho thrust his cock inside of you. You simply nod, mind even more dizzy with the way he’s already pulling out again before slamming back into you, his pace quickening as he presses you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his skin, crescent moon shapes blooming over the expanse of his honey skin. His eyes still bore into you, hips now thrusting at an unrelenting pace, his small room filled with a cacophony of wet sounds, whines tumbling from your parted lips and curses that almost silently fell from his.

“Gonna come soon,” Minho chokes out, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I—”

You silence him with a press of your lips, hands now tangling in his messy hair.

“You’re always so good to me,” you tell him, feeling his cock pulse inside of your walls. “Wanna be good to you too, make you feel good.”

And he simply leans down before kissing you reverently. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the creaking of his bed likely much too loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least not at the moment. Not with the way his hand snakes along your hips, rough fingers now rolling delicious circles around your clit while his other palm presses down onto your abdomen, and his cock continuously hits a spot inside of you that has you all but crumbling apart underneath him.

Your mouth falls open, breaking the kiss, his cock twitching inside of you as his body stills on top of you. With furrowed brows and agape lips, Minho comes mere seconds before you reach your high as well, toes curling against his back as you melt onto his cock.

You stay that way for a while — a few seconds, maybe minutes — simply looking at each other as your labored breaths intertwine.

You finally reach up, brushing his dampened hair away from his beautiful eyes that now look at you as if you were the sole reason why the stars sparkle. Minho’s fingers soon find yours, tangling together as he brings your hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

You smile.

You love him.

It’s not a realization but rather a confirmation of something you’ve already known all too well and for far too long. You still can’t put it into words, but somehow, you are certain that he knows just as well.

Minho accidentally awoke you in the morning with his habit of slamming his door shut, apologizing as you grumbled at him and insisted you would only accept his apology if he let you give him a blowjob. He laughed, simply pulling you closer to him on the bed as he sat up and you finally gave the most beautiful man you had ever met the head he deserved.

Minho’s parents and grandmother had left to eat at a fancy restaurant, and after lying through his teeth and telling his very distraught mother that you were feeling too sick to leave the bed, you two stayed behind. They didn’t have to know the real reason you couldn’t leave the bed — Minho and his apparent insatiable hunger for you. It was as if something had been awoken inside him now that he had a taste of you, and he had to make up for all the lost time.

You two only leave his room late in the afternoon, the sun setting on the pale winter sky outside his bedroom window. His family would arrive soon, and you needed to get ready for their tradition of opening Christmas presents while watching bad holiday movies.

When Minho followed you when you headed toward the bathroom, you thought little of it. It was only when he began undressing alongside you that panic truly set in.

“We literally had sex, why do you sound so horrified?” Was all he offered you when you asked what he was doing before entering the steamy shower with you.

It was your first time showering with someone, and the fact that it made you so nervous felt almost pathetic. Minho was right; you had sex, and you saw each other naked and sweaty and vulnerable. This shouldn’t be any different.

Except it was.

You found yourself too awkward to wash yourself, doing a terrible job at pretending to scrub at your arms as you watched Minho shower like a normal person. He let out a chuckle after rinsing his hair, shaking his head.

“Are you seriously shy? Seriously?” He asked, turning your body around so your back faced him. “The girl who begged to suck my cock just this morning is too shy to shower in front of me?”

You opened your lips to refute him, but your words died in your mouth as you felt Minho’s hand spread shampoo all over your hair. His fingers gently massaged your scalp before placing his hand over your eyes to shield them from the foam as he rinsed your hair. He repeated the process with conditioner, then moved on to wash your body with his almost sickly sweet watermelon body wash. He did it all while humming, making you so relaxed and comfortable that all your silly insecurities dissipated in the air along with the steam from the hot water.

Suffice to say, showering without Minho would now be a sad affair.

You are now sitting on the floor before the television, his family exchanging gifts. Dori purred on your lap, and Soonie bit Minho’s socks, trying his best to remove the fabric from his feet. It’s finally time for you two to exchange gifts, and you’re a bit glad his family seemed to be so immersed in the movie because you know you would combust if you had to explain your gift to them.

“Here,” you hand him an orange box with a black bow. “It’s stupid. Now that I think about it, it’s probably such a fucking dumb gift. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and Eunha even made one for her sister. I almost stole hers ‘cause it turned out much better than mine—”

“My god,” Minho interrupts you with a hearty laugh, taking the box in his hands and inspecting it. “It’s been a while since you word vomited so much. What the hell did you get me that made you so nervous?”

He pulls on the bow, unraveling it before taking the black fabric in his hands and tying it around your head. He laughs once more, and you roll your eyes.

“Minho, just get to it before I snatch this box from you.”

With one last chuckle, he finally opens the box. He stills as he takes in the notebook, sitting on top of far too much wrapping tissue paper. The cat print cardstock paper was a pain to find, but it’s worth it now as you watch Minho’s lips curl into a smile as his fingers gingerly travel through the cover. It was crooked, a bit too small, and still reeked of bookbinding glue, but it reminds you of the day you met Minho, and that was all you thought about when you decided on this gift.

“You fucking bound me a notebook,” he says, still bewildered.

“Took me a while, but I did say I was gonna do it. I’m a woman of my word.”

Minho looks up at you, his smile reaching his eyes and turning them into the pretty crescent moons you love so much. “I love it,” he beams, hands now squeezing your cheeks as he pulls you into a small kiss. “This and that coffee stained notebook are going on my bookshelf back in my dorm, displayed in all their glory.”

Minho pulls away and reaches toward two small boxes on the coffee table. He clears his throat, handing you one box as he settles the other on his lap.

“I thought of you when I saw this on my Instagram feed,” he simply says, fingers toying with the misshaped bow on top of the box — one very similar to the one on your birthday gift many months ago. “Thought about what we talked about in Japan, y’know, about soulmates.”

You raise a brow at him, quickly undoing the bow on your box as curiosity washes over you. You pick up a bracelet made only of red thread, eyeing it curiously.

Minho retrieves the same bracelet from his own box, putting it on before asking, “Have you heard of the red string of fate?”

“That myth that a thread connects two people meant to be together?” You question.

He nods. “Exactly. I feel like that was us,” He explains, taking the red bracelet from your hands and slipping it around your wrist before gently tightening the thread. “Feel like all our little coincidences were little threads tying us together until we met.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t bother trying to hide or stop them this time. Grabbing Minho’s hand that stilled around your wrist, you lace your fingers together, admiring your matching bracelets. It could only be fate. Every small detail that aligned and every road you two crossed to reach the place where you are now could only have come to be because fate wanted it to be that way.

Out of every city you could have lived in, every different university you could have chosen to attend, down to every other seat that could have been empty on the day you met Minho — everything fell into place like a puzzle piece, exactly as if a long, invisible string tied you to him and finally decided it was time to pull you together.

Minho’s gentle touch brushes against your cheek as he silently wipes your tears — no words are needed between you two at that moment as he smiles softly at you while you feel your eyes burn from the cry you had held back for so long. And, as if you’re his mirror, you feel yourself smile as his lips upturn into a grin when his gaze shifts to the open window.

“It’s snowing,” he beams. “It’s the first snow of the year, and our first snow together.”

You stand in front of Minho’s house, the light snow falling softly and covering your heads in white as he kisses you, only stopping to grumble against your lips.

“Your phone’s going crazy in my pocket,” He pouts, and you furrow your brows. You had already sent your family holiday messages, and your friends were all busy with their own Christmas celebrations, so you were clueless about who it could be.

“Can you check it for me?”

Minho nods, untangling himself from your embrace just enough to reach into his pocket and grab your phone to unlock it.

“There’s like fifty new messages from a group chat. Best Fucking Five?” He chuckles lightly at the name, his chilly breath tickling your cheek.

You, on the other hand, immediately frowned as you heard the name. It’s a long-forgotten group chat with your old friend group from high school. You had all stopped talking a little before graduation, with you especially distancing yourself from them upon realizing their toxic words and reactions to your relationships only served to make you feel worse about yourself. No one bothered to leave or delete the group since it quietly died and had stayed that way for over three years now.

Minho hands you the phone, and you click another notification that pops up as soon as you unlock the device.

The conversation began with your former friend sending a screenshot of one of your ex-boyfriend’s newest Instagram post. You skim through the caption and blanch at the words accompanied by a sonogram picture. His girlfriend is pregnant, and he’s over the moon about it.

And you, for some reason, find yourself laughing so much you have to clutch onto Minho’s shoulder as your stomach starts to hurt.

He shoots you an understandably puzzled look, but you can’t stop the giggles that spill from your lips, so you settle on showing him the screenshot.

“I got the best Christmas gift tonight,” Minho reads from the screen. “I'm going to be a dad, and the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known is the mother,” he trails off with a questioning lilt, brows furrowing as that had only confused him more.

“It’s one of my exes,” you manage to tell him after catching your breath.

Minho hums, taking your hands and shoving them in his overcoat pocket along with your phone.

“And why did that make you lose your mind laughing?” He asks with a small smile.

“I guess it was the shock, really. It also made me realize just how little I care about him now. All of them, actually. Every time I was broken up with or had my heart broken in some way, it honestly felt like the end of the world,” you explain, “Like my heart would never recover and like I would hate them for the rest of my life. For years I had such a strong ax to grind with them, and that hatred and grudge only caused me harm. It made me hate love, and it made me blame myself.”

Minho nods, pressing his forehead to yours. Around you two, the snow got thicker, and only the distant sounds of children laughing from neighboring houses could be heard throughout the quiet street.

“But it’s different now?”

You smile up at him. “It’s different now, and I only just realized that. These people are no longer people I hate. They’re simply their words and their actions toward me, but they, as people, mean nothing to me.”

Minho smiles and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. This realization makes you feel lighter, like a small part of the weight of healing has been removed from the equation. It’s only you and yourself now; none of them has any power over your emotions anymore.

“Maybe we should send the baby a present,” you joke, and Minho buries his head in the crook of your neck with a chuckle, and you jump as his cold nose brushes against your skin.

“Maybe we should.”

At that moment, in the arms of this amazing man who has helped you more than he will ever know, you realize that love truly isn’t bad. People can be bad, circumstances can be catastrophic, and wrong timing can destroy nearly everything. But love is, at the core of it all, good.

“Minho,” you call out, feeling him hum against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. “I love you,” you say simply.

His smile rivals every pretty thing around you. The first snow, the gleaming Christmas decorations, and even the moon herself pale in comparison to the smile that Minho gives you.

“I love you, too,” he replies, a tangible sense of bliss in his voice, as if he has yearned for a lifetime to finally be able to say those words to you.

You wrap your arms tighter around Minho, and your fingers brush against the red thread that adorns your wrist. It truly feels as if fate had led you to Minho, leaving little clues along the way to make sure you both knew when you finally met. His journey to you had been relatively easy, while yours had been heart-wrenching, but in the end, it had brought you heaven.

If soulmates really are a thing, there is not an ounce of doubt in your being that Minho is yours. More than anything, he taught you that love is present in everything around you. Love is being kind to others like Minho is kind to his family and strangers in convenience stores at midnight. Love is staying up with your best friend while she cries on the couch, not expecting anything in return. Love is the laughter of little kids on Christmas night echoing throughout a neighborhood. Love is also going out on your own, doing something simply because it will make you happy, and being kind to yourself. All this time, you held onto the belief that love is destructive and only leads to sadness, oblivious to the fact that it has surrounded you every step of the way.

Love is everywhere and in everything.

In the end, Minho had always been right.

Love is the most amazing thing in life.

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1, @malunar28replies, @jazziwritesthings, @finchyyy, @bloom-ings, @linocz, @minhochaos, @lastgreatamericandynasty1, @missminhoe, @jungkookies1002, @meanergreener

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belovedmuichiro · 2 months

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I saw a post once that entertained the idea of Tsutako being in the background of Sanemi’s hometown in the anime, and it got me thinking about a sanegiyuu childhood meet cute.

…

- When Giyuu was 13, he took a trip with Tsutako to a neighboring city where her fiancé had come from

- Though Giyuu was a much friendlier person as a child, he was still quiet, reserved and nervous. As a result, being in a bigger city was overwhelming and he struggled to keep up with Tsutako as they walked

- Before they could reach her fiancé’s home, Giyuu was separated from her in a crowd

- Without any people skills to speak of or the confidence to ask for help, Giyuu let the crowd swallow him up until he found a small spot he could cower in

- He ended up hiding under the stairs of a shrine where nobody could see him. He cried so quietly, nobody could possibly hear him either, but a boy did miraculously find him

- The boy was strikingly beautiful with stark white hair and piercing eyes. His presence made Giyuu stop crying almost immediately, but only because he was mesmerized.

- When the boy spoke, he was blunt and sort of rude but Giyuu hung onto every word he said as if he was a kind spirit come to save him

- “You cry like my little siblings,” he observed. It was a simple, random sort of thing to say but it perplexed Giyuu so much that he didn’t cry any longer

- Giyuu learned that this particular shrine is where the boy would find one of his brothers hiding, so when he saw Giyuu curled up, he thought something might’ve happened to him

- Giyuu reluctantly explained he was separated from Tsutako while visiting. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should trust a stranger but they were clearly of a similar age and that put him at ease compared to an adult

- The boy gave Giyuu a small canteen of water before they could continue because the crying had obviously overwhelmed him. He then asked for the fiancé’s name, which he scowled upon hearing, surprisingly knowing the person

- “Is that bad?” Giyuu nervously asked

- “He’s one of the sons of our landlord,” the boy explained, “He’s fine. His family’s a buncha dicks.”

- Profanities aside, Giyuu asked if he could lead him there, and the boy agreed

- “What did his family do?” Giyuu asked on the way

- “Their kid brother said some shit about my family bein’ too big and my brother got into a fight with him about it.”

- “How big is your family?”

- “Nine of us. I have six siblings.”

- Giyuu learned that his mother had just given birth, which prompted the rude comment from their landlord’s son. He also had a father who he didn’t want to talk about on account of him angering some violent people

- Though the boy didn’t seem terribly interested in prying into Giyuu’s life, he still asked, “What about you?”

- “I just have my sister. My parents died when I was young.”

- “Lucky you have a sister.”

- “Yes… I’m Giyuu, by the way.”

- For a moment, the boy looked hesitant to give anymore details about himself, but must’ve decided he doesn’t have much to lose.

- “Sanemi.”

- On the way to the landlord’s home, it began to rain so Sanemi pulled Giyuu aside near a food stall to wait it out.

- Giyuu, as luck would have it, did have a small amount of money on him and suggested they share a meal.

- Sanemi agreed, not letting on that he rarely has enough money to ever eat out. However, Giyuu became curious when Sanemi awkwardly held his food at his side and wouldn’t take a bite.

- He didnt want to admit it, but his plan was to pocket whatever Giyuu bought him to bring home to his family. He wasn’t going to tell Giyuu, but the boy’s earnest, honest face pulled it out of him

- In response, Giyuu bought him another and asked that he feed himself as well

- When Sanemi finally did eat, Giyuu smiled for the first time. It flustered Sanemi, who quickly learned he couldn’t handle a pretty face

- When the rain ended, people came flooding to the streets in overwhelming numbers that scared Giyuu again

- To reassure him, Sanemi grabbed his hand and returned his earlier smile, promising he’ll be okay as long as they stick together

- Giyuu took to Sanemi with awe. The crowd was still scary, but Giyuu grounded himself in the feeling of his companion’s hand and trusted his word.

- Eventually they did find themselves at the landlord’s house. Most of the family was out looking for Giyuu, but luckily Tsutako stayed and was there to greet him.

- This was also a relief to Sanemi, who wasn’t sure he would be able to resist driving his fist into the face of the boy who fought with Genya

- Sanemi intended to leave with no commotion, just an odd empty feeling at the notion of leaving his new acquaintance, but Giyuu stopped him

- “Thank you for helping me,” he said with much more confidence than the first time he spoke. “You’re very kind, Sanemi.”

- Sanemi, flustered, shrugged and promised it was no problem. “Couldn’t just leave ya there…”

- “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

- When Giyuu said this, he held onto the hope that because Tsutako new husband had close ties to Sanemi’s, they would surely meet again one day

- It was hard to explain but Giyuu felt drawn to Sanemi, like he was a special person he was meant to meet

- Of course, he couldn’t predict the tragedy that would befall both of them

- Years later, long after Tsutako and the Shinazugawa family were murdered, Sanemi was welcomed into the Hashira and finally met Giyuu again

- Only this time, he was quiet and cold. He didn’t give any indication that he remembered Sanemi and didn’t have any of the kindness he was full of as a child. Sanemi decided that he must’ve turned into a conceited ass with no time for the little people, he probably didn’t even remember him.

- But it was impossible for Giyuu to forget who Sanemi was. Even under all the scars and curses, he was still the boy who saved him that day. But Giyuu knew they had fundamentally changed as people, and clearly Sanemi wanted nothing to do with him any longer

- Unfortunately for them, the draw remains there no matter how far apart they try to drift.

#emmie speaks #I’m. love them.#sanegiyuu #demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #kny manga spoilers #baby sanegiyuu

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shallowrambles · 2 months

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I love the view that Dean figured out his deeper feelings for Cas in 6 & 7, and the majority of 8 was Dean arcing out of his hero-worship and people-should-never-let-me-down neuroses.

And then.

Post-perceived rejection… (Remember: Cas threw OFF Dean’s hand in Purgatory, and cut OFF cupid’s hand when it was aimed at him.)

So. Late Seasons 8 to mid-12 are Dean actively trying to get over Cas. In s9, he’s off-key paralleled with Josie Sands and Abaddon. (When it’s actually Hannah who’s “the Josie.”) Then he transitions into a reversal-power arc, towards being force-fit into the cartoonish, dare I say ham-fisted Cain role and its parallels. (They spell out the parallel in a distinctly odd way, esp for SPN. Too on the nose. Prescriptive. That’s because it’s actually mirroring Dean’s power fantasy according to Dean’s deepest, least charitable, nihilistic wishes.)

In s10, Dean still appears hung up on Cas, trusting him with the blade and begging him to help kill him if he becomes disinhibited/loses his free will again. Also, “I’m glad you’re here, man,” and Cas’s awkward reply, “Another time. There’s a female waiting in the car.” In a way, Dean’s feelings and fantasies serve to taunt him. The Cain parallel itself feels like a taunt.

Dean may realize Cas “admires” him but it’s definitely not the way Dean wants, that is: not like a secret admirer. Dean is mad for the unbalanced power dynamics re:Cas in the past. Now in Dean’s power reversal: Cas gets the wife treatment and Dean gets paralleled with the powerful Cain figure. He gets to beat Cas just as Cas beat him.

And it’s no accident the Dean’s power reversal arc culminates in a reverse-crypt. Because that’s what Dean’s bitter about. (“That’s not gonna be a problem = You can’t hurt me anymore, not like you did.”) It’s rooted in the bitterness of perceived rejection. That’s why Cas bears the brunt of Dean’s anger here.

Afterwards, Dean feels soooo guilty for being angry.

Later…

At various points, he tries to reassure Cas he’s okay with and appreciates how things are: a best friend, a comrade, a brother. Acceptance!

Dean spent season 10 dealing with his baggage and hoping hopelessly, then in season 11, I think he resolved to accept things. He may have toed the water with sexual tension and short shorts at times, but overall he was trying to live with Cas and let Cas off the hook.

He also encouraged Amara to deal with her own baggage the way he’d worked through his. Season 10 was his reversal arc: him in power for once, with Cas getting the wife treatment and Sam’s corruption being highlighted for once. And in season 11 he was spirited away, dealing with being powerless once more.

After that was done, he tried to swallow his feelings and let go of Cas, the way he encouraged Amara to let go of him.

He may perceive season 11 as his letting go of irrationally wanting Cas. The car scene may represent him giving Cas an out. Even releasing him from any perceived obligations.

So when Cas shows interest in season 12, I do think that threw him! Made him so nervous that he started hoping again, getting all tentative with his little mixtape.

Then Cas returns the damn mixtape. (Burned again!) But instead of getting bitter, Dean says to keep it, it’s a gift. Then he mumbles another “we’re all stronger together,” lil spill to cover his embarrassment.

Because now, he’s fully accepted that he loves Cas. Dean’s feelings haven’t faded so he has resolved to live with them as they are. No matter how many times he gets his hopes up and disappointed.

But now, Dean’s more scared. In season 8 he was ready to tell Cas “I love you.” He spent four years trying to navigate those unrequited feelings and convert them into familial camaraderie.

It’s much scarier in s12 with cosmic consequences on their heads, and Dean with everything he’s ever wanted just at his fingertips.

My fave thing about it all is that Dean and Cas are ready for each other at wildly different points and hardly ever sync up in between all the disasters.

#josie abaddon dean amara and the false parallels by the #abaddon demon dean amara #false parallels #josie sands hannah #josie sands #amara #i am def dehydrated delirious plz ignore meee #josie sands dean parallels #dean and the reversal power arc

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brianwashere · 9 months

Note

hello!! saw your writing today in my tags and got interested, read some more and you seem really cool :D i got one fic stuck in my head though, the one you posted earlier today with the 7 foot spider reader! it was really cool but i kind of thought about a follow up (and I made sure to check your rules before this)

i was thinking, m/n is really big, intimidating and generally a badass- however. in bed (nsfw) he’s inexperienced, shy af, and ends up just being really submissive (you actually didn’t specify if you prefer dom or sub reader, i assumed you mind neither, but if u don’t feel comfortable with this then just ignore)

thank you, and keep up your great works so far :D

Anon, you’re officially my favorite fucking person ever. Oh my god. This req. warmed my heart. Idek what. It just did. Thank you for reading my other fics too. Wow. I’m reeling rn.

Also you didn’t specify who with so I just did HCs for Noir and Miguel

Pls req again soon! You’re so sweet

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony **

Summary: look at req

Tw: explicit activities ehehehehe, language

-Miguel-

The first time you two try anything he’s expecting you to be all dominant and get his ass blasted

Y’all two are making out and he’s ready to take it to the next level

And you’re nervous cause you know he’s expecting you to be this super experienced “knows how to make you scream immediately” kinda guy

The truth is you haven’t had much experience because while people may be into the whole “huge man” thing they’re too scared to actually come up to you and even have a conversation

And you’re also scared of hurting your partner

Just a mix of things that led you to little experience

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to figure it out

As soon as you glanced at his face nervously he knew something was up

At first Miguel is surprised bcc he would’ve expected men and women to practically be hanging from you

Once he recovers from the initial shock he’s down with topping and showing you the ropes

It’s a bit of a boost to his ego, not to mention a massive turn on for him

He never lets you shy away from him/cover your face. He loves seeing you. He knows he’s not stronger than you but he’ll still pull your hands away/pull you closer

But sometimes he does wanna be on bottom

Queue very erotic teaching sessions

When you do something he likes he’ll definitely over exaggerate so you’ll know

He also loves marking you up in more…intense ways because he knows it won’t really hurt you

Clawing your back. He’ll claw the SHIT out of your back.

Biting you too. Sometimes he just can’t help it

He finds out you have god tier stamina and impecable recovery time and will definitely use that to his advantage

*cough cough* Overstimulation and denial *cough cough*

He’s down to do whatever you’re comfortable with but sometimes he really needs some stress relief i.e. getting a blowjob or just fucking you senseless

He won’t admit it but he likes when he’s the little spoon after you two are done

~Noir~

You got nervous and told him the first make out session that you had practically no experience

He was a little taken aback, again, you’re so big and so hot how could people not be lining up for a piece of you

It makes him feel even more lucky to be with you though

“Oh…that’s ok, dear. We’ll take it slow, then.”

Then he finds out your submissive too and he’s pretty sure he has a heart attack

Now he was pretty vanilla at first but then he found the internet and stumbled upon some kinks and did some…research

Behind. He loves seeing your back muscles move and twist under him

He likes tying your wrists together with some of his webbing

It’s strong enough that it could actually hold you if you tried resisting, maybe not for very long, but it wouldn’t snap like thread at the slightest pressure

He loves praising you. Praise. All the time. Always praise. You could breathe and he’d be on his knees for you

Every time he does something new he asks if you’re ok with it

He’ll be gentle if that’s what you want but he figures out that’s usually not the case

Usually you want everything he’s got, as much as he’ll provide you

He does love soft romantic nights with you though

Where he gets to enjoy your large beautiful frame and your contrasting shyness

When he gets to slow down and drink in ALL of you

The noises you make, the small movements, your incoherent mumbling

He loves ALL of it

He’s so down bad for you not even a joke

A little guilty pleasure for him is kissing you senseless

He loves being the big spoon for you, even if it just feels like a backpack is attached to you

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wh0relibrarian · 4 months

Text

sunshine

a/n: a continuation of this post, although altered to be a summer break instead of winter. completely got lost in that 😭 please excuse any informalities, i’m still getting used to writing in second person (or smut for that matter), and tumblrs post format! so don’t be mean ;(

context (if you don't want to read the previous post): Reader is visiting her hometown for the summer. A rising grad student who just so happens to bump into Sukuna at the airport. After quick introductions, he gives her his number in case she gets too lonely...

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, afab!reader, d referred to as dick bc i don’t like using “cock”, v referred to as cunt or pussy, age gap (reader in her early 20s, sukuna is in his early 30s), cowgirl, daddy kink, rough!sukuna (but he’s still a softie), needy!reader, clit stimulation, nicknames such as sweetheart, princess, baby/babydoll, creampie, ass/face slaps, lots of praise, a decent amount of plot

word count: 3.9k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’ve been texting Sukuna for a week now. Off and on, trying not to seem too interested, but interested enough to keep his attention. It sucked that he was a man very obviously out of touch with technology, because you can’t find pictures of him anywhere. Not even a Facebook page. You’ve just been grasping at straws, trying to remember each detail of his face. Each tattoo. You didn’t even get enough time to admire the one’s on his face, way too engulfed in his general appearance.

And oh, Sukuna. That poor man. He knew from the moment he saw you that you’d keep him up at night. From the curvature of your lips— only being the opening act to the beautiful smile you had hidden beneath. He tries to remember what color your shirt was, but can only remember how plump your tits looked. Practically spilling out of a… tank top? Or maybe it was a crop top. You had a jacket on, which he knows was gray because you kept trying to wrap it around your waist like you were embarrassed by your body. He couldn’t figure out why, though. You’re beautiful from head to toe, every part of you.

But today, today was the day you’d ask him to take you out. Or just ask to go out in general. Hell, you’d take anything at this point.

You: Hiii Sukuna. How’s your wrist feeling? I know a couple days ago you said it was progressively getting worse, any updates?

Sukuna: Hey babydoll. I think it’s all good now. Nothin a lil icyhot can’t fix. How are you?

You: I’m happy to hear that :) and I’m okay, just bored, per usual.

Sukuna: Ya know I’m always around.

You: It’s funny you mention that… I was wondering if you were busy later today? Or tonight. Either or, whatever works best for you. If you would even want to do anything of course.

Sukuna: City girl finally ready to get some sunshine?

You: Don’t make fun of me 😑

Sukuna: Oh I’d never do such a thing. Are you free right now? My lunch break’s comin up, could use the company.

You: Yes I am! I can be ready in 15, I’ll send my address.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be. You know you looked good, you felt good. You put on a casual outfit, just a pair of bell bottoms and some old t-shirt your mom left around. This wasn’t a date, and you didn’t want to scare him, so you treated it like a normal hang out with a friend.

He picked you up in an old pickup truck, run down from the years spent riding on dirt roads and an occasional swamp. (Things can get messy the further south you go.) It was normal where you’re from to have at least one beat up truck per household, so his car was not a problem. You were all smiles, nearly skipping your way to the passenger side. Sukuna rolled down the window and he too had a bright toothy smile plastered on his face. It almost looked malicious, but you overlooked it once you got in. Something about his presence had you in a trance, you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

When you opened the door, he stretched his arm out to help you into the chair. You made it a point to act as if you were struggling to get in and shut the door, nerves suddenly keeping you from wanting to look him straight in the eye. “Damn sweetheart… just look at you,” he said while leaning his body back, taking a moment to take in your appearance. “Hiii Sukuna, you aren’t too bad yourself,” you said giggling.

“We’re just goin’ up to Milo’s, hope that’s luxury enough for ya.”

“You think I came dressed like this for somethin’ luxury?”

“Well if that ain’t luxury, I’d be curious to see what is.”

Smirking, Sukuna went back to putting his full focus on the road. The butterflies in your stomach had died down, finding his presence incredibly inviting and safe. You were looking out the window for a while, until his hand found yours which was resting on your thigh. You turn around to him surprised, only to see his eyes still trained on the road in front of him. His hand clasped yours and gripped it tight, and you found the silence warm, like a gentle hug you wanted to last forever.

The lunch date was sweet. You both ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and a large sweet tea; reveling in its taste since it had been some time since you had genuine sweet tea. He started asking you about your schooling, learning that you’re majoring in business and will soon start working on your master’s degree. This charmed him— you were both alike even if it was in different ways. You’ve always provided for your mother, and so has he. You won’t stop reaching new opportunities, and neither will he. As the date went on his attraction only grew deeper. Your physical appearance did not mean much to him, you were to die for, but right now he wanted to know every single thing about you and didn’t care about anything else.

But… this wasn’t to say he’s not a curious man.

When ordering the food, you took a step back to look at the entire menu. This caused your skin tight shirt to rise up ever so slightly, showing off your cute tummy and belly button piercing. You noticed him staring, and he was never one to lie.

“Sukuna, order some damn food and stop looking at me like that,” you slapped his large bicep jokingly, making that same smirk from earlier slowly grow on his face.

“Mmm, you hidin’ that accent from me girl. Soundin’ so pretty bossin’ me around.”

You could tell the cashier felt a bit awkward at this point, so you pushed Sukuna in front of you to get him to focus.

Even though he would have moments like those, you didn’t feel like he was objectifying you. It never became the focal point of your conversations. It seemed like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you and it made you feel so… different. Sure you were young, but you’d never experienced such a natural yet interesting conversation with a man. You were shocked by it, to say the least, and it only made you want him more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After that day, you two were basically inseparable. He made it a point to try and see you after work, and if there was a day where he couldn’t do it, he’d make it up to you x2 the next day. He immediately started spoiling you, whether it was food or sending you money for new makeup, it’s like he couldn't do enough for you. You were always beyond grateful, and would even tell him to tone it down a bit, but he’d always say, “Princesses deserve princess things.”

It’d been around four weeks of this, the dates would get more romantic, and his time with you only more cherished. Although the flirting continued to grow, he never made a move on you. You definitely didn’t want to be the one to initiate anything. Maybe there was a reason for him not wanting to get physical, but not even a kiss? It was killing you at this point, every night you spent just dreaming of what his pretty lips felt like on yours. Not being able to help your hands traveling down to your aching pussy. You were so horny it hurt, and nothing you did could satiate the feeling; knowing good and well that his fingers— let alone his dick could reach spots you didn’t even know were there. Your own fingers would suffice for now, but you would be leaving in just a few weeks, you needed to know what Ryomen Sukuna was like in bed.

So, the next time he picks you up, you make sure to look drop dead gorgeous (not like he didn’t think that about you regardless.)

A few days ago, he paid for your hair and nail appointments. Large knotless braids with curly pieces coming out of them, and the prettiest french tip set you’d ever got done. You told him you wanted everything to be a surprise, and that you were planning to get a new outfit as well AND that he didn’t have to send you money for that. But you know he did anyway. The plan for this night was a drive-in movie closer to the heart of the city rather than where you both resided. There was a wing place you loved, different shops, and the movie would be the last activity.

After picking up a new sundress, a black one with thin straps and a slit at the bottom, you felt confident enough that tonight would go well. You took a shower when you got home, lathered your skin with shea butter from head to toe, and put on all the gold jewelry you owned.

There’s no way he wouldn’t want to fuck you dumb.

As always, dinner with Sukuna was to die for. He was such a gentleman, making sure to pull your chair out for you, telling you to get whatever you wanted from the menu. “Don’t be scared sweetheart, want you nice ‘n full.”

You shopped for a little while after, well, it was really window shopping. You felt so bad that Sukuna was paying for everything, even though he always insisted. You decided to just point out all of the things you liked, kind of like a test— if he really liked you then he’d remember all these things for a future event.

The drive-in was dead. Which I guess isn’t too surprising, you can’t remember the last time someone talked about seeing a movie here. Nonetheless, this was your dream scenario. With basically no one to catch you guys, it was the perfect breeding ground (literally.) The movie was some rom-com looking thing in black and white which you begged to watch, only because you knew neither of you would want to pay attention. Once he grabbed some popcorn and soda from the concession stand, he pulled up in front of the big projection, claiming he needed to be as close as possible because of his eyesight. After a few minutes of pretending to be interested, you turned to him and finally broke the ice.

“‘Kuna, do you like me?” Sukuna couldn’t believe the question.

“Of course I like you baby, why else would I be here?”

“Well,” you started, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, you know.”

“I know you like me, it’s just like— we aren’t like… you know.”

“Gonna have to use your words sweetheart.”

You looked forward as you tried to find the best way to say this, you decided to just rip the bandaid off.

“We haven’t kissed! Or anything! You just hug me or wrap your arm around my waist, but we haven’t done nothin’ ‘kuna. And I’m not sayin’ that’s any indicator of how much you like me, I’m just sayin’ it’d be ni—”

You anticipated this kiss, not only because you did everything in your power to set it up, but you could feel Sukuna’s eyes latching onto the way your lips moved while talking. His lips were just as soft as you imagined, tasting like cherry carmex and popcorn. His hand found its way to the side of your face, cupping it gently until he moved it to tilt your chin up towards him. Your mouth opened a little from the change in angle, giving Sukuna’s tongue access to the warmth yours had to offer. He melted deeper into the kiss, and so did you, as it continued to get more sloppy and wet. You could tell he was eager, swirling and dancing on the tip of your tongue, sucking it harshly like he was trying to gather as much saliva as possible. Just to pull back and have it leak out of his mouth, dripping down both his and your chin. It was downright nasty the way your fluids were colliding, but it turned you on an unbelievable amount. Whining and groaning into him, rubbing your thighs together, lacking the correct amount of friction from wearing a dress instead of pants.

Your hand started traveling to his chest and lower, and he could tell you were really riled up at this point simply from the way you were tugging on his shirt. He pulled his lips off yours, making you reach out for him still since your eyes were closed. When you opened them, you were able to see the true mess you two caused. Sukuna was drooling, his heavy lidded eyes not daring to move from your frame. His hair was everywhere, and you couldn’t be happier with your hairstyle of choice.

“Fuck baby,” he said while rubbing on the sides of your stomach, “I really need you. I’ve been needin’ you. Yer just so damn sexy, of course I’ve been wantin’ to do stuff. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek and up to the shell of your ear, “Never want you uncomfortable.”

And that sent you over, you cupped his face with both of your hands, kissing him hard. He growled from your sudden dominance, and with a few swift movements, pulled his seat back and slid you over the middle console and into his lap. Your dress hiked up to your thighs once you straddled him, allowing Sukuna to feel just how wet you were. With one hand on your face, and the other on your waist, he slowly made his way down to your cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he whispered against your lips, making slow circles on your puffy clit. “This f’me? Say it’s for me babydoll.”

“It’s for you ‘kuna, it’s all for you. Please–” His fingers slid your panties to the side, revealing just how sticky you were for him. Your pussy was basically crying to be touched, and Sukuna was a gentleman, of course.

His mouth never left yours, left hand now resting behind your neck, while his other is furiously rubbing your bare clit. Your moans were being swallowed by Sukuna’s mouth, and when the pleasure finally got to be too much, you suddenly threw your head back with a yelp. Catching yourself immediately, you press your forehead into his.

“‘M sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry— it’s t-too much.”

“Don’t apologize princess, I love seein’ you act like this. So slutty.”

Your tits have barely been able to stay concealed in your already showy dress. They spilled out on their own from your sporadic movements, and once Sukuna could see one, he dropped everything to unveil the other and fondle them both. You kept grinding on his very hard dick, keeping up the rhythm he set up for you while he went to town on your boobs. Massaging them, pinching and flicking the nipples, mumbling things like “fuckin’ shit they’re so soft,” and “need to fuck you.” It wasn’t long before he popped one into his mouth, sucking on it, making it soo much more sensitive. You were squealing at this point, Sukuna looked up at you to see the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. With a ‘pop’ he brought his attention back to your beautiful face. Somehow fucked out just from dry humping. How cute, he thought to himself.

“Look at me, princess.” You struggled, but your eyes met his, still striving for your release. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay? Is that what you want?” You started nodding your head yes like a damn puppy.

“Need to hear you say it princess. Tell me you want it.”

“Wan’ it s-so bad baby, fuck me, I need you to fuck me.”

The thing about pick-up trucks is that there’s not really a backseat, which means you’d have to ride him right where you were. This wouldn’t have been a problem, until Sukuna quickly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. It was the fucking length that scared you. It wasn’t too thick, but girthy enough that it, plus his length, would have your legs shaking for days. He gave his dick slow strokes while you took off your dress, suddenly feeling embarrassed from being the only one naked. He could see you get self conscious by the way you try and hide yourself like the day he met you.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for,” his eyes were still focused on yours while he prepared himself, licking his lips like he was genuinely going to eat you later.

“I can’t look at ya? You just look so damn good sweetheart. Can’t believe yer all mine.”

“You don’t have to gas me up now,” you said looking away.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to his, “I’ma always tell you how good you look. Don’t act so shy now baby.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his statement, still leaking from the previous foreplay. He pulled your forehead to his lips, kissing it tenderly, and when he let go of your face he asked you one last time if you were ready. You whisper out a shy yes and grab his dick cautiously, lining it up with your entrance as you slowly lower yourself onto it. You let out a sharp grasp as Sukuna rests his hands on the sides of your hips, trying to assist in any way he can. Once you’re close to bottoming out, he starts whispering praises.

“Doin’ so good babydoll.”

“Look at you takin’ me so well.

Every time he spoke your pussy would clench around him, making him hiss and choke back a whine. Once he was all the way inside you, you let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. You raised your head to look at him instead of the way he was stretching you out. There’s that smirk again. One of his hands finds it’s way back to your clit, rubbing slow circles like before to help you relax. You were so tense but you tried to keep a level-headed face, even though it literally felt like you were being split in two.

You felt your walls get used to his size and shape, feeling them contort and mold into Sukuna’s cocksleeve. With that, you start riding him slowly, using his shoulders to stay balanced. You got the hang of it quickly and began picking up pace. He was still stimulating your clit, using his other hand to keep guiding your body up and down. It was clear that you were struggling to take him all in though, pausing every few seconds to catch your breathe or readjust yourself. And this would just not do for Sukuna.

He gripped and slapped your ass hard.

“Gotta do better than that baby.”

Smack

“C’mon sweetheart, put your fucking. back. into. it.”

Each emphasis on a word was coupled with a hard thrust and loud whines coming from the depths of your throat. The sounds you were both making at this point bounced around the truck. There wasn’t a moment of silence and you felt blissful. Lulling your tongue out just for Sukuna to catch between his teeth; moving his hand back to bully your clit, and using his free hand to grab your face and continue fucking his hips up into yours. He was growling obscenities into your ear, “Yeah baby, just like that keep fucking me like that.”

“Sukuna, please! Fuckfuckfuck I can’t,” you were bouncing on his dick beautifully, tits bouncing in unison and he truly believed you were unreal.

“Yes you can baby,” he gave your face light slaps, “keep those eyes open, keep lookin’ at me baby. Doin’ so good, I promise.” You were leaking like a faucet down his dick and balls, and with a certain thrust, you were sure he was hitting your cervix. The string of cries that came out of your mouth made him go faster, harder, knowing that he finally found the spot that makes you weak.

“Am I makin’ you feel good baby?”

“Mhmm, y-yesss, so so good.”

“Yes who?” Your eyes were crossing trying to look at him, confused at what he meant at first, but as his thrusts got rougher you knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Y-yes daddy, it feels so good.” You were slightly embarrassed by the things you were saying, the noises too. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. Searching for your release that was so close.

Sukuna was close too, but he didn’t want that to come before he made you gush all over his dick. When he found his way to your neck, kissing and biting and sucking on your precious skin, you were done.

“Fuck daddy right there!”

“Here sweetheart? You like this?”

“Yesyesyes don’t stop please don’t stop–” and with a cry you were creaming all over Sukuna’s dick. Your pussy clamped down on him so tight, he couldn’t help but look down at the beautiful mess you made all over his thighs. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, causing you to become incredibly overstimulated. Sukuna was getting close, you could tell by his relentless strokes, forgetting any type of consistent pace. His hands were on your hips now, pistoning up into you as your head rested gracefully on his shoulder.

“Mm babydoll gimme a kiss, c’mere.”

When your shaky lips met his, he was sent into overdrive.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Fuck baby, where do you want it.”

Absolutely fucked out, you tried to come up with some sort of cohesive thought. “I-insi..de ‘kuna. In m-me.”

“You sure? Tell me you’re fuckin’ sure, yer milkin’ me baby.”

“I’m s-sure. Please please just cum inside me!”

“Oh, fuckkk…” Sukuna’s load filled your pussy to the brim, leaking out to coat the sides of his dick. He made you feel so full and warm. Finally stopping his thrusts, you hunch over his shoulder and he begins rubbing what feels like hearts on your back, humming into your ear how good you were for him, dick never leaving your pussy.

“Did such a good job princess. So fuckin’ good, are you an angel? Must be an angel, the way you dropped into my life like this.”

“Mmmm I’m your angel ‘kuna. I was made for you only.”

Although the moment was wholesome, your mind immediately flooded with the thought of you leaving in a few weeks.

How were you supposed to leave after this?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hope you enjoyed ;) and let me know if i missed anything as far as my content ahead section goes!

tags: @aiyaaayei

#📕 my books #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x black reader #x black fem reader #jjk men #ryomen sukuna #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #had so much fun with this #need more #but it took me a solid 24 hours #off and on #😭😭

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gentaro-kinniecom · 11 months

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『Best friends to lovers trope + first kiss』

Characters: Souma Kanzaki, Yuta Aoi, Suou Tsukasa, Himeru, Kohaku Oukawa, Kanata Shinkai, Arashi Narukami, Hiyori Tomoe, Ritsu Sakuma and Ibara Saegusa.

C/w: fluff, jealousy (?), somewhat angst depending on some parts like (i can’t really specify since it’s up to the readers pov 🥲) , long post ?? (Ten characters meaning more scrolling if you see it that way?), Madara’s a chismoso in Kohaku’s part (snitch; I swear he did it cause Kohaku wasn’t making a move LMAO) it’s just cute and kisses rahh i love fluff (not proofread my bad) [WHY IS HIYORI’S PART SO LONG HELLO im not biased i swear] ugly cried making Ritsu’s part help. 3.5k words woah-

A/n: hello everyone :3 first off I wanna say tysm for the support in my last post!! I didn’t think it a lot of people would like it but im glad you guys enjoyed it, it made my day seeing all the support <3! And second, I’m working on those requests I PROMISEE (atp spam me to motivate me pls /hj), and I will be posting the remaining parts of the series “Kissing/Making out + hcs” soon as well, writers block really is making me not post 😭 but anyways!! Hope y’all enjoy this super cute trope >:3

Souma Kanzaki✰

Your absolute best friend in the marine bio club, he loves researching about cute creatures and taking care of them too!! Souma isn’t really focused on romance, he’s really glad to have found friends like you and Adonis. But, why was he feeling some sort of way around you? Your smile was so soft, he felt his heart beat at the thought of it, and how warm your personality was with him. He was scared to even confess because you’ve been such a good friend to him that he really doesn’t want to ruin that friendship.

But its not like you have hinted anything towards him. It’s always been Adonis or Kanata, hell, even Kaoru, he wants you to look at him for once, just once and say you love him. Souma started to doubt whether or not to tell you, when suddenly as he opened his locker, saw an envelope with your name in it, addressed to him. He decided on going to the place you mentioned in your letter, seeing you there with a smile.

“Y/n…do you feel what I feel? I really enjoy your presence, but I can’t help but feel I want to be more than your friend, perhaps a partner? If you want to stay as friends then I understand-“

With that, you kissed him, he felt like his world was just surrounded by you and just you both. As you parted away, Souma blushed a bit, smiling brightly but slightly embarrassed as you spoke

“I love you too Souma, I’ve been waiting to say those words to you”

Yuta Aoi✰

Let’s face it, you’re friends with Yuta and best friends with Hinata. He hates feeling like a second option towards you when Hinata isn’t there. Of course, you share moments like any good friend would, talking and spending time together. But it was all about Hinata; Hinata this, Hinata that. Yuta started growing feelings of jealousy for a while, but he couldn’t just go to his brothers best friend and admit of their crush, opening his heart out there and waiting for it to be held or acepted, anything but crushed.

Yuta knew he had to act one day or another, it can’t stay like this when you’re just there, being so kind to him even if he felt like a filler for when Hinata wasn’t there. Until one day, his brother found out about his crush, and promised him that he wasn’t interested in you, after all, Hinata felt like you were the sister they never had. After that day, Yuta saw things clearly, not blinded by the silly jealousy towards his brother and now focusing on winning your heart. Eventually, he invited you out to hang out together, which could be considered a date but he liked saying they were only going out as friends. Right after ending the date, Yuta held your hands softly, sighing before speaking.

“So, I wanna thank you for accepting my invite um to go out..but I also want to say something important-“

You cut him off by kissing him, he stood still, a bit in shock while his heart felt like it was about to burst.

“I like you too Yuta..sorry if I made you feel in any way less than your brother, you’re very important to me, you both are”

Suou Tsukasa✰

Your friendship began with your father’s company partnering up with Tsukasa’s. You both instantly clicked having somewhat same interests, going to cafe’s around japan whenever your families traveled to other cities. Suou loves going to Yumenosaki Academy with you, it’s a routine going in and out and after school, taking you to the sweet fan club. It’s no surprise when the members of the club ask if you’re dating, to which Suou just blushes and denies it. Perhaps he was developing feelings for you?

No it couldn’t be, you were his best friend, and childhood one too. Kohaku had seen Suou doubtful at times and comforted him, encouraging his cousin to give it a try if he truly loved you. Even if things wouldn’t be the same after, Suou was really going to give this a try. The following days consisted of him acting more affectionate and close with you, gifting you small things like your favorite sweets even jewelry as well. To the point where you confronted him about all the sudden coddling.

“Okay Suou listen I appreciate the gifts and the kindness, but..is there a reason why you’re doing this? I mean- wait, you’re definitely hidding something right? Come on I know you and I’ve done so my entire life, it can’t be that bad-“

Suou leaned forward, kissing you softly as he had felt brave in that moment, soon pulling away muttering a small apology as he sighed

“I-I’m sorry, I really love your company and your sweet personality, you’ve showed me how to love and feel loved. I truly hope you feel the same as I do”

Himeru✰

After the incident regarding his brother, Kaname, Himeru learned everything about his brother. People didn’t find him strange, or acting weird when referring to himself in third person, after all Himeru knew how to blend in well with the crowd. Except for one person, you. Knowing Kaname well had it’s things, like predicting what things he wanted to do or talk about in the moment, even sharing class schedules with each other, so you knew he was not Kaname, but instead his brother who he had mentioned briefly before Himeru had come in as ‘him’. Still, Himeru had that side of him that made you look at him in another light.

Of course, he was portraying as his brother but, something about Himeru was just so different, he was more mature, rationalized everything and serious in a way that made you like him? He was kind and gentle with you, almost sickening, but in a good way. A year passed by and Himeru invited you to see his brother, how the incident had left him in a state of coma, tears were shed that day, and a lot. But you knew how much trust and care he had in you. So when he pulled you aside as you walked towards the place he’d ask you to meet him at, you weren’t surprised at what he said.

“Himeru hopes this is enough appropriate to aproach you this way. Himeru asked for you to meet him here, Himeru is thankful for that…would you be willing to give Himeru the opportunity to show you how much ‘I’ love you?”

You smiled, one he loved seeing so frequently. He placed his arms around you in a comforting way, kissing you softly while smiling

“Yes Himeru, I love you, not because you’re ‘impersonating’ your brother but, because i fell in love with the real you, the real Himeru thats under that façade”

Kohaku Oukawa✰

Being part of whatever Madara dragged him into, wasn’t easy, especially with making acquaintances rather than his unit mates and Madara himself, not to mention his cousin Suou who is somewhat friends with you. He can’t even recall the time you both met, perhaps his cousin introduced you or he had seen you around the Reimei dormitories. Even if Kohaku didn’t attend school, he looked forward in meeting you in the hallways of the dorms. His conversations being short and direct but well mannered, he seemed to have taken a liking to you.

Or more like a slight fling of trust towards you since you knew his cousin and friends well. It wasn’t like him when he offered you to join him and share some of his favorite sweets or chatting online when you didn’t have time to hang out, always ending up with photos of Kohaku and the thing he was so busy at. Sometimes it would be photos of him at the practice studio or helping Madara out with something, they were really cute, but he didn’t have to know that, right? Then he suggested you both went out, taking you to his favorite shops and cafe’s filled with pastries from around the world, sharing a bite of the (favorite pastry) you were eating as he spoke, now having the opportunity to do so since you were both in a much more secluded area.

“Hey so..would it be alright if I..confessed? Okay no I’m not gonna beat around the bush, I like you, a lot. I talked this with Madara and he said i should tell you since honesty is important and”

He stopped, looking at you briefly after you had kissed him momentarily on the lips, he stared for a bit before snapping back into reality, coughing a bit as he averted his eyes across the room, trying to hide the embarrassment he felt because you liked him back and kissed him, even though he wanted to do so first

“Perhaps a little birdy might’ve told me something like that before…however the answer is still the same, I like you too Kohaku, thank you for being honest, I really like that about you too”

“HE WHAT-“

Kanata Shinakai✰

You both met thanks to Madara and Ryuusetai. Since you worked with Madara on some missions, you actually knew Kanata when he was proclaimed to be a ‘god’. The shinkai cult was a very harsh one but, after Madara had saved Kanata, he was in your ‘debt’. But it never felt that way to either of you, Kanata is your best friend, one that always drags you towards any nearby water or anything you both enjoy. He really likes spending time with you and will not back off if you tell him he’s “too clingy”. People always say you were like platonic soulmates, but you’d always denied it with a small blush on your face.

However, feelings started to develop when he would always go towards you in need of help or advice, even saying good morning before anyone else, you were first and it made you feel something whenever he smiled at you or dragged you into the cold water of the fountain. Kaoru was the first to notice your feelings whenever you came by the marine bio club, cheeks a bit pink as Kanata hugged you. It was kinda obvious of how much you liked each other but were oblivious to it. Till one day, he invited you out to meet him in one of his favorite spots, laying out a blanket with some of your favorite snacks, looking at the ocean in front of you as he held your hand under the afternoon sun.

“I think I’m developing ‘feelings’ for you~ Y/n~, do you ‘like’ me too~?”

Smiling, he knew to take that as a sign to kiss you, his lips soft against yours as you parted away slowly, taking the time to admire his features and how the wind moved his hair slightly

“I love you Kanata, it feels like we’re destined to be with one another”

Arashi Narukami✰

The cool stylish best friend you were so proud to have. Arashi knew the best skin care products and even gave you tips from time to time. She was the best to go to if you had any problems about anything. You both met at one of her regular make up stores to go to in the daily, she just so happened to love your fit and exchanged numbers. Arashi invites you to a couple of her shootings sometimes, looking your way when she’s posing or winking and the staff is quite positive that you’re dating each other. To which Arashi has no objection to but you’re almost sure she’s teasing you.

Besides you both have been friends for a couple of years, it’s nothing serious…or so you thought. Arashi had arranged a dinner after her regular model shootings and invited you, alone. Which caused some doubts because she would normally invite the rest of the Knights with you to eat together, especially for dinner. Upon entering the restaurant, placing your orders and sitting down, Arashi took out what seemed to be a box, you almost thought she was asking you to marry her but as she opened it, there were two rings, almost equal, she smiled and seemed a bit bashful as she spoke.

“You know I’m not really used to any of this but, I like you Y/n, I saw these rings and thought why not use them as promise rings? I hope you like it~!”

You smiled and held her hand as she kissed your cheek softly, then moving to kiss your lips briefly. Arashi then placed the ring on your finger as you did to her’s too. Many people thought it was an engagement and congratulated you both, even if it wasn’t, you ended up getting free dessert and a wonderful time with her

“I like you too Arashi! What just happened feels like something out of a fairytale, it was so romantic, thank you for the wonderful time~!”

Hiyori Tomoe✰

Your 'archnemesis’ that turned into your best friend. Hiyori really didn’t get along well with you, especially when you hanged around with Jun most of the time, talking about similar interests as he watched you both from the sidelines while he waited for Jun to finish his conversation. It wasn’t fair whenever Jun opt to spend more time with you rather than him and his dog Bloody Mary. However one time, Jun went off with Makoto, leaving you alone with Hiyori and his dog, he then realized how kind you were with everything, especially Bloody Mary. After that day you both became the most inseparable of friends. Always giving you tips on your wardrobe and going out to get lunch or a cup of coffee to start the day. When he invited you to his concerts and events, you were always there, first row cheering him on as he looked at you from the stage. Something about seeing you so cheery in the crowd made his heart flutter, he felt so loved and cherished by his best friend.

Although he wouldn’t consider that anymore, it had developed into a crush throughout the weeks, leaning into your touch more as you both linked arms or his arm around your shoulder. He trusted you with some of his worries and inquires, always looking forward to your advice whenever he felt down or lost. He eventually ranted towards Nagisa and Bloody Mary, to which Nagisa pretty much replied with “be honest with them, you never know unless you say something”. Nagisa was right, he had to do whatever it took to say how he was feeling and Hiyori wasn’t backing down on this. It was when he had the idea to confess after one of his concerts with Eve, after briefly finishing and the majority of the people had left, he requested for your presence in his dressing room, escorted by one of the bodyguards Ibara had hired for the concert. Soon entering his dressing room and seeing flowers everywhere, even a small rose petal line leading directly towards Hiyori as he smiled and held a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Hiyori! Wow it’s so beautiful..but, why all this commotion? I mean I love it but-“

You felt his lips against yours briefly, a soft giggle leaving his lips as he leaned towards you once more, catching you by surprise again

“My dearest Y/n! I must admit you’ve caught my eye, and I have developed feelings for you, I hope you truly feel the same”

Ritsu Sakuma✰

Ritsu had admired you from afar for quite some time now, noticing how happy you were with his brother and unit, too busy to even notice his presence whenever he was sleeping nearby, but that all changed once his brother had invited you over to dinner at their home. That’s how the friendship became to grow, you both shared similar tastes, music and even things like sleeping. He was your best friend since then and has been for a couple of months. Unfortunately, since he still holds a grudge against his brother Rei, you were kinda forced to choose between them, although not necessarily since you’d seen Rei almost everyday and Ritsu too, separated from each other. He opened himself up to you, telling Y/n how he felt like his brother had abandoned him at one point and how he didn’t want to feel that ever again, to which you had promised to stay by his side no matter what.

Soon, friendly cuddles were a thing under his favorite spot at the garden before going to the tea club. It felt like a routine; waking up, going to school, spending time with Ritsu and so on. Whenever he saw you with his brother, he really wasn’t jealous, just annoyed and bothered at the sight of Rei touching your arm slightly, whenever that happened he always approached you and placed his arm linked with yours as he waited for you both to finish said conversation. Feelings started to grow when he saw you waking up from one of your usual naps together, the way you slowly opened your eyes and how the sun softly graced your face, you looked like a sleeping angel, quite literally. He took it upon himself to confess the very day you both graduated, the last time you would’ve seen each other if it weren’t for his plans. Ritsu had pulled you aside, taking you to your usual spot as you both smile, a bit tearful at the sight of not being able to come back and share moments with each other but that’s when Ritsu held your hand softly

“Y/n..I want to apologize for how late this confession came to be but..I love you, I don’t want to let go of you just yet, or ever..please stay with me”

Ritsu asked as you smiled, his hands now on your cheeks as you pulled him in for a kiss, it felt so right to share such intimate moment with your now lover as he pulled back, looking at you dumbfounded for a moment as you spoke

“I love you more Ritsu~ I can’t wait to find more spots under trees so we can spend all the time in the world cuddling together”

Ibara Saegusa✰

The protective best friend who doesn’t like anyone coming near you. He’s always been like that, since day one of your friendship. Ibara at first offered you to work with him since the job was open to be his assistant. Then it turned into late night talks and drinking some coffee in the morning before attending to important stuff that he realized he had actually found a friend for the first time in ever. Apart from Eden and Adam if that counts, he really felt at ease around you. His work became less heavy and less dull, thanks to the help of a kind friend like you and the company he had every day, he seemed to be in a better mood each week. In business meetings or Eden/Adam practices, he’s always keeping an eye on you, if anyone makes you uncomfortable or your well-being overall. Even attending his lectures, he felt happy seeing you taking notes and being so attentive when he told his speeches.

It’s so weird seeing that he prioritizes your friendship over his work a few times like taking you to lunch or spending time doing whatever you both want. It caused some curiosity between the members of Eden since Ibara would always be swarming in work and the progress of their units. They sincerely have to thank you for letting him see his soft spot, his sweet side to all that workaholic Ibara. It was quite refreshing to be honest, seeing him so at ease and the strees and burden from over the years were at much calm now beside you. It was love, he couldn’t imagine a life without you, Ibara imagined the day where he would wake up beside you, smiling softly as he kissed you so dearly in the morning. He thought that those “daydreams” of you both spending time together was normal, but he was just really catching feelings. After a long time of consideration, he decided to take you out to a very exclusive dinner, one which the entire restaurant was worth more than the entire ensemble square. He sat in front of you, letting you choose a variety of dishes before grabbing your hand and speaking

“I’ll keep this short and simple, I really love your company, and I can’t help but wish more of it, more of your touch..if you catch what I mean..please don’t keep me waiting, the thought of being rejected is harsh but I’d rather know that- mmmphf-!”

He felt himself turn red, cheeks flaired with a pink hue as he felt your lips against his, his face was priceless. Chapped but so soft against yours, he didn’t want to let go, even for a catch of air, however when you did, your hands linked as you smiled

“I love you as well Ibara, don’t stress over something that was already expected from the both of us~”

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s4toryuu · 4 months

Text

inumaki headcanons — 2

notes: inumaki my beloved… as promised this one is a xreader, slice of life, reader wears dresses and is implied is a ‘girl’, toge goes viral on tiktok so kind of socmed!au

part 1

so like when you met him you thought he was mysterious at first

and then you were just like ??? he thinks he’s so cool not talking… geh, rude

so you start being cold to him for a while until one day he writes you a post-it asking you to go out to a cafe nearby

confused, you were interested in seeing his face and, like, you had nothing else to do so why not

you were apprehensive at first but you guys ordered the exact same drink and food without knowing and you got along because of it

that day you got really close even though it was mostly through his notes app (he types really fast)

you guys had the same humor (albeit he’s more outward and immature)

he took his mask down to eat and you, like, stopped chewing on your mochi waffle and started staring because you did not expect him to be so good-looking

and he definitely noticed because he started chuckling and he tried to hide it as he took a bite of his waffle

and oh my god his smile

a/n: ok I’m definitely writing this fic comment if you want to be tagged!!

you find out he’s really scared of making you do something you don’t wanna do, like terrified, like it’s his top 3 nightmares

the first couple of times you slept over he taped his mouth shut in case he sleep talked LMFAO

you only found out because you woke up earlier than him and you laughed almost waking him up

you guys getting together was a crazy feat tbh

he’s a gentleman

but he’s a troll first

like you were starting to think he just wanted to dress up fem after stealing your clothes for the 4th time

so you bought him a dress for his birthday

it wasn’t a cheap dress either (you bought it in your size) lol being a jujutsu tech student you couldn’t even spell broke so

one day during training he’s late and as you were about to check on him at his dorm he turns the corner and holy shit no fucking way

he’s wearing the fucking dress

he couldn’t zip it up so the open back was flapping around as he walked towards you with this exact smile :] on his face

it was supposed to be a maxi dress that ended at the calves but since it was in your size it ended at his knee

luckily (not) he was wearing sweatpants

everyone was so confused but gojo didn’t even make any comment he was just like “ok now that toge’s here..!”

you were dying while everyone was just confused whether he was serious in wearing the dress 😭😭😭 yuta was like “oh… you’re gonna wear that for training..?”

toge puts his hands in the pockets, emphasizing it “shake shake!” with a shit eating grin

“where’s your scarf thingy?” “it didn’t match with the dress :(” he typed

and he was deadass cuz he actually trained with it until it got in the way so he just took it off and he trained shirtless

but you weren’t complaining though hehehe

when you first made out you flinched in shock because you felt cursed energy from the marking on his tongue

you got addicted afterward…

I imagine him to have like really nice (?) aegyo sal and really pretty eyes

his love language (giving) is 10000% physical touch and teasing you

he does that “what’s that?” rizz shit and you fall for it every time

he went viral on tiktok for doing the dance to sekai no owari’s habit in his uniform because he did it COMPLETELY nonchalant despite shaking ass like he does it for a living

it was his first public tiktok too and it had 637.2k likes in 5 days

you’re like wtf and he’s just like the algorithms just love me (cuz he’s lwk famous on twt too)

the comments are like “lol how did his scarf not fall down” “oniisan were you forced to do this” “he looks like he would have a pretty face” “show us your face”

and then like yuuji (whos posts somewhat regularly) makes him do the kawaiikute gomen trend a month after toge’s habit tiktok and again he did it hella nonchalant

that one went crazy too it got 721.6k likes in 6 days

“this is the habit guy” “I knew he would have a cute face” “what’s with the weird makeup?” everyone’s just thirsting for him because he’s so nonchalant

you, and everyone who knows him, however, know that it’s a fuckING FACADE

he looks quiet and you’d think he would be cuz he can’t talk normally but he fucking yaps as if people understand him

he makes sure you know his opinion on everything

you’re watching a movie and he’s spitting “okaka! takana ikura ikura ikura!” every nine seconds

I mean he talks with the tone/intonation of what he actually means to say so it’s actually easy to understand him

and it’s only words he can’t say so he screams laughs and emotes like a normal teenage boy

he hates waking up early but you like taking walks in the morning sometimes and he never misses it for you

he loves you sm hehhehehe

part 3 coming soon! comment or submit an ask if you’d like to be tagged to the waffle cafe date!!

#𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺𝘶𝘶’𝘴 #I think im gonna call this toge waffleverse toge #inumaki toge #jujutsu kaisen #headcanons #fluff #slice of life #socmed au #megumi hcs next?#inumaki x reader #jjk headcanons

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bunchesofoats · 1 year

Text

My Heart Is My Sleeve.

Feat — Rowan Laslow x Siren!Reader

Contains — Mutual Interest, No Established Relationship, Fluff, Confessions In The Rain, Kissing In The Rain, No Wednesday Spoilers (Absolutely None! I promise!)

Length — ~2.2k words

Notes — Dancing In Your Downpour Pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo. I had to rewrite this twice because I wasn’t happy with it. I also managed to get sick, and guess what? It’s 3 am, so this is NOT proofread. Enjoy, you lovely little heathens. GIF CREDIT TO @breathing4onlyme! For some reason I couldn’t implement it into the post with credit, I’m so sorry!

Part 1, Dancing In Your Downpour: Here

“Do you have any idea what you two have done?”

You and Rowan stood solemnly in Principal Weems office still damp from the downpour of the morning. You truly had no clue why you both had to be scolded, if it weren’t for the position you two were found in then it wouldn’t have been a problem. You had no regrets, but you weren’t sure how Rowan felt. He stared at his feet, fiddling with the inhaler in his hands. You both had been silent the entire time, scared to mention anything between you two because you both weren’t sure of what happened either.

“You know what, just- I… You two are dismissed.” Principal Weems sighed at a loss for words. Rowan slowly turned, and for a moment you thought he’d look at you, but he didn’t. He gave a small thank you and left. You couldn’t help but watch as he left, the door shutting silently behind him.

“Principal Weems, please don’t punish him. It was my idea to go in the shed. The storm was too hard, and I didn’t want him to go back out after his asthma attack.” You immediately turned to the woman, pleading. She dropped her hardened gaze for a split second, face twisting in concern after hearing your words, but immediately reverted back.

“If you can explain to me what you two were doing missing classes, in a shed of all places, holding each other then be my guest.” The woman sighed exasperatedly. She was right to think the worst of you two considering she was once a teen, and the image did seem to sound quite incriminating. Your face flushed at the thought of anything else happening.

“I promise you, this is how it went.” You recalled all the events of what happened. The umbrella, finding the shed, Rowan having an asthma attack, you saving him, and both of you accidentally falling asleep whilst waiting out the rainstorm. It was absolutely harmless, and whilst you didn’t want to do it, you emphasized Rowan’s asthma attack in detail hoping it would sway her.

Principal Weems pursed her lips as you tried scanning her eyes for any thoughts. She took in a deep breath before answering.

“Alright, I will let this go for now. Both you and Rowan have near perfect attendances, and you did the right thing. I understand your absences were unintentional. However, you will have to make up the work you missed in detention. Please tell Mr. Laslow on your way out.” She turned to her paperwork. You tilted your head in confusion, hadn’t he left already?

“He’s waiting outside for you.” She didn’t even need to look up. “I’m surprised you hadn’t realized given how fond he is of you.” You felt warmth grow in your cheeks at the comment.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to tell him.” You stammered out. You made your way to the door, taking a deep breath to cool yourself off. You pulled the door open, slipped out, and shut it silently. The sun was set and the dim lights of Nevermore greeted you.

“I’m sorry I left you.”

Rowan.

“No worries, I explained everything.” He nodded at that, making his way towards you. Your back hitting the railing of the opening to the first floor in an effort to make space between you two. Your face flushing at his presence being so close. You remembered what Principal Weems had said about him being fond of you, but you truly hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He coughed out, glancing away with a hand behind his neck. Even under the dim lighting you could see how perfectly blue his eyes were, behind the tint of his glasses you could see them twitching to avoid your gaze.

“For?” You gave him a sly smile knowing perfectly what he was on about. You weren’t the type to tease, especially not about an asthma attack, but there was something else he wasn’t telling you.

“For, well, saving my life of course.” He gave you a look as if the the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Haven’t I told you this is what any other person would do?” You rolled your eyes. You were definitely playing at something and he knew you were waiting.

“Are you going to make me say it?” He sighed.

“Depends, what are you trying to say?” You could tell he was trying to formulate what he was trying to say. His eyes calculating every word, thoughts crashing like waves getting lost in the blue.

“Thank you for today. It was nice to… be with you.” He winced at the last words. “I mean, no. Well, yes, it was nice to hang out with you. Not be with you, that’s something entirely different in and of itself. That’s not what I mean, you’re fine! Not like fine like everyone else means, not that you’re not attractive! I just-“

You cut him short with a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for today, I liked being with you too.” His face flushed, and you swore you could see his ears turn pink under the moonlight. You let out a breath with a smile at the boy’s expression.

“Oh, shoot I almost forgot! We have detention and homework we have to make up for in the morning!“ You smacked your forehead, Rowan snapping out of his daze. He quickly caught on, groaning at the idea of morning detention.

“I‘ll see you there!” You gave the boy another peck before running off to your dorm. He opened his mouth to speak but you were long gone.

The next morning.

Oddly enough, the next morning was bright and sunny. The rainstorm the day before was forgotten, now an encore of clear skies. The only issue was morning detention. You had to end your beauty sleep early to get up early. If you had finished up your homework early then you could probably nap. Your brain moved on autopilot as you made your way to Ms. Thornhill’s greenhouse. At least morning detention would be someplace fun.

“Good morning, Y/N. I trust you slept well.” Ms. Thornhill greeted, joking at your messy appearance. Eyes still a little heavy and probably had developed bags from your lack of sleep. You made your way to an empty seat, Ms. Thornhill giving her plants attention whilst you pulled out your work. Your mind was far from working though. It wasn’t your fault, not entirely. It was Rowan. You had been tossing and turning, replaying how you had kissed him twice. Maybe you were being too forward, what if he didn’t like that?

“Mind if I take a seat?” You heard the familiar voice, looking up to see Rowan still as neat as ever. You glanced down at yourself, silently cursing as your uniform was not even done properly. You tried to glance at the other seats around the room, playing off your nervousness.

“Out of all the chairs, you choose the one by me? I’d think you have a thing for me, Laslow.” You blurt. Gods, could you make it any more obvious? What was this cool, hard-to-get thing you had going on? You kissed him and now suddenly you were ignoring him?

He froze at that, turning to find another chair. You regret your words quick.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was joking, you can sit with me.” You pulled the chair out next you and he hesitantly accepted it. Placing his bag down and his work upon the table, you turned back to your own work. Trying to make sense of the maths work that laid out taunting you. Your eyes wandered from your work to Rowan, watching as he easily filled out the questions and answers. Your thoughts drifting with you as your gaze clouded.

His uniform always so neat, never with a wrinkle to be found. His hair parted to the side as it usually was, though some stray hairs left their place as he tapped his pen against his forehead, lost on the question. His glasses shifting as he scrunched his nose in light frustration at the problem. He was quick to fix them and return to his work.

You really wondered how you had the courage to even kiss him twice, it lingered at the back of your brain as you tried to avert your attention back to your work.

“Need any help?” His voice called out above your thoughts. You turned back to him, sliding your work over. Silently pointing at a question you probably should have known the answer to, you couldn’t seem to get it. Your mind was a mess, flooded with thoughts of the homework and him and yesterday and Enid. Gods, Enid probably had something up on her blog by now.

“Well, this is fairly simple,” Rowan started, you tried paying attention, you truly did. But with Rowan leaning to your side, it felt like yesterday all over again. You were sure it was just your lack of sleep and the want of a warm bed again, but you yearned to be closer to his side. You scooted your chair over, leaning to look at the diagram he was pointing to and the correspondence it had to the question. He didn’t avoid your presence, and you mentally cheered, also finally remembering what the diagram meant.

“So then x will be easy to find using this part right here, and I can calculate the answer from that to this.” You turned to face Rowan, eyes meeting his. Lips turned into a downward smile, he nodded at your answer. You flashed him a smile back, looking back down at your paper to avoid his gaze as your face flushed. Your seats were closer now as you both continued to work. Piping up to ask a question or two until you were both done.

“Color me a Cosmo, I’ve never seen students so eager to learn!” Ms. Thornhill butt in. You laughed dryly, unsure of how to respond.

“I should have you two pair up for projects, maybe then I’ll have students submitting work!” She laughed to herself. Teacher humour.

“Anyways, I just wanted to let you lovebirds know that detention is over.”

You and Rowan glanced at each other, ears pink as you began packing up your things. You both thanked Ms. Thornhill before heading to the door. A light sunny drizzle greeted you both. It was probably just an after effect of the thunderstorm, you were definitely sure that you could both make it to class. You reached your hand into it, feeling your scales creep up slowly. Another hand pulled up to your left, judging the water’s harshness. You knew it was Rowan.

You offered your hand for him to grab. He looked taken aback at it, confused at your notion. He carefully rested his hand in yours, brows furrowing at the thought of your next move.

“Ready?” You asked. He didn’t gulp this time, he didn’t back down, he simply whispered a yes. With that, you gripped his hand, interlocking your fingers together before you stepped into the rain. The light drizzle tickling you as it fell, you could feel your scales appear. Laughing as you looked into the sky, feeling the shower upon your skin. You let go of Rowan’s hand and he abruptly stopped ahead of you at the loss of your touch.

“Y/N, we’re going to be late again.” We?

“You don’t have to stay with me.” You pointed. He stood for a moment, lost in thought, fog clouding his glasses again. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I want to.” He spoke softly. If you weren’t so keen to his voice, you wouldn’t have heard him. But you did.

He took a step, closing the distance between you two. His hands finding solace in yours again, you held your breath at the proximity.

“I really thought it would be obvious by now.” He mumbled, thoughts spilling from his lips.

“What would be obvious?” You managed to speak. Hands laced with his, chest centimeters apart, your brain moving a million miles per second.

“My heart is my sleeve, don’t you know me?” Your brows creased at his metaphor. Of course this man would confess in literary terms.

“I like you,” He breathed out. “A lot.”

You laughed at those words, not in any demeaning way. He pulled back from you, tensing at your reaction.

“No, no.” You reached out to him, holding his arms as he held you in his. “I just really like you too. I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

He softened at your response. The fog in his glasses disappearing for a moment, you could see a twinkle in his eyes. Reaching your hand up to his cheek, you slowly moved forward, analyzing his reactions. You didn’t want him to let go, not just yet. Being late to class was better than missing it, and you both didn’t care at this point.

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing as you both closed the gap between you. Lightning struck as your lips met.

Getting drenched in his arms, he danced in your downpour.

#rowan laslow #rowan laslow one shot #wednesday (2022)#calum ross #wednesday netflix #rowan laslow imagine #rowan laslow x reader #rowan x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for editing my friends cover letter and then telling him I wouldn’t give him my employee number for a referral if he used the cover letter he wrote? (Emojis to find this whenever it posts)

✍️🧠

For some context… I work for a HUGE university that is extremely hard to get a job at. I have friends in HR here now and they said pretty much every job posting (and the postings are pretty sparse) gets a minimum of 250-300 applications. I got extremely lucky securing my job and truly do not take that for granted. And now that I’m an “insider” I have the ability to make referrals for my friends so that they can at least get an interview and hopefully a job here too and hop on the good pay and excellent benefits train especially since we’re all coming up on 26, therefore, we are all losing our health insurance (yay America).

So, one of my friends finished his masters degree recently and was looking for jobs in my area and saw something at my place of employment he was interested in. I told him I would be more than happy to look over his cover letter and resume before he submitted his application because I know what they look for in those. He said if there was any major changes he would pay me for edits too. I agreed because why not help my friend out. Give him a shot at this place.

And as much as I hate to say it… his cover letter was just… bad. It was so bad I reread it a good 5 times before I was fully able to comprehend just how bad it was. I had to go for a walk around the block to collect my thoughts on it. It literally made me question how he got a masters degree if I am being completely frank. It was also just so atrocious I offered to edit it for free because I felt so bad.

I don’t want to give specifics but think, half a paragraph on things he explicitly states that he has not done and will never do in his masters program, saying “folks” instead of colleagues (which is fine in conversation but like. Not for a cover letter ya know?), talked more about his experience in retail than he did his actual masters program, and just so so so much more.

So to just give him as fair of a shot as I could, I asked him for his thesis and service work that he did in his program, and asked permission to pretty much start from scratch on his cover letter. He excitedly agreed and told me to “go to town and do what you have to” and said “you know better than me what they’re looking for” and once I returned the final product to him he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the amount of jargon I inserted and the amount of changes I made to his “flare”. I had my friend in HR at the specific department I work at read it over and he said it was spectacular and he would interview someone with the cover letter in a heartbeat. I told my friend that and he still felt like I “robbed it of his personality.” I told him he’s welcome to edit it however he wants but my friends in HR said it was really strong how I wrote it and I would highly recommend not making any changes before he applies if he wants to get an interview and told him to just think on it for a bit before throwing in his application.

He didn’t respond for a couple of days and then called me out of the blue and told me he was working on his application now, was planning on using his original cover letter unedited, and needed my ID number for the referral. And I said… no. I am super super lucky to have my job and as jobs here are in such high demand I was scared to stick my neck out for him because I felt it might stain my reputation and reflect poorly on me. And he yelled at me and accused me I was being selfish and uppity about my job and that I needed to just give him the number because “if doesn’t matter anyway”. I tried to explain to him that any referral an employee makes gets added to their file regardless if the person got hired or not.

I did not want to stand by his original cover letter because I felt like it would’ve knocked him out of the running LONG before the interviews would’ve even started getting scheduled. I also feel it is important to add, I never told him his cover letter was garbage. I just told him it needed some work/jargon/fine tuning to the job description. I would never EVER say something like that to someone because I would never want to hurt someone’s feelings

I feel horrible. I didn’t want him to be hurt by the advice and changes I was making but I am in a very interesting and delicate position with my job in that I am one of like 5 people in any kind of administrative role at the entire institution that doesn’t have a bachelors degree. I secured my job because I worked as a temporary assistant for a few months and they loved me so much they made an exception to hire me in fully. I am deeply loved in my department and I truly love my job with all of my heart. It is wonderful and incredibly rewarding to do the work that I do so I really do not want to fuck this up for myself. I have had other friends apply and get jobs here with a little guidance and they love it too. I absolutely want that for my friend I was trying to help. I truly do. But he was not willing to take my advice and I just couldn’t risk sticking my neck out for him. So… AITA?

TL/DR: I work for a hard to get into place. Spent a lot of time fixing my friends app bc he writes like a 14 year old despite having a masters degree. He said he was using his shitty cover letter and asked for my referral number anyway and I told him no it’s not gonna happen because I can’t afford to stick my neck out like that since I got my job in a non traditional way leaving me a bit more vulnerable than most. I never explicitly told him “your cover letter is garbage” because I didn’t want to make him feel bad but warned him it would most likely not make it to the interviews and the one that I wrote him was applauded by my friends who work in HR.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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hey-august · 9 days

Note

Hi hii

Do you also write angst?

If so...I'm genuinely curious on what's your take if Buggy's partner was severely injured and in the verge of death in his arms.

Don't mind me,,just craving a freshly baked Buggy angst 🤡

-soupsprout

Ahhhh, sorry this took a bit!

I love angst, but I've only ever written relationship-angst. Like poor communication skills or intense self-loathing.

This was a fun one to try! Fun and painful! I kinda hurt now! 🥲 I hope it hits the spot for you, @soupsprout

The ending is ambiguous and there isn't comfort because I like the pain, but I have an idea for an uplifting ending and one for a painful ending. LMK if you're interested in hearing about either 😉

Edit: Sad ending here

WC: ~900 Warnings: NSFW - grievous injury & blood, Buggy x GN!reader, established relationship, angst no comfort

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Injuries are inevitable during a fight, and this was a fucking ambush. The crew was bound to collect new wounds and scars when they started at a disadvantage. But when shit hits the fan, they’re relentless. This time, that was a bad fucking trait.

As the din diminished and the ship drifted into eerie post-battle quiet, Buggy found you sitting against a wall. The crewmates you fought alongside were also in various states of reprieve. Leaning on crates, crouching on the ground, some even laying down as they caught their breaths. But none of them were sitting in a growing puddle of blood. None of them looked as ashen as you did. The sticky red hand squeezing your leg told the story.

Ripping his bandana off his head, Buggy sprinted over to you and kneeled on the dirty ground. He peeled your hand back, exposing the gash. This was real bad. The placement was bad. The depth was bad. He could see the surge of blood come and go, following your heartbeats. Biting the hem of his bandana, Buggy tore it into strips and wound them just above the wound. Tight but not too tight - he remembered that much.

You winced as he tied a knot and tried to push his hands away. Adrenaline dulled the pain from the original wound, but all this extra shit was too much.

“Stop,” you whined, smearing blood from your hand to his wrist.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

“Don’t, Buggy…it hurts enough, just leave it.”

“Fuck, no! Listen, we need to stop the bleeding. I have to…”

Buggy didn’t know how to tell you that he needed to pack the wound and it was not going to be pleasant. It had been years since he had to dress a wound like this. He didn’t have to do this for himself since eating the goddamn Devil Fruit and his crew had a doctor to tend to the others. Right, a doctor!

Dragging the closest crew member over by the collar of their shirt, Buggy started shouting, “YOU! Go get the doctor, get a medic, fuck - just go get someone! Get fucking Mohji!”

The pirate scrambled to their feet and yanked another mate up to join him in a search for help.

“Mohji?” you repeated with a soft laugh.

“He can help. He takes care of Richie, maybe he knows-”

“I’m not a lion, Buggy. It’s not the same.”

Your over-dramatic condescending tone could have fooled the pirate into believing you were okay if your voice didn’t shake. If you weren’t talking more with your eyes shut than open. If you hadn’t lost enough blood that it was seeping into the knees of his pants.

“I dunno, you’re as annoying as Richie.”

You smiled but didn’t respond.

Buggy glanced around the room, which was nearly empty. The only ones left were the ambushers who didn’t survive and anyone who couldn’t run through the ship. No one had come back with any fucking help, though.

“Hey, keep your eyes open,” Buggy said, squeezing your cheeks.

You did what he asked, but it took a few tries. Your eyes fluttered shut more than once before you succeeded in keeping them open.

“M’tired, Buggy,” you said in a low voice. A sad voice. A scared voice.

“You can sleep later. I’ll even let you sleep on my side of the bed, okay? Just stay awake for now. Captain’s orders!”

Another smile, softer than the last one. Even Buggy could hear the desperation cracking in his throat.

“I have to do one more thing to stop the bleeding, alright? It’ll hurt and then you’ll feel better. Take a deep breath for me, okay? You can do that?”

You nodded and inhaled. It was slow and stuttering as you tried to take in as much air as you could. Buggy waited until you were too focused on breathing before jamming a wad of torn fabric into the leaking wound. He winced as you let out a loud groan and your whole body stiffened in pain.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m all done. You did so good.”

Buggy rushed to comfort you, pressing kisses to your forehead and wiping away the tears falling from your eyes with the back of his hands. Blood didn’t make him nauseous, but the sight of his palms stained red with yours did. Nauseous and nervous.

Your eyes were closed again. He asked you to open them. He asked again. They cracked open just a little. Enough to make him feel better and feel worse.

“Hey, what do you call a lion at the South Pole?”

“What?” Your head tilted and your brows tightened. You were thinking.

Buggy watched your lips move slowly as you repeated his question.

You opened your eyes a little wider and looked at him with as much confusion as you could muster. You shook your head slightly.

“Oh, you don’t know?” he teased with a big grin. A fake smile to keep you distracted. “Keep thinking about it. If you just can’t figure it out, I’ll tell you when you get better. Alright?”

You mouthed an affirmative response, but didn’t make a sound.

“So it’s a deal? You’ll get better and then I’ll tell you the answer. You gotta get better, though, okay?”

Buggy grabbed your hands, hoping you couldn’t feel how he was shaking. He wished he couldn’t feel how cold you were.

You nodded and closed your eyes to think.

#buggy angst #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

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the-torchwood-archive · 2 months

Text

Plant Life by Trevor Baxendale.

Something I find interesting about this story is how often I see people misinterpreting Jack's behaviour in it, especially at the end. They want some sort of relief from him. Some sort of intimate moment. But honestly, I like how it ends. There's no space for intimacy because he's angry with himself. Angry that he missed the signs of an alien invasion because he was too preoccupied with wanting to be soft with Ianto.

Almost letting the world end because you want to protect the person you love. To me that's better than a tender moment. It's very Torchwood. It certainly won't be the last time.

Full text is under the cut. This was a quick transcription, so let me know if I've missed anything.

Gwen skipped lightly through the Hub portal as it ground slowly open. It wasn’t something she did very often. There was usually something to worry about – a midnight text to alert her to an attempted alien invasion or some kind of extra-dimensional incursion through the Rift – and any step taken in the underground headquarters of Torchwood could be a step closer to death.

But not today. Today was different. Today was normal. Properly normal. And nothing was going to stop it being normal.

“Good afternoon,” yelled Captain Jack.

Gwen smiled to herself as she jogged up the steps to his office.

He was sitting back with his boots up on the desktop, a wide, gleaming white smile splitting his face in half, “Nice of you to show up for work today, Mrs Williams,” he continued. “That’s if you actually had doing any work in mind. You could just float around the place looking all love-struck and everything if you’d prefer. It says in the rulebook you can to that in lieu of a honeymoon.”

“Cooper,” said Gwen, still grinning, “I’m keeping my name. Rhys has agreed.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

“Yeah. Said it wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t Gwen Cooper anymore. Besides,” Gwen raised her left hand and waggled her fingers, “this says I’m a Mrs.”

“And what does that say?” Jack pointed a finger at the thing under her left arm.

She looked down as if surprised, “This? It doesn’t say anything. It’s a plant.”

“A plant.”

“Yeah. Spider plant. For the flat. I picked it up from the market this morning on the way in. Do you like it?”

She held out the spindly little plant for Jack to see. He straightened up, a slight look of repulsion on his movie star face, “Not keen on spiders.”

Gwen laughed, following him out of the office and down towards Tosh’s desk space. Toshiko was staring intently at the phalanx of glowing computer screens that constituted her workstation.

“Morning, Gwen,” she said without looking up. Reflections of the monitors flickered in her glasses, “How’s married life?”

“Fantastic,” Gwen told her, gleefully spinning Tosh around in her chair. She skipped after Jack, “I never knew you were scared of spiders.”

“I’m not. I said I wasn’t keen on them. We had a falling out on Janus Prime, spiders and me.”

“Well, this is just a plant, that’s all. No worries,” Gwen plonked the potted plant down on her desk and bounced into her seat.

Jack frowned, “I hope all this post-nuptial bliss wears off soon. I'll have to have a work with Rhys, get him to start leaving his dirty socks on the floor and toe-nail clippings in the bed.”

“Oh, he does that already,” sighed Gwen, “Like I said, no worries.”

“I’m nauseous.”

“I’m in need of coffee,” Gwen rapped on her desktop, “Where’s Ianto? A Monday Morning Special is required.”

“Tea boy’s in the Hot House,” said Owen as he emerged from the depths of the autopsy room.

“Don’t call him that,” Gwen chided, “What’s he doing in there?”

---------------

“My turn to water the plants,” explained Ianto. He was carefully pouring a plastic cup full of water into the soil of a pot plant, his face a picture of care and concentration. Ianto Jones approached every one of his duties with the same level of precision and commitment, whether it was making a cup of coffee or aiming a stungun at a weevil.

The Hot House was the team’s quiet area, a small place of tranquillity in the often frenetic environment of the Hub. It was warm and secluded, located in an angular glass pod overlooking the rest of the base.

Gwen turned away from her view of Jack and caught a glimpse of Ianto’s pinstripe through the foliage, “I thought this was Owen’s thing?”

“Well, I imagine he’s got other things on his mind right now,” Ianto responded, “What with being dead and everything.” He straightened up, observing his handiwork with a high achiever’s critical eye, “Besides, if it’s in the Hub, it’s my thing.”

Gwen walked along the rack of plants, letting her fingers play through the leaves, “These are all alien then, are they?”

Ianto shrugged, “Some of them are, certainly. Spores or seeds that have drifted in through the Rift. We plant them and see if they grow. Most die. There are some plants in the universe which don’t photosynthesise – and they find carbon dioxide poisonous. Others need specifically controlled environments,” he tapped the glass of a large blue bottle, “and ultraviolet light. Some only thrive in absolute darkness.” He knocked on the lid of a large black box. It was completely sealed and impossible to see into, “There’s something growing in here, allegedly.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We can’t. I call it Schrodinger’s plant.”

Gwen stooped to look at a small purple flower embedded in rich peaty soil on the next bench, “What’s this one called? It’s beautiful.”

“Nose Biter,” Ianto said flatly, “It’s carnivorous.”

Gwen jerked back as the jagged petals twitched.

“Not all plants are alien in origin,” Ianto continued as if conducting a tour, “Some come through the Rift from the future and the past. This one is from the Silurian era.” He indicated a large, bushy fern.

Gwen pulled an appropriately impressed face, although she had no idea what he was talking about. She looked at the specimen that Ianto had been watering so carefully when she came in, “And what about that one?”

“Ah, that’s my favourite.”

It was rather plain. Just a thin green stalk and a single, rather nondescript leaf. “Riight,” said Gwen.

“It’s really come on in the last few days,” Ianto explained, “It was practically dead last week. Owen as all for throwing it out, but I believe in giving everyone a chance.”

“Everyone?”

“Thing. Every thing.”

Gwen straightened up, bored. “It’s very nice.”

“All it needed was a drop of water. And a bit of patience.”

“Lovely,” Gwen turned her full beam smile on Ianto. “Any danger of a coffee this morning?”

---------------

Owen didn’t sleep anymore and spent most of his time pottering around the Hub. Captain Jack spent all of his time at the Hub; in fact, his sleeping quarters were located beneath his office, accessed via a salvaged submarine hatch set in the floor. Owen used to think it was just eccentric, but now he understood what it was like to have no life at all outside Torchwood. Or no life at all, full stop.

Nethertheless, no matter how early Owen checked, Jack was always up and washed and dressed before him and ready to greet the day with that big grin, “Morning!” Jack called from his office as Owen stalked up from the calls. He’d been inspecting the Weevil containment locks, just for something to do. He waved at Jack, who signalled back with a cheery flick of The Times. Somewhere above them a pterodactyl flapped lazily around the roof vault.

“Jack! Owen!” Ianto’s voice rang out from somewhere above them. Startled, Owen looked to see Ianto at the top of the spiral staircase leading to the Hot House. He was in his shirtsleeves, but still with a waistcoat and tie – what passed for early morning casual with Ianto.

“Hey, Ianto,” Jack yelled, “What gives?”

“New bud! New bud!” he cried, and then darted back into the Hot House.

Owen and Jack found him peering intensely at his plant – it had already become Ianto’s plant – and pointing, “Look! Just there. It’s a new bug. Isn’t that fantastic?”

They examined the plant. Sure enough, juts by the leaf, there was a tiny, shiny green bulge.

“I wonder where it came from,” Jack mused, “How far across the universe and how many centuries it’s travelled to get here and survive.”

“It’s doing well,” Owen concluded, “I’d almost given up on it.”

“You had given up on it,” Ianto said.

“Maybe I could run some tests,” Owen suggested, “Cross-check the cell patterns with the stuff in the archive. May tell us something.”

“There’s no need to waste your time on that,” Ianto said, “It’s here and it’s alive. That’s all that matters, surely?”

“It’s something to do,” Owen insisted.

Jack said, “Why don’t you check the archives anyway, see if you can find something that fits the description. Ianto can help. It’s going to be a quiet day after all. Tosh is off out and I’m tidying up some stuff with UNIT.”

But Ianto wasn’t listening. He was very gently pouring water into the pot around the base of the plant, watching the soil soaking it up.

Owen shrugged and headed for the exit, “At the double,” he sighed.

---------------

“Do you think it likes coffee?” Gwen asked.

Ianto shook his head, “I doubt it. Too many toxins. At the moment all it needs is water.”

“At the moment?”

“And love and understanding, of course.” Ianto added with a smile.

Gwen laughed gently, “You must have green fingers.”

“Hi there,” said Jack, strolling into the Hot House, “Thought I’d find you here. Everyone wants to know how Ianto’s plant is doing.”

“There’s another leaf coming through,” Ianto said proudly.

“Never a dull moment in Torchwood,” Jack said.

“It’s sort of cute, don’t you think?” smiled Gwen.

“That depends,” Jack replied, “on how much it takes Ianto away from his normal duties. Such as coffee.”

“Good point,” Gwen nodded.

“I’ll get you coffee in a moment,” Ianto assured them. There was a hint of abruptness in his tone that made Gwen and Jack pull a face at each other.

“I’ll get on with my work,” Gwen whispered, heading for the door.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “Me too.”

---------------

“Have you thought of a name for it yet?” Toshiko asked, powering her workstation down for the night.

Ianto school his head, “No pet names.”

“It seems silly not calling it anything,” Tosh insisted gently, “We ought to give it a name.”

“Owen’s been checking through the botanical archives to see if he can find a match,” Ianto said, yawning, “We’ll know what it is if he finds one.”

“You look tired.”

Ianto stretched, leaning back on the old settee, “I could do with some sleep, that’s true.”

“You’re spending all your time here,” Tosh said, “Nothing unusual there, I know. But you looked bushed. Jack won’t thank you for being too tired to work. It may be quiet now, but you know how it is around here. Anything could happen at any time. We need to be ready.”

Ianto dragged a hand down his face, “I know, I know. I’ll go home soon. I’ll just check on the plant first.” He heaved himself up and headed for the Hot House.

---------------

“Well, I don’t really see any harm in it,” Gwen said the next day. They were in the boardroom, Jack playing thoughtfully with a pencil. Gwen sitting on the next, Tosh next to her. Owen was leaning against the double doors.

“You think it’s a hobby?” Jack asked, unimpressed.

“Well, I don’t know much about hobbies.”

“Hobbies are for men,” Owen commented.

“Ianto doesn’t have any hobbies,” Jack said.

“He’s very fond of that old stopwatch,” Gwen said, her eyes full of innocence.

“That’s not a hobby,” Jack insisted.

“It’s only a plant,” Toshiko ventured, “What harm can there be?”

“He’s obsessed with the thing,” Jack said, his voice hardening.

“The plant isn’t poisonous, carnivorous, mobile, or intelligent,” Toshiko continued, “For all intents and purposes, just a plant. I repeat: what harm can there be?”

Jack swivelled around to face Owen, “Have you come up with anything on the database?”

“Nothing. The Torchwood botanical records go back over 100 years. There’s nothing on the computer, the microfiche, the ledgers or diaries that fits the description. We don’t even know what it is. We don’t even know,” he added meaningfully, “if it’s alien.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gwen, “I thought all the plants in the Hot House were extraterrestrial in origin, or at least from another timezone.”

“So we think,” Owen replied, “What proof do we have in this particular case? I should point out that there’s nothing that fits the description of the plant in any Earth records either, but I’ve only been looking for three days and it’s a big job.”

“We could take a cell sample,” Toshiko said, “Put it under the microscope.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t done that already,” Jack cut in.

Toshiko looked momentarily fazed, unused to being reprimanded, even mildly. Jack had spoken softly, but he wasn’t smiling, “I – I just didn’t think it was necessary,” she said, “We’ve been busy with other things. I don’t see what the problem is – Ianto’s looking after his plant, that’s all.”

“She’s got a point, Jack.” Gwen agreed.

Jack sighted and threw his pencil down on the table top, signalling that the meeting was over, “Okay, back to work, people. I’m getting paranoid in my old age. Scat.”

They filed out, but he called Gwen back just before she left, “How did Rhys like the spider plant?” he asked.

She laughed, “Never even noticed it.”

---------------

The plant was looking very healthy. It was a good couple of centimetres taller, and possibly straighter, with two full leaves and the start of a new one. It wasn’t all that big, or even very special looking, but it now dominated the Hot House.

This was partially due to the fact that nearly all the other plants had gone.

Ianto had moved them out of the Hot House one by one. They were stacked on the steps of the spiral staircase and Toshiko had to climb very carefully through the foliage to reach the door to the pod. Inside, more plants had been moved to the floor on the far side, away from Ianto’s own little flower, and many of the racks had been completely cleared.

“Ianto…what’s happened up here?”

“Nothing,” Ianto grunted, straightening after placing the heavy glass bell jar containing who-knew-what by the door, “I’m just making a bit of space.”

“For what?”

“For the plant. It’s getting crowded. It can’t grow properly without light and space.”

Toshiko stepped into the Hot House, which now seemed very bare. Her voice echoed slightly against the glass walls as she spoke, “Does Owen know you’ve done this?”

“Owen?” Ianto repeated, “What’s his got to do with him?”

“Well, he sort of…kept this place going, didn’t he?”

“Owen’s got other things on his mind right now. As I think I have already pointed out.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Jack says you’re obsessed with this plant thing,” Toshiko said carefully.

Ianto smiled, “He’s jealous.”

“Possible. You are giving it a lot of attention though. And it’s just a plant, after all.”

“He worries too much, and so do you. That’s your problem, Tosh. Too much worrying. Sometimes you’ve just got to do what’s right and ignore everything else.”

Toshiko was a little taken aback. She had never heard Ianto speak like this. He didn’t sound hostile, but there was something wrong. She took a deep breath and said, “I thought it was time we took a sample for investigation.”

He looked at her, and saw she was holding a microscope slide.

“You can’t,” he said.

“I only need a tiny piece,” Toshiko said, “I want to have a look at its cellular make-up.”

“You can’t,” Ianto repeated.

He said it simply, and with a smile, but Toshiko didn’t doubt him for a second, “All right,” she relented, “But I’ll have to tell Jack. He asked specifically. At the very least the plant needs to be catalogued, and we can’t do that without a cell sample.”

She left the Hot House, still holding the empty slide, while Ianto carefully added a few more drops of water to the plant’s soil.

---------------

“Hey,” Jack said from the doorway, “Need a break?”

“No thanks. I’m good here.”

“Kinda weird, though,” Jack said, leaning back against the glass that overlooked the rest of the Hub, He took a sip from his mug of coffee, “I mean, you sitting there like that. Doing nothing.”

“I’m not doing nothing,” Ianto stated. He didn’t look at Jack. His attention was fixed on the plant. It was all that was left in the Hot House now, with the exception of the swivel chair Ianto was sitting on, right in front of it.

“Right,” Jack agreed slowly, “I guess I missed that.”

“Yes,” agreed Ianto, “I guess you did.”

“The others are getting pretty worried about you.”

“There’s no need for anyone to worry. We’re fine.”

“We?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, really.” Ianto looked up at Jack, “Really.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He sipped his coffee again and grimaced, “Thing is, we’re all drinking lousy coffee here now. This stuff is disgusting. Tastes like Sontaran dysentery. And believe me, that’s something you don’t want to taste twice.”

“There’s more to life than coffee.”

“What, really?”

“That’s all you think I’m good for, isn’t it, Jack? Making coffee.”

Jack grinned, “Well, I can think of a couple other things you’re good for.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Jack moved further into the room, keeping his hands in his pockets, casual, “Ianto, this has gone far enough. You need a break. You haven’t slept in two days. You haven’t shaved either. And you know what I think of beard rash.”

“Bring me a razor and I’ll shave.”

“Sure. How about a change of clothes too? Because frankly, Ianto, you ain’t as fragrant as you used to be.”

“I’m not leaving. More important things to do in here.”

“Just for ten minutes, then. A comfort break?”

“Don’t need one. Haven’t drunk anything in the last twenty-four hours.”

Something crunched under Jack’s boot and he noticed some tiny pieces of broken glass glinting on the floor behind Ianto’s chair. He stepped carefully over them and leaned on the back of the chair. It creaked slightly but Ianto didn’t move. Jack took a deep breath, “Don’t you think this is all a bit…unusual?” Receiving no reply, Jack squatted down at the side of the chair, speaking softly, “Ianto…I need a cell sample from the plant. We have to check it out, see what makes it tick. I mean, we know it doesn’t actually tick. We just want to find out what it is, what it’s doing.”

“It’s growing. It’s a plant. What else would it do?”

“Well, we don’t know. That’s why we’d like to check it out,” Jack held up a slim rectangle of glass, “I’ve got a slide right here. Let me take a sample and I can get out of here, leave you and the plant alone together. How does that sound?”

No answer.

“Toshiko’s got the equipment ready to do. All she needs is a sample. How about it?”

Still no answer.

Jack moved towards the plant, extending his hand with the microscope slide. Ianto grabbed Jack’s wrist, fast as a rattlesnake. His knuckles were white, but his eyes were red – bloodshot, but wide and alert.

“Don’t touch it,” he hissed, “You can’t touch it!”

Jack tried to pull away, but Ianto held him in a surprisingly strong grip. They struggled against each other for a few seconds until Jack wrenched his arm free, “Goddamnit, Ianto, I’m not fighting you over a plant!”

“Then don’t fight me!” Ianto cried hotly, “Just leave me alone and everything will be fine. Can’t you see that?”

Jack stood up, breathing heavily, “What’s up with your arm?”

“What?” Ianto looked down at his arm, where the shirt cuff had been pulled away to reveal a series of sticking plasters on the white flesh, “Nothing. I had an accident, that’s all. I was moving one of the specimens and the jar broke. Cut my arm. It’s nothing.”

Jack glanced down at the fragments of glass on the floor, “You need to be more careful.”

“I’ll brush it up later.”

“I wasn’t talking about the glass.”

Jack tossed the slide down onto the floor and walked out.

---------------

There was no natural light in the Hub. The Torchwood base was located deep below ground, and there were no windows. It was sometimes impossible to tell the difference between day and night, and this made it very easy to lose track of time. To counteract this, and maintain some vague kind of biological clock, Jack found it useful to dim the lights in the evening, and then turn them right back up in the morning. Ianto had once likened it to life on a submarine. Jack had winked and told him that he’d once spent many weeks onboard a German U-Boat in World War Two, “Technically I was a prisoner of war, but we were submerged for a long time and, well, sailors are sailors the world over.”

That had been in the early days, when Ianto blushed easily, “They’re called submariners,” he’d muttered, “Not sailors.”

Jack smiled at the memory. There was always a hint of the pedant about Ianto. Underneath that soft exterior, there was steel. Very very people got to know that. Those that did usually regretted it.

“He’ll be okay,” Gwen said quietly, joining him by the circular window in his office which overlooked the Hub. It was gone midnight and the vase chamber was in semi-darkness. On the far side they could see the glow of the lights in the Hot House, and Ianto, still sitting there watching his plant, “We’ll find a way.”

“Sure. We could just storm in and drag him out if we wanted to,” Jack sighed, “That’s what Owen wants.”

“Since when did you take any notice of what Owen wants?”

“There has to be a better way, Gwen. I don’t want to hurt him”

“He’ll fall asleep eventually. He has to. That’s what the police do in siege situations. Wait long enough and they’ll just…nod off.”

“Ianto won’t. He’s tougher than he looks. And that plant’s got a grip on him. I don’t know how, but I’m going to bread that grip, Gwen. That I promise.”

“He’s moving,” Gwen said suddenly.

Ianto was little more than a silhouette, but he had got up from his chair.

They both ran out of the office, Jack leaping down the steps to the lower level while Gwen clattered along behind him. Eventually she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt, “Wait!” she hissed, “Don’t rush! He’ll hear us!”

Owen emerged from the cells, looked at Jack and Gwen, glanced up at the Hot House. He realised immediately something was up and shot a questioning look at Gwen.

She raised a finger to her lips, signalling caution.

Jack was already moving up the spiral staircase, as quick and silent as a jungle cat. Gwen followed, trying to match him. Automatically, she reached behind her hip for her pistol, only then remembering that it was on her desk. She glanced behind her, past Owen, and saw Tosh heading towards them as well, pausing only to collect her PDA.

In the Hot House, Ianto was bent over his plant. His shirtsleeve was rolled up past his elbow, and his forearm was extended. The plasters had been removed. There were deep cuts in the flesh, and the blood stood out stark and red against the white skin, running down his wrist. His fist was clenched so the blood came freely, trickling into the soil of the plant pot.

Jack stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight. He felt as if he was intruding on an intensely private communion. Ianto was oblivious, his full concentration on the plant. As Jack watched, a thing proboscis emerged from the plant stem, extending like the tongue of a hummingbird towards Ianto’s arm. It burrowed into the wound, pulsing slightly as it lapped up the blood.

“Bastard!” Jack had seen more than enough, hurling himself across the room, wrenching Ianto away from the plant. Blood jetted into the air as he spun away, collapsing into the waiting arms of Owen and Gwen. They lowered him gently to the floor.

The plant actually hissed.

Jack swept it off the shelf with enough force to send it crashing into the far wall. The pot burst against the glass in a shower of dirt. The plant hit the floor, white roots writhing in the air, groping like a hundred fingers for the scattered soil. Two quick strides took Jack to where it lay. He raised his boot and crushed the plant flat, screwing his feel down until it left a smear of green and red across the floor.

Instantly, Ianto fell slack. His head lolled as Gwen tried to sit him up. Owen was already putting a field dressing on his arm, “Okay, Ianto, you’re all right. We’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

Toshiko scanned the remains of the plant with her PDA, “No life signs,” she reported, “Whatever it was, it’s head. And not before time, I have to say.”

Jack’s lip curled in disgust, “What the hell was it?”

“A plant,” Owen said, “Some time of telepathic species, perhaps, using mind control of the local fauna for protection. It used Ianto to look after it, protect it, feed it. He was nothing more than a slave.”

“He’s all right now, though,” Gwen assured him, “The moment you killed it, I felt him relax, like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s free of the influence.”

Jack turned to leave, “Get this place cleaned up. Get Ianto cleaned up. This room feels dirty now.”

Gwen rested a hand on his arm, “Don’t be hard on yourself. No one knew what to do for the best.”

“Except the plant?”

“It’s gone. We’re still here. Ianto’s still here.”

“What if we hadn’t been alert? What if it had reproduced, spread seeds, got out of the Hub? Imagine a whole planet with those things growing in every park and hedgerow. The human race could have been reduced to mindless slaves doing nothing but feeding blood sucking plants,” He shrugged, then looked back up at his people, This is our life, guys. This is Torchwood. We can’t relax. We can’t hesitate. We have to be ready.”

#torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #owen harper #toshiko sato #gwen cooper #plant life #short story

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severalforraelee · 9 months

Text

The Girls Part 12: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to LAT Images

Word count: 3,446

Written by raelee / Posted August 15

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“They can’t FaceTime for very long, they have a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow morning so they need to go to bed early tonight,” I warn Charles as soon as I accept the call.

“What’s going on, are they okay?” He instantly questions.

“They’re fine, it’s just a checkup. Girls, come say hi to your dad.”

Ada and Lucy run over at the mention of their father. It surprised me how quickly they’ve welcomed him into their lives and normalized him being in it. That’s definitely an advantage of him coming back while the girls are so young, they’re not aware of the entire situation so they don’t have any conflicting emotions about their father’s absence, they just know the love and admiration they feel for him and that he feels for them. And growing up, they won’t really have any memories from before he entered their lives.

“Hi dad,” Ada grins widely, showing off her growing teeth.

“Where are you?” Lucy inquires.

“I’m in Singapore right now,” he tells them. “I can see the ocean. Look, see the water?”

He flips his camera to show the view from his hotel room, palm trees lined up neatly before it cuts off at the sandy beach.

“Ocean,” Ada cheers.

“I’ll take you girls to see the ocean someday, I promise.”

They chat some more, Charles having to ask them what they’re saying a couple of times to fully understand, but then immediately responding with enthusiasm. He takes genuine interest in what they’re saying, even if it’s arguing over who found a bigger leaf at the park today. The way his hazel eyes gleam at the two toddlers through the screen says it all- he loves those girls with his entire heart.

The conversation wraps up after about twenty minutes, the tiredness becoming apparent in Ada and Lucy.

“I love you girls. I know I’m not the best at times, but I try my hardest to be there for you to support you through everything,” Charles’ words are said to Ada and Lucy, but I know they’re really directed at me.

He’s trying to apologize to me without actually apologizing to me. By explaining his actions without saying sorry for how they made me feel, it’s apparent that he feels bad for attempting to pressure me into moving but doesn’t feel bad enough, or maybe he just feels too scared to say the words ‘I’m sorry’ directly. Plus, it’s a little off-putting to give a message to me through our daughters.

“Mommy, I’m going to play with Barbie,” Lucy announces, taking off to her bedroom to play with the new doll Lando sent her.

“Me too,” Ada follows her to play with the similar Barbie that Lando sent her.

“What?” Charles questions as I give him an annoyed look through the screen.

“If you’re apologetic for your actions, just say it. Don’t do this round-a-bout thing where you tell the girls how hard you try to support them. They know that, although they can’t understand it yet, they can feel your love and support. By indirectly apologizing and not actually using those words, though, you’re not supporting them in emotional growth by showing that it’s okay to be apologetic and that it’s okay to show your emotions,” I inform him.

He blinks at me, clearly processing the speech that I just gave.

“Yeah,” he starts, “Yeah, you’re right. To be honest, I feel like I’m not there to help with the girls as much as I should be and then I feel guilty about it, so I thought the solution would be to move in together so that it would be easier. And I thought I was already compromising because we would be moving in together in London instead of in Monaco-””Monaco, Charles? You wanted us to move to Monaco?” I can’t help but interrupt him.

“I did, for a brief second, before I remembered that you have a support system and school in London,” he defends himself, “Anyways, I guess I also wanted you to move in to something more… up to my standards. But I should’ve asked you about it before making such a big decision by myself. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your apology and the explanation. Now that I’m aware of this, I’m sorry for not hearing you out on why you wanted to move in to a bigger apartment and for not recognizing your emotions sooner.”

“Thank you for your apology,” he says. It’s quiet, but his smile slowly grows.

“What? Why are you smiling?”

“You snapped at me,” a laugh accompanies his words.

“Did I? Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so hostile,” I frown, thinking back on my tone. “No, it’s great, it’s always nice to be reminded of where Lucy gets her fire from.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart flutters in my chest at his admiration.

As soon as I set my phone down on the coffee table after the call has ended, it starts to buzz. I peer at it curiously, wondering if the call is from Charles trying to contact me to tell me something that he forgot. It isn’t. It’s from my sister, Flo.

I watch as it buzzes and buzzes. I adore Flo- besides Lando, she’s been the only one to treat me semi-normally since having my daughters. She sends me requests for pictures of the girls every once in a while, she’ll call me to hear about their adventures of the week, and she’ll like all of my posts on social media, even just the stories.

But… I can’t help but feel some resentment towards her. Maybe it’s because she’s the one who encouraged me to attend the race, just to inform me that the whole family bailed, or because she never defended me in front of our family. I just can’t shake the negative feelings no matter how much I know that this situation that I’m in is not her fault. This has grown a very apparent distance in our relationship.

So I watch as her contact picture disappears from the screen, showing that I missed a call from her.

“And lights out, and away we go,” the announcer cheers as the race in Singapore begins.

My eyes flicker to Ada and Lucy who are sitting in front of the TV, dolls laying on the floor in front of them but their eyes are attached to the screen where the fast cars zoom past.

It’s so interesting to see their love for Formula 1 at such a young age. It’s subtle- they don’t pick out orange McClaren hats gifted from Lando or red Ferrari shirts from Charles to wear.

But they’ll put their Barbies in the miniature Alpine cars from Pierre. And they’ll perk up at the sound of the Formula 1 theme song.

“Daddy,” Lucy cheers, pointing as the camera focuses on the red car. Ada looks on in awe.

Truthfully, I can’t tell if it’s Charles or Carlos, it’s always been difficult for me to tell the difference between two drivers in the same car, but I nod.

“Yeah, there’s daddy,” I agree softly.

My heart starts to yearn at the sight of him, which I confirm it is once I see the number on the side of the car, even if he is covered in a helmet and a race suit. I quickly push the feeling down, trying my best to focus on the screen in front of me.

I can’t start feeling romantic feelings for Charles, we just started getting along again. Developing romantic feelings for him would complicate everything. With two toddlers in the picture, what they need right now is stability, not for their mom deciding to ‘go for it.’

So I take a deep breath, watching as the Singapore grand prix goes on and on.

“Let me take a picture to send to daddy, first,” I request of the girls.

They stare at me warily, melting ice cream cones in their hands.

“It’ll be real quick, I promise,” I reassure them. “Smile!”

They smile as I quickly snap the photo, digging into their ice cream messily as I set my phone down. After it buzzes for the third time, I pick it up curiously, knowing that it’s not just Charles responding to the photos because he already informed me that he would be doing media all day for Ferrari.

My eyebrows raise in shock when I see three missed texts from my brother, Oliver.

Oliver: Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while, wondering if you’d be up for a chat later.

Oliver: Flo just told me that she called you the other day and you didn’t answer or call her back. Is everything okay?

Oliver: Here if you need anything

I sigh at the texts. I thought Flo wouldn't really notice or care that I didn’t respond to her call, but she must have if she’s getting Oliver involved. I click on the bubble to text, watching as it blinks.

Truthfully, I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to commit to a phone call with Oliver because I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong. I always talk about what’s wrong- sometimes, I just want space to think about how valid my feelings are without having to talk about them and get them validated by other people.

And the issues with my family are a sensitive topic with Oliver, since he is involved in the situation.

“Uh oh,” Ada’s words snap my focus to her and I see chocolate ice cream dripping out of the cone and onto her tiny fingers.

“Here, let’s wipe it off,” I tell her, locking my phone and reaching in my bag for a wet wipe.

The texts remain forgotten and not responded to.

I think I like Charles Leclerc. I mean like like- like I fancy him.

I haven’t seen him in person in almost three weeks because of him needing to be at the factory and then back to back race weekends, which I think makes seeing him through the screen all the more special. He grins widely on the podium, spraying the champagne at Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez.

Of course this season it’s not rare to see him up on the podium, but everytime it happens sparks erupt in my stomach in pride of how much success he’s having and how proud he must be of himself.

I like seeing that gleam in his eye and that cheeky smile that he only reserves for the camera.

I can’t help but smile myself.

My phone vibrates on the couch next to me and I glance over at it, frowning as Lando’s contact picture pops up.

I know I should answer. I’ve already left Flo’s call and Oliver’s texts unresponded to, and with Lando being my favorite sibling, I should have a soft enough spot to respond to him.

He’s probably confused on why I haven’t been as talkative as I usually am with him lately. Usually before races, I send him a text wishing him luck, but I haven’t done that for this race or last race. And I know I should answer to congratulate him on his P10- a great result for this year's McClaren, but I’m unsure of how the rest of the conversation will go.

I’m sure Oliver and Flo have already told him about how unresponsive I’ve been to them, he’ll probably press me for answers of why that is. But… Lando is the last person I would want to talk about these problems with.

And truthfully, between having to readjust to being a single mom again for these past three weeks and recognizing and dealing with my feelings for Charles, I don’t want to add my baggage with my family onto the stack of things for me to deal with.

So I leave my phone to buzz.

“Go play in your room,” I encourage the girls, watching them run into their bedroom.

My attention returns to my phone screen where Charles’ smile from seeing his two daughters has slowly faded.

“What’s up?” I question, sensing a slightly bothered vibe from his end.

“I can’t be home by tomorrow night anymore,” he informs me, “They told me that if I went from the race straight to the factory for a couple of days, I could have more time off, which means more time to spend with my family.”

I try to take in his words, I truly do, but my brain pauses at two parts.

Home.

My family.

We’re his home, we’re his family.

But once his words process, my heart starts to break. Mainly for Ada and Lucy, who have been so excited to see their dad since he left. Although they see him in the car and understand that it’s his job to race, they don’t understand why he’s gone so long and often, and it breaks my heart to have to explain it to them before every race weekend.

Tears start to pool in their eyes and their noses scrunch up, sniffling. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, it’s okay, I understand,” I tell him. I can’t hide the shake in my voice, showing that although I might understand, I’m still upset by it.

He sighs. “Y/N-””Really, Charles, I get it,” I try my best to stabilize my voice. “Go rest, you must have a long day tomorrow. Have a nice sleep.”

I hang up before he can respond, not wanting to hear whatever he has to say. I know that whatever he has to say will pull at my heart, which will strengthen my feelings for him even more.

And I can’t have my feelings for him strengthened. I need those feelings to dissolve.

My phone buzzes with a text, and then another one. I think it’s from the same person, but when I check my phone I’m surprised that it’s not.

Charles: I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.

Cisca: Oliver, Lando, and Flo told me that you’re avoiding their calls and texts. At least let us know that you’re alright.

I inhale a deep, shaky breath, trying to stabilize my emotions so that I don’t break down.

I respond to one of those texts.

Y/N: I know, Charles.

I snap a picture of the two toddlers resting their hands against the glass, staring up at the sea creatures passing above them in awe. After tagging the aquarium’s location, I post it to my private story, locking the phone and sliding it back into my pocket.

“You see that one, girls?” I kneel next to them, pointing at a whale above our heads. “That’s a beluga whale. They can live up to 50 years old.”

“Scary,” Ada comments, watching it swim past the glass.

“No, no, they’re only scary if you’re mean to them,” I reassure the girls. “Come on, let’s go look at the starfish.”

The girls go to sleep easy and fast that night, exhausted from the day at the aquarium. I’ve curled myself up in a blanket on the couch, some crappy reality TV on in the background when I get the chance to open Instagram again.

A message from Alex Albon is waiting in my DMs. He had responded to my story of the girls at the aquarium.

Alex: They’re so cute! Did they have a nice time? I haven’t been to an aquarium in ages.

Y/N: They had a great time! Next time you’re in town we’ll go 🙂

To my surprise, he responds almost instantly.

Alex: I’d love that. Or you could bring them to see the aquarium in Monaco 😉

I giggle at the message.

Y/N: You’ve been talking to Charles too much

Alex: I have. I’d love to talk to you, Ada, and Lucy more. You should come to Monaco so that we can have a conversation

Y/N: Nice try, Albon

I feel happy about the conversation that I just had with Alex. I was really close to him and a few other drivers when I was a constant presence on the grid, and when I became pregnant and left, I severed all of those connections so that I could hide my secret from Charles more easily.

Now that my secret’s been revealed and I’ll be even more of a presence in the paddock, because I have Ada and Lucy with me now, I’d love to fix those connections. I don’t know where to start, but small conversations like this help, I guess.

My finger taps on the discover page, scrolling through casually. I freeze at a familiar image, tapping on it.

Spill_the_f1_tea: More information has been revealed about Charles Leclerc and Y/N Norris’ supposed twin daughters! An unofficial source has confirmed that they are the Ferrari driver’s children, Lucy on the second slide and Ada on the third slide. The first photo is taken from Y/N’s Instagram story today. The source close to the pair is unable to provide photos of the toddlers faces at this moment. What do you think about this reveal?

My finger swipes between the three photos in disbelief. Who would do such a thing? I know from what I’ve been telling everyone and what Charles has been telling everyone, we’ve wanted to keep this situation as on the down low as possible so that we could figure out how to co-parent before announcing the news and going public with it over winter break.

Tears start to well up in my eyes at the lack of respect towards my children’s privacy. I can’t stop reading the line The source close to the pair is unable to provide photos of the toddlers faces at this moment.

How can a person genuinely type that out and think that it’s an appropriate thing to post? If the parents aren’t posting pictures of the children’s faces, or of the children in general, why would a random person do that?

I sniffle, opening the viewers from my Instagram story that I posted today and taking screenshots so that I can hopefully connect the dots. But I have no clue when those other photos were taken, or where, or by who.

Heck, it could’ve been me who took the photos and posted them two months ago and I’ve just forgotten about it. And now I have no record of who viewed it or screenshotted those photos.

“Hello?” I answer the incoming phone call from Charles, my voice cracking.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks softly.

“A gossip blog just made a post about the girls. It’s information from an unofficial source, Charles, I have no clue who it could be,” I admit, choking on a sob. My chest hurts at the utter betrayal from a friend or family member close to me.

“What account?” Charles asks.

I tell him and it’s quiet as he looks at the post.

“I’m so sorry, Charles.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” he reassures me, “You trusted the people closest to you, the fact that they turned around and stabbed you in the back is not on you, it’s on them and reflects poorly on them as a person. We will find out who sent those photos in, okay?”

I nod, then remember that he can’t see me. “Okay.”

“Are you okay if I make a post? Just to confirm that I am the father of the twins. That’s all I say, I won’t confirm their names or show their faces. I just want to stop the speculation of paternity so that we can hopefully have less prying eyes in the future,” he requests.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay with that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just… don’t reveal all of them to the whole world, yet. Let them make that decision.”

“Of course,” he immediately agrees, “At least this unofficial source didn’t send in pictures showing their faces.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

The phone call ends and I’m left to just sit back, twiddling my fingers and watch Kim hit Kourtney with her purse until Charles does whatever he wants to do for damage control.

My phone pings with a notification of being tagged in a post on Instagram.

charles_leclerc: Hi everyone, Y/N and I share wonderful twin daughters together. Out of respect for their privacy and our own, that is all the information that we are willing to share at this point in time. Please respect that and treat everyone, including the amazing mother of my children, with kindness. Thank you.

Tears begin to escape my eyes again. But they’re not anxious tears, they’re not sad tears, they’re happy tears. I’m happy because of Charles.

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