#i got to the part of the second eternal sadness

[anantaru]

— telling him “i'm glad i didn‘t break up with you that one time”

including scaramouche, diluc, alhaitham, kaveh x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, a little sad (kaveh's part), we‘re so evil

— scaramouche

feathery, fluffy clouds breezily dotted the expanding sapphire blue sky as the incandescent radiant rays of eternal warmth— like fireballs, drifted across the sizzling nation of pristine wisdom.

scaramouche mellowly declined his head into your supple lap while you were indulging your trusted presence on a secluded area a bit away from sumeru city— his hair was deep tinged and glinted eminently, dark indigo locks that were lucently aglow from the smoldering sun riveting your frames.

you can still remember it vividly, the spellbound rays tottering down on your body as you nimbly closed your eyes for a second while carelessly scurrying your hand over his silky hair. It was rather comforting to him and you were aware that your boyfriend must've been immoderately drained from his taxing work load.

and by any means whatsoever, within the strong comfort of the fateful consolatory spot, a— you could say, brilliant yet a shade evil idea transited into the deepest edges of your psyche.

you pretended to listen to whatever scaramouche had to proudly talk about as your hand carried on to gladsomely delve further around his scalp, jovially motioning aimless symbols on his head.

his eyes wander shut at the closeness of you when he idly shifted the conversation into another topic, "this is fine." he speaks mousy— his breathing was fluttery and bounteous with love, yet although his voice was not lined out of lustrous silk, it did not trickle in an even consistent tone, you had treasured it nonetheless and his voice was your glaring favorite. "this— this feels fine."

that was it, the perfect timing, you suppress a devilish grin and got ready for your disguised scheme coming into wicked play, "it really is." you tried to respond in a false articulated stainless voice, "—and i'm so happy i didn't break up with you that one time."

bordering on a comical sight right under where your boyfriend was presently marveling on your lap, scaramouche had now instantly bolted up to meet your eyes in a part spread sight— but now something changed, an expression akin to filtered shock and discontent. "what?"

in all respects, he was done with his spoken words, because what made you want to break up with him in the first place? what instance in your past togetherness had been enforcing those negative, cruel emotions in you that you even thought about it?

it was a hurting, clear thought— additionally pestering him and it was more horrific than anything else pressuring his goddamn mind.

"what, what?" you silently ask beneath the lines of your regulated breathing, scaramouche never looked so lost before and you tightly bristled your lips together in an pursue to not blast your evil cover.

"what did you mean by that?" if he had to choose, scaramouche would rather have someone repeatedly run him over with a carriage than be in this clashing conversation, "you wanted to break up with me?"

to your appreciable surprise, he did not let his inner rage come to broad daylight, rather was he willing to figure out what has been going on that made you think that. Now, with the concern being all written across his pretty features, you felt as if you should come clean before he actually gets a heart attack from your wrongful play.

"tell me what i did, i will fix it—" the compression in his emotions had inflated as you snappily got a hold of his squishy cheeks, instantly cupping his face, "i'm so sorry, i'm messing with you." though you ended up awkwardly laughing with a sorrowful grin as to lighten up the damaged mood, scaramouche's mouthing took a turn— slightly dazed but also fed up, the penetrating gaze of him, previously a tone lower but now plumb with a diverting split on his lips.

"you.." the little mewl exposed more than a simple intrigue, "you will regret this." with an eye on him you leaned forward to kiss your boyfriend but scaramouche was one step ahead. He speedily took both of your wrists in his palm and dropped you on your back— making you lose stability of your body.

"oh, what's gotten into you?" he asks— innocently enough for you to believe it at first before he was puncturing specific places on your stomach, fronting matter to pinch and tickle the skin, "ah!" you cry out, whining at the burn, "i'm sorry i'm sorry!"

"don't do that anymore." scaramouche kept you on edge— exactly where he wanted you to be, "or i'll give you a taste of your own medicine."

— diluc

inside the limits of your prevailing ventures, you so happen to find yourself nonchalantly strolling over to your boyfriends tavern— the angels share, where he was, at this time, in the midst of closing the bar after another successful night.

in related manner was it a regular practice you'd follow closely, it being to do your utmost greatest to spend as much time as possible with your primarily preoccupied partner— granted that it was centrally you both walking home and then falling asleep shortly afterwards in your shared bed, though that alone made it worth it to you.

diluc found himself greatly engaged in properly cleaning up the bar counter and putting away a bottle of unused dandelion wine as you ardently knocked on the door with your signature thumps— so he knows it's you, before letting yourself pass through.

pristinely, diluc did not have to look up to see that it was you entering the bar— for one, as mentioned prior, was it the initial bangs on the large door the both of you had originally turned a habit as a humorous joke, as well as the recognized spreading presence of you being more than enough for him to figure it out.

he composes himself as his warm eyes then, without an ounce of wavering, flicker without delay to wholly greet you with his comforting calm manner, "you're early." he reminds you, thinking out loud, each new articulation of his being thoroughly tempted out in an urged chatter— it's noticeable, how unmistakable worn out he was.

"i told you i'd come visit before you're closing the tavern." you listlessly slant back on the barstool to take a convenient seat and you lively smile at him while diluc carried on to clean a couple of the utensils that had become irksome obstacles yet shyly quelling a spiking sneer in him, unreservedly molding himself into your homely aura, "i'm glad then."

in passing, you idly watched him for a brief while until diluc unexpectedly turned to you again, catching you off guard, "oh, i have something for you." he surprisingly hummed along each new syllable and you find yourself admiring the view in front of you, his face generously shading red, "i saw them and had to take it with me."

you recollect your focus on him when diluc spoke in a charming way that sent a beguiling spike through your pounding heart before you noticed something large in his hand; a bouquet of your most beloved flowers.

his posture stiffened a little— most likely because of a miniature impale of nervousness scurrying through his flaming veins, because what if you end up not liking the well scented, thoughtful gift?

though you had loved it, of course— even more than that and as he was eyeing your reaction up close, sensing how your widened eyes coursed brilliantly as you accepted the flowers in your hands, you gaze at him in a darting loving way, tightly squeezing the bouquet in your right arm to be able to give him a hug and express your utmost gratitude to him— for him, because he simply was the best in your eyes, the most attentive boyfriend to have ever existed.

"I do hope you fancy it." his rippling skin felt comforted back in your cosy cuddle with his large hand being closely pressed on your lower back as he made you turn on him closer. "i love it."

"— and I'm so grateful i didn't break up with you that one time."

well, just hold up a second? what.

"...umm, thanks." he earned yet another eruption of laughter from you though you had roughly closed it sunkenly in you, so diluc wouldn't figure out you're actually not being serious right now, at all.

diluc— though now greatly overwhelmed but rather leaning into a more confused state of mind in terms of your sudden exclaim, manages to huff out a low sigh while bringing his attention back to you, slowly drawing himself away from your close embrace.

for a fleeting spell, you both looked into each other's eyes boundlessly astounded and bowled over— stated in a more frequent type of way; it was in actuality diluc who was looking wholly rendered at loss of words when you tried your dearest to keep your wicked giggles in check.

but then, he talks again, although pumped full with overthrowing worry in his once glowing eyes, "I'm not certain on how to appropriately tackle this conversation." he mumbles while virtually thinking out loud, "can you perhaps tell me what i did wrong so i can get better— get better for you?"

quite frankly, you couldn't take it anymore and soon your whole body was filled with great misdeed, he may not have a clue right now but in total truth you were only trying to get a glimpse of a somewhat saddened reaction out of your boyfriend— which now, might've been a little evil, though, after all, you couldn't really pass up on that perfect presented opportunity.

"you did nothing." you squeal in panic, gently placing the flowers on the bar counter to keep your attention on him, "i'm sorry i was messing with you."

you pretty much fell into his arms and diluc instantly had hugged you right back— though still in shock, his eyes growing in the size of saucers. You lied close into his shoulder and tried to lift the mood with a humane touch of your hands on his back.

"you menace." diluc reveals an adorable sigh as his chest heaved up and down, the shock still lingering deep but a smile minimally lifted at his lips when he turned to hearteningly pant out a shaky heave into your arms. "you absolute menace."

— alhaitham

"and that’s correct." alhaitham kindly affirms towards the region of your direction while being patiently sat before your pretty eyes, fixedly gulping down the nascent saliva in his mouth to enunciate his following words, "—now to the next question."

undoubtably and much to your sweet pleasure, your boyfriend alhaitham took his current, new acquired position, awfully serious!

on the whole, he was an excellent tutor— strikingly perfect for your upcoming exam which had caused you a countless amount of sleepless nights, while he was aware of your struggles, he had put it upon himself to aid you as much as he was able to.

bizarrely to you, he was a bit too serious and stern, bound and determined while forgetting to keep it natural. Yet alhaitham understands and recognizes your strengths, turning it attainable to solicit 100% of your greatest strong point, presenting you with your highest amount of concentration to study.

"how does this look?" you ask, rather confident in your mannerism as you firmly shoved the fully scribbled paper into his close direction. He looks at it with hawk eyes and crinkles his brows a little— that being an usual trait whenever he found himself in large engrossment.

"incorrect but i didn't expect you to figure it out anyways."

unfortunately to you, alhaitham had a— let's say, interesting habit of spelling out his words before actually thinking his sentences through enough, or maybe he modestly didn't give a damn about how he was perceived or presented to the audience, didn't matter to him if the person he was talking to is a stranger or his significant other, you.

one quiet, internal thought ultimately, without sweet decorations, turned into two hellish thoughts and you had yourself wonder if you were even capable to pay him back just a little bit, in your usual, evil fashion.

"that's rude!" you falsely squeal out, fearing he may have a clue on your new doings right away as you dramatically drew your hand above your heart to act out a pain in your chest.

"you asked — i answered." you could clearly see he didn't think his wording was incorrect or maybe a minuscule portion grating, so you decided to sprinkle a little sass on him, "you're right and i'd be lost without you." your eyes innocently trail to his face, "i'm so grateful you're helping me study."

you were on the verge of exploding, really, the tempting laugh was overfilling your insides but you pushed through, ending your sentence at last, "— but i'm even more grateful to myself that i didn't break up with you that one time."

alhaitham quirks a brow but did not face you right away, did you want to argue with him? or were you trying to be funny again? because speaking from past lived occasions, he wasn't new to you pulling one of those particular intrigues at him.

well, then again, what if it wasn't a tasteless, blundering joke? what if, you were serious this time, honestly would he even blame you? after all, alhaitham knew himself better than anyone else did.

"so, a break up?" he leans back into his chair before crossing his arms around his body, slowly eyeing you from your eyes, to your collarbones and back again. "mhm." you agree with a hum, although both of you being sat, he was easily towering over you with his stance alone, only making you fuse further into yourself.

"and when?" in fact, he will not let this die down, he will manage to get everything he required out of you while barely leaving you to gasp for air.

you wonder if he had already figured it out (he did), your eyes skimming over the entire table to bring your heedfulness somewhere else. "umm, i don't know!" the comedic side of it all was extremely whimsical to your boyfriend— and his plan to lure you into where he wanted you to seem to succeed as well.

"look at me." that damned voice change, nothing that you cannot withstand, nothing but that precise grab his gravelly tone color had on you.

right there, you met his doubtless, assertive eyes, unshaken in his own views. alhaitham unhurriedly leans forward into the table while holding eye contact with you, you're watching him, waiting for chaos to unfold or him laughing at how silly it was for you to even try to fool him.

"maybe next time you get lucky." he quickly wipes his tongue over his mouth, "do you know that you're really bad at acting? it's rather comical watching you try."

heavily exhaling the stored air in your strained lungs, you, wholly fed up with him, rolled your eyes at your oh so confident boyfriend who just didn't know when to keep his mouth sealed tight, "oh shut up!"

— kaveh

love and enchantment, a formidable devotion for another, highly arising out of real personal ties and notable attraction.

for kaveh, those meanings were everything and all, the totality all at once.

beyond a trace of a single doubt, it was unmistakable visible on just how much immeasurable energy and serious effort your boyfriend put into having your blossoming relationship as uplifting, easing and heart warming as possible.

you're his absorbing soulmate and his riveting gratitude and love for you— which he most definitely conveys through those honeyed, dreamy smiles on his plump lips, were sticking out a mile.

from all accessible appearances, one might as well pick up on the nurturing connection that is shared by you lovebirds and how kaveh would always come up with newfound actions to have it shown to everyone in many different varieties.

tonight, it was outside of sumeru city— on top of a idyllic meadow, with the boundless sky being set ablaze by the setting sun right above you, soon to follow was the pale, ashen crescent turned moon, vividly luminous like a silvery claw and fuck, that glittering glow in your eyes as you watched from afar, kaveh wasn't sure if he could fall in love with you even deeper than he already was.

"this is so pretty." the fresh feeling of your body thoughtlessly sloping back into the consoling ground locked out each and every paining worry from your gladdening thoughts.

"i knew you'd like it, i just knew—." kaveh keeps himself from embarrassingly tumbling over his own spoken words, his nails now clawing into his palms and leaving marks— it might've been the nervousness, he fears, although you both had been together for a good while he can catch himself quite frequently becoming shy in his mannerism.

but his phraseology meant nothing, his passing wordage, blank.

there could be sure up to a million and one descriptions to intently describe this current moment happening yet nothing would ever explain it how he saw it, how he perceived you.

aside from that, you also breathed fresh life into his somewhat monotone one, with your sneaky intrigues keeping him on edge the whole time.

"this was a good idea." you're revealing a soft glare to him, a hidden one that from the outside, appeared to be angelic and endearing, though from the inside— salted away an evil plan that was camouflaging your entire mind for the whole day.

call it stowed up curiosity or simple boredom of your person, but you cannot keep yourself from passing up on it, longing to witness kaveh leaving his protective, calming bubble for once in a while.

sure, obviously, he could get mad at you, aggravated or purely stare at you through dead, saddened eyes, but then you'd always be there to make it up to him, in your own charming ways.

kaveh plushly lays on the warm ground before idly securing one of his hands under his head, uncaringly bolstering himself up, "this reminds me of something." you suddenly claim in the direction of your lover so he can hear you, no matter what, "of what?"

in the general run of things you couldn't help yourself but smile at how quick kaveh could get fascinated or absorbed on a random topic you unhurriedly throw into his course of line— no care in the world on what it was, but if you don't tell him and keep the desired answers away, he'd regularly think about it, day on day, until you do end up saying it out loud— which you then, do. "ah, it's nothing!"

"— i'm just glad i didn't break up with you that one time, you know?"

.. silence ..

"..."

"..."

"..."

"kaveh?"

"..."

you might enquire some sort of exclaim or wonder now, did he pass out or? no silly, of course not! it did feel like he was about to suffer from a large heart attack though.

"b-break up?" he soundlessly mutters, panic, immense panic, if he can afford to say anything coherent at all but he was as still as a mouse, indistinct, until ..

"as in, breaking up? a BREAK up?!"

"oh it's nothing." you hushedly wave your hand in front of his anxious face, without concern leaving yourself to fall back and carry on to glimpse up at the moonlight sky.

"what do you mean n o t h i n g?"

"this is tERRIBLE." - "utterly TERRIBLE." deficient panic pitifully munched on your boyfriends entire being, deeply festering itself into the pitched shadows of his now darkened heart.

"wait please stop." your words did not hit him, it's like he turned himself on autopilot, his eyes large as he looked into the distance, muttering something underneath his pebbly pants which you couldn't decipher what he was babbling over. "it's a joke, please look at me."

no because maybe you did go too far and after encircling your arms around kaveh's body you held him close to you, so the repeated knocks of your heart could be sensed by him.

"i'm sorry i will never do this again." you are met with his— now glassy laced, scarlet eyes, not once does he speak anymore, because quite frankly, for a second he was scared to his very core, in a frenzy, because life without you, is no life at all, no substantial vitality.

but then, a tone of him, irregular and broken, "don't do this." - "again."

you mildly wipe the warm tears off his face and lovingly keep a couple kisses on his forehead— left cheek, right cheek, his cute nose and ultimately finished your sweet attention on his soft lips— that always tasted like roses and felt so tender on top of yours, easily crawling yourself into his lap.

"i'm sorry, i love you and i'd never break up with you, ever."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #alhaitham x you #kaveh x you #scaramouche x you #diluc x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfiction

[cheesiedomino]

Second chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

#skz fluff #lee know fluff #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know x reader #lee know skz #lee know x female reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #stray kids fluff #skz drabbles #lee know drabbles #lee know scenarios #lee know angst #lee know smut #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz angst #skz au

[astraystayyh]

Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.  

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night…  And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.  

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

 It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.  

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you. 

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."  

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish. 

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish. 

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved. 

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you. 

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode. 

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his. 

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too. 

✹✹✹

You are being distant. 

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam. 

And it's his fault. 

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were. 

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you. 

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you. 

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back. 

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you. 

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features. 

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again." 

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him.  "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes. 

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you." 

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin. 

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?" 

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad." 

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault." 

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong. 

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you. 

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere. 

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means. 

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you. 

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return." 

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him. 

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his. 

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?" 

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?" 

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too." 

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?" 

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too." 

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace. 

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore. 

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness. 

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known. 

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars. 

You should've known. 

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss. 

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him. 

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t. 

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily. 

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. 

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him. 

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch. 

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it." 

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest. 

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him. 

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it." 

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking. 

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly. 

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.  

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.   

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today." 

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

 Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination. 

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes. 

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz hurt/comfort #stray kids hurt/comfort

[soapsbaby]

Goodbyes

Summary: How you and your CoD partner would spend the last day and night before they have to go off on a mission.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: SFW Themes: Angst, sadness, softness, no warnings needed Word count: 1300ish

Ghost

He’ll try to push you away, as if that would make it easier for both of you.

Once he can tell that he just makes you upset, he apologizes and makes sure the two of you get to do whatever you want to, usually you prefer to just get takeout with him, stay in bed and cuddle.

To him it’d be easier to not do that, it makes him miss you even more, but he does it for your sake. He knows that if something bad happens to him that you’ll be the one who suffers most, so he makes sure your feelings are prioritized.

He makes sure to say goodbye to you at night so he doesn’t have to wake you up in the morning and make leaving even harder on his part. He tries to be stoic about it but he hates every second of it, especially if you fall asleep on top of him and he has to gently shove you off and then just leave you behind.

Soap

He will absolutely not leave your side at all, trying to make the most out of your last hours together. No matter where you go, he’ll have a hand around your waist, is constantly kissing you and showering you in affection.

He tries his very best to be as cheerful as possible even though it’s hard, but he hates seeing you worried or sad. 

Before he leaves in the morning he makes sure he has something prepared for you, he puts flowers in the kitchen for you to find, notes on the mirror. You’ll also almost always wake up to a voice message on your phone by him, telling you that he loves you and that he’ll be back as soon as possible and there’s always a suggestion on what you will do, whether he wants to take you to a fancy restaurant he heard about or some nice café.

König

He gets quiet. His anxiety almost always tells him that something terrible will happen to either you or him once he leaves and the thoughts slowly drive him insane until he leaves and his brain switches into work-mode.

Even though he doesn’t really talk to you about it, you can tell that it bothers him and so usually you are the one trying your best to cheer him up. It also helps when you plan things you will do after he comes back and not even let the possibility that he might get hurt become an option. Oh, it’ll be just a week until you’re back, I might as well book the cinema tickets right now, right? 

He has a hard time expressing it, but he is eternally grateful for how casual you are on the outside even though you are of course freaking out as well. His job is really, really dangerous and him not coming back is always unfortunately a possibility.

He'll cuddle you to sleep and kiss you in the mornings, softly telling you that he loves you.

Price

He always makes sure to treat you to a nice dinner before he leaves, to leave a good impression, as he puts it. This can mean that you go to a nice, upscale restaurant, but he also loves cooking at home for you. He loves providing for you in general but the days before missions are the ones where he goes all out, going to the market for the fanciest ingredients and making sure you have an appetizer, main course, dessert and whichever expensive wine fits the meal the most.

He’s usually in good spirits before missions and not too worried about his wellbeing which rubs off on you. He is confident that nothing will happen, so you are too. 

You get up with him so you can have an early breakfast and spend some time talking before he has to leave.

Gaz

It hits him so much harder than it hits you. Not even because he is afraid that something will happen to him when he’s gone, just because he hates being apart from you for so long. 

If he got his way you’d just spend all day in bed, his face buried against your chest and rubbing his back but you usually try to at least get him out of the house a little bit, go for a walk or grab a coffee somewhere.

He is always affectionate but those days you won’t be able to get rid of him, not that you want to. He just needs as much reassurance as you can give him.

He really struggles getting out of bed in the morning, usually he’ll roll over to you again and kiss you awake, telling you he doesn’t want to leave and how much rather he’d stay with you. It doesn’t matter whether he has to leave earlier than you, usually you`ll get ready with him, giving him as many hugs and kisses in the process and sending him off with a smile. He doesn't have to know that you break down once he has left.

Rudy

The day before is always reserved for a family party, a barbecue or some other get together. He goes away often so not his entire family will come over every time but there’ll always be someone there. His family is incredibly important to him and he also feels much more secure knowing that you have a good relationship with them so you are taken care of if something were to happen to him. 

Once it becomes evening, though, he will make sure that he can focus on you and you only. Usually you won’t do anything “special” but he makes sure to take his time to talk to you, to make sure you are alright and that there is nothing on your mind that you are not telling him. There is nothing more important to him than clear communication and making sure he is on good terms with all of the people he loves before leaving for a mission.

You’ll fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way, he would never leave before saying goodbye to you. Usually you’re still sleepy and he’ll kiss you goodbye, tuck you back in and let you keep sleeping.

Alejandro

He tries his very best to be as casual before missions as he can, going through his regular schedule and not to make too big of a deal out of it, but you can tell that he is giving you more affection than usual, being a little more touchy and telling you how much he loves you even more than he does otherwise. 

He’ll make sure that everything is taken care of before he’s gone, taking you grocery shopping before and stocking up on everything that you might need. He also makes sure you pick up extra on some items to make the time easier for yourself, a good book, some snacks, maybe a bottle of wine. 

He is a true romantic at heart but he keeps the special dates and occasions away from your last days, it feels like bad karma otherwise.

He’ll make sure you are comfortable getting to sleep and that he has told you a million times that he adores you, that he’ll be back so soon and that you don’t have to worry one bit.

Valeria

She tries so, so very hard not to show it, but she is terrified every time she leaves that it will be the last time she gets to see you. Hell, she might not even get hurt but she might get caught and go to jail for the rest of her life.

She always makes sure that she has her affairs in order before she leaves, makes sure that you have access to everything you need so you can get away safely and not be punished for your connection to her. 

She’ll be extra affectionate, making sure that you know that she loves you and also making a point that she would never be mad at you for denying any connection you have to her if she gets into legal trouble. 

She treats every goodbye like it might be your last one, kissing you like she never gets to again and spending the entire night holding you. 

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #valeria garza x reader #captain price x reader #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #so sorry for alex being in the gif and now being written #i just don't know enough about him at this point to feel confident writing him sorryyyyy #ari writes

[margoshvets]

Redesign / Alliance fit for Theron!

I was kinda sad that our husband didn't get a new design like our wife Lana did, so I decided to try to make something nice for him✨

Not that I don't like his original design. I just wanted to try something different.

(I got too tired drawing, so that's why he doesn't have a face XD)

I'll be describing some details of this design below if anyone is interested to read about them!

A little bit of warning. There is some headcanon / fanon stuff here, and, also, the opinion on some stuff is just my opinion, and you don't have to agree with me. Please don't be too harsh to me. I just wanted to have fun UwU

For the lower part of his body, I mostly got rid of a bunch of details, like the blue stripes on his pants, to make it simpler (in contrast with the upper part, which has some interesting stuff going on).

Got rid of those hanging things on his belt cuz they seemed pretty redundant, and I couldn't think of what they could be used for. Belt, in general, is more simplified. As a cherry on top, he now has the alliance symbol on it ✨

I added the metal thing, which I like to call "magnetic plate", on his right leg, and it's basically for carrying stuff like his datapad, keys, Eternal Fleet ashes, etc.

(I do remember seeing a similar thing in imperial designs, but I'm not sure what it's called)

Since he relies on tech a lot, he now has a fancy new toy - the glove on his left hand! Very useful thing for operating stuff and also hacking!

Remember that scene when we get our ship back, and Theron just presses something on his very regular glove? I always found it amusing. Not it will make more sense since he now actually has a suitable glove for this kind of action XD

[the scene in question]

He now hides his blasters inside his jacket (hence the belts on his upper part).

The jacket is a pretty memorable part of his design. It looked really good with a yellow color, but it's hard to imagine him wearing a jacket that isn't red.

I have to admit that a lot of new stuff in that thing was added based only on my headcanons. Mostly because I wanted to add an interesting story to it.

(A little bit of explaining is in order) Theron is a chilly person; he often feels like it's cold even if the room temperature is normal. Tauntauns are also his favourite animals.

This jacked is a gift from a very dear person to him. They knew all that and that's why they gifted Theron a warm jacket made with Tauntaun's fur (no tauntaun was harmed in making this jacket).

That person is no longer alive, but he still holds on to this jacket like it's his second skin; it's very important to him.

Anyway, the white parts of the jacket are now fur. And the fur inside only extends to shoulders (having natural fur already sounds too expensive for a republic soldier salary it was bought with). It's still warm tho. Sleeves have fur only at the ends and have zippers so that they can be easily folded back.

This jacket also can be closed (sounds kinda pointless stating the obvious, but in comparison with his original jacket, to me at least, makes sense cuz I can hardly imagine the original one closing).

Almost forgot.

A turtleneck for Theron. It just makes sense.

#star wars the old republic #star wars #sw art #swtor #swtor art #theron shan #swtorlightlegacy

[azrielsdove]

Thank you all SO much for the love on this story!! I got a little carried away, and pt. 2 ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it 💕

Read Pt. 1 Here

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Smut, 18+

The High Lords: Pt 2

You stared in shock at the High Lord in front of you. “How long?” you finally whispered out, a slight shake to your hands. “How long have you known?” Rhys looked down at the ground before answering, “Since the very first time we met.” His eyes darted back up to take in your expression, unsure of how you would react.

And you certainly didn’t know how to react to that.

“Since the first time we met,” you muttered, tasting the words on your tongue. “For over one hundred years, Rhysand, you have known this life altering information? Never once did you think to share it with me? To make a move before now?” You nearly spat out, sudden anger taking over. Rhys took a step back in surprise at your reaction. “You’ve left me here to suffer under him, knowing you could have saved me the whole time?” You practically shouted at him as your hands clenched into fists. He rose his hands in surrender, so similar to just an hour before.

Yet everything had changed since then.

“I didn’t know if it would snap for you! I didn’t know if you would even accept it. If that was what you had wanted. Tell me, would you have come if I had mentioned it that first day?” Rhys spoke, an anxious bite tracing his words. “You don’t get to tell me what I would or wouldn’t do! I let you have your way with me tonight, did I not? Why wait so long then, if you didn’t want to tell me right away!?” The heat of your anger was swirling through you, the feeling of betrayal tight in your chest. “I didn’t want you to feel forced to be with me,” He said quietly, a sadness on his face, “I wanted you to have a choice. I didn’t know if you even liked me, or if you were just being polite. I had to be sure your brothers hatred didn’t continue into you.” He ran a hand over his face. “Thats why I suggested that bargain all those years ago. I only wanted the truth between us. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure the news wouldn’t bring all of Prythian to the ground.” Rhys caught your eyes with his. “I have not enjoyed knowing how Tamlin treats you here. I have been trying to find a way back. Him refusing to let you come tonight was my final straw. I wanted to come the second he began talking of marriage, but you seemed to handle that just fine on your own.” A smile traced his mouth as he said that last part. You felt the anger subsiding, beginning to understand why he waited. What if he had told you too soon, and you went to Tamlin immediately? What would that have meant for the state of the world? A war between courts was not desirable, and the anger of your brother was not one to cross. You understood he had to let you come into your own and trust that you weren’t completely under Tamlins wing anymore.

You let out a sigh, hands relaxing by your sides. Rhys took a cautious step towards you, trying to read your face. “We can’t tell him tonight.” You stated, locking your eyes with his. “We have to be careful how we do this. We have to create a plan. You’ll have to go home for now.” Your voice shook on the end and you felt embarrassed at your emotion. You’d survived without Rhys plenty of times before, you could do it again. His hands slowly reached out and grabbed yours. “I know. Soon you can come with me. I’ll never let him hurt you again”, he pressed his lips to your forehead as he spoke. You squeezed his hands tightly before looking up and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “My mate,” you murmured at him, eyes full of mischief. His matched yours, certainly thinking of all the trouble you two would get into. “Perhaps i’ve waited too long to hear those words from you.” Rhys said sorrowfully, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You leaned into his touch and your eyes fluttered closed. “You have the rest of eternity to hear me say them.”

***

Rhys left shortly before the sun began to rise, knowing Tamlin would be expecting you at breakfast. You felt like a piece of your heart was breaking when he was gone, suddenly feeling empty. It was just temporary, you reminded yourself, as you figured out what to do about Tamlin. As much as you would love to just go with Rhys and let Tamlin figure it out, you knew that would only harm the people of the Spring Court. They needed their High Lord, and you didn’t want to completely abandon your brother.

Yet.

You raced back up the the manor, hoping to have time to change and look like you had just woken up from a peaceful night alone. You ran through the same back entrances you had left from hours before, making it into your room minutes before your ladies would come wake you. You tore the Calanmai dress off and washed your face quickly, braiding your hair down. You had just slid your nightgown on and slipped between the covers when the knock came at your door. “Come in!” You spoke, yawning loudly. You struggled to mask your surprise at Tamlin standing there, and not one of your ladies. His eyes were downcast, focusing on the doorknob in his hand. He cleared his throat before speaking, “I wanted to come apologize. I know how much you love Calanmai, and it wasn’t fair-“. His words halted once he looked up at you. You kept your face expressionless, internally worrying about what made him stop. He clearly didn’t know you had snuck out or he wouldn’t be here apologizing, so what had you missed?

“What. Is. That?” He hissed out between clenched teeth, practically running to your bed. Your eyes widened, having no idea what he was talking about as he grabbed the side of your face and turned your head. You felt his fingers trace behind your ear and down your neck. “Who did this?” He spat, turning your face to look at him. You shrugged out of his grasp, crossing your arms. “What are you talking about, Tamlin?” You asked, annoyance clear on your face. He gave a cold, humorless laugh. “Do not lie to me, Sister. Did you disobey my direct orders last night? Thinking it was okay to go whore yourself out in the midst of several marriage contracts!” He shouted, standing to his full height. You stood too, anger pouring over you. “Marriage contracts?! You are going to force me to marry one of those horrid men you’ve chosen, aren’t you? You’re disgusting Tamlin!” You shouted back as he rolled his eyes. “I’m not having my unwed sister waltz around my home wearing lovemarks all over her neck!” He roared, claws appearing at his nails. His words stun you into horrified silence, realizing you didn’t even think to check if Rhys had left a mark on you. You silently cursed, running towards your mirror. Your face paled as you took in the dark purple bruises on your neck, perfect bite marks littering your skin.

This was definitely not a part of the plan.

You heard your door slam behind you as Tamlin left and you sucked in a harsh breath. You knew breakfast was going to be a long and torrid affair.

***

“No! Tamlin you can’t!” you cried, a few hours after your argument that morning. He stared back at you, no emotion on his face. “It is already done.” He spoke coldly, ignoring the tears that ran down your face. “I won’t do it. You can’t force me to!” Your body was shaking, your mind unable to fully process what your brother had thrown at you. He stood suddenly, towering over you. “I can. I am your High Lord, Sister. If this is what it takes to keep you safe, then this is what I will do. You will understand me one day.” His words were harsh, unfeeling. “You were supposed to be my brother. My friend. What happened to you, Tam? What happened?” You sobbed out, heart aching as you sunk to your knees. There was a time when you trusted him with everything and loved him fully. When you were younger the two of you would run around the manor, playing and laughing. You were often in trouble with your father, and Tamlin was always there to defend you. You don’t understand what happened to him. He has become a cold and cruel man that you don’t recognize.

You saw a flash of hurt go across his face, and he kneeled down to you. He pulled your hands into his, voice softer and kinder. “I will always love you. It is that love that forces me to do this. To do anything to protect you.” You looked up into his eyes, desperately searching for the brother of your past. “If you love me, you won’t do this. Please, please Tam. Please don’t do this to me.” Your words were quiet, full of the pain you were feeling. He sighed, looking down at your hands. “You’ve left me with no choice.” Was all he said before standing up and leaving the room. Leaving you. You knew he didn’t realize this was his final betrayal against you. That this was the end of the relationship you had. As insufferable as he had become in recent years, the fact broke everything in you. He was your brother no longer. Now, he was your cruel High Lord, too caught up in his own paranoia to realize he was killing you.

It was Lucien who found you there some hours later, folded into yourself on the floor of the study. Your tears had dried up by then, leaving a soulless gaze behind. He dropped next to you and grabbed your face, pulling you to look at him. “What happened?” He asked harshly, his eyes full of panic. “What did he do?” He said so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear him. “He’s forcing me to marry. He already has it settled. He isn’t giving me a choice.” Your voice was hoarse from hours of screaming. You knew Rhys wouldn’t let this happen, but you didn’t know how to tell Tamlin of the mate bond now. You didn’t know what to do without causing a potential war between courts. Tamlin would never listen to you, he would be convinced Rhys had take control of your mind. That it wasn’t true. There was no way his sister could be mated to him.

Lucien’s whole body radiated with anger coursing through him. “He. What.” He gritted out, hands falling to hold your arms. “He would not stoop so low. Why would he suddenly decide to do this?” He spoke, mostly thinking out loud. You simply pulled your hair off you neck to show Lucien the marks that remained. You heard the sharp inhale of breath before his hand lightly touched them, cursing. Yet when you looked at him you saw a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. You were struggling to find the humor of this situation as you glared at him. He laughed, saying “Now don’t look at me like that. I’m just glad you were able to enjoy yourself. He will come around. Forcing you into a marriage is below him. I’ll talk to him. I’ll do everything I can, okay?” He kissed your cheek and pulled you to your feet. “Come. You need some food and a strong drink. I won’t let him bother us.” Lucien lead you from the study, ready to help you fight for your own life back.

***

It was very late on that same night when your room suddenly filled with shadows. You shot up in your bed in panic, mouth opening to yell for Lucien. “No need, My Lady.” A soothing voice stopped you, a male stepping out of the shadows. “My name is Azriel, I was sent by Rhys. I am here to help you.” He told you, stepping closer. You studied him, trying to decide if he was a threat or not. “Why could he not come himself?” You asked, still on guard. The male, Azriel, gave a small smile. “Your brother has wards set, Rhysand can not come in and out as he wishes. He was only able to come last night since Tamlin was…distracted. Otherwise he would be alerted the second Rhys crossed into this court, much less into his home.” He explained. You suppose that made sense, and were not surprised that Tamlin had such wards set. “Does he know?” You spoke in a small voice, eyes filling with tears. Azriel came closer, sitting on the edge of your bed. “He does,” he spoke cautiously, “And it was all we could do to convince him not to show up here and kill your brother.” You bowed your head, the tears threatening to fall. You did not want to cry in front of this male you just met. He seemed to notice regardless, trying to comfort you. “He will not let this happen. He would tear this whole court apart before allowing you to be wed to someone else. He knows this situation is precarious, but if you say the word he will be here in an instant.” You looked back up at him, swallowing thickly. “I have to tell Tamlin. I have to try to make him understand.” You said, even though you never wanted to speak with your brother again. Azriel nodded, standing up. “I can’t say long. If you need anything, call for Rhys. He will send me back here in an instant to get you.” He bowed his head to you before the shadows swirled again and he was gone. You laid back in your bed, mind racing. You had to tell Tamlin in the morning. First thing.

You could only hope that anger wouldn’t turn him into that beast of his.

***

You were awake before anyone else, dressed and ready. You snuck out of your room the second the sun started filling the sky, running to Lucien’s. You didn’t even knock as you went in, startling his still sleeping form. “What is it?” He asked, voice thick with sleep. “I have to tell you something.” You answered, coming to sit next to him on his bed. “Something more important than anything we have discussed before.” That sparked his interest. He sat up quickly, all sleep gone from his eyes. “You have my full attention.” He said, face serious. You took a deep breath before starting, “Rhysand is my mate.” You paused for a second, letting the information wash over him. His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded for you to continue. “I found out on Calanmai. He had snuck in, and the bond snapped.” You did not miss the way his eyes flickered to the fading marks on your neck, laughter shining there. “I have to tell Tamlin. Today. I had planned to do it slowly, to prepare him better. To hopefully find him in a good mood. This marriage contract has ruined everything. I can not stay here, Lucien.” You grew quiet on the last sentence. You didn’t want to leave Lucien, your dearest friend. He reached over and grabbed your hands, as he had done so many times in the past. “Hey,” he said softly, “I understand. You’ll never truly be gone from me. I’ll visit as often as I can.” He gave you a sad smile, clearly not excited about losing you. You brought his hands up to your face, pressing soft kisses on them. “You’re my best friend, Lucien. I do not know what I would have done all these years without you.” When you looked up at him, both of your eyes were lined with tears. You both lunged to pull the other in for a hug at the same time, holding each other close. “I’ll be by your side the whole time. I won’t let him hurt you.” He whispered into your ear before you broke apart. You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak right now. He rose to get changed, telling you he would meet you at breakfast.

***

You could melt through the floor. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, hands cold and shaking. Lucien set next to you at the table, trying to console you. You were barely processing his words, knowing Tamlin was going to walk in at any moment. All the bravery you felt earlier was gone.

You heard him clear his throat at the doorway, catching both yours and Lucien’s attention. You stood immediately, knocking over the dishes on the table in your haste. Tamlin raised an eyebrow at you, noticing something was wrong.

“Tamlin,” you started, voice much weaker than you wanted. “I-“ he raised a hand to cut you off. “No. I am sorry, Sister. I am sorry for how I have acted. It isn’t fair to force you into a marriage contract without your opinion.” He spoke, and you felt your heart perk up. Maybe he was coming around, maybe he would be able to understand- “That is why i’ve decided you can choose whichever of the candidates you like best. I will arrange meetings with as many as you wish.” Your jaw dropped at the self congratulatory tone of his voice. Tamlin seemed to be taken aback at your lack of a thank you, eyes testing you. “That’s not really a win, Tamlin.” You seethed, nails digging into the table. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I am trying here. I am trying to compromise.” He threw his hands up, going to sit in his chair. “Forcing me into marriage is not a compromise. Besides,” your heart was going faster than you ever felt it, “I will not be marrying anyone you have chosen for me. I will be choosing my own. I know who he is already.” You said, voice gaining strength. Tamlin looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” His voice was sickly sweet. “Who is the lucky male then? Is it our Lucien here? Is he the one who left those marks on your neck? I always thought I let the two of you get too close.”

You felt Lucien stand next to you, slamming his hand on the table. “Enough,” he said, voice dangerously calm. “It is time you listened to your sister, Tamlin. It is best to hear what she has to say.” Tamlin struggled to hide the anger and shock on his face at the two of you directly defying him. He waved his hand, saying “Fine. Continue then.” You took a deep breath, letting the truth fall from your lips; “I have met my mate. On Calanmai.” You said slowly, watching for any reaction from Tamlin. He sat straighter, eyes boring into you. “And who, pray tell, is your mate?” You didn’t miss the quiet rage in his voice. You stood as straight as possible, forcing your face into an expression of pure calm.

“Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.”

What happened next would be written in history books as one of the worst Spring Court fights of the last five hundred years.

Tamlin stood and roared, claws appearing immediately. “”Liar!” He yelled, digging deep marks into the table. “I won’t listen to this pure ridiculousness.” His words echoed around the room as you took a step back, hitting Lucien’s chest. Lucien pulled you behind him, sword drawn and pointing at Tamlin. “Now, Tam, let’s not act drastically-“ he began, cut off by another roar as Tamlin began changing into his full beast form. “Not act drastically?! My sister thinks her mate is that asshole!” He gave a barking laugh. You pushed back in front of Lucien, the anger at his insult to Rhys overshadowing your fear. “You have no right to insult him, Tamlin!” You shouted, clenching your hands into fists. “He’s twice the man you’ll ever be! He’s brave, he’s kind, and he would never treat me the way you do. You’re a monster, Tamlin!” You knew you shouldn’t provoke him, you knew you were in danger. You didn’t process the claws coming towards you until they ripped through the side of your face and neck. Lucien gave a yell, pushing you back behind him and swinging his sword at Tamlin. You barely heard him yelling for the guards, getting as many reinforcements to calm the High Lord as he could.

Your hand shakily rose to the blood pouring out of your face, stomach churning when you pulled your hand away and saw it painted red. You looked back up at the monster who used to be your brother, mind going blank with rage. You grabbed a knife off the table and ran up at him, stabbing him cleanly in one of those massive paws. Tamlin let out a roar of pain, the other paw coming to slash through your chest before kicking you across the room. You felt your body crack against the wall before thudding to the floor. You were gasping for air, realizing you couldn’t breathe. Your hand went to the slashes through your chest, understanding he had gone through to your lungs. You saw your vision darken around the edges, panic setting in as you realized you were dying. Your brother truly would be the one who killed you. You desperately shouted for Rhys in your mind, hoping he had heard you as you lost consciousness.

***

Rhysand burst into the manor with the rage of a thousand moons. He raced right to Tamlin, taking the beast down with a wave of dark power. “You,” he spat through his teeth, “You are killing her. In your own rage, you would murder your sister. You’re despicable.” The beast tried to fight against the dark magic surrounding him, no match for Rhysands power. The sentinels finally rushed in, enough to keep that beast to the ground. They started to point their weapons at Rhys, unsure of what was going on. Lucien stood in front of him, hands up. Blood was pouring from his hairline as he spoke, “Not him. Not him. Tamlin did this.” The sentinels looked at each other before training their weapons onto the beast trapped on the floor. Rhysand nodded at Lucien before turning to your broken shape on the floor. He ran to you, scooping you into his arms.

You weren’t breathing.

Rhysand let out a scream of pure anguish, shooting you up into the sky before winnowing straight to the Night Court. He dropped into the House of Wind, screaming for anyone to come. Azriel and Cassian came running, faltering at the broken body in his arms. “Healers. Call the healers.” Rhys gasped out, still feeling the ever fainter tug at the end of the bond. “Stay with me. Stay with me,” He whispered into your hair, holding your body close. “Do not leave me now. Please.”

***

Some time had gone by since that fateful morning. Tamlin was restrained by Lucien and the sentinels until he could control his anger enough to turn human. Lucien wanted to yell at him, curse him to the ends of the world for what he had done. Yet when he looked at the broken form of his once friend, he didn’t feel like being around this pathetic mess any longer. He informed Tamlin that he resigned as emissary, and he didn’t wish to see him anytime soon, if ever again.

The Spring Court fell to shambles for a time after that. Tamlin ended up coming back somehow, finding a way to fight to keep his people protected. It would never be as grand as it once was though. The view of the Spring Court High Lord was greatly diminished after the attack on his own sister.

Lucien came to find Rhysand in the Night Court, hoping he would find you alive as well. When he arrived, Rhys welcomed him in. “She’s not awake yet, but she is alive.” He informed Lucien, who couldn’t hide his emotion at those words.

It was nearly a month before you woke up. The healers were beginning to doubt that you ever would. When you opened your eyes you saw Lucien sleeping in a chair by you, head cocked at a horribly uncomfortable angle. You coughed, trying to speak. His eyes shot open as he looked at you. “You’re awake,” he spoke, voice gravelly. He stood quickly, running from the room. You only had to wonder for a second where he had gone before the shape of Rhys filled the door. You saw the emotion overtake him, violet eyes lined with silver. He nodded once at Lucien, who slipped out of the room silently.

Rhys walked over to you, sitting on the edge of your bed. “My darling,” he murmured, “how do you feel?” His eyes looked over you, concern lacing every feature. You moved to sit before a sharp pain went through your chest, causing you to cry out. Rhys had you in his arms in an instant, easing you back onto your pillows. “What,” you started, “what happened?” The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. “He almost killed you.” Rhys whispered, holding you close. “It was a miracle my healers were able to save you.” You felt your heart stutter at his words. You knew Tamlins anger wasn’t to be tested, but you never imagined he would go that low. Not to you.

Rhys sat and held you for the rest of the day, feeding you soup and giving you small sips of water. He told you that you had been out for a month, that Lucien had resigned from Tamlins court, how no one trusted Tamlin anymore. You nodded along, sinking into his arms as the day went on. You fell asleep that way, tucked safely next to the man you loved, next to your mate.

***

It was several more months before you were fully healed. You headed straight to the kitchen the second you were given the all clear. It was high time to accept the mating bond, and you were going to do it as well as you could. Growing up as a Lady in the Spring Court, cooking and baking were seen as essential skills. You were raised to be the perfect wife to a high fae male, so you may as well use the things you learned now that you had one.

You spent hours in the kitchen, working on your mouth watering meal. You placed the juicy steak, soft potato’s, green beans, and sweet sugar cookies on two plates before setting them at each end of the table. You poured two glasses of wine and lit several candles, nerves pricking at your skin. You were cleaning up the dishes when you felt Rhys come up behind you, his arms circling your waist. “Hello, darling.” He spoke, kissing your hair. You turned to him with a broad smile, placing a delicate kiss on his mouth. “I’ve made you dinner.” You say, a little shyly. You don’t know why you were so nervous about him accepting the bond. His eyes sparked and he let you lead him to the table, sitting in your respective seats. He cut into the buttery meat, a moan falling from his lips at the taste.

You couldn’t hide the shiver that went through your body at that. You began eating as well, unsure how long it took for the bond to be accepted. After Rhys took one bite of everything you had made, he politely wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. You felt your heart quicken as he pulled you to stand, eyes blazing. He stared at you for a few seconds, before suddenly pushing your plate farther onto the table and leading you to lay down on it. His hands gripped your hips and he leaned in to whisper, “I’d like to end my meal with you.” You arched back against his words, fingers pushing into the table. Rhys expertly pulled your underwear down, lips attaching to you. One hand settled on your stomach, holding you down. The other followed his mouth, slowly slipping inside you.

The combination of his mouth, fingers, and the newly accepted mate bond had you falling apart for him in seconds. He held you down from pulling away as your pleasure overcame you, pushing you through it. He didn’t stop when your thighs started shaking at the overstimulation of him. He didn’t stop until he had given you three back to back orgasms and you were screaming his name like it was the only word you knew.

He pulled his mouth and fingers from your shaking body, climbing on top of you. He kissed you gently, letting you taste yourself on his mouth. He slowly increased the pace, allowing the need to build back up in you. You moved a hand down to undo his pants, pulling his length out. You pushed him up, standing on shaky legs before him. Slowly, so slowly, you knelt down in front of him. You pressed kisses to his thighs, kisses to his stomach, kisses to his hips. Everywhere except where he needed you the most. “Fuck, love. Please stop teasing.” He groaned out, head falling back. You felt a smile on your face as you licked up his length, your tongue teasing the tip of him. His hips gave an involuntary thrust, causing you to tut at him. “Let’s remember our manners, shall we?” You spoke, sugar dripping from your words. He snapped his eyes back down to you as you took him in your mouth. He gave a load moan as you began licking and sucking him, his hands tangling in your hair.

After a few minutes of this he was pulling you up to his face, leaving a bruising kiss on your lips. “I can’t take it,” he murmured against your skin, “I need to be inside you.” You smirked at his words, an action he took quick notice to. He quickly flipped you around, placing your hands flat on the table. He bit into your shoulder, growling in your ear. He slowly entered you, your body swallowing inch after inch. Once he bottomed out you leaned back on him and gave a loud moan. His hand came around your front to circle you in time with his thrusts. You moaned louder and louder with each thrust he gave you, whispering dirty words in your ear. “That’s it, that’s it. My good girl. My delicious girl. You take me so well, don’t you?” Each sentence was accompanied by a nip of his teeth on your neck or ear. You ground down against him, meeting his thrusts. You were moments away from coming again. “Let go, my love. Let go with me.” He whispered, thrusting harder and speeding up his fingers. You grabbed down onto the table as you felt the pleasure build, throwing your head back with a scream as it washed over you. Rhys followed a second later, filling you up. You stood like that for a moment, in blissful pleasure. Rhys slowly pulled out, turning you to face him. He kissed you again, holding your face in his hands. “My mate.” he said, before scooping you up and taking you to the bedroom, where you would spend the next week and a half.

***

The ceremony was beautiful, intimate. You had Lucien standing proudly at your side as you became Rhysands wife. Rhysands mate. Rhysands High Lady. Rhysands everything. You ended the night with a party big enough for all of Velaris to celebrate, dancing in the streets of the city until the early hours of the morning. You felt all the love from the citizens of your new home, already feeling more at peace here than you ever did at the Spring Court. As Rhys twirled you beneath the stars, you shot your head back and let out joyous laughter. You were finally where you were meant to be. You realized, as you were tucked into Rhys’ chest a moment later, that you felt truly free. That the trapped, scared girl who lived with her brother was gone. You smiled up at your love, thanking the cauldron for what it had done for you. You knew you would have to see Tamlin again at some point, due to your new position. That fact did not scare you, though. Not anymore. Not when you knew that the next time you met, he would not address you as sister, but instead as High Lady of the Night Court.

***

Thank you again for all the love!! Please keep sending requests and comments to me, I truly appreciate every single one ❤️

#acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand #acotar #rhysand x reader #the high lords #lucien vanserra

[acozysoulwrites]

Gentle touches and soft whispers | Astarion

Description: Tav washes Astarion’s hair by the river

| fluff, fem!tav, soft Astarion, gentle tav |

It was a cool summer morning. The sun had only begun to climb its way into the sky, bidding the moon farewell as it rose. Birds sang, soft snores could be heard from tents around camp. They’d be sleeping well into the morning after the battle they’d had yesterday.

Tav and Astarion were by the river. The rising golden light gleamed off the water and reflected onto their faces. Astarion soaked in it’s warmth, letting it course through his body entirely, every inch of him craving the sun’s kiss.

Tav sat behind him with a small bottle of shampoo in her hand. She gently cupped some water from her bucket onto Astarion’s head. It streamed down his neck and onto his bare back.

“I hope it isn’t too cold” She hums, squeezing a few drops of shampoo into her palm, she reaches up and begins to massage it into his hair.

Astarion shakes his head, words found it hard to escape him as he sat beneath her, eyes focused on the rippling lake before them. His mind raced, but his heartbeat calmed. Her touch was gentle and electric all at once, stirring a feeling of sadness and comfort inside his chest.

“No It’s... It’s perfect, my sweet” He says quietly, the usual spunk in his voice absent.

Tav continues to lather the soap into his tangly curls, which now hang just above his eyes, damp and heavy. “Talk to me, Star”

He thought for a second, wondering what the matter was. He didn’t truly know, just that he felt a sadness.

“No one’s ever done something like this for me before” He chuckles, realizing how pathetic and inexperienced he must sound. “A soft touch; one full of love and adoration... has never come to me willingly… not without a price” He looks down.

Tav’s eyes soften, she reaches down and dunks the bowl into the bucket. “Chin up” She whispers, her finger falls under his chin gently and Astarion obeys.

“You know…” Tav pauses for a moment, her hand still cupping his chin. She leans around and their eyes meet. Soft sadness mingles with gentle comfort. Astarion’s face looked even more beautiful when his hair was wet and out of the way, she thinks. She presses her lips into his temple, planting a soft kiss from there, to his cheek.

“I wash your hair, I hold your hand, I kiss you...” She holds his face, her thumb gently brushing over his cheekbone. “Simply for the fact that I want to. Not because I expect anything in return” She soothes, leaning back, she pours the water over his head, rinsing the shampoo.

Astarion parts his lips, but no words come out. He thinks that if he hadn’t already cried every tear out of his body a century ago, that some would form right about now.

“Thank you...” He says finally, a softness lacing his voice. “I... I don’t know what to say”

“You don’t need to say anything” Tav says, “Just sit there and be you” She smiles. “It’s all rinsed by the way” She ruffles his wet hair.

Astarion isn’t sure how he got so lucky. He hates to think, had they met in other circumstances, Tav would have been an easy victim to lead to Cazador. He wouldn’t have blinked an eye while handing her over. Yet in this reality, the very thought sickens him. The thought of how terribly Cazador would treat his sweet Tav, how easy her kindness and softness would get her eternally punished. It sent a shudder through him.

“You’re too nice, darling” He turns to face her, their knees touch and he grabs her hands into his. “It will be the death of me”.

Tav smiles, then she shakes her head. “I disagree”

“Why is that, love?”

“Well, when we first met you weren’t exactly... nice to me” She chuckles.

“But with my outstanding persistence and shrouds of kindness… Well, you’ve gotten pretty soft, Astarion” She winks and watches his face contort into a disgusted expression and she laughs. “You know it’s true”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “I’m hardly soft, pet” Astarion tuts, “It’s only for you” He smirks.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way” Tav smiles.

#soft astarion #fluff #comfort #headcanon #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #x reader #tav bg3 #astarion x tav

[maybege]

Pleasure

Summary: You get dared by your old school friends to ask a stranger to play with your tits.

Pairing: dad’s friend!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, older man/younger woman, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, sex with strangers, coming untouched, semi-public intimacy, dom!Boba, sub!Reader, nipple play, dirty talk, little bit of humiliation, Reader is not described but it is mentioned that she does not wear a bra at some point

Alrighty, alrighty. Okay, alright. Are we ready? Like are we really, truly, ready for this? This is obviously set in the dad’s friend!Boba AU which is more of a sandbox AU for me to play in. This is their first meeting (obv) and it is based on another idea I had and I thought it would fit perfectly. Please do let me know what you think and if you like it and if so, what you liked and all that good stuff! Maybe I will write another part or another story set in this AU.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

A year ago, you had never thought you would drown your sorrows at a house party of a person whose name you did not even know in the town you had grown up in with people you had not seen since high school. But here you were, drowning out your disappointment, your sadness and your frustration by the way of loud techno beats and unnaturally coloured alcohol.

“All right,” Marissa passed the hot pink shots she had gotten to you and Chants, though her eyes did not leave yours, “You want a dare?”

For a second you regretted ever having asked her for a dare (“Something to liven up the party,” you had said half-jokingly after the conversation with your two oldest high school friends had come to an awkwardly silent end) but then you also remembered the fun time you had with them in your childhood bedroom, prank calling the neighbours before playing fuck marry killer with the seniors at school.

That was an eternity ago now but it had all seemed to light then. Your happiness did not have an expiration date then and the dream to make it out of your small town by the lake and into the big cities of the opposite coast had kept you company every night.

You hadn’t known yet that your dream would fail.

“Ask any random person here to play with your tits.”

Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your face must have shown your shock at the task because her pink-coloured lips (a perfect match to her equally pink hair) pulled up in a mischievous grin. Marissa always had been the joker of your group, you should have known better than to think that the years would have changed anything about that.

“Marissa!” Chants gasped, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, calm down,” she waved him off, “It’s not like she has to do it. But we're in a house full of strangers and stars know it's been ages since you got laid” – you hated how right she was about that – “So let’s not pretend like I'm not doing you a favour.”

“I’ll do it,” you heard yourself say, steel in your voice as you threw back the sickly sweet drink. There was nothing worse than the artificial strawberry flavour.

“It’s not like I know anyone here anyway,” you stated, looking around the giant living room you were standing in. The villa (because there was no other word to describe the building you were in) was absolutely packed with what seemed to be the entire party population of your town and the few surrounding beach towns as well. It was all stark white walls and cement floors and floor-length windows and furniture that looked more like art than actually something to sit on. Only the colourful lights and (several) mirror balls hued the entire space in ever-changing colours.

No wonder whoever lived here threw all these parties. The place must seem pretty depressing otherwise.

With encouraging whoop whoop!s and You can do it!s you left Marissa and Chants behind and wandered through the dancing, yelling, drinking crowd that took up the entire ground floor. Until you spotted a figure leaning against one of the doorways to the stairway.

Your feet changed your course until you stood in front of him. He was older than you, though certainly not the oldest guest in attendance. (That would be Chants’ 94-year-old grandmother who had a reputation for attending the best raves in the province.)

But what struck you most was how unbothered he looked. How in control. He was dressed in dark pants and a black button-up, his sleeves were rolled up too, revealing strong veiny forearms that had your eyes lingering longer than they should have. He held a glass in his hand and when his eyes landed on you, making your way towards him, you imagined that his grip twitched just the slightest bit.  

“Hi,” you said when you finally stood in front of him.

The main raised his eyebrows, “You lost there?”

You pressed your shoulders back, “No. You are the one

His lips lifted in a smirk and it took our breath away for a moment, how handsome he was, and your courage faltered. But you

“My friend dared me to ask someone to play with my tits.”

If your words caught him off guard, the man did not show it.

“So?” he smiled before taking a sip from the amber liquid, “That wasn’t a question.”

Was he really going to make you say it? Your ears burned with shame and something else as you looked at him. But he simply cocked his head as if to say I am waiting. And you somehow found that this was not a man you wanted to leave waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Will you play with my tits?”

“No,” he said easily and finished his drink, “Congratulations, your dare is fulfilled.”

He turned to leave and you surprised yourself when your hand landed on his thick arm. He froze, as did you, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like a switch flipped in your head.

“No, wait, I –“ you paused, “I actually want it.”

His body faced yours again and stars was he broad as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stars what are you doing, trying to convince a man to touch you.”

“Ask me again, then, little one,” he rumbled and the pet name had your belly fluttering. Though maybe it was not your belly, maybe it was something else …  

“Will you play with my tits, please?” you added the last word quietly, your pulse thrumming as you avoided his eyes. The bass reverberated in your chest and you tried to even out your breathing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

For the first time since you started talking, his eyes left your face and roamed down your body. Over your tight jeans and the loose but not quite opaque top you had chosen to wear. You found yourself wanting to impress him, wanting to please him and you were almost completely sure he would reject you again when he opened his mouth.

“You really want that?”

You nodded, too shy, too embarrassed to say anything more. It had been ages since you had been touched and something about the way he held himself made you feel like he knew how to touch you.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower and causing a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You watched as he set his glass down on the side table, “But not here out in the open.”

“No,” you shook your head, agreeing with him, though you were a little scared to admit that you would have let him. You would have let him pull you into a corner somewhere and strip you down to nothing and do anything he wanted to you. You would have let him expose you however he saw fit.

Stars, I really need to get laid.

The man brought his hand around you, settling it on your lower back as he led you away from the improvised dance floor. There were throngs of people everywhere but they grew sparser the higher up the stairs he led you. Until you arrived in a hallway that was completely abandoned save for a couple that seemed too busy to make out to notice you. And then he continues, leading you around a corner and suddenly you were alone and the lights were dim and the music only a muted sound in the background.

“Do you live here?” you asked, nervously looking around. What if someone caught you?

“No,” he said, his voice calm as his hand landed on your hip, “but I know the owner. No one will disturb us here.”

You nodded and took another deep breath. That sounded good. That sounded safe.  

“Do you still want this?

It but you were grateful. You nodded, your heart racing. And your pussy too.

“I need to hear words, little one,” he said with a crooked smile, still not touching you save for the hand on your hip that seemed to burn through the layers of clothes.

“Yes, I still want this.”

“Want what?”

Oh, now he was just teasing you!

“I want you to play with my tits, please.”

Shame and arousal had your cheeks burning but it was worth it when he hummed, his hand inching under the hem of your shirt. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Oh, that was new. That was lovely. That was something that had your eyes flutter and your pussy get surprisingly wet.

“You liked that,” he grunted, “You like praise.”

It was not a question and so you did not answer. The wet patch in your panties that grew by the second was answer enough. Though you could not shake the feeling that he liked you liking praise. Which made it all the better.

“Lift your shirt for me,” he instructed, tongue running over his lips, “You wear a bra?”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you lifted the soft fabric of your favourite going-out blouse. It was black and just the lightest bit sheer and breezy which made it the perfect sexy thing to wear in the warmer temperatures. The air wasn’t cold – it was the height of summer after all – but your nipples pebbled, still, beneath the lace of your bra.

Big hands reached for your tits, cupping them in his palms before lightly squeezing. His touches were softer, first, before they grew firm and had you squirming against the wall. Your breath got quicker already as you thought about the fact that you did not even know this man and he had you half-naked in the corridor of another stranger’s home.

A year ago, you never would have done something like that.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you whined when he still only squeezed your tits, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh, “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“You asked me to play with your tits,” he replied steadily, his thumb rubbing over the lace that covered your nipple, “That is exactly what I am doing. Playing with your pretty tits.”

“Don’t you want me to take off my shirt?” you asked, confusion clear in your voice as you tried to shift your hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, little one,” he shook his head, a smile on his lips that made your breath hitch, “You are going to hold up your shirt for me. You want me to play with your tits, you got to do something for that, right?”

You nodded, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the wall. “Right.”

The older man continued his ministrations, gently massaging your tits, pushing and pulling, making them bounce, teasing your nipples through the lace with the pads of his thumbs or his blunt fingernails. You had never been this turned on in your life.

His finger teased under the scalloped edge of your bra, the touch of his bare skin on yours driving you insane.

When he finally pulled down the cups of your bra, baring you to his eyes, you could have wept from relief. “Arch your back for me,” he murmured, sounding so focused and so in control. You did, doing your best to get your chest closer to his hands.

There was no shame now, now apprehension about what you were doing. This man seemed to know exactly what he was doing and you could not help but trust him.

“You have beautiful tits, you know that?” he asked casually as his fingers rolled your nipples, sending little pangs of pleasure through your entire body, “When was the last time somebody properly paid attention to you, hm?”

Too long ago.

And that was what you told him but he pulled your nipples sharply, “Specifics,” he instructed you lowly as you tried to keep your knees from buckling at the sheer sensation this man caused in you.

“Few – few months,” you tried to think feverishly, “Se-seven months. No, nine months.”

“Nine months,” he tsked, his thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple, “What a shame. What a waste. You deserve to have

Not knowing what to say to that, you simply leant into his touch. He expertly rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it ever so slightly, making you whimper. The mix of gentle and rough had you dizzy and wet and you swore none of your eyes had ever made you feel this way.

Stars you did not even know you could feel this way.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him in surprise. But the older man simply returned your gaze, never pausing in his ministrations and he seemed serious in his questions. He really wanted to touch you more.

 “Yes, please,” you nodded feebly, as if the way you were melting in his hands was not answer enough.

“Good girl,” he praised you again, a smirk on his face, “So polite.”

You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to get some sort of friction to your aching clit. He lowered his head to your chest, his warm breath washing over your skin and you whined, needing him more and more. But he did not let himself be rushed, no. His finger pulled on your nipple again until your whine turned into a gasp. Only then did he let you go and carefully closed his mouth around you. He sucked on you, ever so gently, with just a hint of teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh and you swore your vision went white for just a moment.

He must have noticed the way your entire body spasmed just for him because he pulled away, a glint in his eyes that told you he was far from done with you.

“I wonder if I can make you come just from this,” he murmured against your chest, “Just playing with you until your gorgeous pussy drips all on her own,” he lightly sucked on your nipple, “You want me to try?”

Speaking seemed like the last thing you would be capable of so you nodded, your heavy breaths echoing in the dark hallway.  

“Answer me with words, little one,” he admonished you, pinching your nipple tightly and another wave of wetness rushed down your legs. You wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere today without leaving a wet patch, that was for sure.

“Yes,” you gasped out, “Please make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, “You just lean back and keep holding up your shirt for me, yeah? I will take care of the rest.”

And he did. He licked and sucked and pinched until you were a dripping, moaning mess. Your hips had a mind of their own as you started to move against him, trying to grind against the considerable bulge in his pants that had your mouth watering, but his hand was strong on your hip, pinning you back against the wall.

“You are going to come only from this,” he instructed darkly and you nodded. The yes sir almost slipping out of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, floating above everyone and everything. The dim light, the loud bass that echoed throughout the house, hell, even the sound of partying people two stories below – it all added to the thrill of this stranger sucking on your tit while rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

It felt like you could not breathe, like your whole body was pulled taut with pleasure and he was the only one who could release you. Who could give you release.

“You are such a good girl for me,” he grunted in your ear, “I wish you could see yourself. Absolutely depraved right now. Presenting your tits for a man you don’t know anything about except that he is the one that is going to make you come.”

“I know you would have let me do this downstairs, too,” he added, “But here's the thing: I don’t share. And I don’t think any of these boys even deserve the sight of your pretty tits like this, now, do they?”

You shook your head. “Only you,” you mumbled feverishly, your fingers tightening their grip on the fabric, “Only you, sir.”

His groan was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “That’s right,” he pressed a hard kiss against your neck, “Only I see you like this. Only I get to see how pretty you look when you come from this.”

For a moment, you debated telling him that you did not think you would come. That you were so turned on – more than ever before – and that what he did felt great but you were not sure if it would actually make you come. But then he bit down on your nipple and pulled the other one and your whole world reeled.

You came. You actually came.

And you did not stop coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. You were shaking, gasping, and at some point, you must have let go of your shirt because you were gripping his broad shoulders with all of your might as if they anchored you to gravity.

“Holy shit,” you brought out when you finally regained control of everything, “Holy fucking shit.”

The stranger had let go of your tits. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. Strange enough, this felt way more intimate than what you had done before but you could not bring yourself to worry. Not when he smelled so good and the post-orgasm fatigue set in.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised you, his eyes soft and warm as he looked you over, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded weakly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. You were still completely out of breath and your pussy pulsed when you saw him adjusting himself in his slacks. You wanted to touch him.

You wanted to be touched by him.

But you were scared, too. Shocked, mostly. At what you had just done. Had you really let a stranger just make you come in a house full of people?

“Let's get you some water,” he murmured as he helped you straighten out your clothes, “And then off to your friends you go.”

You nodded numbly, legs shaking and still unsteady on your feet. But he helped you, one hand on your lower back and the other supporting your arm as you made your way down the stairs. The louder the music got, the more you felt like you had just returned to reality from some sort of dream. Some perfect, delicious, very hot dream.

Returning to the living room turned dance floor, neither of you spoke and you simply accepted the glass of cool water he got you. “Drink it,” he instructed you softly, “And make sure you get home safe tonight.”

When you found Marissa and Chants again, you were still torn between pure shock at what you had just done and grief at not having asked him for his name.

*

Your nipples were sore the next day but you still would have done anything to have that man play with you again. Maybe you could have asked him to spend the night at his place, letting him fuck you seven ways ‘till Sunday. If he had made you come this hard just from playing with your chest, you wanted to find out what he could do if he had you all to himself for a whole night.

Still, you stayed in bed until well past noon, trying to avoid the reality that had seemed to be suspended for just a moment last night.  

It was unlike you and, to be honest, you were a little scared of your forwardness. Of your courage. But it had been rewarded in the best ways and finally, it felt like maybe you really could start fresh. Like maybe this was the moment you needed to gain back the trust in yourself.

You could do things!

You did not have to have everything figured out right now, you just needed the courage to somehow move forward.

And if you could ask a stranger for intimacy at a party, then moving forward seemed like no effort at all.

You skipped a bra, not wanting to subject your chest to more sensation than necessary, and instead opted for a long flowy summer dress and a light cardigan over top. It would give you some coverage, still, so it would not be awkward for your sister’s fiancée to face you.

Looking in the mirror, you felt like your new self. Like maybe you had needed yesterday to get back some of your courage, some of the spirit that had made the past year so fun before everything had just crumbled around you.

“Oh honey, there you are,” your mother greeted you as you came down the stairs, “You came home late last night. Was it a good party, then?”

You knew she was worried and you knew she tried her best to give you the privacy you needed. After all, you weren’t a child anymore. You were a grown woman who had to move back to her parents across the country after losing her job. It was an unfamiliar situation for you all and you appreciated her effort at making you feel like a roommate more than a child.

“It was,” you replied, grabbing a slice of fruit, “It was nice seeing some people from school again. It is like nothing changed.”

“Oh, you and your change,” she tutted good-naturedly, swatting your hand away as you reached for another slice of orange, “That’s for after lunch. It's almost ready.”

You glanced at the clock. “That’s early.”

“Your father has some friends over,” she explained, “From work. They’re going golfing this afternoon so I thought that is the perfect opportunity for an early lunch.”

Thank the stars for your father and his friends because you were starving.

“Go and say hi, honey,” she shooed you out of the kitchen and you smiled, your bare feet hitting the cold tiles of the hallway, “And you can tell them to set the table.”

You found your dad and his friends on the patio, soaking up the warm summer air.

“There you are, hon,” he greeted you with a smile and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, dad. Mom says lunch’s almost ready.”

“Ah,” he slapped his palms on his thighs before standing up, “You know what that means, boys! Time to set the table.”

One of your dad’s friends stood up. George, you remembered. He had lived down the street ever since you could remember and his kids were good friends with your sister. “It's been ages,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Look at how you’ve grown!”

You were pretty sure you hadn’t changed that much since graduating college but you were not about to correct him. He meant well, you knew.  

Your father paused, “Oh I am sorry. Everyone, this is my eldest daughter, fresh back from the other end of the world.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not the end of the world,” you corrected him gently, “Just the other side of the country.”

And what wouldn’t you give to be back there right now.

The men all chuckled and you paused when you heard a familiar voice. You ran your eyes over the mostly familiar faces, faces you had known since childhood or at least from the pictures your parents posted regularly on Facebook. Faintly you could hear your dad introduce them all again – George from accounting, of course, then there was Paul and Obi-Wan and James (an absolute perv as you and your sister had determined years ago) and not to forget Bail Organa.

But it was the newest face, the face that was supposed to be unfamiliar, that made your heart freeze for a scary few seconds before it started racing so fast you thought you might throw up.

“Boba Fett,” he said, holding out an all too familiar hand. A hand that had spent considerable time playing with your tits just last night.

“Boba is the CFO after the merger,” your dad introduced the man, “Recently moved here from – where was it again, Boba?”

“Tatooine,” he replied without taking his eyes off you.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you heard yourself say, his hand closing around yours. His grip was gentle but firm. And warm. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the ones that had made him playing with you so fucking delicious. Your nipples hardened under the soft fabric of your dress and you prayed that he did not notice.

“Believe me,” he smiled, though his eyes said so much more than the usual pleasantries when they fell to your chest for a fraction of a second, “The pleasure is all mine.”

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut

[fallingdownhell]

hi, how have you been lately? if you don't mind i have a request to make!

okay, so, for context: i have been feeling sad for no reason these past few days and it pathetically got worse last night when i had a dream about the genshin characters not having time to spend with me because every single one of them was "busy". but it felt more like they were all avoiding me on purpose and i felt as left out and invisible as i used to in high school.

now, onto the request, if i may: in which a fem!reader feels left out, lonely and neglected, but tries to push the feelings down not to seem pushy or like an annoying attention-seeker because her s/o hasn't been spending any time with her/seems to be avoiding her. i'd like kazuha, venti and heizou to be written, please (+you can include more characters, if you want)!

feel free to ignore if this is too complicated or if you don't feel like writing it!!

i hope you have a good day/night!

I think I know exactly how you feel, it really sucks. I hope you're feeling better soon!

Also, I'm sorry if Venti's part isn't the best, I'm still figuring out how to write him best.

Characters Included: Kazuha; Heizou; Venti

Content: female reader; slight angst; hurt/comfort; maybe slight ooc characters; mentions of insecurities; use of petnames

Word count: 3,6k words

Enjoy!

Kazuha

You sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. A quick glance to the clock on the wall told you that it was 8 PM right now.

Kazuha, your boyfriend, was currently out with his friends again. He has been doing that a lot since he returned to Inazuma with Captain Beidou.

At first, you didn't mind him meeting up and spending time with his old friends. But as days and weeks passed by, what was once a once-a-week thing became more regular, now he was meeting up with them every other day.

And it's not like you weren't happy for him, but it just started to feel like he was avoiding you, almost.

The time you got to spend with him got less and less over that time, he almost never came over to your place anymore, and if he did, he always talked about the fun stuff he did with his friends. Yet, he never once had invited you to come along, further confirming your suspicion that he just didn't want to spend time with you anymore.

You tried focusing back on the book in your lap, but your attention always shifted back to the clock, watching it as the minutes passed by.

He had promised you to return around 9 PM, so there still was time for you to relax and do some other stuff. Yet your mind just wasn't able to relax. You kept thinking about the same things every time you tried to lay down or do something.

Was he.. getting tired of you?

Did he not love you anymore?

Is that why he spends so much time away from you?

All those thoughts keep swarming your head every waking second. And you had kept all of that to yourself, in fear of sounding like an attention seeker. You didn't want to corner Kazuha with your feelings, knowing that he values his freedom above anything else.

So, you kept it in, talking to not a single soul about how you were feeling left out and neglected by your very own boyfriend.

But, as it is, one can only hold onto such feelings within themselves for a certain period of time. Those feelings are bound to come out sooner or later, you can't just always keep them inside like nothing is going on.

And as your mind kept thinking about this stuff, you became all to aware of that simple fact as you felt the tears start to form in your eyes.

Unable to keep them inside for much longer, you stopped trying to supress your feelings, allowing yourself, for one time, to just let it happen and cry all of your hurt and anguish out. Maybe that will help you feel at least a little bit better...

So, you didn't fight the tears that were now escaping. Rather, you let it happen. It felt like an eternity, the tears kept coming and coming, it was like there was no stopping them anymore. The gates were finally opened so the opportunity was used to get everything out.

You hadn't realised how much time has passed, but when you suddenly heard the front door open, accompanied by a yell of your name from Kazuha's voice, you knew that it was too late.

You tried to run some damage control, aggressively wipping the sleeve of your hoodie against your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your erratic breathing down. You clear your throat, hoping that your voice wouldn't sound shaky when speaking.

"Darling?", Kazuha asked again, his footsteps now resonating through the place, trying to find your whereabouts. It was already odd enough to him that you didn't answer him immediately.

"I'm.. here!", you yell out, yet your voice has a high pitch to it, you notice. He knows, as well as you do, that your voice only gets like that when you had been crying.

And sure enough, not only seconds later, he enters the living room, a look of worry immediately seen on his face as soon as he confirms to himself that you had, indeed, cried.

"Darling, what's wrong?", he asked as he rushed to your side, putting an arm around your shoulder as he sat down next to you, pulling you into his side.

You debate with yourself, not sure if you should tell him what has been going through your head lately. But in the end, the fear of rejection was too big, so you decided against honesty.

"It's nothing.. really, just.. my book was a bit sad..", you decided to say, hoping it would convince him. But you weren't sure, since you weren't a good liar and Kazuha was just too good at looking right through you.

"Darling, not to be rude, but this is a comedy novella you have there."

He said that in a serious, yet kind tone. You averted your eyes upon being spotted in your lie, but before long, he gently took your chin into his hand, making you look at him, yet not forcing you to do so.

"(Name).. tell me the truth, please?"

The look in his eyes.. you could only decribe it as absolute honesty and love. It made you hope that maybe, the world wouldn't crash down upon you if you were to tell him your honest feelings.

"Promise you won't be mad at me?", you say with a meek voice.

"I promise.", he responds, softly smiling down at you, trying to reassure you with it. And it worked.. at least a bit.

"It's just.. I don't know how to best say this, but I've been feeling.. a bit neglected lately. You always go out with your friends. And not that I don't like that, I'm happy for you that you're able to do that again.

But.. it feels like you're never with me anymore. And when you are, I get the impression that you would rather be anywhere else but with me. I don't know how else to explain this, Kazuha, but it's eating me alive.

Do you.. still love me?"

Even though throughout your entire explanaition you had sounded so desperate, this last statement from you was almost.. pityful. Tears started to form again as you were looking at him, and it broke Kazuha's heart.

He had no idea you had been feeling this way. Had you only told him sooner, he would have done everything within his power to rid you of these doubts and thoughts.

But for now, he gently took your face into his hands, holding you while some tears started to escape you again. You held his gaze while waiting for his response.

"First, let me apologize to you, my love. I had no idea such thoughts have been plaguing your mind. I am deeply sorry for causing all of this.

And of course, I love you. I love you like the first day I laid eyes on you and fell for you. My feelings have only grown stronger over time, yet never once did they falter.

I deeply enjoy every second I spend with you, wether it be awake or asleep with you in my arms. Please, never doubt that. And if you do, promise me to come to me right away so I can get rid of those thoughts for you."

With every word leaving his lips, you felt a great relief. Like a huge weight has finally been lifted off your shoulder and you can breath again.

You lean into him as he does the same, your foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes were closed, enjoying the contact, but there was a smile smile present on your lips again. Kazuha adored seeing you like this. In his eyes, you were always beautiful, but when you were smiling.. you were ethereal to him.

"So, what do you say we go to bed for the day? I want to hold you close to me, show you all of my love.", he said, tone still soft and gentle as he brushed through your hair.

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice right now. But you were glad you finally got to talk to Kazuha..

Heizou

You knew his job as a detective was a busy and demanding one. It required him to always be on-call for when he was needed. Sometimes, one single investigation could last for weeks, which could also require him to travel for quite some time as well.

But Heizou has always made it a point to give you his time. As he said it, he didn't want this relationship to suffer from his chosen profession.

So why was it, that lately, you never really got to see him again. Every day, you woke up to an empty space next to you on the bed. The mattress cold, indicating that he either left a long time ago or hadn't returned at all that night. Which wouldn't be surprising to you at this point.

Most of the time, you saw him running around all over Inazuma, chasing one case after the other. When he did get home, he didn't really give you any attention.

No, he actually brought even more work with him. He would stay awake most of the night, reading over documents and files. You basically had to force him to eat sometimes, since he would forget to do so, even when your dinner was sitting right next to him on the table.

It disheartened you, but not wanting to come across as pushy, you swallowed your pride down and endured it. You said nothing... for weeks this behaviour of his continued on and you just kept quiet.

There was one point when you broke down a little bit, going to him and asking him to join you in bed, so that you could cuddle. He didn't look up from his files, but mumbled a simple 'Sure, I'll be there in a second'.

You didn't believe him, but you wanted to so desperately. So you went into the bedroom, waiting for him. You waited for a few hours but he didn't come. Eventually, you gave up and just went to sleep, but you felt defeated ever since that incident.

You didn't think that he loved you anymore..

Maybe he got tired of you already and that is why he was drowning himself in his work, so that he didn't have to spend time with you. But then, why didn't he just simply break up with you?

It would make things so much easier for him, and you could finally get over the heartbreak..

You mused over those thoughts as you were once again laying in bed, all alone. Heizou hadn't returned home today.. again. He was probably pulling another all-nighter at the headquarters again.

And suddenly, in the next second, you decided that you couldn't and didn't want to live like that anymore. Sure, you loved Heizou with your entire heart, but if he didn't love you back, there was no reason to hold him in this relationship.. right?

...

...

Heizou stretched his tired body, yawning. He was exhausted from yet another night of nonstop working, but at least, it finally paid off.

He stood up from his designated desk, walking over to Kujo Sara to hand her the last remaining files he had to fill out.

"Finally done?", she asked, a pityful look in her eyes.

"Yes. It was exhausting, but worth it in the end. I can't wait to surprise (Name) with this!", he beamed at the thought of finally laying in your arms again. He had missed it so very much during this busy time, but nothing was going to stop him from enjoying himself the next few weeks.

Sara nodded as she took the files from him, quickly glancing over them. "Alright, then head out already. And don't you dare come back before your vacation is over."

"Yes, boss!", he said with a wink, already on his way out. The entire way to his home, his smile got bigger and bigger thinking about you. He had worked his ass off, but he finally got a few weeks of vacation and he had already so muched planned for the both of you.

A few days visiting Watatsumi Island, maybe a ride with Kazuha over to Liyue to visit a different nation like you always wanted to do. But before all of that, he wanted just a few days with only you, not leaving his bed at all, just embrased in your arms.

His good mood continued on until he got home. As soon as he walked through the front door, his smile dropped upon seeing you standing in the hallway, a bag on your shoulders.

"I thought you would come back later..", you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

"What's the meaning of this?", Heizou asked, having already a sneaking suspicion but he didn't want that to be true. This couldn't be happening right now..

"Look, I'm just trying to make this easier for the both of us. You obviously have other, more important things to focus on, a relationship is only hindering you. So, I'm doing what's best for the both of us and leave. This way, I maybe won't have to feel this alone again.."

Hearing that, Heizou suddenly had a pretty late revelation. Sure, in his head, working more so that he could get the vacation made sense to him. Yet he never thought about telling you, since he wanted it to be a surprise. And only now did he realize how much he had neglected you..he hasn't payed you any attention at all during this time.

Oh, what a big fucking mistake he had made...

"No.. please (Name). Let's sit down and talk about this. I promise there's a very good explanation. It's not an excuse, I know that, but.. please listen to me."

While speaking, he had grabbed one of your hands, holding onto it for dear life, afraid of letting you go. It felt like you would just dissapear in front of his very own eyes if he were to do that.

You thought about it for a while, but in the end decided to hear him out.

You decided to move to the kitchen table, sitting across each other, but Heizou was still holding your hand. He kept staring at your hand in his, focused on the picture that he forgot he was supposed to be talking.

He tried gathering his thoughts, thinking about how to best explain everything to you.

"Look.. I know I've had very little time for you those last weeks, and there's absolutely no excuse for that. I'm so sorry about that, (Name). But, there was really a reason behind it... why I took on so much work.

Starting today, I've got three weeks of vacation. That's why I've been working my ass off all this time. My dumb brain thought it would be a good idea to surprise you with that, but I now realize that I should have just told you. In the end, I caused you so much pain by not telling you.

And let me tell you one more thing... nothing is as important to me, as you are. I love you, (Name). You are my number one, now and always. I don't want that to ever change. So please.. don't leave. I'm so sorry.."

By the end of his little speech, both of you were crying. Hearing him explain his side made you feel so much relief.

He didn't fall out of love.. he still loved you..

Standing up, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He returned it, holding you against him like he was afraid of losing you. Like you would slip right through his fingers if he didn't pay attention.

"You idiot..", you spoke against him, your voice coming out muffled but he still understood what you were saying.

A small, weak laugh left his mouth as he pulled back, looking you in the eyes.

"But I'm your idiot, right?"

"...Yes."

Venti

Having a relationship with a personality like Venti's was not always an easy task. He was secretive yet also very open. He loved to talk to people, yet he seldom spoke about himself.

Even to you, who knew about his true identity, it seemed like he was never fully honest with you. Like there were always some little, but very important details he just left out. Wether it was for your benefit or his own, you couldn't tell.

But you still trusted him. He was still your boyfriend, after all. Those types of relationships don't work out if there wasn't a certain level of trust between those two individuals.

And yet, you just couldn't shake that feeling of distance you always felt when around him. Sure, you enjoyed the time you spent together, but it never felt enough. And with that feeling of distance to him came along a certain feeling of loneliness.

Even though you spend almost every waking minute together, you always thought there was some sort of a gap between the two of you.

You ignored those feelings for the longest time, not wanting to scare him even further away from you. Or, worse, coming across as too needy to him. But you deeply missed that feeling of closeness to a person when in a relationship. But you also knew that this was by far not just any ordinary relationship you had going on..

Still.. was it really too much to ask of him? Was that just his normal self and he didn't realize this? Or was there an ulterior motive behind his actions?

You thought about all the possibilities almost on a daily basis now, even when together with him. You tried analyzing his actions and behaviour to try and figure him out.

Venti noticed this, of course. But he honestly didn't think too much of it. In fact, he rather enjoyed the undivided attention he was getting from you without having to ask for it.

The thing is, even though he is an outgoing person, he gets a little bit shy when it comes to asking for things from you that he desired. It could be the most simplest thing in this world and he would still have some trouble forming the words in his mouth. So he often just dropped subtle hints, leaving you to figure it out and make it look like it was your idea in the first place.

He had no idea what this kind of behaviour was doing to your mind, but he would soon find out..

As it was, you were at your wits end. You couldn't just deal with this in silence anymore. Even at the risk of scaring him away, you had to talk about it with him, or you would risk the end of this relationship.

You just needed to figure out how to best start this conversation...

"Hey, is something the matter? You seem to be lost in thought, more so than usual."

Seems like the universe showed some mercy to you as Venti asked you this. You turned to face him.

You were both currently sitting ontop of a tree, high up in the branches, your feet dangling in the air.

"Actually, yes.", you say, your tone serious as well as your expression. There was no smile on your lips like Venti saw it every other day, so he knew that this was indeed about something big.

He turned his body more in your direction, facing you now as well. A small smile still on his lips, trying to uphold his cheerful persona as he gestured for you to speak, that you were having his full attention.

"Venti.. what exactly are we.. in your eyes?

Because, it feels like we're drifting apart. You never really talk to me, not about anything important or related to you. You always hold me at arms length and I honestly can't do this any longer. I feel like you don't really want me in your life sometimes."

During your little speech, you had averted your eyes to look at your hands placed in your lap. Now that you were finished, you took a few deep breath in before raising your head again, looking at him.

What you saw surprised you. A look of shock and disbelief was written all over his face. Like he couldn't belief that you had been feeling this way at all.

"(Name).. I had no idea that this was so important to you..", he mumbled, thinking about what to do next..

Then, he jumped off the branch, his fake anemo vision lighting up as he was no floating in the air in front of you. He came closer to you, gently taking your face into his hands.

"I'm sorry I made you feel this way. I promise this was not my intention, at all. I am still figuring things out with you, many things are new to me, but I want it to work out.

So please, forgive me. I promise to do better from now on. I don't want you to ever feel this way again, my beautiful princess."

Then, he placed a soft kiss to your temple, making you blush and giggle a bit. He smiled upon hearing you cheer up again.

This is what he wanted you to feel like. Loved and cared for.

And he would do everything in his power to assure that from now on, he would never cause you to frown ever again..

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin impact hurt/comfort #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha comfort #kazuha x reader comfort #genshin impact kazuha #heizou x reader #heizou x you #heizou comfort #heizou x reader comfort #genshin impact heizou #venti x reader #venti x you #venti comfort #venti x reader comfort #genshin impact venti

[shanieveh]

THE DAY... THE MUSIC DIED

— how the 4nemo men reacted to your death

KAZUHA — !

As KAZUHA left you for his travels, you muttered the sweetest take cares and created beautiful letters for him to hold on to. You were enough to go home, you were home. And as he reached breathtaking views and complex cultures, he'll pick the most exotic of flowers and make them into bookmarks so you won't have to fold the pages to know what part you are on.

And as he arranged the assortment of trinkets, he was ready to go back home. And in his surprise and sorrow, there was no you to greet him. He looked around. Did you get tired of him? Did you leave him, was it too late? He reached home and was greeted by a crowd of familiar faces, all in mourning. His friends, his acquaintances. KAZUHA did not know what was going on, he felt confused and in the middle of it all he saw a wilting coffin. One with your face, but not the lovable soul within it.

"Take care Kazuha, okay? I'll be here waiting no matter the time, I'll always be here for you when you arrive."

SCARAMOUCHE — !

He knew falling in love with a mortal was a mistake. But he learned that life had a meaning if it wasn't forever. It had a purpose. You who were a ticking time bomb, a chronic illness keeping you in check. SCARAMOUCHE was always so clueless as to why you wanted to live forever, when he desired nothing but to die in a pit of flames. But as he spends time with you, and took care of you, he too wanted to same thing. He believed in a silly fantasy that you can get better, that you will get better, he was borderline delusional.

But there was a part of him that wanted you to die. That wanted all this pain in your heart to disappear. That wanted you stop crying about being hurt and maybe be in the heaven you so desperately hated to be in, in a place where is no SCARAMOUCHE, but there is eternal rest. He got what he wanted. And as he laid in your bed, and stared up, the only view you can see for the last days of your life. The same smell, the same place, but never the same feeling.

"When I'll live maybe we could finally see the movies together, oh maybe even play with the street children I see in the windows. Oh you want me to rest? You're such a killjoy..."

XIAO — !

His life finally found peace when he met you. All the deaths, and all the pains were put in the past when you touched his face. His nights that of heavy burdens was a gift when it meant he will watch you sleep at the end of the day. You showed him happiness, how can he not get attached? XIAO loves life when there is you in it, he cherish every second of your mortal being. The simplicity of it all, away from the complex living of adepti, you gave him serenity when a war was brewing in his mind.

But as these two worlds crashed together, you had to pay the price. He should've known better than to be so overwhelmed with karmic debt, he can't hold it in, and you were the primary witness. As he screams of pain and agony, his madness overtook him a blur. He was charging heavy blows in his weapon, as you try to calm him down to no avail. His instict overtook him as he hit towards the sound of your pleads. And as your voice fades and a slash was made, XIAO finally returned to a lucid state. He saw what he had done, and the price he had to pay.

"You are the kindest of them Xiao. I don't think you are some scary being as the legends and tales about you, not when you look so pretty staring back at me like that."

VENTI — !

You hate the Gods. They gave you all these curses, all these time limits, all these pain, yet paint themselves as benevolent beings who do no wrong. They are all a fraud, but humans like VENTI are what keep you going. He can't dare tell you of his identity, but one can often hear a sad laughter when rants about the heaven slip your tongue. He follows you day by day, with beautiful melodies to cheer you up. You didn't how these tunes have relieved your pain, but it did. How can a lazy bard like him heal you in such a way?

The truth was VENTI had enough admiring you from afar. He wanted to converse with, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to love you and didn't care if you shared the same emotion. None of that mattered to him, he wanted you alive, he wanted you well. But fearless wind can never stop the corrosion of time. And as he saw you in your final days, you often said how even if the Gods hated you, atleast they gave you him. Him who tells you funny stories and myths of time. You died content, but he was the one who gained your ideology. When he was such an incompetent fool and can't even save the love of a lifetime.

"Maybe you were the blessing from the Gods I so desperately wanted. Venti, when I die live on. Forget these months, forget me. But know that I die happy because of you."

#kazuha angst #kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #kaedahara kazuha #genshin kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche angst #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer angst #genshin wanderer #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao angst #xiao x y/n #genshin xiao #venti x reader #genshin venti #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti angst #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst

[klwrites]

Young love 3/3 (Damian Wayne x reader)

Damian struggles to cope with the anxiety of your situation as the rest of the Wayne family still cannot understand how their boy ran away with a girl.

-> part two

“So, you put her in ice, and that made the fire go out?”

Dick tried to understand. Bruce had told him this mission would be very dangerous, with possible brain washing and mind games involved, but he just saw two young people in a hotel room recovering from a traumatic event.

“Yes.”

“Her body needs to go to parasympathetic mode to stop the flames?”

“Because cold water exposure activates the vagus nerve which slows down her breathing and heart rate,”

Damian explained,

“It freezes your body so you physically can’t panic anymore. These flames all seem panic induced.”

Damian wanted to take you back to his house where they could keep eyes on you, and help you manage your powers. He couldn’t tell you that yet though. You were waiting in the hotel room while they talked in the hallway. You laid in bed weak, every time you close your eyes you could see through the perspectives of your dying flames, and it hurt.

“That seems like luck, Damian, Bruce is not very trusting of her right now, I doubt he’ll take her in.”

“It wasn’t luck!” Damian yelled.

That statement specifically pissed him off. It wasn’t luck, when he felt your hand on his face he could tell exactly how you felt, and exactly what you needed. That’s not luck.

“Whatever it was, good luck explaining yourself to Bruce, I’m getting a room next door. Let me know when you’re ready to go and what the plan is.”

Damian returned to the room and slammed the door. What now? Damian hadn’t thought of that. You had no life to return to, and he could help that. But is that weird? Is that necessary?

Damian had start to become a little self aware toward the “bias” towards you he has, and didn’t want to come off strong.

I’ll just give her some money and my number, and leave.

“(Your name)?”

You were asleep again, your life was living through the flames and there wasn’t enough energy for it all. You were weak and recovering. Damian looked at you for a moment, and looked off into nothing with a sad gaze.

I can’t leave her.

However, he snapped out of it, and quickly gathered up money for you prepared with a note. The Wayne boy couldn’t think of what to say, what wouldn’t be overwhelming, but decided on a simple

- Damian

Damian zipped his bag, and while he put it on he took a moment to stare at you finally at peace.

I want her to keep that peace

How could you do that without him?

What would that money even do?

Damian declined those thoughts and declared them irrational, and quickly turned and slipped out the door. He knocked on Dicks door,

“One second!” Dick called.

Damian waited.

Has she seen the money yet?

Damian worried you would think about when he said he wouldn’t leave you until this was over, would you hold that against him?

Damian huffed at his thoughts, and banged on the door again.

“I said I was coming!”

Damian pictured you, lost, looking for him.

Would she even know where she is?

He started to get angry with his brain for not shutting up about you.

Why should I even care? She burnt down my city and made me shoot my father. I should bring her to Arkham asylum.

You weren’t his problem, so he wished he’d stop worrying.

Dicks “second” was starting to feel like too many eternities with infinite worries about you, so Damian turned around. He just wanted to quiet his brain, he’d tell himself.

Damian started to run as fast as he could, unable to bare the thought of you being worried any longer. Not to mention what if you got scared and started a fire?

I never even told her what I did to fix this.

Damian ran faster, he nearly missed the door where you laid. He shakily tried to slide the key in, but missed a few times before getting it right. His chest was so tight.

And there you were, asleep.

He felt a little stupid, and it made him angry. No one’s made him feel like this, it would be dangerous to keep you around if he’d keep acting this way, he thought.

But then again, leaving you lost would be completely immoral, he thought.

Damian set his bag down and sighed. Why, for the first time ever, is his emotions getting in the way?

“(Your Name)?” He called.

Secretly, he enjoyed even the thought of your name. He was captivated by finally learning your name. Damian stood over your bed watching for you to wake, but you didn’t.

Damian felt solely devastated. Defeated.

His voice stuttered your name again.

Nothing.

Dick then entered the room with his bag packed, ready to go.

“Damian? Ready?” Dick knocked on the door while entering the room to find his younger brother on his knees, at a loss for words.

“Damian? Damian, what happened?” Dick rushed to your side.

Damian sat there sobbing, unable to look while Dick observed nearly every inch of your body. He paused his search and stared at your face. It was vaguely familiar.

“Damian, stay right here.”

Dick exited the room, and dashed to the hotel lobby, where his eyes instantly landed on his target.

“Kori! Don’t go!”

Kori turned from the front desk, where she had been checking out of her and Dicks room. Last night Dick was sure to mention his free time alone to her, so she obviously came.

Kori sped to Dick, worried.

“Please, follow me.”

Damian sat still, in shock. The past few days had been completely rushed, unplanned and unwarned. He was on auto pilot the whole week. Now he was just trying to process, process for any mistakes, any answers to this.

The door opened, and his eyes widened in confusion to see Kori running in.

“You’re right.” She said to Dick.

“She looks Tameranian.”

“That would explain the fires.” Dick said, looking into Damian’s eyes.

“Let me try to fix this.” Kori grabbed your forearm, so hers was adjacent to yours

Damian quickly stood up to watch, his jaw dropped.

What kind of miracle would that be?

He continued standing quietly, worriedly watching you. He tried not to get his hopes up either.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud blood curdling scream, he looked up at you.

You’re eyes, glowing green and wide. Cracks in your skin glowed like lava was underneath. The room was warm from the heat of you and kori’s powers, the heat created a wind softly blowing everyone’s hair.

Damian stared in awe at your beauty, even with death two seconds behind you your beauty was more radiant then ever.

Kori let go, and spoke a sentence to you in Tameranian, everyone watched intensely for your reply.

“It appears she has a rare disease that only Tameranians can develop, it causes uncontrollable outbursts of fire when (Your name) emotions are heightened.” Bruce told Damian, Kori, and Dick.

They ended up taking you to the manor to compare your blood to Kori’s and found the disease in the analysis. You were in and out of sleep most of the day, still very weak. Damian and used this time to really get to know you. He realize he could manage these feelings if he handled it right, and he did not want to mess up.

You learned a lot about Damian too, you guys would often compare sketches, or go out to find things to sketch together. You two were out one day sketching some stray cats that gathered in an alley to eat.

“Oh my gosh.. they’re so cute.” You reached your hand forwards to make peace with the animal. The kitty accepted your love fast. Without any noise coming from Damian you continued to pet the cat, neglecting your sketch. Your petting session was cut as the car walked away from you, your eyes followed the cat. The cat walked up to Damian and rubbed her cheek on his knee.

You started to giggle, all the cats in the alleyway were all over Damian, and he was completely engulfed in their affection. You never took him as the caring for an animal type, but it makes perfect sense now. You quickly reached for your pencil and paper, and began to sketch Damian playing with the kittens.

Who knew burning down the school could be the best things that’s ever happened to you?

You both returned to the manor after an hour, so Kori could help you with fighting and learning to control your powers. Today she wanted you to spar Damian, which was your first time sparring anyone other then her.

You two circled each other, then you lunged at him. When you missed you both giggled. Damian playfully shoved your shoulder,

“Is that all you got?”

You playfully shoved him back, but harder, which turned into a full on play fight. You both were snickering the entire time.

“How does it feel, Bruce?” Dick asked, keeping his eyes on you two.

“I don’t know what your referring too.”

“This entire time you think this sweet girl is kidnapped your son, but no, Damian ran away with a girl he’s obviously got feelings for.”

“I had every reason to believe what I believed.” Bruce confidently stated.

“Just admit it, you were blinded by your fatherly instincts.”

“The two are definitely going to go places together.” Kori smiled, looking at Dick. “They remind me of someone…”

Bruce sighed. “I fell in-love once when I was young too. I could tell all along it was just the young love seeping into Damian skull that made him leave. I just wanted to protect him from those feelings. They don’t end well for The Wayne’s.”

“Quit being a Debby downer.” Dick jokingly hit Bruce’s arm.

The three turned their attention back to you and Damian. Your eyes focused on each other. Smiling.

Okaaaayy I didn’t expect people to like this story so much!!! Thank you guys!!! And obviously nothing is ever really over so maybe if one of you guys have a good idea for book 2, I’ll be all over it. You guys would be suprised to hear this whole story came from trying to include Damian with some animals. I made a lot of it up as I went, suprised you guys liked it! Love you guys lots! I thrive off of comments, so pleaseeee tell me what you think!

#batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #batmom #damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #robin x you #damian wayne x you #damian wayne

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

Dp x Dc thoughts and stuff

New Dimension, Who's This?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

From Danny's short experience Jason was about as trusting as he first was when Fright Night joined him. He didn’t think Frighty’s method of accept my eternal loyalty or die would work very well here. The guy, despite looking like a brick wall and a fridge had a child, seemed to have a very gooey center. Now to hope that wasn’t just the contaminated ecto.

Contact was the easiest way to get the bad ecto (Becto?) out and he was NOT one for cuddling. Just mentioning it made the man squirm, well not outwardly, but his core shivered.

Danny didn't see a big deal in it, but maybe it had been the years in the ghost realm, where personal space wasn't really a thing when you can phase through people... his human half was also used to Tucker and Sam, whom he'd shared a bed with so many times Jazz ended up giving him a pamphlet on "healthy polyamory".

Alfred, the name of the butler, had convinced Jason to take him on a tour of the manor. There were about a million rooms, way too many living spaces (no one needed that many seating areas), a whole barn, and a really nice kitchen with food that didn't fight back.

As they walked Danny kept close, either a hand on his shoulder or floating close enough to be up against him.

Although Jason seemed stoic externally Danny could feel each and every emotion he had. He never seemed uncomfortable with Danny, but he was guarded. Some feelings, like nostalgia, became volatile from the corrupted ecto and quickly turned into anger.

One of these times was just seeing Tim, his brother, came out of his room with about 12 empty coffee cups in hand. The feeling, for just a second, started as care that switched to anger quicker than Danny had been expecting. There had been an emotion between the two, but Danny hadn't caught it. The anger seemed more ghostly than the first part, it was shaky and unstable.

With that shift came a surge of ecto that sounded like a screaming child, Danny placed a second hand on him to help filter it out. His eyes flickered green then went back to the light blue with a grayish outline that they had been before.

Tim had stopped in his tracks, frozen in place with his mountain of dirty cups. No one moved. Then, as if nothing happened, Jason continued walking, leading Danny to what he’d come to find was the library.

Danny loved to read as a kid, but he died, had to stop the ghost coming through his parent's portal, save the world, pass high school, become king, and give up a more human life to dedicate to ruling an entire dimension that he never got back into it. Especially once he'd established peace throughout most of the realm: a majority of his work consisted of paper work. Very boring paper work.

"You can grab a book if you want." Jason sat on a comfy looking chair, leaning into it and slouching down. He looked a lot less intimidating like this.

"Nah. I have to read a lot for work, but thanks for the offer." Danny floated above him, one hand anchoring him to the man.

"What do you do for work?" Jason asked, not putting the book down.

"Lot of people sell their soul." Danny watched his own hair flowing in the air like it was underwater, he's not sure when it started doing that, but it looked badass so he wasn't complaining. "It’s depressing paperwork when you have to define the worth of a soul in numbers."

Jason hummed and continued to read. They sat there like that for a while before Jason spoke up again.

"How did you know the pit rage was taking over, when we were in the hall."

"Ghost speak isn't translatable exactly, but your core kinda babbles like a baby." Danny looked down at the man, he'd closed his book. "It cries when it's angry and cries when it's sad, but your human emotions come first and are amplified by your core."

"So, what, you just heard a ghost crying?"

"More like I heard your human emotions through a megaphone and then ghostly crying right after."

Jason picked his book back up, but Danny had a feeling he wasn't actually reading it.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours to Danny. He didn't think it right to ask any questions. Besides, he was being vague about his own answers too.

Through the years he'd gotten the hang of being cryptic enough while still giving an answer from Clocky.

Clockwork!

Danny sat up, accidentally pulling Jason up with him a bit. "I need to get in contact with Clockwork!"

Jason grumbled and fixed his jacket, "Who's that?"

"The ancient of time, he'll know how to get me back and how to fix you... if he answers or wasn't behind this."

...

Jason did not seem happy about contacting the hellblazer/detective, but he was in town. What luck.

Danny no longer felt very lucky when the blonde detective with a strong English accent started yelling.

"This is the fucker wreaking havoc with the lazarus pits?"

Jason sighed, "Can you help us or not?"

The man breathed out a puff of smoke and mumbled to himself. "Yeah, yeah. I can help." He sat on the nearest chair and looked down at his PDA, or well, Jason said they were phones. This universe seemed a few years past his own. "The infinite realms aren't easy to get a hold of. You need to be pretty powerful to go in between the realms. How did you get stuck here anyway?"

"Was practicing with my dimension hopping dog, I went through a portal, he didn't. Now I'm stuck here." Technically that wasn't a lie, he was with Cujo when he himself had made the portal.

"Dimension hopping dog, right." He took another hit from his cigarette before grunting and standing up. Danny wasn't a fan of this type: arrogant bastards that believe you aren't worth their time. "Only thing I can think of is a summoning."

"Okay sure, how do we do that?" Danny asked floating behind Jason, a hand on his back. John looked at him skeptically, so Danny shot back. "I've never done a summoning that would be ridiculous! That's like standing in the same room with someone and calling them."

"Fine, let’s go down to the cave."

Once in fruit loop 3.0's basement the hellblazer pulled out a book and started drawing out patterns on the floor. Danny recognized a few words, which gave him confidence that the summoning would at least bring someone from the infinite realms.

The wording was very old, but from what he could read it was about summoning the most powerful being in the infinite realms.

Danny assumed it would be Clockwork, and just hoped its wasn’t some manifestation of Pariah Dark.

John finished, then turned to stand at the front as if he'd rather be anywhere else but here, and started to chant. The circle glowed a familiar homely green when he feels a pull in his gut.

"Fuck."

...

Jason watched as Constantine drew out the circle with strange hieroglyphs. He'd read that book when trying to find ways to remove the pit rage years ago. This summoning was meant for the strongest being in the entire realm. It could be any kind of monstrosity.

His stomach dropped when the sickly green glow filled the room. The shadows danced unnaturally and the room dropped a few degrees.

Behind him Danny made a blip of a noise and disappeared. For a moment he assumed the man was scared, making himself invisible to hide from the creature crawling out from a hell dimension.

Only he didn't feel Danny behind him anymore.

"Welp... didn't expect that. Definitely an ego boost I tell ya." Standing in the center of the circle was Danny. He didn't look anything like the man he'd spent all day with. He was a few feet taller, had pale green skin that shone almost white and six lanky arms with pointed nails. The fangs and slightly pointed ears he already had were pulled longer, his legs were just as unsettling as his arms, it almost looked like he'd been pulled through a black hole. Stretched through time and space.

His hair was longer as well, it floated above him like it wasn't experiencing gravity. Floating above that was a ring of a green aurora borealis. His face was hard to look at directly, it shifted. It was just the outlines, it was all eyes, it was empty, it was a black hole.

Around him shone little starts that twinkled occasionally, Jason had been part of the Justice League when a solar flare nearly killed half the planet. This being had the power of hundreds of those and was moving them around absentmindedly. one hand seemed to burn slightly, but it was too bright for him to focus on it.

He looked ethereal and terrifying.

Constantine broke the silence first, "State who you are!"

In a million voices that echoed through the cave and into Jason's chest Danny spoke.

"I am Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, Champion of Pariah Dark, Bringer of Peace, Ancient of Space, The Great One." Da... Phantom looked down at the circle. There was amusement in his voice, "I see, the words I didn't recognize were a binding of truth, that means I can only communicate in ghost speak."

Constantine looked more fed up than scared, but he knew when the con-man bit off more than he could chew. He turned to Jason and whispered to him, "He's the bloody king. I'm not helping you fuck the king."

"I do not need help with that." Phantom said before shining brighter, a green tinge covering the edges of his body.

Constantine turned back, most likely expecting the creature couldn't hear them. "I met Pariah Dark, your magical essence is..."

"Ghosts have cores." Phantom corrected, crossing the central arms as the rest continued moving stars around.

"Yeah, yeah. Your core is different. Since when are you king?"

"Time moves differently between realms. On my earth it was about a decade ago, but by the zones standards it was nearly 50. When did you last hear about them?"

Constantine huffed, pocketing the cigarette that had gone out when Phantom appeared. “Three years ago, but I don’t delve into the infinite realms often.”

“Zatana helped me a bit with the whole being dead thing. Maybe she'll know?” Jason hadn’t talked to her much in the years that followed, she’d not been able to help him. Though now looking back he hadn’t given her much of a chance.

“Yeah, that might…” Once again Phantom interrupted Constantine.

“Wait, wait. I know this magical signature.” The two looked back at the being, “You're the bastard who keeps selling bits of his soul. Do you know how many disputes I've had to settle, how much fucking paper work I've had to do because of you!”

Constantine, ever the survivalist bolts. An act Jason hadn’t been expecting in the slightest. The hellblazer threw the book at him when he left, muttering something that changed the green color to something softer, less toxic.

Jason goes to stand in front of Phantom, the man he’d spent the entire day with was an eldritch being of unfathomable power. He excused the summoning with a wave of his hand, as the book showed.

Although he did shrink down to a more human size, only his face changed in appearance. The rest of him was still pale and lanky, the pointy ears looking cuter than they had before, whe they were as long as a sword.

Jason stayed silent. How was he meant to go about this. What had he promised to this being that it was willing to stay with him. What had he sold to the creature that dictates the value of a life.

 “Oh sweet!" Danny/Phanton did a strange squat and wiggle like he was trying his legs out for the first time in a while. "Wanna go for like a walk or something?”

Jason’s brain seemed to skip a grove when he heard Danny’s voice coming out of the blueish creature.

“A walk sounds nice.” Jason said, ignoring how his mind was racing with the possibilities of this being really curing him… and of what he’ll ask in return.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

@bjurnberg, @skulld3mort-1fan, @akikkobara @undead-bi-dinosaur, @amyheart19, @phoenixdemonqueen, @not-your-average-url, @seraphinedemort, @theywontletmeusetheoneiwant,  @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @kyrianclawraith, @i-always-say-yea, @gin2212

(sorry this took forever, im certain being a fanfic writter curses you or something. So many fucking things were happening at once gah. I've had this plotted out since i posted part 2, but never got around to turn it into a realish fic)

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #jason todd #danny fenton #dead on main #Can you tell I smoke weed not cigs? #I honestly don't know if the terms are different and trying to look that up is fucking hard

[inbarfink]

You know, outside of all the obvious reasons why Simon’s Bad Crown Plan was Obviously Bad - there is one extra reason the series itself didn’t directly acknowledge. That is, while wearing the Magic Crown can grant any ol’ schmuck ice powers 

It generally doesn’t seem to give them the Full Ice Wizard Transformation Treatment, with all the Madness and Sadness that comes with it

Unless the previous Wielder is dead.

So presumably, what Simon was trying to find wasn’t just any Magic Crown, it was a Magic Crown who wasn’t attuned to any other wearer and probably because the previous wearer is dead. But in the show it just never directly came up since the non-destroyed Crowns we’ve actually encountered were:

The Extinctworld Magic Crown, over whom the majority of the Drama actively revolves around - whose wielder was indeed long dead before Simon and Friends even got there.

The Vampireworld Magic Crown, where killing the wielder of the Crown was already kinda taken as granted as part of the plan for getting it.

And even when that plan got derailed and our trio was considering taking the Magic Crown and bailing - it was also explicitly stated that just knocking the thing off his head could’ve dispelled the clouds blotting out the sun and killed him anyways. 

Then there’s the Winterworld Magic Crown, where despite Cake’s… eagerness

Simon and Fionna never make any attempts to get the Crown from the Winter King, but also this guy does also pretty much immediately says he's willing to help them in ways that don't involve taking his specific Crown.

And at the same time it is notable that as soon as he does die

Simon is pretty quick to try to loot his ‘corpse’. 

So, really from the immediacy of his actions here, I feel like he is aware that needs a Magic Crown not immediately bound to a living person.

With the possibility of infinite crowns in infinite circumstances, I’m going to assume Simon’s plan was, if he found a Crown bound to someone’s below Vampire King’s level of ‘apocalyptic supervillain slowly killing the whole planet’ level of awfulness and also without Winter King's capacity and (supposed?) willingness to help - they’d just hope on to the next universe and try again.

And obviously I understand that, narratively speaking, for the sake of Simon’s character arc - Crown Quest kinda had to remain focused on Simon’s own self-sacrifice and the price he felt he had to pay for the sake of Fionnaworld. But… I do wonder, with how desperate the situation got in Episodes 7 and 8…and with Simon previously already seeing death as preferable to the curse of the Magic Crown…

... What would have happened if it seemed like the last chance to save Fionnaworld was a Crown bound to a living Ice King? Would Simon even consider upping the number of sacrifices needed to keep Fionnaworld eternal from one to two? Especially if he can rationalize it as the ‘Mercy Killing’ he never got? Or would the second his Purpose involve any sort of destruction that isn’t purely self-destruction is the point that this plan is off the hook?

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #fionna & cake #at #fac #f&c #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time simon #fionna and cake simon #fionna and cake show #fionna and cake series #simon petrikov #simon adventure time

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

the roses and violets have all gone, you took them; blood is red, tears are blue, even my reflection reminds me of you.

tz11 x reader: breakups are tough.  

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), choking (getting back to my roots), hair pulling (his hair has been looking so good recently), description of sadness, insecurity, manipulation (classic tz11 using his body to get what he wants), toxic relationship, makeup sex. idk all my usual stuff.  (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: okay, so this one took me a while to write because it’s a lot of tangled emotions that i had to untangle, and it’s a sad one.  but, you guys seemed to like my other sad shit, so here you go, maybe you’ll like it.  or maybe you just liked sad qh43.  whatever.  anyways, breakups are hard, and sometimes you feel like you don’t know yourself without another person.  it’s a real challenge to find yourself again.  just know that you are up to the challenge (i know it) and what a privilege it is, to learn who you are, to grow into a new version of yourself.  you guys know my feelings about tz11′s real abilities, so know that i chose this one for him because sugar is my favorite of the names i use.  gif is not mine.  alright, i’m clocking out of my shift for a bit, taking a well deserved break.  don’t know if or when i’ll be back, but enjoy all my works while i’m gone.  stay safe.  go canucks.  sending love to you and your snakes.)

the worst part, the part that was truly a stake in your heart, was that it was your fault.  you had been the one to break up with him that night in your kitchen.  but you knew it was the right decision, the only decision.  

he was always away, and you were bad at communicating, and he got angry so easily, and you were just tired.  tired of everything that being with him was.  all the guessing and the games and the yelling and all the ups and downs that left you nauseous.  it was the right thing to do, something a good person would do, and you knew that.

so much so that you hadn’t cried when you had planned out what you were going to say.  you hadn’t cried when you actually did it, or when he exploded at you like a supernova, a bright wave of luminous madness.  you didn’t even cry when he left, slamming your door in a whirl of noise and fury.  that had been a week ago.  how strong you must have been, then.

you were crying now, and had been for what felt like years, like some kind of eternal struggle of a hell.  surely you would run out of tears soon, right?  surely this mourning would subside?  when would the relief come, the freedom?

that felt an impossible distance away now, as you sat on your kitchen floor, hugging your legs into your chest, work in front of you long forgotten.  the sobs had stopped, the heaving breaths and choked up throat gone, given way to a slow stream that left your eyelashes damp, cheeks pink, chest tight.  your head ached.  

you were wearing one of his hats.  you had found it yesterday, left abandoned on his hook by the door.  he hadn’t grabbed it on his way out, too blinded by rage.  

you hadn’t taken it off since.  was there a crueler reminder of him?  that he once had such a part of you to have his own hook by the door?

you had no idea how long you had been sitting in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.  you looked up, sighed, figured one of your friends had come to check on you, maybe brought some food.  

the trek to the front door seemed unfathomable.  much too long.  you’d rather stay here, the memory of that night playing over and over again right in front of you, like some kind of demented hologram.  you could still see the flash of hurt in his eyes, watch the hurt burn away into wrath.  

the doorbell rang again.  you exhaled deeply before pushing yourself up to your feet, began the impossible walk.  it would probably do you some good to see a friend.  it had been days.

you unlatched the door, kept your hand on the handle a second longer than you should have, experienced a brief flash of jealousy.  why should the door get to have his last touch, and not you?  with a shake of your head at your foolishness, you opened the door, finally, then froze.

it was him, because of course it was.  he didn’t look good, at least not as put together as he normally did.  his face looked taut, eyes a bit empty, like someone who had been searching for something for a very long time, to no avail.  his hair was messy, stuck up in a million different directions.  

your breath caught in your throat, the tears stilled.  your hand stopped on the edge of the door.  had it only been a week?  he looked so different, but at the same time he was exactly as you remembered.  

he was silent for a moment, just as you were.  when his gaze finally met yours, your head pounded.  your chest ached like he had driven a dagger through it.  you felt his eyes search your face.  he frowned deeper.  the tension between your eyes intensified.

“you been cryin’, sugar?” he asked, his voice scratchy, weathered.  

oh, that name.  you willed all the strength in your body to your knees to keep them from buckling underneath you.  at this point you were more sugar than your legal name.  

you knew how to be sugar.  you didn’t know how to be this new you, this you without him.  you only knew how to be his.

“please leave, trevor,” you asked, found your voice a pathetic plea.  “you can’t show up like this, it’s not fair.”  the crack in your voice made you cringe.  “please, you have to play fair.”  your last words came out like a whisper, the desperate cry of some sore loser child, unable to come to terms with being tagged.

“i’m not playin’ anything,” he rasped.  “no games this time, promise.”  his face was deadly serious, it was almost scary.  you had always told him that he couldn’t hide anything from you, you could see everything he felt in his eyes.  the anger, the hurt, the joy, the teasing, the heat - all of it always flashed like a comet across his eyes, so bright and deep and true.

but now, you were at a loss.  you stayed quiet, let the dim light of the hallway filter over his frame, bring him to life. 

“i deserve it, sugar, i know i do,” he said, taking a step forward.  you knew if you moved you would stumble, so you stayed exactly where you were.  “but tell me why you have to do this to yourself.”  you could have shriveled away as his raw gaze ran over you.  “why do you have to hurt yourself?” 

you could feel your lip tremble as your shoulders wilted.  because of course he was right.  of course it hurt so terribly.  “tryin’ to do what’s right, trevor,” you managed.

but then something, something familiar, flashed briefly in his eyes.  trouble.  “how can it be what’s right if it’s making you feel so bad?  if it’s hurting you like this?”  he gestured to your face, cracked at the edges with loss and longing.

your chest tightened.  “please, trevor, just give me a chance,” you pleaded.  “give me a chance to do something right for me, to find someone right-”

your stomach dropped as his eyes flashed again, like a flare gun, like a warning.  like the trevor you knew.  

his mouth quirked ever so slightly.  “oh, sugar,” he said, voice honeyed with pity, “you really want to find someone right?  someone else?”

you nodded.

he stepped forward again, shook his head, smiling, now only a breath away.  he slowly reached out a hand, tapped his thumb gingerly to your bottom lip, stilled its quivering, dipped his head down to yours.  “we both know you don’t know how to want anyone but me.”

you whimpered, stunned by his cruel honesty.  as soon as he said it, you knew it was true.  so true it made you dizzy, almost delirious.  

“you know that, don’t you, sugar?”  how quickly your fallen angel had become the arrogant king once again.  but wasn’t it the arrogant king that you had fell for in the first place?

and drunk on truth, and tears, and the pad of his thumb on your lip, and his closeness, you nodded.  and that was enough.

it was enough for him to flip his hat around on your head until it rested backwards, allowing him the space to duck down and press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, his broad hands on either side of your face, fingers touching the brim.

and after a week of uncertainty, of wading through an unknown forest, you could have cried at the feeling of knowing, of belonging.  finally, him.  something you recognized.

you rested one hand on his chest, felt his heart beat beneath you, because of you.  the other, you tangled into his messy hair, twisted it around your fingers. 

you sighed into his mouth, felt him back you both up until you were inside, against the wall of the hallway, front door kicked shut.

something dug into your back, right between your shoulders.  you winced, moaned, soon realized it was a hook on the wall.  his hook.

and you couldn’t help yourself, let your anger and grief and desire boil up inside of you, a week’s worth of suffering and longing - you bit down on his bottom lip, hard.  enough that he hissed and drew back, just a bit.  ran his tongue along the mark and tasted metal.  blood.

you met his eyes, found a glaring heat burning there.  he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone.  “you wanna hurt me, sugar?”  

your chest rose and fell in a contemplative breath.   you pressed your hand harder into his chest, imagined holding his heart in your hand, making him feel as you had.  “i think i do, trevor.”  

his mouth ticked upwards again as he brought a hand down to your waist, pulled you flush against him.  “hurt me, then.”  his voice was a dangerous whisper.  

he leaned down again to kiss you with vengeance on his lips, pulled you closer still, off the wall, smoothly took his hat off your head and hung it back on the hook before spinning you both around, one hand still cupping the side of your face.  

he walked you both backwards, hanging off your lips the some desperate prayer from a forsaken sinner, until your lower back hit the kitchen counter.

here you both were, in the same place you had ended everything.  here you were, willing it back to life, like an ancient necromancer.  you never wanted to feel that kind of death again.

you dug your nails into his chest, pulled at his hair, smiled when he groaned, leaned into you further, boxed you into the counter.

you both pulled away for a moment, his breath a sweet warmth on your face.  one of his hands slid down to touch your upper thigh.  

“you gonna make me regret this?” you whispered, moved your fingers to trace the curve of his neck.  

he smirked, chest rumbled, before he hiked your leg up and around his hip, allowing you to feel how hard he was.  “missed you, sugar,” he said.  “let me show you, yeah?”

you bit your lip, searched his eyes, found them genuine.  “show me,” you said, an order, however softly spoken.  “now, please, trevor, need to feel you inside me.”  as close as you could get after feeling so, so far.

"won’t make you wait, sugar,” he said, pulling your clothes aside and dragging his fingers through your folds, teasing your clit with his thumb.  you moaned, tilted your head back.  “you’re about ready anyways, hm?”  he moved his own clothes, pumped himself a few times.

you braced your hands around his neck for support.  “please,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes, a final desperate plea.

he kissed you again, as he pushed inside of you, swallowing your open-mouth moan, stilled as you adjusted to him.  he groaned, a deep sound, a sound you knew so intimately and plainly.  “there’s nothin’ like you, sugar,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours, as he began a pace in and out.  

you whimpered.  it was almost too much to bear, the feeling of him, so impossibly close.  your head rolled back, overwhelmed by both emotion and sensation.  you lost your grip on time, on the room.  

“look at me, sugar,” he said at some point, his hand coming to support the back of your head, hold your gaze to his.  “stay with me.”  meaning flooded his gaze.  “stay with me.”

you nodded, kept your head up as he thrust harder, teased your clit, felt you clench harder around him.  something like a growl escaped him.  

you were so close already, every touch amplified by your void being filled, every spark of pleasure immediately burning into a firestorm.

you whined as he thrust harder still.  “uh, too much,” you choked.  “too much-”

“take it, sugar,” he bit out, “know you can.”  he moved his hand from behind your head to your throat, squeezed gently.  “take what i give you, hm?”

you dug your nails into his shoulders, relished in the soft warmth under your hands.  you swore you could feel his pulse in your fingertips, grew closer, just there.  “i can take it,” you breathed, “i will.  feels so perfect, trevor.”

he groaned.  “missed having you like this,” he rasped.  “missed making you cum on my cock.”  he rubbed you faster, only his hand around your neck keeping you upright.  

you squeezed around him, vision blurring at the edges like a static television, took a labored breath in.

“c’mon, sugar,” he said, resting his forehead on yours, “let me have you.”

you fell apart, so different in the way you had fallen apart that night when he stormed out the door.  a wave of pleasure overcame you, complete and undeniable.  your orgasm triggered his own, his satisfied groan overwhelming the memory of his betrayed anger that existed in this same place, a week ago.

he leaned his weight forward onto you, wrapped both of his arms around you, held you tight, his exhales a rhythmic lullaby.  you held onto each other for a few moments, soaking up each others’ closeness.  each other’s being.

it could have been seconds, it could have been years.

“don’t make me go on without you,” you finally said softly.  “don’t make me into that girl i don’t know.”  you were tired of speaking only in tears.  never again.

he lazily drew circles on your shoulder blade with his fingers.  “promise.”

a promise, in the kitchen.  a promise, late into the night.  a promise, you, and him.

and when he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you believed him.

fin.

#nhl #nhl smut #hockey #hockey smut #smut #dirty imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #anaheim ducks #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale smut #jamie drysdale x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut

[jals-stuff]

Longing. (part 2)

Yuta Okkotsu x f!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ENDING

Warning: this work contains spoilers for JJK season 2 and some spoilers for the Culling Games arc. (please keep in mind that this is abstract work and whatever happens in here does not necessarily happen in the manga)

Contains: dark themes, mentions of blood, jealousy, swooning, fluff that makes me wish love was real

Synopsis: The line between an inherited cursed technique and an actual curse can be very blurry, sometimes. But it seems like meeting him changed the course of your life, even just a bit.

Word count: 2k ish

Note: sorry, this part is shorter because I'm a piece of sh*t and I'm also still sick, next part should be the ending... maybe, idk efzigufezfgkg

Also please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist

bear with me pls <3

════════════════════

It seemed like you had been walking for an eternity, Yuta’s hand holding yours as he guided you. As you recalled the events of the day so far, you remembered a specific thing.

“Rule 10: Players may transfer any number of points between one another.”

“Okkotsu.” You called, and he turned around to look at you. “I’m not sure I heard it correctly earlier but, there is a rule that lets players trade points, isn’t there? Should I give you mine?” He raises his eyebrows at your suggestion. Having more points couldn’t hurt, of course, but the fact that the idea came from you reinforced his suspicions about you being harmless… yet he doesn’t reply immediately, and you guess he’s thinking about the best move.

As you keep following, you have a feeling that you’re slowing him down. You hold his hand a little softer than before, and he seems to notice, slowing down slightly to turn around. You could tell he was about to ask if everything was alright, yet he said nothing, as if the way you avoided his eyes told him everything he needed to know. You felt like you were a burden, like a shackle on his ankles. “I-I could wait somewhere if it makes it easier for you,” you started, even though you wanted more of his company right now. “I’m obviously slowing you down.” 

He felt a bit sad at your comment; you were slowing him down, but it didn’t seem to bother him that much. “I know a way.” Yuta said, and turned towards you. His stance looked familiar for a second and you knew you were right as he picked you up again. Your heart skipped a bit and you decided to hang on to him again. This time he didn’t need to jump, but he started running. You didn’t know human legs could be this powerful, and closed your eyes, snuggling your head to his chest to protect your eyes from the air rapidly being shoved into them, but also because you were terrified of his speed. 

But his hold on your waist and the back of your thighs was firm enough for you to know you were safe, yet gentle enough to let you know that you were safe. It was so reassuring that you could’ve fallen asleep in his arms while he ran, but the proximity was so pleasant that you didn’t want to lose even just a crumb of it. Your hold on him went from a simple security measure to something more relaxed, as if he was carrying you to your bed to tuck you in and let you have a good night’s sleep. 

Alas, the comforting embrace was about to come to an end as he stopped. You could hear voices calling his name out— outside of the ones in your mind that were quite literally demanding him. “Are you alright? Can you stand?” Yuta’s gentle voice asked, and you wanted nothing more than to shake your head and pretend your legs somehow weren’t working, but you knew better than that. He put you back to your feet when you nodded, and you opened your eyes. You were met with two young men, probably a bit younger than him, you assumed. One had spiky, soft-looking jet black hair, and the other one had pink hair that looked like it got ruffled just a few seconds ago. 

They kindly introduce themselves. The pink haired guy, Yuji, seemed very friendly and extroverted, opposite to Megumi, who seemed to have the resting bitch face syndrome. The latter and Yuta discussed someone called the “angel” while Yuji humoured you. His face was scarred with what you assumed to be past battles and struggles, yet he was very kind and funny, kind of silly if you had to describe him… but even then, you thought revealing your cursed technique wasn’t a good move. If anything, Yuta would let them know about it… huh? When did you start relying on him so much?

You’re sitting on half broken stairs, and Yuji is just a few metres away, sitting on the floor. If you’re being honest, he’s very easy to talk to. Maybe you can ask him about one thing that has been bugging you for a while. It couldn’t hurt, right…? 

“Hey, so I was wondering… What’s this ring Yuta is wearing? U-unless it’s private, which is okay.” 

Yuji’s eyes move from yours to Yuta’s hand, then back to you.

“Oh, it’s a ring gifted to him by his childhood friend and first love, Rika. Long story short, he refused her death and ended up cursing her, so now she’s part of his power. They’re inseparable now.” Yuji said, with a gentle smile. A smile so gentle and genuine he didn’t understand your bummed out expression.

Ouch. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. You’d think most people forget about their first love, but he seemed very attached to it, to be wearing the ring she gave him probably years ago. You felt a little rush of jealousy, but… what for? It was rather obvious you couldn’t compete. You had just met him, anyway, so why was it such a big deal? You shouldn’t care, you should be happy for him if anything. He didn’t know anything about you, and you didn’t know anything about him either, yet something inside of you seemed to burn.

“I-I see.” You managed to say, before looking back at your hands. The girl was dead, yet she had more importance to him than you probably ever would. Part of you wanted to erase this thought, but also change the situation. You felt awful for having such thoughts, and shook your head, looking back at Yuji. “Thanks, I was really curious.” He seemed to accept your answer, but it was obvious he’d seen through it, and you really hoped he’d keep his mouth shut as Yuta and Megumi made their way to the both of you. Your eyes wandered to his ring, then to his face, and somehow refused to let go, as if you had to suck up every particle, every visual stimulus his presence graciously gave you before it’d be time to part ways. 

He noticed it and, if you usually had the natural reflex to look away, this time you didn’t, and he simply gave you a smile as he gently put his hand on your head, like one very long head pat. The simple fact that he touched you had you shivering; were you going completely insane? There was this heat growing inside of you for some reason, and all you could tell was that it was really new to you. You unwillingly leaned into his hand, and immediately stopped, lest he’d stop; but he didn’t. His hand stayed there as he spoke up.

“We’ll find the ‘Angel’, and ask them to unseal Gojo… and maybe do something for Miss (L/N) here.” You immediately raised your head to look at him in protest.

“I-I’m probably younger than you, just use my first name!” You almost screamed without controlling yourself, and he looked a bit taken aback. You internally cursed yourself for yelling at him, but he only laughed it off in the most swoon worthy way you’d ever witnessed. He softly ruffled your hair, making you yelp in embarrassment at the interaction, a bright shade of pink progressively invading your cheeks. 

“Alright, (Y/N).” 

That was it. Your face was completely red now and you had nowhere to run to hide it without looking suspicious, you simply hoped your (H/C) hair was long enough to hide your face from Yuji and Megumi’s eyes as you looked straight down to your knees. His soft voice that almost sounded like a whisper had finally said your first name— wait, you thought, this is wrong. Why am I getting so happy about something so trivial? 

As far as the discussion went, you understood that all of you would have to put in effort to find the “angel”, but it was easier said than done. The “angel” could look like anyone, and according to Kogane, it probably was an alias since no player had been registered under this name. Still, you were ready to help even though you didn’t know what was in it for you, but if Yuta wanted it, then you’d follow without question. When did you become so devoted? You barely knew the young man but in such a short time span, he had been much more gentle, softer than any other person you had ever encountered and the time spent with him had given you a short rest in the accumulation of disasters that your life was. 

Accompanied by Yuta, you parted ways with Yuji and Megumi. You were so glad to have him just for yourself— for research purposes, of course, you needed to find the “angel”; that for a split second your immortality seemed to slip away from your grasp. You couldn’t be sure of it, but it was like a gut feeling you had, but you realised it had no foundation and decided to leave it at that. You realised you had stopped in your tracks and he was waiting for you, so you caught up to you, muttering an apology as the two of you walked next to each other, eyes inspecting every corner of the devastated scenery and from the corner of your vision, you could’ve sworn you saw something move…

Someone dashed at you, blade forward, and you didn’t have the reflex to avoid it since you had never gotten hurt before, but Yuta quickly moved you aside, holding your clothes so you wouldn’t fall. It took you a second to realise what had happened and your eyes immediately darted to him. He wasn’t hurt at all, and had already dealt with the matter. You were fine, just a bit shaken. Shaken by Yuta’s instinct to immediately protect you from the attacker even if you couldn’t get hurt. It wasn’t the end of your surprise, as he looked down at you and still inspected you. 

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” 

It took every ounce of strength you had to control the obvious blush that was threatening to creep onto your whole face. You gave him a quick nod, praying that he didn’t notice your obvious swooning. He simply smiled gently and his hand landed on your hair again. “That’s good.” You were screaming internally, screeching so hard the voice in your head was going to turn hoarse. The warmth his voice and words provided you was unknown to you, and it showed; you thought you were sick for a few seconds but decided to shake it off as he started walking again, and you followed. 

The streets were silent, and all you could hear was the distant rumbling of people fighting, just like earlier today. It was really just you and Yuta, walking next to each other in complete silence, analysing your surroundings in search of the “angel”. You had so many questions, but decided to keep them to yourself. He was definitely a good person, your gut feeling told you so. And your gut feeling was always right.

The simple fact that you were walking with him, even if no one was speaking, was enough to give you goosebumps. You wanted to be near him, more and more, you couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like if it ever stopped… Your whole body felt pleasantly warm, your heart was beating fast and your arm was slightly itchy— wait, what? You couldn’t tell why but it felt like the itchiness was out of place here. You touched your arm and the dreadful realisation dawned upon you: you were bleeding, very slightly, but you were.

What were you going to do? Telling Yuta wouldn’t make things any better, and if anything, he’d just be extra careful and your research would take even more time. You came to hope Yuji and Megumi had found the “angel” already so you could return to them. If you really had lost your immortality, you had to hurry before anything really bad could happen.

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taglist: @ilofbred @imshittingforyelena @anqelically @riverinthedeserts

#jjk x reader #jjk yuta #jjk yuta okkotsu #jjk yuuta #jjk yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Okay, we all know being a demigod is a shit position. Its scary and gets you killed in really nasty ways. But I feel like being a Big Three Kid has to be the shitiest position in all the shit positions.

Like, imagine being Thalia Grace. Your dad is king of the gods, lord of the skies. Led a war to get rid of a tyrant. And the only thing you get is his scorned wife AND brother, who both try to kill you (with one technically succeeding), a drunk of a mother, and brother who you thought was dead. Oh, wait, he’s not dead! No instead he was used as an offering to appease your dad’s wife and help fight in a war and prevent mass destruction.

Or maybe you can imagine being Percy. Son of the sea god, the stormbringer, the earthshaker. You get to live with a disgusting, abusive man for around 6 years. Who smells like literal shit. All because your scent as a demigod is too strong, BECAUSE of who your father is. You see things that you aren’t supposed to see and do things that people can’t do and go years thinking something is wrong with you. That your the problem. Then you get to the one place where you’re supposed to be save. But! Here is the kicker! You’re not! Your uncles hate you and you’ve been accused of stealing a symbol of power. A series of events that will kick off a war, and guess what. You’re a center point for it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.

Mhm, but then there’s Hazel. Daughter Pluto, god of the underworld and riches. But that doesn’t really change anything does it? She’s still living in 1930s America, in a red state. One where confederate flags still hang if you go deep enough into the city. She go to a school where the kids are supposed to be just like her! They still don’t like her tho. She’s got no idea who your father is, only that he left her with a parting gift. Only it’s not really a gift. Sure, she can pull rubies and diamonds from the earth, all worth millions. But anyone who’s ever gonna touch it will die. She lives with her mother, a woman gone so mad with greed it kills her. And Hazel, by the way. Laying dead Alaska, inhaling oil. But it doesn’t end there! She can’t have her mother suffering for eternity, can she? The answer is no. Hazel gets to spend the next 70 years in the Fields of Asphodel. It still doesn’t end! Because when she’s brought back to life, she gets to fight in a war against giants, her sad story seemingly never ending.

Nico’s a son of one of the Big Three, one of the most ancient and most powerful. But most people look at him as something bad, something not worth taking a second glance at. Something too look away from, mostly. He’s from the 30s, spent years in a magical time casino with only his sister at his side. She doesn’t stay for long though, she dies soon after they discover their heritage. And he doesn’t remember his mother much, a name without a face. A face without a name. He survived an attempted assassination at 2, though it wouldn’t be the only time his was life was threatened. He clings to his sister, even though she’s dead. He’s the son of the god of the underworld, is he not? There had to be a way, and there is. Only she won’t talk to him, she seems more concerned with communicating with the guy who got her killed instead. She chooses rebirth, and he decides to lay it to rest. She’s not coming back, and he has a war to fight in. (He gets stuck in a jar and forcibly outed a few years later, but that’s a lot to get into for now.)

Jason Grace is a pillar of New Rome, their golden boy, their American boy. He’s a son of Jupiter, a natural born leader. He’s been at camp for as long as he can remember, he wants to be praetor soon. He’s had a rocky start, but maybe he’ll be one of the lucky ones. Retire a veteran and live a long life with Reyna in New Rome. Only that never happened. He has no idea where he is, there’s a girl holding his hand, and she’s cute but it feels wrong. They get attacked and people come in and call him a Greek demigod, familiar, yes, but still wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t put things into perspective the way it does for Piper and Leo. He’s goes to a quest to rescue Hera, the name sounds wrong. He nearly dies but at least he remembers who he is. He spends the next 6 months trying to get back home, even though he isn’t too sure on where or what home is. He gets there, eventually, but it doesn’t stop there. He’s dragged on quests and battles and fights in the war but at least he survives it, he’s still there. Apollo needs help, he and Piper give him aid. He gets dumped. He doesn’t get to he a veteran in New Rome. Not with Reyna, not with Piper, not with anybody. He doesn’t get kids or grandkids. No, he gets shot down, another demigod buried.

You could be any one of them, really. Pick your poison, but I guarantee you won’t like any of them. Spending years trying to find a place where you belong, where you feel safe. Only for it to never come.

Percy, who, if you really look at the books, isn’t really all that well liked until he’s at least 2 years into camp. Only to then be sidelined because the courages, brave, fearless daughter of Zeus is back from the dead. Nico, the son of one of the most feared and hated gods. Who has death written all over him, who excludes it so much animals can smell it and humans can sense it, who’s been ostracized and pushed off to the side since he was 10. Hazel, who was treated like disease as soon as she stepped foot on camp soil. Who’s gone her whole life looked as something that’s cursed, that will only bring misfortune, a bad omen.

Shit positions, all of them.

#Hazel and Jason make my head spin #also jaosn and Percy #I like how they both in a way didn’t want glory or to be some hero #i don’t think Jason mentions it much but they kids and grandkids mention in BOO is very telling #Percy’s is from the musical but whatever we all know the musical is canon #and show Percy thinking something is wrong with him and that he needs a mental evaluation of some kind is #everything #I’m making that canon now #I’d love to get a Thalia book #a trilogy maybe #first book is her with her mom and Jason + Luke and Annabeth on the run #ending with her dying #2nd book takes place after her resurrection and during the the war #final book is life with the hunters #and how she found peace in a world designed for her to struggle #I feel like out of all of them big three kids she’s the only one who got her happy ending #and in the fandom the hunters have gotten the reputation of being where Rick puts characters that can’t be shipped with anyone #but I really don’t think it’s the case with her #she’s also one of the only demigods where I think her story has come to a close #like it’s done #Percy’s story is almost done too #Nico and Hazel I feel aren’t quite there yet #percy jackson #thalia grace #hazel levesque #jason grace #nico di angelo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians