#i yearn. i mourn. i ache. i wait.

[adore-laur]

COME HOME TO MY HEART

— an angsty continuation of home is a feeling that takes place months after ☕️

——

Standing under a bleak sky copious with death, Harry is just another person in a black ensemble of mourning that rivals the white winter scene. Snowdrifts heap over inscribed gravestones, and willow trees weep frigid tears along with everyone else at the street-corner cemetery. It's a sorrowful evening, not even the pastel pink wisps of a brumal sunset being able to lift spirits. 

As the coffin is lowered into the ground, its sleek wood collecting flurries from above, the surrounding air grows colder in lamentation. 

A departure from life is impossible to prepare for, isn't it? 

Harry hangs back from the crowd by a bare maple tree. He wears a long black coat with deep pockets for his hands. To anyone else, he's an intruding spectator, but in actuality, you personally invited him to be a crutch of support since your parents can't be that right now. 

He promised you he would be here, yet the way you've been gazing up at him with indecipherable eyes every now and then tells him you didn't quite believe him. 

When you had called him out of the blue and relayed the upsetting news about your grandfather's passing, his heart had ached in a way it hadn't ever before. It ached for you, his grief-stricken girl, and also your family, who were always generous throughout the years. In the week since he arrived back in his hometown, he gave you time to deal with the initial grief independently. There was no need to barge into his ex-girlfriend's life and attempt to be your saving grace. If you needed a shoulder to cry on, he'd wait for you to ask and then lend it without a second thought. Your level of comfort with him isn't something to be presumed. 

Nonetheless, it's an unfortunate circumstance just to be able to see your face again. 

The crowd disperses once the loose dirt is shoveled back into the ground. Crumpled tissues in hands and hushed chatter signify the end of the funeral burial. It didn't feel right for Harry to attend the service, as it was for close family and friends only. Even now, a nagging feeling inside his gut tells him he doesn't belong in such a sensitive area. 

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and searches for your familiar figure that has suddenly disappeared. He mentally prepares what he'll say to you and is highly aware that there's no right way to go about condolences. He just needs to be as gentle as possible. 

Eventually, you emerge from a huddled group and lock eyes with him again, with a slight smile that mends his aching heart for the time being. 

"You look like a spy," you say, your boots crunching in the snow as you walk toward him. 

He laughs softly but doesn't say anything. Instead, his empathetic side takes in every part of your face, looking for an emotion to pinpoint so he can comfort you in the most chivalrous way possible. He notices your dissociative eyes with prominent bags under them, your tinted nose from the cold, and your chapped lips that make him yearn to kiss the rawness away. 

He's so close to you again. Has your hair gotten darker due to the seasons changing? Why do you have such beautiful eyes, even on a dreary day? Does the eyeliner you have on come from the pencil stub you've owned since high school? 

Knowing his own boundaries, Harry thumbs a quick swipe across your shivering chin and then wraps you in a tight hug. You instantly melt into him, your arms looping around his torso—just like that one night on the rooftop. 

"Your hair is so long," you mumble into his coat. 

He releases you before the intimacy starts to hurt too much, but he keeps a protective hold on your upper arms. "Do you hate it?" 

"No, it suits you." You swallow and look at him, your teeth chattering a bit. "Thank you for coming." 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies sincerely. "Gramps was a great man." 

"He liked you a lot." 

"Did he?" 

You give him an almost scolding expression and say, "Of course he did. When I brought you home for Christmas the year we started dating, he took me into the kitchen and told me you were a keeper." 

Harry's posture stiffens. "I didn't know that." 

"It was our little secret," you say quietly, snowflakes falling onto your eyelashes. "Um, have you had a chance to talk to my parents yet?" 

"I don't think they'd want to see me," he says while removing his hands from you. He tucks them back into his pockets since they're becoming numb. 

"Why not?" 

"I just have a feeling." He's been having a lot of those lately. "Not often that an ex-boyfriend shows up at a funeral, you know?" 

Frowning, you glance around and say, "It's not like they hate you or anything." 

God, he hopes not. Although, he wouldn't necessarily blame them, considering he broke their precious daughter's heart. 

"Where are you going after this?" he asks, not wanting to delve into his regrets. 

"My parents' house," you reply, your breath visible in the frosty air. "To my childhood bedroom. Hopefully to get some sleep for once." 

You haven't been sleeping? He could've guessed, but he didn't want to assume. He wonders if you still light vanilla candles and turn on salt lamps to rejuvenate your energy, according to you. 

"Did you drive here?" 

"No, I rode with my mom and dad." 

Harry shifts his footing and clears his throat. "Would they mind if I stole you for a bit?" 

You blink quickly. "What do you mean?" 

"I just want to talk," he elaborates, scratching under his nose. "Catch up. That's all." 

There's an apparent hesitance when you nibble on your bottom lip. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Anything you want." Truthfully, he just misses hearing your voice. "I'm staying here with my mom for a while since my winter break starts soon. And, well, you're the only person in this town I enjoy talking to." 

"Are you kidnapping me from a funeral?" 

"Maybe don't put it like that." 

A genuine laugh escapes you, and Harry's knees almost give out. "Sure, let's go," you say with a smile and a lighthearted shrug. "Being here is making me sad." 

"Okay. Let me say hello to your parents really quick." 

You scan the cemetery, then ask, "Do you need me to come with you?" 

He scrunches his nose and toes the snowy ground with the front of his boot. "Please?" 

After he politely shakes hands with your dad and gives your mom a long hug, he walks you to his black Jeep parked on the side of the road by the first row of graves, his elbow hooked with yours so you don't slip on the pavement slush. The first thing he sees is that his windshield has iced over from the bitter cold. 

He sighs and fishes for his keys, then unlocks the doors. "Here, start it for me and turn the heat on. I need to scrape the ice off." 

You take his keys and slide into the passenger seat. Harry makes sure you're situated and then grabs his ice scraper from under the backseat. After a few minutes of manual labor, he gets behind the wheel and shakes snow flurries out of his hair. 

"Where on earth are your mittens?" he asks when he notices your hands are tucked under your legs. 

"I didn't bring any," you reply defensively. 

"Love," he stresses as he pushes his hair back. "It's bloody freezing out. Give me your hands." 

"Maybe if your stupid Jeep didn't take forever to warm up." 

Harry doesn't make a snarky remark since he knows you're sensitive right now. He just cups your hands between his and blows warm air on them to increase your circulation. They're soft and fit so well between his palms like they were molded to be held by only him. 

"Ready to go?" he asks between blowing breaths, focusing his gaze on you. 

You study the snowflakes sticking on the windshield. "Where?" 

He gently sets your hands in your lap and then reaches across to buckle your seatbelt before fastening his own. "Is Edge of Town still your favorite café?" 

"Yeah," you say bemusedly, turning toward him with widened eyes of innocence. "Why?" 

Putting his car in reverse, he places one hand on your headrest and smiles at you. "Let's get some coffee there, yeah? For old times' sake." 

                                           ——

Sitting across from Harry at a corner table in the dimly lit café, you can't believe you almost forgot how handsome he is as you both sip from cinnamon lattes, careful not to disrupt the intricate art made from steamed milk on the surface. 

All the slight changes since you last saw him become your focal point, his hair being the most staggering. It's now tied up into a bun, and you're not sure why, but it makes him look different. His facial features have gotten slightly older; the high school baby face you fell in love with now showcases physical maturity. 

He's different but somehow all the same. 

You've spent the last half hour catching up with him, which has proved easy since college is a relevant topic in both of your lives. You learned that he's getting his degree in the spring of next year, and then he's going to find a job somewhere in Europe to start the next chapter of his life. You're proud of him. He's always had a good head on his shoulders. 

"Have you ever had marshmallows in your coffee?" Harry asks, tapping his foot against yours under the table. 

You set your cup down and blankly stare at him. "No, you freak." 

"It's good," he claims, wiping his lips with a napkin. "You should try it." 

"You know, your taste in beverages hasn't improved over the years. Don't even think for a second that I forgot about the ginger ale." 

"Excuse me," he says offendedly, "it helps fight the common cold and digestion problems. It's the perfect drink to have in the wintertime." 

"Absolutely rancid," you mutter, taking another sip of your coffee. 

As you continue your subtle ogling, your eyes catch on brown leather peeking out from his coat pocket. The familiar journal of his catapults you back in time, flashbacks playing in your head from all the vivid occasions you've seen him carry it around or write in it. He had never let you look at his entries, always making a show of hiding his secret words from you. Looking at it now, you see that a page toward the end has some sort of bookmark sticking out. 

"You still have that?"

Harry looks confused. "What, digestion problems?" 

"No, oh my God," you say with a burst of laughter. "I meant your journal. You've had that thing for ages." 

"Ah." He pulls it out and sets it next to his coffee cup. "Yeah, I still have it." 

You admire how worn the cover is, decorated with permanent marker scribbles on the cracked material. "Are my terrible drawings still in there?" 

Nodding, he smirks and leans back into the booth, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll show you later. They're quite abstract." 

The space fills with comfortable silence for a while, and before you know it, you're walking out the door with him and into the night. You don't remember ever getting up, but the numbness in your brain might have caused it. The past week has felt like a fuzzy dream you've been stuck in. Grief is a peculiar thing.

Under the snowy sky, hometown nostalgia in the dead of winter creeps under your skin. When you look around at the sidewalks you used to walk with your grandpa, everything suddenly hits you hard. Your lips wobble as you try to blink back the tears, but they fall without warning. 

Harry quickly wraps both arms around your shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "It's okay to cry," he whispers, kissing your hair. "I promise you it's okay." 

You sniffle and say, "Whenever we see each other, I always end up crying." 

He hums. "Sorry. I don't mean to." 

"No, it's not you this time." You bury your nose in his coat and let the woodsy scent of his cologne distract you. "I just always realize how lonely I am when winter comes around. It gets harder as I get older." Swallowing and shaking your head, you continue, "I used to adore winter as a kid. I would play outside in the snow for hours and then come inside to drink hot chocolate. I wouldn't care if the sky was grey or if my fingers would freeze. Nowadays, I just stay in my room when it's gloomy unless I need to go to work. Growing up isn't as fun as I thought it'd be." 

"You still have my number," Harry replies softly, pulling you closer. "You can always call or text me when you're feeling lonely." 

"I had to pay by the minute when I called you about my grandpa since you were in the Netherlands." 

"And is that so bad?" 

You smile and sniffle again. "No, it isn't. To be here on an empty street in the freezing cold, crying and joking around with you... I've missed it. Not the crying, but you know what I mean." 

"I know," he murmurs. "I've missed it too." 

"Will you be celebrating Christmas with your mom?" you ask, hearing a car drive by. "She's still living here, right?" 

"Yeah, I'll be at her house." He cradles the back of your head and gently pulls it away from his coat. "You should stop by. She always thinks of you." 

You look at him and say, "All good things, I hope." 

"Always." Taking your hand, he starts walking further down the sidewalk. "Follow me." 

Harry stops at a streetlight and releases his hand to pull his journal out again. He flips through the pages until he gets to one toward the end. "When we said goodbye in the summer," he says, "I walked around town and wrote about all the places we used to go to—places where we had good memories. You can read what I wrote if you want." 

"Really?" you ask. Harry nods, so you take his journal from him and read the black ink that fills half the page. 

The streetlight on the corner of Lawton Avenue. I kissed you under it on New Year's when the clock on my phone turned to midnight. Your lips were cold, but they lit a fire inside of me. What I would do to feel them again, even if just pressed against my cheek like you did when we said goodbye. 

"Lawton Avenue..." you trail off, your eyes dancing around the area where you stand. "Isn't that—" 

"This is the same streetlight," Harry interrupts quietly. 

You exhale incredulously, gazing up at the familiar light. "It is. I remember now." 

"This feels right, doesn't it?" He steps closer until his boots touch the tip of yours. "Me and you being here. It's like something keeps bringing us back to one another. Does that sound crazy?" 

"Gramps," you choke out. 

He tilts your chin up with his knuckle. "Hmm?" 

You take a deep, shaky breath. "I almost wasn't going to tell you that he passed, but then I thought about how much he liked you. He always went on and on about how nice of a boy you were. How he could see the love in your eyes." 

"He loved you. I only saw him a few times, but I know that he loved you so much." 

"I know. I think he brought us back together." 

"Well, he was right about the love in my eyes," he says, his gaze piercing your soul. "I don't think it's ever completely gone away." 

Logical thinking goes out the window when you tell him, "I love you. I shouldn't anymore, but I do. 

Harry cups your cold cheeks. "Stop. You don't get to say that." 

"I love you," you repeat, your voice becoming thick with emotion. "You still mean so much to me. Just like what you said to me back in July." 

"Right person, wrong time. That's what we decided on the rooftop." 

"But I didn't mean what I said." 

That night was five months ago. It's wild how one day, one look at him can change all your feelings. The love you thought you lost with him is coming back as an unraveling epiphany. 

Sighing, Harry looks down at the sidewalk blanketed in snow. "You told me it would never work," he says. 

"I didn't know what I was saying," you reply hastily. "It was so overwhelming seeing you again after two years." 

"I don't understand," he says, slightly frustrated. "You made it seem like we were better off never seeing each other again." 

You wipe your tears that are either from the brisk air or your own misery. "I'll be your friend, I'll be a one-night stand, I'll be anything. I just want to be someone to you again." 

He glimpses at your lips. "You are. You're everything to me." 

"But the distance—" 

"Fuck the distance." 

It was the only thing that broke the relationship. 

"You were so good, Harry." Resting your forehead against his, you breathe out a landslide of emotions. "Such a good boyfriend. You loved me better than anyone." 

"I still love you," he says, placing both palms on your neck. "Years ago, it was high school love that I didn't fully understand. This... hey, look at me." Your chin is tilted back up with his thumb. "This right here is even more real to me. This is why I asked if we could try again." 

"So, what now?" you ask, looking into his eyes. "We try again?" 

"We try again." 

"How?" 

"If the distance fucks everything up," he says with his warm breath hitting your lips, "then we know we aren't right for each other. But I'll go through that possibility if it means I don't have to love you from afar anymore." 

"Just come home," you plead desperately. 

"I am home. Technically, right?" 

"No, you don't get it." You grip onto his shoulders. "Come home to me. To my heart." 

He kisses your cheek twice, the first quick and the second longer. "I'm right here, baby. I'll stay for as long as you need me to." 

"I want you to stay here." Your own voice sounds distant. "I miss you all the time." 

"I will," he affirms, his eyes fluttering shut and his voice fading. "I'll come home to you." 

Just as you're about to kiss his lips, something taps the back of your hand. The streetlight you're under goes dark, and the vision in front of you fizzles out as you blink rapidly to find yourself back in the café, staring at your latte. 

"Hey," Harry says tentatively, squeezing your fingers with his. "You all right?" 

Snapping your head up to him, you blurt, "Sorry. I zoned out for a bit." You shake your head and repeat, "Sorry."

"That's okay." He looks out the window, the snow falling harder than it has been all day. "I was just saying that your parents will probably want you to get home soon since the roads will be getting bad. I can drop you off." 

Your throat tightens. "Um, sure. Yeah, I'm ready to head out if you are." 

"Okay," he says while standing. "Stay here. I'll start my car since it takes forever to heat up." 

You just weakly smile as he walks out the glass doors. Sinking in your seat, you try not to think about where your mind drifted. It felt so real, so wildly vivid. His voice, his words, his touch; all of it made sense. In your head, you do everything right. You let him in, not push him away. You talk it through, not avoid the burden you carry. You keep your chin up, not give up at the first sign of doubt. 

After lightly slapping your cheeks, you sigh and put your coat back on. When you get up to shove your arms in the sleeves, you see that Harry left his journal on the table. It sits vulnerably next to his empty coffee cup, the string tied loosely around the cover. 

You shouldn't, but you do. 

Quickly opening it and flipping to the page with the bookmark, you skim the messy ink on the damp page. It looks fresh. Dried dots from snow darken the paper in various places, but you only focus on what the words spell out. 

She's under the willow tree, more beautiful than the weeping branches crystallized with icicles. I sit here in my car, wishing there was a way to let her know that I would do anything she wants me to. 

My love for her warmly courses in my blood, protecting me from the brutal winter. If she opened her heart to me, I could make her my home again. Light those vanilla candles and kiss her like I used to. Tell her all about how she makes me a lovesick fool with no cure. Give her my time and apologize for ever walking away from the best thing that slipped through my fingers. 

Where she goes, I follow. There's some powerful force that refuses to keep us apart. Why can't she see it? I can't be with her if she doesn't yearn for me like I do for her. I understand the distance and why, in retrospect, she sees the potential downfall. However, I see the beauty that could flourish from it if we just try. 

I want to come home to her every day, but how do I even begin to tell that to a girl who doesn't feel the same? 

Fuck the distance. 

The café door suddenly opens with a chime, making you slam his journal shut. Thankfully, Harry doesn't notice since he's too busy looking down and stomping his snow-covered boots on the welcome mat. 

You pretend you're picking up his journal for the first time and say, "Don't forget this." 

He glances up, eyeing what you hold. "Shit, thank you." He strides over and takes it. "Wait, I never got to show you your drawings." 

"It's fine," you tell him. "They're probably really embarrassing." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive. I'm pretty tired." 

His gaze dances around your face, then falls to your hands fidgeting with the zipper on your coat. "Let's get you home," he says softly. "You can try to sleep on the way there." 

You end up doing just that until he pulls into your parents' driveway. Opening your eyes, you squint at the bright beams of the headlights reflecting off the house's windows. You look over at Harry and find him staring at you, his face barely visible in the dark. 

"We're here," he whispers. 

You nod sleepily and unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you for… for making today a little easier." 

"Of course." He rubs the back of his neck, not knowing where to look. "I hope you get some sleep tonight." 

A chasmic pang. A searing sting. A residual twinge. 

Why? 

Because the words you tearily whispered to him before shutting the car door cause you to fall into bed and clutch the blanket until sleep overtakes your heartache. 

You're a good man, Harry.  

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #come home to my heart

[impuls1veworm]

MAN OF YOUR DREAMS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — when will you finally meet the man of your dreams?

‘What a joke,’ you think to yourself, closing out of Tinder.

You knew using the dating app was going to be fruitless, but you were desperate. It had been years since you had a boyfriend, and you yearned for the feeling of love and comfort that came with having a significant other.

Getting out of the comfort of your bed and walking to your bathroom, you stopped in front of the sink. You turned on the sink, getting ready to brush your teeth, and call it a night. Not in the mood to even follow your nightly skin routine. As you looked up, watching your reflection in the mirror, your eyes scanned your face. You didn’t look bad, you just looked…tired. You let out a sigh and looked down, picking up your toothbrush.

As you laid in bed you thought of getting on your phone, swipe through Tinder and read your unanswered messages on there. Instead, you reached over, flipping it upside down. You’ll deal with that disappointment in the morning, you need to get some sleep.

“I missed you,” said a masculine voice from behind you. Your heart swelled, an overwhelming sense of happiness coming over you at the sound of the man’s voice. You quickly turned, greeted with the sight of a man whose face looked like a blur of colors, but who felt so familiar you didn’t need to see his face to know this was the love of your life.

“And I missed you,” you said back. Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He met you in the middle, capturing your lips, immediately deepening the kiss. You pulled away, letting out a squeal, before giggling as the man lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You felt giddy as he walked towards the bedroom, the two of you exchanging quick, sloppy kisses the whole way.

He dropped you on the bed, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “The things I want to do to you…” he trailed off, giving a kiss to the corner of your lips as he trailed down your neck. His hands began to make their way under your shirt—

The sound of your alarm caused your eyes to snap open. The loss of the faceless man left a deep ache in your chest; you almost felt like you were mourning a death as you realized what you experienced was a fantasy. The man in your dream wasn’t real, he didn’t even have a face. You dreaded the thought of getting out of bed, the overwhelming disappointment from waking up was enough to leave you wanting to be swallowed up by your bed.

You didn’t have a choice though, you had to go to work, the last thing you needed was to be jobless and loveless.

As you stood at the crosswalk waiting for the signal to walk across, you heard a familiar voice behind you. Instantly, a rush of adrenaline shot through your veins as you realized who it was:

The man from your dream.

Getou, Nanami, and Gojo — JJK

Ran, Hanma, Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Rindou, Sanzu, Kokonoi, and Shinichiro — Tokyo Rev

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #hanma x reader #mikey x reader #draken x reader #mitsuya x reader #rindou x reader #sanzu x reader #kokonoi x reader #shinichiro x reader #nanami x reader

[violet-1atte]

Candy Cane Mocha

this is very late...oops

Summary: After being in America for six years, Jisung returns to South Korea for the holidays and reunites with his best friend and ex lover, Minho

Tags: Minsung, Christmas, holiday, exes to lovers, getting back together, fluff, Minho is whipped, Jisung is whipped, smut, bottom!Jisung, top!Minho

AO3 Link

Six years. Six years since Han Jisung had left South Korea to go study abroad in the United States. Six years since he had seen any family other than his parents. Six years since he had been home. 

It was a good six years. In that time, he had improved dramatically in his English speaking skills, made new friends, lost friends, had relationships (although largely unsatisfying), and more hookups than he could count. He had finished college and was working on getting his name known as a producer alongside his friends Chan and Changbin who were transfer students just like him. It wasn’t that he had intentionally stayed away so long. Life had just taken over and he never had the time to plan a trip back. 

This year, he decided it was time. He had some vacation time saved up from work and honestly, he missed it. The States had their own charms, but he would still get an ache in his chest, yearning for his small hometown in South Korea even six years later. That was why he planned a four week vacation to visit his family for Christmas and see them for as much time as possible. 

As he waited for his parents to pick him up at the airport, a nervous excitement bubbled in his stomach. His parents had come to visit him while he had been gone, but it had been so long since he had been home, he didn’t know what to expect. What had changed? What had stayed the same? Did his parents keep his old bedroom in the same state he left it or did they clear it out? Did the same people live in his neighborhood or had they all left like Jisung six years before? If the same people were there, would they remember Jisung? And if they remembered him, what would they think of him? Was his ex still living here or had he left too? Jisung didn’t know whether he wanted him to be there or not. Would it be a crime to say he missed him even though it had been so long? 

There were so many questions Jisung had, and they all left his mind the moment he saw his parents. They hugged him and he hugged them back harder. His mom nearly cried, cupped his cheeks, and whined about how he was, “Too skinny.” His chest filled with warmth and for a moment he forgot all of his worries about returning. 

When he got home, his mother started preparing dinner. “I also got cheesecake for you,” she said, and Jisung’s mouth watered. “I thought you might like a little treat after that ridiculously long flight.” 

Jisung pressed his lips together, a knot forming in his throat. “Thank you, eomma,” he said softly. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” 

“Oh no need,” his mother stated with a wave of her hand. “You appa will be helping me anyway. You should go and rest before dinner. I know you must be exhausted.” 

At the suggestion of rest, the fatigue hit Jisung’s body and his limbs felt too heavy for him to carry. He was exhausted. The jetlag was going to hit him hard and being on the plane for so many hours had taken it out of him. “Okay. I think I will go up to my room and rest for a bit,” he said with a smile. 

“Good! I’ll call you when dinner’s done.” 

Jisung grabbed his suitcases he had set down and made his way up the stairs to his old bedroom. His chest tightened as he took in the layout of the house, the same as it had always been. Family pictures lined the walls and he cringed at the school photo from his sophomore year where he was wearing thick rimmed glasses and had bright blue braces on his teeth. 

When he opened his bedroom door, he was suddenly eighteen again–unsure of himself, apprehensive of the future, mourning the end of his high school relationship–everything was exactly as he had left it, albeit a bit cleaner. The shelf full of manga he had left thinking it would be too immature to bring with him still remained, as did the shelf of figurines below that. His old posters were still on his wall, only the corners were curled in. His bed was made but he had no idea if it was with the same set he had made it with when he left. Knowing his mom and her affinity for cleanliness, probably not. But it didn’t even matter. It was all so similar that the wave of memories it brought back was almost too much for Jisung to handle. 

Going to sleep was the easiest solution to dampening the onslaught of emotionally-charged memories that being home produced. It didn’t take long for him to doze off either, and he only awoke when his father called to him from the bottom of the steps. He did a double take when he woke up, absorbing his surroundings in confusion before he relaxed. It was like stepping back into the past. 

As they sat down to dinner and Jisung filled his plate, his earlier questions came rushing back. “Has the town changed much since I’ve been gone? I remember you said they added a new shelter here,” Jisung started. There had always been stray cats and dogs wandering around his neighborhood when he was a kid, so the addition of a shelter was extremely welcome. 

“Not too much, honestly,” his father said with a shrug. “You know how it is around here. Nothing much to write home about.” He laughed softly, and Jisung was reminded how much he had missed the sound. Even though his parents came to visit, it had still been over a year. “We’ve had a couple families move out here and there, a couple move in. But it’s mostly the same.” 

Jisung nodded softly and then his mother got a lightbulb look on her face. “Oh! But this new coffee shop opened recently. About a year ago, I think. It’s such a cute little place, really gives the village an extra homey feel to it. It’s actually run by–” 

His father cleared his throat and gave his wife a pointed look. “It is really lovely,” he agreed. “You should check it out. We won’t be here tomorrow since I’ll be working at the office and your eomma will be at the shelter, so it’d give you something to do,” he suggested. 

Jisung wanted to ask about what his mom was going to say before she was cut off, but he decided it probably wasn’t important. He simply smiled and nodded at the suggestion. “That does sound nice. I’ve always loved places like that. Maybe I can work on some lyrics while I’m there.” He didn’t write music as much as he produced but there were still some artists he needed to work on lyrics for. Cafes and coffee shops were the best place to do work like that. 

“Good!” his mother said with a sweet smile. “I’m sure you’ll love it.” And contrary to what his younger self believed, she was often right, so Jisung believed her. 

“I’m sure I will,” he responded. 

His parents shared a look that he couldn’t interpret but then the topic shifted and he forgot about the entire exchange, other than the fact that he needed to visit the cafe. 

As much as Jisung loved winter, the wind nipping at his already numb cheeks was not his favorite thing. He pulled his scarf up just a bit higher so that it covered the bottoms of his cheeks and he rubbed his gloved hands over his skin. He reasoned that at least he would have a warm drink and a cozy coffee shop to sit in soon and all the wind and icy temperatures would be worth it. Thankfully, the shop was not too far away from his home and he was able to admire all the Christmas lights and decorations that lined the streets. Even if he was cold on the outside, he felt warm on the inside. 

The coffee shop was not easy to miss. He noticed it as soon as he came upon the building. The outside was decorated with garland and icicle lights and there was a large sign on the front that read, Lino’s Coffee and Tea in cursive lettering. The same title was printed across the two big windows in the front. The door was painted red and had a large wreath hanging on it, which Jisung admired for a moment before he opened the door. 

A quiet chime went off as Jisung pushed the door open and a delicious concoction of scents hit his nose as soon as he stepped inside. Rich coffee mixed with cinnamon and the smell of sweet pastries, and it made Jisung’s mouth water. There was no one standing at the counter, but there were a few patrons sitting at various tables, sipping on lattes and snacking on expertly prepared pastries. The display at the counter caught Jisung’s eye immediately, and while he had originally been planning on just getting a coffee, the sight of a cheesecake with a spiral of red strawberries around the edge and drizzles of chocolate over the top caught his eye. 

From inside the kitchen, someone called, “I’ll be with you in a minute!” and for a second, the voice sounded extremely familiar, but Jisung couldn’t place it. 

That was, until the owner of the voice stepped out. In an instant Jisung’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell agape. Deep-set brown eyes, rose-petal mouth, sharp jawline, the most perfect nose he had ever seen–he would recognize that face anywhere. 

The same look of recognition passed over the other man’s face and after a few seconds, his shocked expression softened and he smiled softly. “Jisung-ah,” he said, and Jisung’s stomach flipped when his name rolled off his tongue. His voice held the same, gentle warmth that it always had when he spoke to him. But that had been so long ago.

“Minho-hyung,” he breathed. 

He had not seen Minho in six years and it had been four or five since he had last spoken to him. He couldn’t exactly remember.  But at one point, they had been best friends. And before that, Minho had been his boyfriend. 

They started dating when Minho was in his senior year of high-school and Jisung was in his junior year. They had been friends since 7th grade and Minho was his first kiss. His first everything. Minho never intended to go to college so he was still around even as Jisung was in his senior year. But when Jisung graduated, that's when everything changed. They started having more disagreements, more tension, and less romance. Part of that was fueled by the fact that Jisung had applied to a college in the United States and was fully planning on attending. Minho acted like it would be okay and he would be fine, that they would be fine, but it was clear he was having a difficult time handling it. In the end, they both agreed to break up and go back to being friends. 

As time went on though, they progressively started talking less and less. The major time difference coupled with Jisung’s busy life and their past put a rift between them and at one point, one of them sent the last message. Jisung couldn't remember who, but he had a feeling it was him. 

"It's been a while," Minho said, bringing Jisung back to the present. "How long has it been?" 

"Gosh." Jisung rubbed the back of his neck. "Six years? Yeah. Six years. It's been a long while." 

"It has," Minho agreed with a nod. He was rocking back and forth–Jisung could imagine him bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was something he often did when he was excited or nervous. Jisung didn't know what to do with either of those things. “What are you doing back here?” 

“I’m here to visit my parents and just visit…home,” he answered, hesitating at the word “home.” “I’ve been saving up vacation time and money. So I was finally able to travel.” 

Minho hummed softly. “That’s good. Really good.” And really, Jisung couldn’t agree more.

"How have you been? Is this your place?" Jisung asked, gesturing around to the coffee shop. "Fuck wait–Lino? Is that you? Lee Minho? " 

A smile bloomed across Minho’s face and Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest. Oh shit. It was just as beautiful as he had always remembered it. Even more so. He still had the same lopsided grin, the same slightly crooked front teeth. 

Jisung’s stomach felt like a whole zoo. 

"Yeah, this is my place. I opened it up about two years ago. I was working to open it for a while before though. The idea came to me when you–" Minho cleared his throat and glanced down. When you left, Jisung gathered. "I didn't really know what to do with myself. You know I was kind of directionless for a while…well I knew I didn't want to leave, and I loved baking and coffee, so it just made sense." 

Picturing Minho putting so much work into this little coffee shop–spending hours developing recipes, saving money to open–made Jisung's chest fill with warmth. He had always been such a hard worker and Jisung had always admired him for it. That hadn't changed. "Well it's beautiful. And everything–everything smells amazing and looks–wow. I can't believe you did this all on your own. It's spectacular. Wow." Jisung couldn't help his exclamations of awe. It really was amazing. The inside of the coffee shop was honestly beautiful, decorated for Christmas just like the outside. He hadn't even noticed the Christmas tree in a corner of the shop until he started looking around as he attempted a coherent compliment. 

Minho laughed, soft and bright, and it was the most beautiful sound Jisung had ever heard. Wow, he had missed him. It was insane how fast he felt comfortable around him again. “Thank you, I’m glad you like it,” he said genuinely. “Ah, I’m taking up your time. You probably have things to do. What can I get you, Jisung-ah?” 

“No, no, it’s okay! I was just gonna chill here for a bit, work on some song lyrics, you’re good,” Jisung said, waving his hand. “I think I’ll take a large candy cane mocha, and…a slice of that cheesecake there,” he said, pointing at the cheesecake on the display. A knowing grin spread across Minho’s face and he nodded as he typed Jisung’s order into a little keypad on the counter. 

“You never change,” he mumbled, the smile still on his face. 

Jisung’s cheeks warmed and he bit his lip. In the past, Jisung got cheesecake on every outing he possibly could, and it was his dessert of choice on dates. He didn’t respond as he paid, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his mind that Minho remembered. 

A few other people entered the shop as Jisung waited for Minho to finish his drink and get his dessert but Jisung’s eyes were focused on Minho. Over the years, Minho’s appearance had matured so much and he had grown into his features in a way that made him even more beautiful, which Jisung hadn’t thought possible when they were together in high school. 

When Minho handed Jisung his drink and his plate of cheesecake, their fingertips brushed. Minho didn’t seem to notice, but the contact sent sparks up Jisung’s arm. He needed to remind himself that this was his ex. His ex he had not spoken to in years. There was no reason for him to be reacting to him this way. None. 

Except, as he thanked Minho and began to move to find a table to sit at, Minho called out to him. “Jisung-ah,” he began, then clenched his fists on the edge of the counter, “it’s good to see you again. I…I missed you.” And oh this was not good for Jisung’s poor, lonely heart. 

He hadn’t realized how much of an ache there had been in his heart until it lifted, eased by Minho’s presence, his words. He swallowed a lump in his throat and inhaled. “I missed you too, hyung.” 

-

Minho and Jisung’s breakup had been Minho’s idea. It was mutual, and Jisung agreed to it almost immediately. That fact only made it harder for Minho, though. When he brought it up, part of him hoped that Jisung would fight for him, that he would say they could work things out, that distance wouldn’t destroy the love they had. Instead, he smiled a little sadly and nodded. “I think…I think that might be for the best.” 

No one knew that Minho spent every night for the next month crying after that. 

Years before, when his last message was left on read by the younger, Minho resigned himself to never seeing Jisung ever again. He reasoned that it was for the best, that it would help him move on and finally get settled with his life. And it had helped, even if not at first. It allowed him to focus more on planning for his cafe and that’s what he did; he threw himself into work like he never had before. In the end, it was worth it. He had a beautiful coffee shop that made a good profit and made the townsfolk happy. He was happy and he was settled. Sometimes he still thought of Jisung, wondered how he was doing and what he would say if he knew how successful Minho’s dream had become. But for the most part, Jisung was out of his mind. 

And then he walked into Minho’s shop and right back into his life. Nothing could have prepared him for the tidal wave of emotions that hit him the moment he laid eyes on Jisung. He looked the same as he always had, but he had grown up. His jaw was sharper but his cheeks were just as full. He had a few new piercings on his ears and his hair was lavender instead of the deep brown he had left with. Minho felt the same way he had felt when Jisung first held his hand, only this time the feeling choked him. 

Despite the cocktail of emotions swirling through Minho’s head, talking to Jisung was easy. As easy as it had always been. They just clicked like that. It felt like they had never stopped talking, like Jisung had never left. But at the end of the day, he had. It had been years, they were both adults, they had both been through things neither of them knew about in the time since they’d last spoken. In a way, they were practically strangers. 

And yet, Jisung looked so happy to see him. 

The interaction was something Minho couldn’t keep out of his head. It took everything in his power not to look at Jisung the entire time he was sitting at his table. He had to remind himself that things had changed, time had passed, Jisung probably had a girlfriend or a boyfriend back in America. 

Perhaps they could be friends. 

Minho had deleted his chat with Jisung a while ago but he still had his contact. He could never bring himself to delete it or block him. He had no reason to. Things had just faded out and they didn’t even end on a necessarily bad note, no matter how heartbroken Minho had been. Circumstance just brought them to that point. But now that he had seen Jisung again and he was in the area, likely staying with his parents, then there was a chance Minho could text him again and they could hang out. 

Unfortunately, Minho was scared. He was worried Jisung didn’t actually want anything to do with him and he would turn him down and he would be stuck in a pit of his own embarrassment. He needed to test the waters first. Jisung would likely be there until Christmas at least so he had time. 

What he had not been expecting was for Jisung to come into the shop almost every day from that point. The second day he came in and told him how his parents were the ones who told him to come to the coffee shop and how much they loved it. Minho realized he would have to give them a personal thank you for bringing Jisung back to him. That day he ordered a candy cane mocha again, saying that while he usually just went for an Americano, it was Christmas time so he wanted to be more festive. He had also had a larger sweet tooth lately. 

He didn’t come in the next day, but he showed up the day after that, getting a simple Americano that time. One day he came in and didn’t even order anything, just said he liked the environment and it was relaxing to write music there. Minho caught him looking at him at least five times while he was working behind the counter; there was no excuse for the way it made butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

Around a week from the first day he came in, Jisung showed up again when it was an hour before closing and he ordered a chocolate filled croissant and a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Minho gave him a little extra just because he could. And instead of leaving to sit at a table and write lyrics like he had the days before, Jisung stayed at the counter so he could talk to Minho in between customers. It was a slow day, so Minho was grateful for the company, especially since it was Jisung’s company. But he wouldn’t admit that out loud just yet. He didn’t talk about anything important, mostly just different anime he had watched recently and what some of the genres he had been working on were, but Minho held on to every word. 

The time rolled around for Minho to close up, and it made his chest ache as he thought of telling Jisung he was closing for the evening, but Jisung beat him to the topic instead. “I could help you clean up, if you want,” he suggested. 

Minho’s heart soared before it landed back on earth and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sure you have things to do. I can handle it on my own,” he reassured him. 

Jisung’s bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It made Minho’s knees weak. Fuck, he was even worse off than he had been in the past. “I want to help though. You work here all by yourself and it’s gotta be hard, even if that’s what you usually do.” 

“I have help sometimes,” Minho said with a shrug. Jisung was still pouting and if Minho were a stronger man, he would tell him to go anyway and insist he could do it on his own like he always had. But Minho was incredibly weak. “Alright, fine. But don’t expect to get paid, this is volunteer work.” 

Jisung’s pout turned into a wide smile and he hopped off of his seat. “I know, don’t worry. I just wanted to help.” 

He shuffled behind the counter and suddenly Minho was keenly aware of the fact that since Jisung walked in two days ago, he hadn’t interacted with him without the barrier of the counter between him. Now it felt real–Jisung was actually here and not a figment of Minho’s imagination. He swallowed thickly. 

“Alright, if you want, you can just wipe down the counters and tables. I know where everything goes so I’ll take down the display.” He gestured for Jisung to follow him into the back and handed him a cloth and cleaning agent for the surfaces around the shop. 

“Sounds good to me, Minho-hyung,” Jisung said with a soft smile. He took the supplies from Minho and went back out to the front to begin wiping down the various tables and countertops. Minho watched him for a minute as he went, something tugging at his chest. He gave himself two firm pats over his heart and mumbled, “Shut up,” under his breath. 

They cleaned in relative silence. Occasionally, Jisung would break the silence by humming a melody Minho didn’t recognize under his breath. It was comfortable. This was how they always worked, Minho remembered it clearly. Silence didn’t bother either of them. They didn’t need to talk to fill some imaginary gap–each other’s presence was enough. 

With help, cleaning did go by faster. Jisung was efficient and even helped him sweep and mop so Minho could focus on fixing everything else that needed to be dealt with. 

The December sky was dark when they stepped out onto the street but the sidewalks were lit by lamps and colorful Christmas lights. Under the subtle glow, Minho could see the gentle flush on Jisung’s round cheeks. “Let me walk you home,” Minho suggested before he could think better of it. 

Jisung tilted his head at him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Do you even remember where I live?” 

“I could never forget,” Minho admitted. He had walked past it a few times over the years and would sometimes pause in front for a moment, hoping that somehow Jisung would come through the front door. 

Jisung hummed, contemplating, and then nodded. “Okay, yeah. I could use some company on the way, if it’s not too much trouble.” He wrapped his scarf around himself, obscuring the bottom half of his face. 

“No trouble,” Minho reassured. “I’ve got nothing to do anyway." What he didn't say was that he just wanted to spend more time with Jisung. He didn’t want to go home and reminisce about the past while wishing he had just spent more time with Jisung. He didn’t even know how much time Jisung would be spending in Korea. He needed to get every second he could, even if it was the last he would ever see of him. 

The streets were fairly busy with cars and the sidewalks with people leaving work, but if anyone asked Minho later, he could only remember the two of them. They walked back together, closer than needed. They didn’t hold hands, but they came pretty damn close with the way their arms would brush together every few steps. Jisung either didn’t seem to notice or he didn’t mind. 

After they had walked a few blocks, thick flakes of snow fluttered down onto the sidewalk beneath their feet. Jisung’s eyes widened at the sight and he let out a soft gasp as more snowflakes joined in. “Oh my gosh snow! Wow, it's so pretty. Where I live in America doesn’t have much snow. This is exciting,” he said, skipping a little as he walked. 

“A little Christmas gift from the universe then,” Minho commented with a chuckle. Jisung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at the sky and the Christmas lights reflected off them and cast a warm glow on his face. Minho was reminded that Jisung’s favorite season was winter. This walk may have been enough to make it Minho’s favorite, too. 

Jisung caught at least ten snowflakes on his tongue before they arrived at his house. Minho, unfortunately, only caught them in his eyes. But it was worth it to witness the joy on Jisung’s face. 

They paused at the door before Jisung went inside; it painfully reminded Minho of the first kiss he shared with Jisung after a walk similar to this–only that was on a warm summer evening and they were both hot and tired and so inexperienced–Minho thought that if they were to share a kiss now, it would be much better. He thought he saw Jisung’s eyes flick to his lips, but then the look was gone, Jisung meeting his eyes. “Thank you for walking me home,” Jisung said with a soft smile. 

“Of course.” Minho clenched his fists in his pockets. “Jisung-ah–I’ve been enjoying spending time with you at the coffee shop—” He watched Jisung’s face fall for a split second before he continued, “but I want to spend more time with you, if that’s okay? I know we stopped talking and it’s okay if you don’t want to but—” 

“I want to,” Jisung interrupted. “We can talk about all of that another time, I know I…I need to say some things. But I do want to.” 

Minho let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Okay. Okay then. I’ll text you. I still have your contact.” Was that embarrassing to admit? Minho realized he didn’t care. 

“Oh…that’s–that’s good. Yeah. Text me. I’ll make sure I find a time.” 

“Perfect.” Minho knew his excitement was poorly concealed but this was Han Jisung. Han Jisung who used to be his Han Jisung. “I’ll let you go in now, it’s fucking freezing. And I think my fingers are turning into popsicles.” 

Jisung laughed and shook his head. “Well you better warm them up then. I’ll see you later, Minho.” He waved and then in a blink of an eye, he was on the other side of the door. 

Minho sighed and a shiver wracked his body. Fuck it was cold. 

-

Minho messaged Jisung the next morning. Jisung was sitting in his living room, sipping a mug of hot chocolate, when his phone made a loud ping! He nearly dropped it when he attempted to pick it up to check who had messaged him and his stomach flipped when he saw the contact name. He hadn’t changed it since they had last messaged. 

Minho-hyungie

10:27am When are you free? 

Jisung 

10:28am I’m free almost any time this week :) My fam still has to work until Christmas So lonely (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥⋆)

Minho-hyungie

10:32am Later today then? I’ll ask my friend Felix to watch over the shop until close 

Jisung 

10:33am Reallyy? What are we gonna do? 

Minho-hyungie

10:36am Mm it’s a surprise 

Jisung 

10:36am Sounds suspicious You aren’t gonna murder me are you? 

Minho-hyungie

10:37am I already have the dumpster where i’ll dump your body in mind 

Jisung 

10:39am (°△°|||) Scary 

Minho-hyungie

10:40amI’ll pick you up at 2? 

Jisung 

10:41am I’ll be ready! 

Minho-hyungie

10:42am Make sure to wear warm clothes 

When Minho came to pick Jisung up, he pestered him the entire time, begging him to tell where they were going. But Minho wouldn’t budge, even when Jisung used his biggest, saddest eyes possible. That had gotten him so many things in life so it was entirely too frustrating that it didn’t work on Minho in the moment. But Minho apparently had developed a resolve of steel over the years so he could not be persuaded. 

It was only when they actually arrived that Jisung realized the surprise was worth it. Minho was taking him ice-skating. Something he hadn’t done in years. 

“Oh my gosh!” he exclaimed, eyes blowing wide as he turned to Minho. “You’re amazing.” 

“I know I am,” Minho said with a playful grin. 

Surveying the skating rink, Jisung was hit with memories from the last time he went ice skating. He and Minho were still together at the time. It was an icy winter day, colder than this one. Minho had surprised him then too. The only real difference was that it was closer to Christmas then and of course they were holding hands and sharing soft, giggly kisses every time one of them slipped. It was a memory Jisung had totally forgotten until now. He wondered if Minho remembered that too, if this location and the surprise had been intentional. He tried not to think about it. Things were different now. They were different now. 

Yet, when he looked at Minho and he smiled at him with the same soft fondness in his eyes as he did years ago, Jisung wondered if they really were so different. 

“Still remember how to skate?” Minho asked as they walked to get their skates. Jisung rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“Pft, of course. It’s like riding a bike, right?” 

It was not like riding a bike. 

The moment Jisung was on the ice he was slipping and sliding everywhere except where he actually wanted to go. His arms flailed around and his legs slid across the ice in opposite directions, forcing him into a near split before he landed gracelessly on his butt. His lips jutted out in an exaggerated pout as Minho doubled over laughing, clutching his sides like Jisung’s pain was the funniest thing he had ever laid eyes on. “You are not amazing. I just changed my mind. Stop laughing! ” he whined. 

Minho let out a little “ah” as he finally caught his breath and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Hannie. You were just so confident.” Hannie. He hadn’t called him that in a while. 

Minho eased towards him on his own skates and held his hand out for Jisung to take. Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed and he pursed his lips but he took his hand anyway. Unfortunately, even with Minho holding his hand, he was still unsteady on his feet and they nearly slipped out from under him as he stood so he went colliding into Minho’s chest. 

Warm arms went around his waist, holding him steady. Jisung inhaled a shaky breath, his nose filling with the scent of Minho’s cologne. It was something vanilla and sweet and it made Jisung a little dizzy. “Careful,” Minho chastised, his voice so gentle and warm that it melted over Jisung like caramel. “Hold onto me and I’ll help you.” 

It wasn’t good for Jisung to be this close to Minho. His ex and ex best friend. It wasn’t good for his sanity or his heart but Jisung was selfish. It was okay anyway, right? He was just helping him skate. So he nodded, not trusting the sound of his own voice now that he’d had real physical contact with Minho and had smelled his sugary cologne. 

“Okay, wrap your arm around me.” 

Jisung did as he was told and moved away from Minho just enough that he could wrap one arm around his waist. Minho did the same, his gloved hand coming to grip the curve of Jisung’s waist. They had too many layers between them for Jisung to really feel it but his breath still hitched at the pressure. Minho didn’t seem to notice, and if he did notice, he didn’t say anything. He got right into guiding Jisung along the ice, holding him firmly so that he wouldn’t slip. It started to come back to him as they glided along the smooth surface, but Jisung didn’t want to let go, even after he became confident enough to do it on his own. It was cold and Minho was so warm and his fingers felt nice digging into his side. He was probably holding him harder than he needed to but that didn’t phase Jisung one bit. 

“You really did forget all of this in America,” Minho said, shaking his head. “Is it really that warm there?” 

“Well, no…” Jisung responded, cheeks burning from embarrassment. “I just live in California near the ocean and it’s super warm there. We hardly ever get snow there. And America is so big, hyung! There’s places there that are super cold.” 

“Oh yeah, I know. I just mean…I don’t know…kinda forgot what state you lived in,” Minho admitted sheepishly. “I thought it was like New York or something. Nevermind.” 

Jisung frowned softly, discomfort twisting in his stomach. “It’s okay. I mean, we didn’t really talk about where I was going that much…and it’s been a while.” 

Minho hummed and when Jisung glanced up his lips were pursed and his expression looked pinched. The discomfort spread through Jisung’s stomach and settled in his chest like a weight. There was something hollow there, nestling deep inside him. They had stopped moving, no longer moving smoothly across the ice. The air had gotten colder and it was thick with the unspoken truth they both knew. We don’t know each other anymore. 

Minho looked over at Jisung and his face relaxed a little. “Sorry just… I know it’s silly. It’s just where you live. But it’s really been so long. I don’t–” He swallowed and for the first time Jisung noticed his eyes were glassy. “I don’t know anything about what your life has been like for the last–what? Four years?”

The hollow feeling crawled up Jisung’s throat and he held down a distressed sound. “Let’s–let’s sit down, hyung.” 

Minho nodded in agreement and he directed them to the edge of the rink so they could sit down on one of the benches. They were silent for a moment, both of them trying to figure out what to say, what needed to be said. After a moment, Jisung decided to be the first to speak. “What do you want to know?” 

“Huh?” Minho asked, tilting his head to look at Jisung. 

“What do you want to know about me? About my life. Since the last time we talked.” 

“Everything,” Minho answered easily. “I want to know everything, please.” 

So Jisung told him everything. He told him how he never intended to stop messaging him, how it almost just happened and in the end he thought it might be for the best–but he also told him how sorry he was for that. How the guilt still twisted his stomach like a hoard of snakes whenever he thought about it. He also told him about Chan, a music student from Australia, and Changbin, another music student who had grown up in New York city his entire life but had deeply Korean traditions, both who were Jisung’s two best friends in the United States. He told him how they wanted to start a production group together called 3Racha and they had been slowly working towards producing for bigger artists. He told Minho about the relationships he had while he was in America, not missing the way that Minho’s eyes flashed at mention. He told him about the friends he had made and about the time he went out drinking with Chan and Changbin and got so drunk he made an utter fool out of himself by attempting to dance on the bar. He told him how he started seeing a therapist for his anxiety and how he discovered that working out really helped him mentally. He told him everything that he could think of, everything that would make it seem like Minho had been there all those years. 

The sky was dark with only a hint of sunlight peeking over the horizon when Jisung finished. The tips of his ears were numb and his nose was running from the cold and even though his hands were shoved into his coat pockets, they still felt cold. Anyone else who had been there previously was gone and it was getting close to the point where the rink would be closed off for the night. 

“I’m sorry I took up all our time with my talking,” Jisung said through chattering teeth. Minho smiled softly and shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I just liked spending time with you. Getting to hear you talk,” Minho told him. “Your life sounds so interesting.” 

Jisung chuckled. “Not super interesting. Just chaotic.” 

“It’s interesting to me.” Minho’s eyes held his and his gaze was so intense for a moment that Jisung’s heart nearly stuttered to a stop. But then the intensity was gone, leaving behind a mob of butterflies in Jisung’s stomach. “We should get going. Maybe get some hot cocoa since it’s so cold?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’d like that.” Jisung stood up from the bench and stretched. His limbs were stiff from the cold and from sitting so long. The thought of hot cocoa made a shiver run through him from his head to his toes. He couldn’t wait to be warm and cozy instead of freezing. 

They dropped off their skates and went to Minho’s car. On their way back, they picked up some hot cocoa to go and as the warmth settled in Jisung’s stomach he let out a content sigh. Even though they didn’t spend their whole time out ice-skating, Jisung was happy. He felt a weight was off his chest now that he had shared so much about his life with Minho. There was still more they probably needed to talk about. The end of their friendship, their breakup. Jisung still wanted to be Minho’s friend, but he couldn’t deny there was something more there. Something that could be worth pursuing now that they were both older and more mature. The problem was, Jisung was nervous. It had only been a week since they had reunited and as much as Minho now knew about his life, Jisung knew little about what Minho had been doing all this time. 

He had been working on stepping out of his comfort zone though. He had been working on facing his fears. 

“I wanna hear about your life too,” Jisung said softly, picking at the edge of the lid on his hot cocoa cup with his thumb. “I did a lot of talking and you didn’t get to tell me about yourself.” 

“It’s not all that interesting,” Minho replied with a shrug, turning the wheel with a single hand. 

Jisung shook his head adamantly. “Not true. It’s you. And I think it’s up to me to decide whether or not it’s interesting while you’re telling it, right?” He smiled playfully and Minho sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you everything you need to know,” Minho said with a chuckle. “But, later. It’s late. When we hang out next. If you want that, of course.” 

Jisung bit his lip, a jolt of excitement shooting through him. Minho wanted to continue spending time with him. That was good. “I do!” He nodded. “And then you’ll tell me everything, right?” 

“I will.” Minho took a quick glance at him and smiled so fondly Jisung was sure his heart would melt through his ribcage. 

“Then I can’t wait.” His lips curled up in a soft smile and he took a sip of his hot chocolate. The drive was quiet from that point on, with only the sound of the road underneath them for background noise. Jisung tried not to let his mind wander too much, but there was still something left on his mind that he needed to say. 

They arrived at Jisung’s house and as he stepped out of the car, he turned to look at Minho. “I’m sorry. For not texting you back. I should have–I wanted to, I just—” He sighed and chewed on his bottom lip. “I don’t really have an excuse. But I didn’t forget about you. I’m sorry I did that to you.” 

Minho smiled a little ruefully but Jisung could tell that behind the hurt that must have been there, there was sincerity. “It’s okay. It’s in the past now, yeah? I think I needed it anyway.” 

Jisung gave him a nod. “Well, it won’t happen again.” He didn’t say that really, over the last few days he had realized that he never wanted Minho out of his life again. He was a different person than the one that had left for the states, a better one. He could do better now. 

Minho’s smile changed into something sweeter and Jisung’s breathing became easier. “I’m glad. And if you do leave me on read again, I’ll just keep bothering you. Sound good?” 

Jisung’s cheeks hurt from how hard he smiled. “Yeah, sounds really good, hyung.” 

They said goodbye and when Jisung went inside, he placed his hand flat over his racing heart. This was so bad for him. He felt like he was slipping on ice again, careening towards the ground. Only there was a chance that someone might be there to catch him this time. 

Jisung did not get to see Minho much for the next few days. He was busy with the coffee shop and Jisung was busy spending time with his parents and old friends. He got together with his friend Hyunjin, who he had been close to in high school, and that brought a lot of ease to him. Hyunjin was as annoying as ever, but that only made Jisung happier to see him. Their time together reminded him of more carefree days, summers off of school, skipping class to do anything but homework. He hadn’t realized how closed off he had been to his old home until now, but now he had gone from being worried about his return to never wanting to leave. 

His parents seemed to be just as happy to have him back. His mom was making all his favorite foods for every meal and giving him portions to the point where he could swear his pants were getting tighter. His father insisted on hearing about every song Jisung produced or worked on, which was a little overwhelming but Jisung would never pass on sharing his pride and joy with someone else. 

With these bright sides though, there was something…slightly more annoying. They seemed intent on making Jisung’s reunion with Minho a Big Deal. 

“So…have you stopped by the coffee shop these last couple days?” Jisung’s mother asked as she stood at the sink washing vegetables for dinner. Jisung could feel his cheeks turn fifty shades of red and he shook his head. 

“No. Besides, why does it matter, huh? Something you want to tell me, eomma?” 

Jisung had figured out by now that his parents set him up to meet Minho. It didn’t take much inference to come to that conclusion. He was grateful but at the same time he couldn’t help but shake his head at their scheming. 

“No, nothing,” she said with a shrug, humming as she set the vegetables in a bowl. “I’m just glad that you two are talking again. You both always got along so well.” 

“I always liked him,” his father piped up as he entered the dining room. “A really good kid, that one. You should invite him over sometime! Christmas dinner?” Jisung resisted the urge to groan. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to rub them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Minho over for Christmas dinner. It just felt a bit too soon for that. And it might insinuate that he wanted more with Minho–which might not be a lie at this point. 

“I don’t think he’d want to do that. We’re just getting back to knowing each other.” He sighed, slumping down in his seat. 

“Well tell him he’s invited!” his mother said with a sharp nod of her head. “He can say no if he wants, but the offer is there!” 

“Humor you eomma, Jisung-ah,” his dad said. 

Jisung did groan this time, long and heavy; like a petulant child. “I’ll ask. Don’t worry.” 

That seemed to satisfy them for the time being and they quickly changed the subject to something else. Jisung didn’t know what–he was once again too lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about Minho, who was taking up too much of his mind. He shouldn’t be like this, not with his ex. But he couldn’t help it. His parents were right. They did work well. Chopsticks, their friends used to call them. 

Perhaps now, things could be different. Perhaps now, the distance wouldn’t be so hard to bridge. 

Later that day, it was Jisung who messaged Minho, asking when he was free to hang out next. They had been texting more since the day Minho brought him skating and through some of those texting conversations, Jisung had learned more about what Minho had been up to during the past few years. To his surprise, he discovered that Minho had not had a boyfriend since they had broken up. He learned that he had a situationship and a few miscellaneous no-strings-attached relationships that did not last long, but nothing substantial. The sicker part of Jisung’s brain twisted with excitement at this news. It made him believe that there was a chance. He wasn’t even sure when he had started wanting Minho back, but somehow he felt like he had since the moment he laid eyes on him in the coffee shop his first full day back home. 

Minho responded a half an hour later, waking Jisung up from the light sleep he had fallen into while lying on his bed watching anime. He rubbed his groggy eyes and blinked rapidly at his screen as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. 

Minho-hyungie

6:34pm You wanna come over tomorrow night? I’d invite you over tonight but I’m totally unprepared for guests lmao 

Jisung 

6:35pm Waaaa you wanna prepare for mee? \(๑•́o•̀๑)/

Minho-hyungie

6:35pm I’m just a great host 

Jisung 

6:37pm Yeah yeah But tomorrow does work good for me *gasp* we should make Christmas cookies! 

Minho-hyungie

6:40pm And have you burn my house down? No way 

Jisung pouted, rolling over on his bed. He had gotten much better at cooking since he and Minho were last together. Minho’s worry wasn’t entirely unfounded since the last time Jisung tried to cook anything he did end up lighting it on fire, but he had grown. He was twenty-four and he would be damned if he couldn’t make some Christmas cookies. 

Jisung 

6:42pm That’s so mean hyung :c I’m a lot better at cooking now yk And you can always bake the cookies while I decorate :3

Minho-hyungie

6:43pm Mhm sure I’ll pick up the ingredients tonight 

Jisung 

6:43pm Yayy! You’re the best 

Setting his phone down, Jisung stared up at the ceiling. His heart was beating too fast and his cheeks were warm, which was becoming a common side effect of talking to Minho or being in his presence. He was royally fucked. 

It only got worse as he got ready to go over to Minho’s house the next evening. He was aware they weren’t doing anything particularly special, but he could still feel the budding anxiety blooming in his stomach. When he and Minho were last together, Minho was still living with his parents. He was on his way towards getting an apartment of his own, but he hadn’t gotten everything settled with that yet. Now Minho was an established adult–he had his own place, his own home. There would be little bits and pieces of Minho’s personality spread throughout the entire place–he would get to meet Minho’s cats that he had heard so much about since returning to Korea. Jisung would be in Minho’s most personal space, he would see the most vulnerable parts of him. And they would be wholly, entirely alone. Together. 

He knew he was making a bigger deal of it than he needed to. But to him, it felt like something big. And it twisted his stomach and pulled his ribs together until the ends were rubbing against each other, making his chest too tight for him to breathe. 

But then Minho texted him a picture of his cat Soonie next to a ball of cookie dough with a text that said, “He keeps trying to steal our cookies. You better hurry up,” and suddenly Jisung didn’t feel as worried. Even if he and Minho were still in the process of getting to know each other again, it was still Minho. And as much as they didn’t know each other, they knew each other more than anyone else could ever understand. 

Everything would be fine. 

He arrived at Minho’s house five minutes before the clock hit 7pm. They had agreed to hang out “around that time,” so Jisung counted it as perfectly on time, if not a little early. Minho’s house was smaller than his family’s home and towards the outskirts of town. There were a few other houses lining the street around it and he had a small yard and what looked like it would be a flower garden during the summer. He had a doorbell so Jisung didn’t bother knocking, opting to ring it in hopes that it worked. 

Minho’s muffled voice responded from behind the door followed by the quiet padding of feet on the floor. Moments later, the door opened and there was Minho, smiling softly. His hair was slightly mussed and he was wearing an apron that had flour and a few sauce stains here and there and his cheeks were slightly flushed. Jisung swallowed thickly. Royally fucked. “Hi, Jisung-ah,” he greeted. “Come in. Are you hungry? I made some dinner ‘cause I didn’t know if you would’ve eaten but I probably should’ve asked—” 

“That’s perfect,” Jisung replied, the smile that had already been on his face the moment Minho opened the door splitting into a wide grin. “I actually haven’t eaten so I could definitely eat now.” 

He followed Minho inside and was immediately hit with just how Minho his house was. It was small, but cozy. Countless plants were spread throughout the living room and the kitchen, sitting on the edges of counters and tables. His furniture and decor was all warm toned with dark green and yellow throw pillows on his couch and a lounge chair he had in the door. There was a yellow checkered tablecloth on the dining room table and a pair of salt and pepper shakers shaped like cats in the middle. The sight alone made Jisung’s heart swell. 

After he was finished surveying the house, he finally noticed the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. His stomach growled and his mouth watered, hit with the different spices in the air from whatever Minho had been cooking. “Oh my gosh I’m like, actually so excited to eat,” he said with a laugh. Minho turned and looked at him fondly. 

“Yeah? Well, good. I made a good amount,” Minho said, going to get the food off the counter. “Ah–it’s japchae. Is that okay?” 

Jisung’s eyes lit up. “Oh that’s perfect. Seriously. What planet are you from, hyung? You’ve always been so good at cooking.” 

Minho laughed and shrugged as he got the food for them. “Mars, but I didn’t learn to cook there.” 

Jisung shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “You’re so weird.” 

“You like weird though, right?” Minho asked with an attempted wink. Jisung’s stomach did somersaults. There was a time, so long ago, where he and Minho were sitting outside one summer night. Minho was having a hard time with his parents and some of his friends and had lamented at that moment that he was, “just too weird for people.” Jisung had turned to him, cupped his face in his hands and said, “You are never too weird, hyung. Not for me. And besides. I like weird.” 

To think that Minho still remembered that. Jisung ached. And worse, he wanted. 

Minho cleared his throat after Jisung had been silent for too long. “Sorry, that was…too much.” 

“No,” Jisung quickly reassured him. “You’re right. I do.” He smiled and Minho’s eyes went wide for a second before he smiled back. 

It was that moment that there was the sound of paws running across the floor and something furry was rubbing against Jisung’s legs. He looked down and let out a gasp at the sight of Minho’s cat, Soonie, curling himself around his ankles. Then, in less than a second, another ball of fur joined Soonie, butting its head against Jisung’s legs while emitting a loud purr. “Oh my gosh. Soonie and Doongie, right?” Jisung asked, kneeling down to pet the two cats on the head. “Hi guys! Oh aren’t you just the cutest? Oh my, so soft!” he cooed, scratching behind Doongie’s ears. 

“Yep, that’s them. Dori’s probably hiding somewhere, but I’m sure he’ll come out eventually.” 

Jisung glanced up as he petted the two cats and found Minho smiling down at him. He quickly looked away, but the sight made his cheeks warm. 

“As much as I would like for you to keep getting to know my babies, we should probably eat. The food’s gonna get cold,” Minho said, which prompted Jisung to pout. He gave both Soonie and Doongie a final pat on the head and let out a dramatic sigh. 

“I’m sorry, kitties, but your owner insists I leave you.” Doongie meowed and Jisung’s frown deepened. “I know, right?” He shook his head playfully as he stood up. Minho watched him with an amused glint in his eye as he went to sit down at the table. “Oh wow this looks good,” he exclaimed as soon as he laid eyes on the food in front of him, completely forgetting about his cat dilemma. He was salivating just looking at the food. 

Minho chuckled as he joined him sitting down and picked up his chopsticks. “Well I hope it tastes as good as it looks. Please, eat.” 

Jisung was never one to not listen when told to eat, so he did. And immediately he felt himself fall again for Minho entirely, the first bite of noodles bursting with so much flavor he nearly moaned. “Hyung, what the fuck,” he groaned. He scooped up another bite with his chopsticks and slurped the noodles into his mouth. “This is amazing. You’re amazing.” He almost tacked on an “I love you,” but refrained. 

“It’s not anything that special,” Minho said with a shrug. Jisung wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. 

“It is though! And you will accept the compliment.” 

Minho rolled his eyes and laughed. “Alright, I will, thank you.” 

Satisfied, Jisung went back to eating with more vigor than he even ate the meals his mother prepared. He would have to tell her that she had competition.

- 

Jisung looked ridiculously adorable, all messy from decorating cookies. There was a smear of blue icing on the corner of his mouth and flour on the tip of his nose. He was wearing one of Minho’s aprons because he didn’t want to get any of the icing on his outfit. Minho didn’t know what to do with the fact that he desperately wanted to kiss him. 

Making it through dinner without grabbing Jisung by the collar of his shirt and pulling him for a kiss was one of the most difficult things Minho had done in a long time. When Jisung took a bite and his eyes lit up and he smiled, when he groaned as the flavors hit his tongue, when he shook his hands in little fists, Minho’s heart ached. He had so many regrets and he wasn’t sure he could come back from them. He wanted Jisung back. He wanted his best friend back, he wanted the person he had once believed to be his soulmate back. 

Decorating cookies with Jisung made the thoughts in Minho’s head quiet down, at least a little bit. It made Minho so happy he couldn’t think negatively. Even if the ache in his heart didn’t subside, at least Jisung was here. And he was so happy. 

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” played in the background as Minho filled a Christmas tree-shaped cookie in with green icing. Jisung hummed softly to the tune and swayed his hips every now and then as he decorated his own snowman cookie. Minho’s eyes were drawn to the motion every few moments and he quickly averted his gaze whenever he realized what he was doing. Did he even know how irresistible he was? Or was Minho just insane? 

“Aww, I messed up his eyes,” Jisung whined, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He held up his snowman cookie, showing Minho the smeared black where the eyes were supposed to be. If it weren’t for the white all over the cookie and the shape it probably wouldn’t even look like a snowman with how wonky the features were, but to Minho, it was the best snowman in the entire world. 

“That’s okay, I think it looks just fine,” Minho reassured him with a slight smile. 

Jisung huffed a little, shaking his head. “All your cookies look perfect. It’s so annoying.” 

Minho couldn’t help but laugh at that, his cheeks hurting slightly from how much he had been smiling the whole evening. “And yours are good too, Sung. Besides, we’re just gonna eat them anyway so how they look doesn’t matter.” 

“That’s just a nice way of saying mine look fucked up.” 

“It is not!” Minho denied, even if Jisung’s snowman looked more like a demented Santa Claus. He tried. That’s what mattered. 

“Sure,” Jisung mumbled. He went back to decorating his cookies, a sulk plastered on his face. A chuckle escaped Minho’s lips and he rolled his eyes. 

They continued decorating cookies like that, mostly in silence. Occasionally Jisung would pipe up to say something random or he would sing along to the Christmas song that was playing. It was pleasant. Minho felt more comfortable than he had in a long while and for the first time in years, his chest swelled with a true Christmas feeling. His happiness swelled up and overflowed enough to get caught in his throat, giddiness like a child on Christmas morning spreading through even his limbs. 

Minho saved most of his cookies so that he could have a nice spread once he was done. Jisung periodically ate the cookies he made, and when they were finished, Minho had about a dozen cookies left while Jisung had a solid six and was complaining about his stomach hurting. 

“If you hadn’t eaten so many your stomach wouldn’t be hurting,” he scolded. 

“You can’t blame me when they’re cookies you made,” Jisung retorted, indignant. He gingerly rubbed over the top of his stomach and sighed. “It’s not my fault.” He lifted his hand to his face and licked bits of crumb and icing off his fingertips. Minho swallowed thickly. 

“Mhm, blame me.” 

He picked up one of his cookies and held it between his teeth as he gathered the rest onto a plate. “Wanna wastch a Chwrifmash movie?” he asked, words garbled by the cookie in his mouth. Jisung side-eyed him, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. 

“You couldn’t have asked before sticking that in your mouth?” Minho shrugged, finally biting off the piece. Damn, they were good. “But yes, I do. Can we have snacks too?” 

“You were just complaining about your stomach hurting,” Minho said, but at the same time went to his cabinets to see what he had. Jisung didn’t seem phased by his comment, instead going to his living room to make himself comfortable on the couch. The sight of him so at ease did something to Minho’s poor heart and he wet his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. 

 He joined Jisung on the couch a few minutes later with two bottles of soju and an assortment of movie snacks in hand. He sat down with enough space between him and Jisung for another person. He knew they had gotten closer recently, but he wanted to make sure Jisung was comfortable. If they were going to be closer, Minho needed Jisung to make the first move. 

“What movie d’ya wanna watch?” he asked, leaning back against the couch cushions as he opened the bottle of soju. Peach flavored. He remembered Jisung saying he liked that in the past and hoped he still did. The first sip settled in his stomach with a pleasant warmth. Maybe a bit of alcohol would stop his thoughts. 

“Any is good. Elf, maybe?” Jisung asked. Minho snickered. He should have expected that. 

“Elf it is then.” He turned on the movie and Jisung settled back the same way he did, opening his soju with a quiet “thank you.” 

Ten minutes into the movie, Jisung scooted closer to Minho on the couch. He stiffened when he noticed and that made Jisung frown. “Is this okay?” he asked, sounding so small and vulnerable in a way that Minho never wanted to hear. 

“Yeah, it’s perfectly fine,” he told him with a gentle nod. He realized then that with as much as he wanted to be close to Jisung, Jisung might actually want the same thing. So instead of being a coward, he moved closer to Jisung and closed the gap between them so that they were touching from their shoulders down to their thighs. The contact made Minho’s skin tingle and his heart rabbited in his chest, yet somehow he wasn’t nervous. Maybe it was the sips of soju he’d had settling in his stomach sending alcohol through his veins–liquid courage–but he felt confident. Before he could overthink it, he wrapped his arm around Jisung’s shoulders, his fingertips brushing against his shoulder. He may have imagined it but for a second he thought he heard Jisung’s breath hitch at the contact. 

“Is this okay?” it was his turn to ask. Jisung nodded quickly, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “You sure? I know we…” We’re not the same anymore. We’re exes. We broke up. We didn’t talk for years. 

“It is,” Jisung said, his voice the texture of cotton candy. The weight was removed from Minho’s chest. 

“Okay, good.” He pulled Jisung more into his side and caressed his shoulder with the tips of his fingers. He could hear Jisung’s soft breaths and could smell his shampoo like this–strawberry, he decided–and it was not good for his sanity. He was so warm against his body, so close. He had been worried about Jisung, but perhaps he should be worried about himself. 

They only made it five more minutes and another sip of soju into the movie before Minho’s feelings were exploding out of his chest, too much to contain. “Jisung…I…” He swallowed thickly and fiddled with Jisung’s shirt sleeve. He wasn’t looking at Jisung but he could feel his gaze on him. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t–I didn’t want to break up with you, back then. I thought–I thought it was the best thing for us but I didn’t want it. Fuck, I–I wanted you to say no.” His voice shook a little. 

“Hyung…” Jisung muttered, eyes wide as he stared at Minho. 

Minho wet his lips and turned his head, making eye contact with him. “I just…I need you to know. That I regretted it. There wasn’t a day I didn’t want you back.” 

“Hyung,” Jisung said again, his voice sounding a little more desperate. “Why–where is this coming from?” 

“I—” Minho wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but he wasn’t drunk. Sure, it was affecting him a little bit, easing his nerves, giving him the courage to say this. But it wasn’t why he was saying it. “Since the day you walked into my coffee shop last week, or whenever it was. I’ve been thinking about everything. And it just made me realize how much I missed you. I think I could–no, I am falling for you again, already. I just can’t keep it in, especially since you’ll be going to America again and I–” 

“Minho-yah, hey. Minho, it’s okay,” Jisung said, reaching up to cup Minho’s cheeks. Only when he brushed his thumb over the soft flesh there did he realize that he had started crying. What the fuck. 

“Sorry,” Minho choked. “I’m sorry, the last thing you probably wanted to come back to was your ex I mean we had to stop talking for a reason—” 

Minho was shut up the moment he felt Jisung’s plush lips press against his own in a warm, chaste kiss. There was little finesse, no tongue, no urgency, but in that moment it was everything. A calming buzz settled over Minho’s body and mind, something settling in his chest where it had been left hollow. Jisung tasted like peach soju and sugar from the cookies they had made together, and like something so familiar even six years later and so distinctly Jisung that it hit him with a wave of nostalgia. 

When Jisung pulled away, his heartbeat was roaring in his ears yet he felt calm. He felt sated, but he wanted more. That was the thing. When they broke up he said he was okay being his friend, but he continued wanting more. When Jisung came back, he told himself he wanted to be friends with him again, and here he was, wanting more. With Jisung, he was insatiable. Greedy. There was never enough when it came to Jisung. 

Jisung looked at him, seemingly waiting for a response to the kiss. He didn’t say anything else, rather, angled his body so he could face him better and pulled him into another kiss. This time he slotted their lips together with purpose, tilting his head so he could take all of Jisung in. He cupped Jisung’s cheek with one hand and the other he rested on Jisung’s waist. Oh his waist. It had always been one of Minho’s favorite parts of him and it turned out it was now, too. 

He gave the curve of Jisung’s waist a squeeze which prompted a small gasp from him. Minho parted his lips as Jisung gasped, licking across his bottom lip, a mere taste of all that he wanted. When Jisung seemed to reciprocate his desire, he licked into his mouth, swallowing down the little noises Jisung made as he kissed him deeper. He was a good kisser, much better than when they had been together as inexperienced teenagers. He tried not to think about all the people he must have kissed since then and tried to focus on the fact that regardless of any of that, Jisung was here. 

Jisung shifted and his hands slid from Minho’s cheeks to tangle in his hair and Minho groaned into his mouth. He wrapped his arm around Jisung’s waist and tugged him forward a little; Jisung seemed to get the memo because in the next moment he was moving to sit in Minho’s lap, his thighs straddling his hips. Minho tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and Jisung outright moaned, the sound pooling as arousal in his belly. 

“Min– Minho,” Jisung gasped against his mouth after Minho released his bottom lip. His hands fell from Minho’s hair to his shoulders and he gave a small roll of his hips–a barely-there movement, but Minho felt it. 

“ Mmh, Sung-ah, fuck,” he breathed. He felt dizzy, his head swimming like he was drunk. He wasn’t, but he might as well have downed the entire bottle of soju in one go. He hadn’t felt desperation like this in a long time. But he needed Jisung, needed him in ways he couldn’t begin to describe. 

Jisung released breathy whines into Minho’s mouth, their lips gliding together, slick and wet. Messy, but so good. Jisung’s breath came out in pants between kisses, a string of spit connecting them. It was driving Minho insane. And when he rolled his hips again Minho gasped at the friction against his cock, which was already hard in his sweatpants. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted—

But—

“Ah, Jisung, Sungie, wait,” he said when he got a moment to breathe from how incessantly Jisung was kissing him. Jisung froze, his movements stopping all together. 

“What is it?” he asked, eyes wide with worry, anxiety. 

Minho wet his lips, the taste of Jisung still lingering on them. “I don’t–I don’t really have anything for uh…uhm.” He gestured vaguely with his hand and cleared his throat. “And I think…I think we should wait. Maybe a little.” Getting those words out felt like tearing at his chest but with their history they couldn’t just rush into things. That would only end up in both of them getting hurt and that was the last thing Minho wanted. He wanted to do things right. 

Jisung frowned and looked a little disappointed, but he nodded. “You’re probably right,” he agreed softly. 

Minho swallowed. “I do want you,” he said, hoping to reassure any thoughts that might be going through Jisung’s head. “But I also want to make sure that you know I want you for more than just sex. And I don’t want us…I don’t want you to do something you might regret especially since you’ll be leaving and we have… history.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it though,” Jisung said assuredly. “I know that already.” He slid off of Minho’s lap but still stayed glued to his side. “And the same things you said, hyung. I didn’t want us to end either. And I never forgot about you. Even if I was an asshole and stopped messaging. That was never–it was never because I wanted to forget you. Fuck, Minho, I don’t think I could regret anything with you except for leaving you.” 

Minho’s eyes stung and he looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly a couple times. “That’s really…wow.” 

“We were stupid kids, hyung,” Jisung said, rubbing Minho’s shoulder. The action caused Minho’s heart to skip a beat. “I was too, especially. Neither of us knew what we were doing in life, I was totally immature.”

“Right person, wrong time,” Minho said with a wry laugh. Jisung still seemed like the right person, but would there ever be a right time? He was going back. Minho didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Yeah…” Jisung trailed off, looking down for a moment. “I know…things are kind of uncertain right now. But I want you to know that spending time with you since I got back has been the happiest I’ve been in a while.” 

Minho’s heart was going to beat out of his chest, he knew it. “That’s just because I feed you so much sugar.” 

“It is not!” Jisung gasped, shoving his shoulder. “You do make an amazing candy cane mocha, and amazing cheesecake, and amazing cookies–but that’s not the point!” 

Minho couldn’t help laughing, throwing his head back. “Ah, I know. I’m just teasing. I’m glad. Really. I’ve been happy too.” Jisung’s smile was worth any tension Minho had felt, any anxieties he had, any worries. He would do anything to see Jisung smile over and over again. 

A moment of quiet passed over them where Jisung just leaned against Minho. Then Minho took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Let’s think for a few days. I think I already know where I stand but I want to be sure. And I just want to keep enjoying my time with you.” What I have left until you leave. “And I want—” His cheeks warmed and he looked off to the side. “If we do anything, I want to make it special. I don’t get to have you for long, I want to make everything count.” 

Jisung stared at him for a moment before he grinned widely. He giggled and bounced in his seat. “ Hyung! That is so romantic and so cheesy. You’re so cute what the fuck.” He giggled again and Minho tongued his cheek. 

“I am not cute.” 

“You’re adorable. I lo–I love how much of a hopeless romantic you are.” 

Minho could deny Jisung’s accusations all he wanted but there was no way he could deny the way his heartbeat sped up just a little. “I just…I care about you, Sung-ah,” he said, his tone turning serious. “I know you haven’t been back for long, but I never stopped caring about you. So I want to show that.” Even if I only get to have you for one night. Even if that’s all I’ll ever get. 

“Hyung,” Jisung mumbled, eyes going a little wide. “I–that really means a lot. I care about you too. I’m still so sorry I just left like that. I won’t do it again. I promise.” 

Maybe Minho was a fool, but he chose to believe him. He reached up to brush a strand of hair behind Jisung’s ear. “I know. I wouldn’t let you anyway,” he joked, but inside he felt it was the truth. He couldn’t let him go again. He wouldn’t. 

“You better not,” Jisung said with a giggle. “Now let's pay attention to the movie. We missed Buddy getting attacked by the raccoon.” 

“Shit,” Minho muttered, laughing softly. “You’re right. Guess I’ll have to skip back.” 

The smile Jisung gave him made his heart ache. But it was a different ache this time. It was mixed with a little hope. 

“Yeah, you better.” 

-

For the next few days leading up to Christmas, Jisung thought a lot. He went over every memory he had with Minho in his head, mulled over his feelings for hours. His parents even asked him what was wrong with how silent he had been at the dinner table since he was usually full of endless conversation. He explained that he was alright but simply had something important on his mind. He was grateful to them for not prying too much. This was something he needed to figure out on his own. 

While he went over his thoughts, he tried to spend as much time with Minho as he could. That really only allowed for two coffee shop visits since he was busy with his own family and Minho was getting more visitors at the shop with it nearing Christmas. Couples were coming in every few minutes, holding hands, giggling, ordering matching drinks and desserts–Minho’s candy cane mocha was the most popular. Jisung had to agree with the popular choice. If he wasn’t coming for Minho there was a large chance he would come anyway to get it again. But maybe that was his bias. 

On his second visit since their night together, which happened to be the day before Christmas Eve, Jisung met Felix. He had heard about him from Minho and knew he helped out with the coffee shop on its busiest days but he hadn’t met him once since he had started coming there. He had not been expecting to hit it off with him so quickly. He was shocked to find out that they were born so close together, practically the same age. Felix could only be described as sunshine incarnate, with a smile that could blind anyone that looked at it for too long, and a personality that hooked anyone to him the moment they started talking to him. He spent more time talking to Felix then than he did Minho and there were more than a few times where he felt Minho’s gaze on them. Whenever Jisung looked over he would quickly look away, lips turned down in a frown. It made Jisung smile to himself. Minho was jealous. 

As much as Jisung enjoyed his jealousy, it was entirely unfounded. For some reason, Jisung meeting Felix only solidified his feelings. Meeting his friend somehow made him feel one step closer to the closeness they had once shared. And knowing he was friends with such an angel made him trust Minho more. 

That evening, while lying on his bed, he made his decision. He’d practically made it already, but he wanted to think about it like Minho wanted. He wanted Minho. That much he knew. There was a lot he had to figure out since he would be traveling back to the United States after the New Year, but he was also selfish. He wanted Minho even if the future was uncertain. He didn’t want to be cautious anymore. 

Jisung picked up his phone and his thumb hovered over Minho’s contact before he pressed “call.” It only rang a few times before there was a shuffled sound and Minho’s voice came over the speaker. 

“Hey, Hannie. What’s up?” 

Jisung licked his lips and sat up a bit straighter so he could focus. “Hi, hyung,” he greeted. “I’ve been thinking. About our conversation.” 

“Yeah?” Minho breathed. Jisung felt like he could hear his interest over the phone. 

“Yeah,” he reiterated. “I really do want you, hyung.” It made him blush to say it out loud again, his cheeks heating up from the simple admission. “I know it’s complicated and there’s a lot I have to figure out but you’re so…I wanna be yours again, hyung. Will you make me yours?” He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as he waited for Minho’s response. He heard the other take in a sharp breath. 

“Yes. Yes, I’ll make you mine. I don’t care about anything else. I just want to have you one time, Sungie.” 

Jisung didn’t say how much he didn’t want it to be one time. This wouldn’t be their first time together, but somehow this felt even bigger than the first time they shared together. Jisung could still remember that moment. How they were both so young and inexperienced but that didn’t matter because it was them and they wanted each other even if they were still figuring out how things worked. Now they were reuniting with more experience, both of them more mature. Both of them with so much to figure out but with the undeniable pull towards each other. Jisung didn’t know how he had gone so long without talking to Minho. 

“You can have me, hyung,” he said, so soft he was worried Minho hadn’t picked it up, but the small hum he heard on the other side told him he had. 

“What are you doing on Christmas Eve?” Minho asked. 

Jisung didn’t even have to think. “I’m completely free. I’m not doing anything with my family until Christmas. And either way, I’m sure they would understand.” His parents had been nothing but encouraging of the renewal of his relationship with Minho. 

“Okay, good. Come over for dinner, then? I’ll make it really nice, just for you, Sung-ah.” 

A lump formed in Jisung’s throat and he nodded even though Minho couldn’t see. “That sounds perfect. Absolutely perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

“Mm. Same time as last time.”

“Alright, hyung. I’ll see you then!” 

“See you then. I’ll let you go now, ‘kay? Gotta go give the demons water.” Jisung found himself nodding again, even though Minho couldn’t see. “Goodnight, Hannie.” 

“Okay, goodnight, Minho-hyung,” he said, unable to hold back his smile. The line cut off and he let out a sigh as he put his phone down. He had a date with Minho. A Christmas date no less. 

He was so fucked. 

Jisung had done his makeup, styled his hair, and done every possible thing under the sun to make himself the prettiest for Minho that he possibly could. He figured Minho liked him as he was, but a little extra effort didn’t hurt. Especially since he had a strong feeling of where the night was going to go after dinner. His eyes had a light golden shimmer on the lids and there was mascara on his lashes, his lips were a rosy pink tinted from a lip stain and gloss, and had added a hint of blush on his cheeks. He didn’t need much since he would most likely be blushing the entire evening anyway.

Minho’s smile when he invited him in was blinding and it made butterflies explode in Jisung’s stomach. He could tell that despite Minho’s excitement, he was still a little nervous which quelled some of Jisung’s nerves. 

“You look pretty, Hannie,” he said softly as he took in Jisung’s appearance. If it was possible for an entire body to blush, Jisung’s did just that. 

“Thank you, hyung-ah,” he replied, smiling bashfully to himself. Minho still thinks I look pretty. 

The house smelled just as good as last time and his stomach growled the moment he stepped inside. There was a bigger spread than before and the yellow checkered tablecloth had been replaced by a red tablecloth with two lit candles in the middle. The lights were dimmed and the flames of the candles cast a warm glow over the kitchen that made it the perfect combination of cozy and romantic. And when Jisung glanced into the living room he saw that Minho had even set up a Christmas tree. It was fake and some areas were more sparsely decorated than others, but it was the most beautiful tree he had ever seen. His eyes stung. 

“I hope this isn’t too much. Or too little–I wanted it to be nice,” Minho rushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I also–I made a cheesecake. Since I know you like that.” 

“This is perfect, ” Jisung exclaimed. He felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. “And you made me cheesecake? You’re amazing. I could kiss you.” 

Minho blinked a few times and then said, his voice a little softer, “You could.” 

Jisung’s eyes went wide but then he smiled, stepping into Minho’s space so he could hold him closer. He tilted his chin up and pressed his lips to Minho’s, eyelids fluttering shut. The kiss was a lot less passionate than the last one they had shared, but not as chaste as the first kiss Jisung had given him. It was just deep enough, the quick swipe of tongue against parted lips a promise of what was to come. 

“You taste so good, Sungie,” Minho murmured as he pulled away and Jisung’s cheeks turned a fiery red. 

“Goodness, shut up,” he whined, shoving him away playfully. “I won’t kiss you again if you’re gonna be embarrassing.” Minho smirked, satisfied with himself. They both knew Jisung was lying. He would kiss Minho again, and again, and again. 

They got to dinner after that, Minho being the gentleman he was and filling Jisung’s plate for him. There was a thick layer of tension that hung in the air as they ate and it made Jisung’s skin tingle and his stomach twist in delight. It was hard to focus on conversation, but he did his best to talk since it was Minho. And he could talk to Minho endlessly. He explained his Christmas plans and learned that Minho wouldn’t be seeing his parents for Christmas. As much as that saddened him, he wasn’t surprised. Minho had always had a rocky relationship with his parents; he was just sad they had never made any effort to repair their relationship with him. He invited him over to his house with his family but he learned that he already had plans to spend time with Felix and his family who were visiting from Australia. Rather than making Jisung jealous, he only felt happy. 

Dinner was filling and delicious and the cheesecake Minho had made was even better than the ones he made for his coffee shop. It practically melted on his tongue and Jisung couldn’t hold back the moan as the taste. “This is literally the best thing I have ever tasted. You have to make these like, every day now. Like seriously, send me this, hyung. I don’t know what I’ll ever do now that I’ve tasted this.” 

Minho blushed and the sight was so pretty Jisung nearly fainted. “I guess I’ll have to now, if you like it so much,” he said. Then, something in the air seemed to shift and Minho’s gaze shifted. He reached across the table and for a moment Jisung was confused at what he was doing, but then he cupped his jaw and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip. “You always eat desserts so messy.” 

Jisung’s cheeks heated up and his stomach swooped. He was going to whine, complain, but Minho apparently wasn’t done. His thumb still remained on Jisung’s lip and he gingerly pulled it down so his mouth opened just enough for him to slip his thumb inside. “Here,” he said. There was a gravelliness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Don’t want you to waste any.” 

Stunned, Jisung could only blink at him. And then he did the most logical thing–he swirled his tongue around Minho’s thumb, licking off the crumb of cheesecake he had swiped up. That seemed to satisfy Minho and his lips quirked up as he popped his thumb out of Jisung’s mouth. 

“Good boy. ” 

Jisung gasped and a jolt of arousal zipped through his stomach. He suddenly felt dizzy and all too aware at the same time. Minho ran his thumb along Jisung’s bottom lip, coating it in his own spit, before he pulled away. His lip and jaw tingled where Minho’s touch had been and his entire body felt like it was on fire. Fuck. 

“Finish up, Jisung.” Minho’s eyes were half lidded, sharp and catlike, and arousal pooled in Jisung’s stomach and prickled at his skin like needles. 

He nodded and took another bite of his cheesecake because even though his mind was elsewhere now, there was no way he would let it go to waste. And the sooner he finished, the sooner he could get to the real dessert of the night. 

Minho’s eyes were fixed on him the entire time he made his way through the dessert. He was afraid to look up, but when he did he found that Minho’s eyes never left him, even when they made eye contact. Occasionally Jisung noticed his gaze shifting from his face to his mouth–when he licked some of the cream off his lips the rhythm of Minho’s breathing changed, and even that sound was enough to make heat boil in the pit of Jisung’s stomach. 

Jisung licked the fork clean after the last bite and set it down on the plate. “Done, hyung,” he announced, the anticipation for what was to come sending tingles up and down his spine. 

“Did you like it?” Minho asked as he got up from his chair. Jisung followed, standing on shaky legs. Minho was in his space with two strides and he placed his hand on the curve of Jisung’s waist. His thumb rubbed up and down, melting Jisung’s brain into sugary syrup. 

“Yeah, it was amazing,” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. “I loved it.” 

“Mind if I see for myself?” Jisung knew what he was asking immediately–Minho already had his own slice, but that didn’t matter. 

“Please,” he whispered, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

The grip on his waist tightened and then Minho was kissing him. He coaxed his mouth open with his tongue and pulled him close until their bodies were flush together. He eased a thigh between Jisung’s legs and he let out a gasp into his mouth at the friction. He could feel Minho smirking against his mouth as he used the hand on his waist to make Jisung grind down onto his thigh. 

At the same time, he used the hand that wasn’t holding Jisung’s waist to grab Jisung’s hair and tilt his head so that he could slot their mouths together better. The slick sounds of their lips and tongues sliding together made the arousal coiling in Jisung’s belly grow and he whimpered pathetically. His mind felt hazy already from just a little kissing, his cock already fully hard in his pants as he practically humped Minho’s thigh. It was embarrassing but that only made him more turned on. 

“Minho-hyung, ahhh,” Jisung moaned as Minho tilted his head back with a tug of his hair and began planting open-mouthed kisses on his neck. The kisses quickly changed to him sucking bruises on his neck. He nipped gentle at the skin and Jisung let out a little ah again. 

“You sound so pretty…fuck you’re so pretty for me, Hannie,” he mumbled against his skin. Each brush of his lips made Jisung shiver and his cock twitched in his underwear. 

“Please, Mm-Minho,” Jisung begged. His legs were beginning to shake–any second he was going to collapse to the floor in a pile of goo. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom, hm?” 

Jisung nodded quickly as Minho led him down the hall to his bedroom. He never let go of his waist, instead wrapping his arm around him to guide him. It made Jisung feel safe somehow–owned, like he belonged to Minho. And maybe that was what he had needed all along. Maybe that was why none of the relationships he’d had in America felt right. Because right was waiting for him in South Korea. 

Minho’s bedroom was much like the rest of his house. Various potted plants spread about, some hanging from the ceiling. There was a cat tree in the corner and fairy lights going around the room attached to the ceiling. His bed was big and the blankets were a soft mint color. He still has the same favorite color, Jisung mused to himself as Minho laid him down on the bed. 

“Is this still okay?” Minho asked as he hovered over him, his hands sliding underneath Jisung’s sweater. His breath hitched as he nodded eagerly. 

“Yes, it’s perfect. I want you. Please,” he answered. To prove his point he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, leaving himself half naked for Minho to admire. Minho inhaled as he took in Jisung’s body, the curve of his waist, his built chest, the muscles in his arms. Jisung knew he looked good, but Minho’s hungry gaze still made him feel shy. He moved to cross his arms over himself after Minho looked too long, but he grabbed Jisung’s wrists and pinned them down. 

“Don’t hide, jagi, ” Minho instructed. “You look so perfect. So goddamn pretty.” 

Jisung swallowed down a whimper at the praise and the pet name. Jagi. Minho called him jagi. He never imagined he would hear him say that again, but here he was, calling him that while he pinned his wrists to the bed. He was blushing all the way down to his chest already. “I won’t, but hyung. Stop staring. I want you.” 

“What do you want, hm?” Minho asked, tilting his head. 

Jisung whined, his cheeks burning. “I want–” He wet his lips. “I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me, hyung.” 

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as he groaned. “Fuck, such a good boy, asking so nicely. Yeah, of course I’ll fuck you.” 

He leaned down to capture Jisung’s lips in a hungry kiss again and his hands began roaming Jisung’s body, sliding down to undo his pants. Jisung’s senses were overwhelmed with Minho, the taste of his mouth, the smell of his cologne, the heat of his body. His hands left fire wherever they touched, sparks igniting, exploding into flames that enveloped Jisung’s entire body. 

He lifted his hips as Minho attempted to tug his pants and boxers down, having to pull away from the kiss for a moment to get him completely naked. They tossed them somewhere in the room, neither of them caring where they landed. 

With Jisung left completely naked and Minho still dressed, he felt incredibly vulnerable, but somehow safe at the same time. Minho’s eyes were trained on him again, drinking him in like he was some sort of magic elixir. Jisung had never felt so desired. Minho looked at him like he was ready to worship the ground he walked on. 

A bead of precum leaked from the tip of Jisung’s dick and he whined when Minho’s eyes flitted down to it. “Minho,” he pleaded. “You’re still fully clothed. I want to see you.” 

Minho chuckled and smirked down at him. “Yeah? What do you have to say?” 

“Please,” Jisung said. He wasn’t beyond begging. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to have Minho right now. “Please let me see you, hyung.” 

Minho smiled and pressed a quick peck to his lips. “Okay, okay. You can see me.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it in the same direction Jisung’s pants had gone, and Jisung nearly drooled at the sight. He had gotten much more built over the years but still maintained a layer of softness over it all. Broad shoulders and muscular arms faded into a soft tummy that Jisung wanted to sink his teeth into. A light trail of hair went down into the waistband of Minho’s pants. His mouth watered. 

“Off,” he huffed, sitting up so he could start tugging down Minho’s pants. 

“Impatient,” Minho laughed even as he helped him tug them down. 

“Don’t tease me.” Jisung pouted. “I’m so needy for you and you’re teasing me!” 

“Oh baby,” Minho cooed. “You’re just so cute when you’re all pouty.” He cupped Jisung’s jaw and brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. Jisung’s heart skipped a beat and blood rushed to his cheeks. “But don’t worry, I won’t make you wait long. Just a second, okay?” 

Jisung nodded dumbly, laying back down on the bed as Minho scooted back to get rid of the rest of his clothes. His cock hung heavy between his legs, so hard and red. And fuck he was huge. Jisung’s hole clenched around nothing at the thought of it inside of him, fucking into him, keeping him so full. 

Minho grinned at him and crawled forward to sit between Jisung’s thighs. “Spread these pretty thighs for me, jagi,” he said softly, tapping Jisung’s upper thigh. Jisung let out an embarrassed whine at how his cock twitched at the simple contact. 

Jisung took a deep, shuddering breath as he bent his knees and spread his legs apart to give Minho access. He tried to keep his nerves down but they continued to bubble up, making his heart race. Minho seemed to notice and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his thigh. “Shh, relax. I’m gonna take care of you, m’kay? And you can tell me if you don’t want to do anything, alright?” 

He nodded, wetting his lips. “I know. I trust you.” He relaxed a little more as Minho smiled, allowing himself to sink into the bed. Minho moved his thighs further apart and reached behind him to grab a bottle of lube sitting on the dresser and a condom that had been placed there. Jisung bit his lip as he uncapped the bottle and poured a generous amount onto his fingertips. The sight of Minho’s hands covered in the slick substance had Jisung’s stomach twisting, arousal building. 

He reached between his legs and pressed his middle finger to his entrance. “���M gonna open you up now, okay?” Jisung exhaled shakily, not trusting himself to speak. Minho bit his lip as he pushed the tip of his first finger past his rim and his eyes winded when he was met with no resistance. “ Baby, what is this?” he asked, his voice taking on a gravelly edge it hadn’t had before. 

Jisung squirmed under him, body heating up like he was sitting in front of a fire. “I–uhm–I fingered myself before I came…so I would be ready,” he admitted shyly. He hadn’t planned to, he just got in the shower and it happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about Minho, his touches, the kisses they’d shared, getting fucked by him. 

“Shit, Sung, that’s so fucking hot,” Minho groaned, sliding his finger all the way in. “Did you think about me while you fingered yourself? Imagine it was my fingers? Or my cock?” 

He curled his finger and Jisung moaned, nodding his head. “Hah–y-yes,” he hiccuped. “Pictured it was you…wanted it to be you, hyung.” 

“Shit.” Minho looked almost as affected as Jisung felt and it only made his dick ache more. 

“I can take two now, I promise. I’m all prepped already, I need you, ple– ahhh, ” he moaned, cutting himself off. Minho inserted a second finger, filling him up easily. Jisung had gotten to three fingers before he came all over his hand. Minho’s hands had always been smaller than his, his fingers shorter, but there was something about the fact that it was Minho that made it feel so much better. 

“Sucking me in just perfect, fuck, ” Minho breathed as he pumped his fingers inside his hole. “Can’t wait to fuck you, shit. You’re so pretty.” 

“ Min ,” Jisung gasped, back arching as Minho spread his fingers. “Another, please, I’m ready.” 

Minho was too far gone himself to question and after pulling out his first two fingers he pushed inside him again with three. Jisung’s breath hitched and his toes curled. Minho pushed his fingers deeper, just shy of where he needed it, and it was so much, yet not enough. He needed more, more, more. 

Minho fucked him with his fingers for a little while longer, reducing him to a whiny, breathless mess with just his hands in no time. Even if he had smaller fingers, he knew how to use them and could angle them better than Jisung ever could when he fucked himself. His cock was leaking all over his stomach and his body was shaking when Minho first brushed the tip of his fingers against his prostate. His stomach tensed and his cock twitched against his stomach, telltale signs of his orgasm approaching. 

“Mmm, ‘m gonna–gonna come if you d-don’t stop. I’m ready, I promise, need you to fuck me now,” he begged, eyes stinging with tears of desperation. 

“You sure, Hannie?” he asked, tilting his head. 

“Yes, please. I can take it.” 

Minho let out a little sound, akin to a moan, and it went straight to Jisung’s cock, electricity shooting through his stomach. “O-okay, shit. You’re so perfect. How are you so perfect?” he mumbled as he pulled his fingers out. Jisung whimpered at the loss, body arching against the bed. 

“Don’t–dunno. It’s just for you,” he said, and he truly meant it. Having Minho back, having him like this, felt so good, there was no way he could have anyone else. 

“All for me, hm?” His gaze softened for a moment before they narrowed again as he hiked Jisung’s legs up so he could fold his hips back. “You’ll be good for me and take it then, hm?” he asked as he rolled a condom onto his cock with his free hand. 

Jisung nodded vigorously, eyes wide as he watched Minho adjust him like a doll, with one hand no less. “Yes, yes, please, just fuck me, fuck me jagi,” he begged, the pet name slipping out easy on his tongue. Minho’s eyes went wide for a second and he blinked, but seconds later his expression was back to normal. 

“Gonna take such good care of you Sungie. My Sungie,” he muttered. Jisung moaned as the tip of Minho’s cock pushed inside of him. It was barely anything but already he felt so full. Minho was going to split him in half. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he whimpered, ass clenching around Minho’s length. Minho hissed through his teeth and squeezed the flesh of Jisung’s soft thighs. It hurt a bit, and they were probably going to bruise. Jisung hoped he would be bruised for weeks. 

“Shit, Sung, you’re so fucking tight. Gotta relax for me, m’kay baby?” 

Jisung tried but he was too overwhelmed. Already the sensation of Minho’s cock filling him up was too much, too much—

“Kiss me,” he breathed, inhaling sharply as Minho pushed in a little deeper. 

Minho didn’t respond, opting to instead maneuver between Jisung’s thighs so he could cage him in with his arms. And then his lips were on him, kissing him incessantly as he pushed his cock deeper, deeper. Jisung moaned into his mouth and Minho swallowed his sounds down like a shot. Their breaths mingled together and Jisung was at the point where he couldn’t determine whether the soft moans and whines he was hearing were from his own mouth or Minho’s. And before he knew it, Minho was fully seated inside of him, his hips pressed first against his ass. 

“Oh my–fuck, you feel so good around me Jisung. Hannie ,” Minho groaned against his lips. “So good, such a good boy, relaxing all nice for me.” He pulled back and oh, Jisung was going to die. He looked so pretty, cheeks and ears red, his lips cherry-tinted and spit-slicked. At that moment, he was like a god, and Jisung wanted nothing more than to worship him.

“‘M good. Feel so good inside of me,” Jisung moaned, pressing his head into the pillows so his neck arched. “‘M so full. You fill me up so well, hyung.” 

“Yeah?” Minho breathed, eyes gleaming. “Shit it’s like–it’s like you were made for me.” 

“Maybe I was,” Jisung supplied, too delirious to think about his words. The sound Minho made was akin to a growl and it made shivers travel over the expanse of Jisung’s body. 

“My Jisungie,” he mumbled, reverent. “Can I move now, jagi? Please, my pretty?” 

“Mhmm, please, need you. Need you to fu-fuck me yesterday,” he stuttered. “Wanna feel you.” 

“Fuck,” Minho moaned, and then he was pulling out, all the way, until just the tip was left inside. Jisung was only given a second before he slammed back in, punching the air out of Jisung’s lungs in the form of a choked moan. 

His thrusts were relentless, each one leaving Jisung breathless, dizzy. He cried out as Minho angled himself just right, the head of his cock brushing against his sensitive prostate. Pleasure pulsed in his tummy, so overwhelming and so good at the same time.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he cried, eyes stinging with tears again. 

“You–you look so fucking, mngh– pretty, shit, S-Sung,” Minho gritted in response. His hair was sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. A drop of it ran down and landed on Jisung’s cheek, causing his cock to jolt against his stomach, more precum beading at the tip. 

“ More, harder,” Jisung whined, his voice pathetic to his own ears. He wrapped his legs around Minho’s waist and Minho pushed forward with the extra help, practically folding him in half. The new angle had him hitting Jisung’s prostate head on, and it felt so good that tears finally spilled from Jisung’s eyes. They ran down his cheeks and spilled onto the pillow below him. Minho’s breath caught in his throat at the sight and he dropped his head between his shoulders. 

 “Are you–shit are you crying?” he asked breathlessly. Jisung whimpered. 

“Just feels–feels so good,” he sobbed. 

Minho groaned. “Fuck, you’re incredible. Taking it so well.” 

“Good? Am I good?” Jisung asked deliriously. He felt dumb, so dumb. Completely cockdrunk on Minho.

“ So good. Mm fuck. My good boy,” he praised. Jisung moaned wantonly at his words. He was so far gone. Everything was too much and simultaneously not enough. 

Minho continued fucking into him, maintaining a steady rhythm despite the fact that he was breathless and panting. Every thrust had Jisung sliding up the bed, his cock bouncing helplessly against his stomach. Even though Jisung’s stomach tensed every time he was filled up again, his body remained pliant, perfect for Minho to use how he wanted. He knew he must have looked utterly debauched to Minho with his mouth hanging open, endless moans spilling from his red-bitten lips. His makeup was probably running too. 

A hand reached between their bodies and wrapped around Jisung’s cock and he writhed. “ Nghh, Minho, Min– please, pleasepleaseplease—” he babbled, no clue at all what he was even begging for. Minho smiled crookedly above him. A drop of sweat collected at the tip of his nose. 

“Are you getting close, jagi?” Minho asked. His voice was rough and it made Jisung shudder. 

“Ye-yes,” he hiccuped. 

“Good,” Minho hummed. “You’ve been so good. You can come for me whenever you want.”

His body melted into pleasure as Minho began stroking his painfully hard cock in tandem with his thrusts. Jisung’s body was coming apart at the seams. He squirmed underneath Minho, the combined sensations of being fucked and touched almost too much–and then he was coming. He gasped and tossed his head back into the pillows as his orgasm washed over him and cum spilled all over his belly. He clenched rhythmically around Minho’s cock despite the overstimulation, pathetic whines falling from his lips. Minho groaned above him. 

“ Hng, oh my gosh, Sung-ah, you’re s-so–” was all he managed to get out. His thrusts stuttered as Jisung continued to clench around him while he rode out his orgasm. He needed to see Minho come, needed to see the expressions he made as he hit his peak. 

“Co-come inside me, pl-please,” he whimpered. He squeezed his legs around Minho’s waist and dug his heels into his lower back. “Please, wanna see you.” 

That seemed to be all the encouragement Minho needed, because all it took was a few more thrusts and he was coming too with Jisung’s name on his lips. He shoved his cock deep inside Jisung as he filled the condom and Jisung could almost imagine that it was him he was filling up instead. Minho moaned breathily as Jisung squeezed around his cock a couple times purposefully to milk him through his orgasm. The sound made Jisung’s cock twitch against his stomach even though he just came. There was no way he could get hard again so soon, but the sight and sound of Minho coming was almost enough. 

When he finished, he pulled out and tossed the condom in the trash and then let out a long exhale, collapsing onto the bed beside Jisung.  They laid there for a moment catching their breaths, the only sound in the room their gentle panting. Then Minho rolled over to face Jisung wordlessly. Jisung turned his head toward him and Minho merely blinked a few times and then his arms came around to pull him close. He maneuvered them until Jisung was on his side and they were spooning, Minho’s arms wrapped securely around his waist. His breath fanned across Jisung’s neck as he nuzzled close, and he remained silent. 

For a second Jisung thought that he was asleep, that was until he heard him take in a stuttering breath. “Minho?” he questioned softly, something twisting in his stomach at the sound. 

Minho exhaled slowly and squeezed Jisung’s waist tighter. “Please stay,” he whispered, voice small and barely audible. Seconds away from breaking. An ache spread through Jisung’s chest. He rested his hand on top of one of Minho’s and brushed his thumb over the knuckles. 

“ Jagi,” Jisung murmured. “Of course I’ll stay. I was hoping you’d ask.” He couldn’t be sure if Minho meant for just the night or forever, but he found that maybe he wanted to do both. 

“Okay,” Minho breathed, his body relaxing more behind Jisung. “I’ll drive you to your family’s in the morning. So you can spend Christmas with them.” 

“That sounds good to me. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas Eve with you.” 

Minho hummed and he could feel him smile from where he had rested against his shoulder. “Me too.” 

They continued cuddling for a few minutes afterward and then Jisung yawned loudly, triggering the same reaction from Minho. “Ugh, we should clean up,” he said. “I’d love to go to sleep now but we’re both disgusting.” 

Jisung groaned. “I don’t want to…” 

“What if we shower together?” 

At that Jisung’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Okay…maybe. But you have to carry me to the shower.” He wiggled around so that he could face Minho and gave him the biggest doe eyes he could. “ Please? I’m tired.” 

“You didn’t even do any work,” Minho responded with a scoff. But he moved to sit up anyway, pulling Jisung into his arms like a baby. Jisung giggled happily and wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck. 

“You’re the best, Minho-hyung,” he chirped. He craned his neck so he could kiss his cheek and giggled again at the sight of Minho’s ears turning red. Fuck, he really could love him again. He was afraid he already did. 

Minho set him down once they reached the bathroom and Jisung let out a squeak when he saw himself in the mirror. His cheeks were streaked with tears and lines of mascara and there were bruises littering his neck from when Minho had first started kissing him. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were still flushed even though they had rested a bit. He looked utterly fucked out.

“What?” Minho asked, cocking his head to the side. Jisung covered his face and groaned. 

“I am a mess! Why didn’t you say I looked like that?” he whined petulantly. 

Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “You look pretty. Means I fucked you like you deserved.” 

Jisung sputtered while Minho laughed at his reaction. As much as he wanted to pout though, he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips. 

Something warm bloomed in Jisung’s chest as he watched Minho prepare everything for their shower, humming to himself lightly as he grabbed an extra toothbrush from his cabinet and set it on the counter for him. The feeling quickly turned bittersweet though as he realized that in another week and a half he would be gone again. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t. 

As soon as he was in the shower with Minho’s hands in his hair shampooing the strands with vanilla scented shampoo, his thoughts melted away. He sank back, rested his back against Minho’s chest even though the other complained that the angle made it harder for him to wash his hair. 

They traded off washing each other, managing to keep their hands from wandering for the most part, and then they walked back to bed, now clean and comfortable. Minho pulled off the top comforter out of principle and switched it for a cleaner one. He also grabbed Jisung a change of clothes and it made Jisung a little dizzy at how much they smelled like Minho and hung a little baggy on him. Minho had never been that much better than Jisung but obviously over the years he had gotten broader, while Jisung had only recently started working out regularly. Any size difference made Jisung’s heart flutter. He felt small in the best way. 

Since it wasn’t that late, they decided to turn on a cheesy Christmas movie while they cuddled under the covers. Jisung had trouble keeping his eyes open but he forced himself to stay awake, wanting the moment to last forever. Minho was completely engrossed in the movie but that didn’t stop the hand that was around Jisung from caressing him every now and then. 

By the time they finished their movie, it was a little past midnight and both of them were ready to sleep. Minho crawled under the covers first and opened his arms for Jisung to burrow in against him. Jisung released a content sigh as Minho’s arms came around to hold him. Minho kissed the top of his head, letting the kiss linger for a few seconds before he moved away. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he mumbled against his hair. Jisung’s heart kicked in his chest and he snuggled closer. 

“Merry Christmas, Minho.”

And for the first time in a while, Jisung remembered what Christmas really felt like. Even if he would be leaving soon, this would be worth it. 

-

Minho spent as much time as he could with Jisung during the rest of his time in Korea. Jisung came to visit him in the cafe whenever he was free, and after Minho was done working, he took Jisung out as long as he wasn’t busy with his family or other friends. Jisung also came over to his apartment almost every night. They would have dinner, maybe watch a movie, and then Minho would fuck him until he was a babbling, crying mess underneath him. He felt a little bad for stealing him away from his family so much, but Jisung’s parents seemed to be quite supportive anyway, if their knowing smiles when Minho dropped Jisung off on Christmas morning were anything to go by. 

There was a level of bittersweetness to everything they did. Minho could feel it and he could tell that Jisung felt it too. They were in a bubble, but it wouldn’t be long before reality came crashing down on them and they had to face the fact that Jisung would have to go back to America and they wouldn’t be together. Minho was doing his best to accept it, but it was harder than he could have imagined. He didn’t want to let Jisung go, not when he had just barely gotten him back. 

There was a chance they could do long distance, now that they were older and more mature. But their relationship was still in such a fragile stage that Minho worried the distance would rip them apart again. He couldn’t handle that. 

What made it worse was that Jisung didn’t seem to want to leave either. Minho could see it in his eyes, in the way that he looked at him. He knew it would be hard for them both and that somehow made it worse. Maybe if he knew that Jisung wasn’t feeling the same things he was feeling, and wasn’t falling for him again too, then it would be easier. He could tell himself that it wasn’t meant to be and he shouldn’t waste his time on someone who didn’t even like him the same way. But Jisung did. He could see that now, especially after they spent Christmas Eve together. Minho was losing him all over again and he didn’t know whether he would ever get him back. What if they really did end up getting torn apart again and Jisung chose to never come back to South Korea? How would Minho survive? 

It was New Years Eve when it all came to a head. Minho was with Jisung at a small party hosted by Felix, who had invited them and a few other friends, two of which Minho only had heard of named Seungmin and Jeongin, and one who he learned Jisung had been friends with for a while, who he learned was called Hyunjin. Jisung was lamenting the fact that his friends from America, Changbin and Chan, couldn’t be there to go into the New Year with them, and wouldn’t even be experiencing the New Year for fourteen more hours. At that moment, realization hit Minho like a truck and the drinks he’d had turned sour in his stomach, making him sick. There was no way he could do that. 

He excused himself from the conversation and made his way outside so he could stand in the cold air. Perhaps knock some sense into himself. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and ease the mess in his stomach so he wouldn’t actually get sick. “Fuck,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Why couldn’t life just be simple? 

After about a minute of alone time, the door opened followed by a quiet, “Minho-hyung?” 

Minho spun around and his eyes met Jisung’s. A lump caught in his throat and he desperately tried to swallow it down. “Hey,” he croaked weakly. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked. “You just…left.” His voice held a vulnerability to it that hurt Minho’s heart. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed Jisung’s hand to intertwine their fingers. 

“I’m sorry, jagi,” he said, giving Jisung’s hand a squeeze. That was a new development too since they had spent Christmas Eve together. Jisung seemed to like getting called that and Minho liked calling him that. It was normal for them when they were younger and it felt the same even now. “I just…” He swallowed thickly, the lump crawling back up his throat. “I don’t–” his voice began to crack and he took a deep breath. “I’m not good with words.” 

“That’s okay, take your time,” Jisung urged. He gave Minho a reassuring squeeze of his hand and that gave him the courage to continue. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he began. “I’ve missed you so much. And I’ve loved spending this time with you. More than…more than you even know. And that’s why–that’s why it hurts so fucking much, Hannie. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you’re gone. I’m–I’m falling in love with you all over again and I can’t lose you again. I don’t want you to go but I can’t make you stay—” 

Minho was cut off when Jisung engulfed him in a hug, holding him so tight he almost struggled to take a deep breath. Jisung’s voice came out muffled from where his face was buried into Minho’s shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you either. I don’t. I’ll figure something out, I promise. But we can make it work. Please, let’s try to make it work.” 

Jisung sniffled and his body shook a little and that’s when Minho realized Jisung had started crying. “Oh no, baby, please don’t cry. Fuck, you’ll make me cry. I hate crying, you’ve already seen me cry too much,” he said with a watery laugh. 

“I just don’t want you to leave me. You don’t–I know I left before, but I’m not gonna leave you. I know it’ll be hard.” He lifted his head and moved back enough so that he could make eye contact with Minho. His watery eyes made Minho’s heart clench. He cupped Jisung’s cheek to wipe his tears and Jisung let him. “But can we please try? I promise I’ll do everything to make it work. I’ll visit as often as I can.” 

The promise did ease Minho’s fears but they were still there, sharp and biting. “I just don’t know how…it’s so far,” Minho lamented. “What if…what if you decide it's too much? Or if you decide you want someone else over in America? We’re still…we’ve barely even restarted our relationship. And I know how I feel but I don’t…” 

“I’m falling for you again too, Minho,” Jisung said firmly. “I might…I might already be there. I know it’s fast, but I already loved you in the past. I can love you again. We’re grown up now. I’m–I’m scared too, you know? Cause what if you find someone here? What if you change your mind?” Minho wanted to say that he would never do that, that he could never, but then he realized he would have to apply the same logic to his own thoughts. “But that doesn’t–that doesn’t matter enough for me to not hope.”

Minho nodded and Jisung took a deep breath. “If you…if you really don’t want to try then I understand. I know I may have seemed more chill about this whole thing but…I really think you’re it for me. Why else would we have met up again all these years later?” he asked. 

“You’re right. And I want you to be it for me too. I don’t think I ever fully let you go.” Minho swallowed. He couldn’t let his worries stop him from having Jisung back. He had let his fears stop him in the past, and maybe that was why he was having these issues now. It was probably good for them that they ended things, too young to properly navigate something as complicated as a long distance relationship. But maybe he could do it. For Jisung. For them. 

“I’ll try,” he said finally. “I want to try. So so bad. I’m just scared.” 

“Me too,” Jisung admitted shyly. “Like, really fucking scared. But we’ll be doing it together, right?” He smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. Minho couldn’t help smiling back. 

“You’re right. Together,” he agreed. Jisung’s smile grew wider and he bounced on his heels. 

“See? Now let’s go back inside. I don’t want to miss our midnight kiss. And it’s so cold. What were you thinking, coming out here by yourself anyway, Minho-yah? Trying to get sick,” he grumbled under his breath, making Minho laugh as he dragged him inside. It amazed him how easily Jisung was able to make him feel better. Maybe it was a sign that things would be okay. 

As they counted down the seconds to midnight, eyes locked together as they waited for the clock to hit 00:00, Minho felt it. Like sparks spreading through his chest. A flame igniting, taking over his body. And when Jisung kissed him, smiling so much against his lips that it practically couldn’t even count as a real kiss, and he tasted the decaf candy cane mocha he’d forced Minho to make him to help him sober up, he knew. It would be okay. 

#minsung #minsung fanfiction #minsung fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #lee minho fanfic #han jisung fanfic #lee minho smut #han jisung smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #smut #romance #minsung smut #fluff #skz fluff #minsung fluff #christmas fanfic #fanfiction #top!minho #bottom!jisung

[mandoalorian]

come back, be here

word count: 1,400

warnings: death of a family member, brief mention of alcohol & smoking

authors note: based of that one “you came?” / “you called” tiktok sound that @evanthefunky just informed me is actually from the sandman ! i haven’t posted a fic in a long time— like, over 6 months for sure. this is a bit daunting for me to come back like this but writing has always provided me with a route of escapism and it’s a hobby i hope i can find more time for. hope you enjoy this one shot!

masterlist || javier peña masterlist

The only thing holding Javier back from leaving Texas and joining the DEA was you. Quite frankly, he was happy to get away from the ranch and his father and his shitty boss at the hardware store. But the thought of leaving you… leaving the warmest bed he’d ever known… well, it made Javier sick.

How could one leave their childhood best friend? Their one true love?

“You’re doing the right thing Javi,” you remember smiling through the affliction as you held onto him at the busy airport gate. “You have to chase your dreams. So do it. And don’t look back.”

“I just wish you could come with me.” Javier frowned, giving your hand a tight squeeze.

“Me too,” you replied with a small sniff. “But you know I have to take care of my grandma, she needs me. Just like the DEA needs you. This is your calling.”

Javier sighed and tapped his feet impatiently. “What if it’s not—“ he was worrying out loud now, torn between the direction of his heart and the logic of his brain. “—what if my calling is to just be a rancher like dad and make you my wife. We can have a bunch of kids and a dog and white picket fence. Maybe some chickens too. I can stay. I want to stay, really. I…”

You sigh and shake your head, pressing your index finger to his lips to silence him. “You’re being crazy, Javi. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Before Javi can respond, the lady on the intercom makes an announcement.

“Flight 187 to Bogotá, Colombia now boarding from Terminal 3A.”

“You have to go now.” You nudge him.

“I don’t—“

“Javi. Go.” You demand.

“But—“

“This is an amazing opportunity and I will not be the person who stops you from pursuing your dream. Now go.”

Javier grabs his bags and suitcase and pulls away from you. “I’ll write to you all the time. And if you need anything just call. I’ll be there. I promise.”

You and Javi write back and forth for about two weeks before he shares with you just how busy work is and how he got a job on a very high profile case that’s been consuming his every waking hour. You raise concern when he admits that he spends his evenings in bars and has started picking up a daily pack of Marlboro. He always smoked but he was smart about it, and you were aware of his tendency to spiral when things got rough. But Javi made all the effort to reassure you that he was okay.

His writing gets sparse in the Summer but he still makes an effort. It’s hard on him and it’s hard on you.

You hold no bad blood or resentment towards Javier when he stops writing to you. It was inevitable. He’s living a new life now. He’s living his dream.

But deep down, he was just waiting for his invitation to come back home. To come back to you.

It‘s almost ten years later when you call Javier.

You notify him through uncontrollable sobs that your grandmother has passed away. He knew her well enough. She’d practically brought you up. He felt your pain through the line of the telephone and his heart ached to be with you.

“I’m sorry Javi, it’s late. And I’m sorry for disturbing you when you’re so busy. I just didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t know— I don’t know what to do—“

“I’m here.” he soothes, yearning to hold you and comfort you through this period of mourning. The words hold very little value and if anything, they just hurt you more.

“But you’re not.” you whisper, your voice just shy of a desperate croak.

You had never felt more alone.

Approximately thirty hours after the phone call to Javier, you find yourself trimming the weeds by your front porch in the home you had lived in your whole life. You scratch your finger on a rose thorn and wince, immediately rising to your feet and heading inside to rinse the blood away and apply a bandaid on the injury.

But before you can even take a step in the direction of your front door, you hear a voice that is all too familiar.

Your name is spoken and your entire body freezes up. A moment passes— you’re not quite sure how long exactly— before the next two words are uttered. “I’m here.”

It’s serves as both reassurance and a reminder. And it doesn’t hurt anymore. But your feet are glued to the concrete ground and you can’t even turn to face the man who’d been gone for so long. The man who you believed may never return.

When you don’t move or acknowledge him, he calls your name again and this time his tone is breathy— almost exasperated. Your eyes are wide and brimmed with glossy tears and a small hiccup escapes your lips.

Finally you gain the courage of your convictions spin on your heel.

It’s him.

It’s really him.

Your Javier.

He looks the same. Still ever so handsome, with the hair above his lip groomed so perfectly and his eyes shining like pools of mocha. He even dresses the same, you notice, making sure to spot the pink collar of his shirt and the tight blue jeans that tug around his thighs.

You feel your heart begin to race and you precariously try to regulate your breathing. This was it. This was all you ever wanted. His face softens and his expression speaks a thousand words. A crinkle of concern burrows between his brow and his pink lips tug into a frown as he risks a step closer to you, breaking the very little distance you once shared.

Javier takes notice of the rapid movements of your chest and briefly, he worries about your heart.

Your beautiful, sweet heart.

A single tear slips from your eye and rolls down your cheek. Javier can’t take it anymore. He wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into him, nursing you as you sob quietly into his chest. In no time at all, you bury your head into the cloth of his shirt and let it all out.

“Lo siento mucho.” (“I’m so sorry.”) Javier whispers into your ear, cradling you in his arms.

He wants to cry too. He’s angry at himself for leaving you in the first place. He knows deep down that you hold no resentment, but he does. If he had the power to go back in time and change things; he would do it in a heartbeat. But when he places a chaste, apologetic just atop your head and smells your shampoo, his anger quickly subsides.

He’s filled with the intensity of being back with you and it’s such an overwhelming feeling of happiness.

After you regain your composure, you pull yourself away from him to take a closer look at his face. You notice a slight new scar just over the bridge of his nose and a few small wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. Somehow he looks even better than when he left. He’s still holding onto you, his fingers tracing lazy circles into the skin of your arms.

You feel practically speechless— after all these years. You’d dreamt of the moment that you reunite with Javier, and planned all the things that you wanted to tell him. Maybe you should have written it all down in a point-by-point format because right now, you couldn’t recall a damn thing.

You just couldn’t believe that he was here and standing before him. So you mustered up the only two words that could come to your mind.

“You came?”

The question held so much weight — because you were beginning to feel a certainty that you’d lost him for good. Despite Javier promising that he’d be back, all those years ago… time was wearing thin and you were both growing older.

But Javier tilted his head and gave you a knowing look.

“You called.”

Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you so much, amor,” Javier smiled and placed another kiss atop your head, and then one on your forehead too, and then a final peck on the curve of your nose. If he could stay here forever and kiss you everywhere; he would. And this time, he does. “I won’t ever leave you again. I promise.”

You barely mumble an “Okay,” before you cup your hands around his face and pull his face down to your level, pressing your mouth against his and getting lost in the touch.

Everything is so familiar— the way his lips move against yours like soft velvet, and the rich taste of honeyed whiskey intoxicating your soul, almost as much as the lingering scent of tobacco on that one leather jacket he donned back in ‘79.

He is back.

Javier is home.

————————

permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl20 @phoenixhalliwell @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @castiel-barnes @rocketqueen @honeymandos @girl-obsessed-with-things @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @cripplingmoon @kaqua @artsymaddie @kennedywxlsh @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @readsalot73 @softmedics @spideysimpossiblegirl @mswarriorbabe80 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javi peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[simonxriley]

What is Your Core Theme?

I was tagged by the wonderful @cloudofbutterflies92 and @corvosattano to take this uquiz. Thank you! 💜

Tagging @playstationmademe @nightbloodbix @carlosoliveiraa @captmactavish @alexxmason @cassietrn @carrionsflower @nightwingshero @macs-babies @voidika @chloekistune @collinnmckinley @inafieldofdaisies @leviiackrman @killerspinal and anyone else that wants to do it!

The Lover

your heart is full and bursting. there is nothing more in the world but your love. it is your only purpose. you ache to drench everyone you know with affection and praise and yet ache more to feel your own love. you have been surrounded by it so long that it means nothing to you anymore, it is perfunctory, it is too familiar to have any effect. you know you are deserving of it but cannot fathom it having an impact on you the way your love impacts others. you give to others what you have never felt yourself because it is so abundant in your heart. your purpose is to love and your desire is to be loved. your painting is "the cradle" by berthe morisot.

Note: Yeah, this is accurate. Liz is a very loving person, but she's just been through so much that her heart is closed. It really takes time for her to open up and love someone, like truly love someone. *cough* Simon and their kids *cough*

The Popular

the attention of outsiders is like opium. at your heart and soul you produce and create and you thrive on the love it gathers from others. it is like taking your first steps as a baby, and hearing the cheers of thousands upon thousands of parents, encouraging you to move a little more, to step towards mother or father. but when the cheers fall silent, you are lost, aimless, a boat in a turbulent sea with no lighthouse to guide you. you are no longer taking steps. there is no voice calling out to you, signalling where to turn, and there is no encouragement. you want to take the steps but you cannot find any good reason to - not without everybody waiting at the end of your path. your painting is "the birth of venus" by sandro botticelli.

Note: Eh kinda. Some of it works for her Marine years tho.

The Griever

you mourn your losses. it is as if something has been torn from your soul and you are forever a lost fragment seeking what you have lost. it will take you time to accept some things are better floating through the universe, taken from us with vice and leaving us incomplete. your corners will drift through the ocean and each grain of sand you brush by will sand you down. you will reach the beaches healed, and your sharp corners will become dull and smooth to the touch. your painting is "anguish" by august friedrich schenck.

Note: This is an ouchie, a big ouchie.

The Yearner

you long for something you have never had. it is just out of reach and your fingertips graze it constantly. you can feel its electricity buzzing through you and just the adrenaline is enough to keep you chasing it. your legs are tired and your body is disfigured but you reach out anyway, you stretch your arms forward and throw yourself at what is ahead. better days are coming. rest will find you soon, you hope, but until it does, you will keep running. the end justifies the means. the end keeps you running. you will know when to stop, you are sure of it, but it isn't yet. rest will find you. your painting is "tender grace of a day that is dead" by walter langley.

Note: This is also an ouchie. Callisto has been an assassin since the day she was born, she yearns for a normal life. A life that doesn't involve killing 90% of the time.

#i love how everyone's is accurate besides Sky's😅 #oc liz walker #oc skylar jackson #oc meiying liu #oc callisto amari

[gunilslaugh]

Just So You Know

Kim Jungsu

Summary: Your confession to Jungsu left you broken hearted, but seeing you move on made Jungsu broken hearted. (non-idol au)

WC:~1.7k 

Warning: angst

Key: B/n - brother’s name

photo not mine credits to owner.

“I like you Jungsu.” It was a bitter-sweet confession. 

“Y/n-” Jungsu began. 

“I know you don’t like me back. I know that I’m just b/n’s little sister to you and that’s ok.” You offered a smile. “I just wanted to tell you,” you finished. Jungsu was at a loss for words. He can’t say that he is surprised by your feelings. He had a bit of an inkling that you might’ve been harboring feelings for him. Now he has gotten confirmation of that, but he’s not sure what to do with it. You’re right he doesn’t like you back. He cares about you, just not in the way you care about him. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” you asked fretfully. Your questions makes Jungsu realize that he has been silent this whole time. 

“No you didn’t,” he assured you. “It's, I’m sorry.” He officially rejects you. It hurts more than you thought it would. You knew going into it that he didn’t like you back, yet his rejection still hurts like a jab to your heart. Still you offer him another smile and even a laugh. 

“I said it’s ok, Jungsu.” Now you’re the one reassuring him. “I already knew. I just felt like confessing anyway. I wanted to get my feelings off my chest. I never expected anything from you, so you don’t have to be sorry,” you tell him. 

You had spent many years pining after Jungsu. All those years you knew that you never had a chance. That you would always be nothing more than b/n’s sister. Even with that knowledge you couldn’t stop your heart from wanting him. From daydreaming about what a relationship with him could be like. As time passed your feelings for him grew deeper and heavier. They eventually got so heavy that you couldn’t bear the weight of them anymore. You had to tell him, even if you already knew the outcome. Sure there was the hopeful part of you that fantasized about him telling you that you were mistaken and that he liked you too. That would have to stay as just another one of your daydreams about him. One of the last ones you're hoping. Another factor in you confessing to Jungsu was that you thought it was time for you to get over him. You spent enough years dreaming about a relationship that would never happen, so you thought it was time you got some closure and moved on.

“I’ll get going then. You can go back to hanging out with b/n.” You turned around to head back inside of your house. 

“Wait a sec,” Jungsu said. 

“Yeah?” you turned back to Jungsu. 

“Goodnight,” he tells you, giving you a small smile. The smile is another apology. You look up at the night sky shining above you both from your backyard patio. Then you shift your eyes back over to Jungsu. 

“Goodnight,” you say back to him. Giving him a matching smile, but your smile is consoling. 

However, you can’t keep wearing your smile. It disappears as soon as you’re back inside your house. Your tears fall as soon as you shut your bedroom door. It was time for you to cry over your unrequited love. To mourn for the years your heart spent yearning for him. It was time for you to cry for your cute little daydreams that filled your head. To have a moment for all the times you spent doing your homework in the kitchen just to be able to catch a glimpse of Jungsu when he came over. Let some tears fall for the way your heart would flutter when Jungsu hugged you. It was time for you to let it all go. Let all your feelings for Jungsu out, so that you could make peace with them and move on. 

At first it was hard. You couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward seeing Jungsu after you confessed to him. You tried your best to act normal, but it was clear that things were different now. They were different for a couple of reasons. One being that your heart hurts. It didn’t pick up upon seeing him. Instead it ached. Number two being that Jungsu was being gentler towards you, as if he was trying to make up for not returning your feelings. It was sweet of him, but it was a sweetness you didn’t need. The distance between the two of you also increased. You pulled away from him as much as you could without it being too noticeable. You weren’t conveniently in the kitchen anymore when Jungsu was over, you just stayed in your room.  You made other plans, so you wouldn’t linger around Jungsu. Your brother did notice these slight changes in your routine, but he didn’t really question it. He figured you were growing up. You found friends that you wanted to hang with more. 

Or maybe you found someone you wanted to hangout more with. Your brother was surprised when you brought over a new “guy friend”. 

“A boy?” He raised his brow at you when you walked through the door with your new friend. 

“Yes, this is my friend Hunter,” you introduced. 

“And how did you meet this friend?” he questioned. 

“He’s a friend of y/f/n. We met when I went over to y/f/n’s for a movie night last month,” you explained. Your brother nods and eyes you suspiciously. 

“Well, have fun then. Not too much though,” he points at you, which causes you to laugh. 

Jungsu was also surprised when he saw you laughing in the kitchen with Hunter. You stopped laughing when you saw Jungsu standing in the doorway, looking a bit awkward. 

“Oh, Hunter, this is my brother’s friend Jungsu.” Your brother’s friend. The words repeat themselves in Jungsu’s head. They don’t sit right with him. “Jungsu, this is Hunter,” you say. 

“Her soon-to-be boyfriend,” Hunter states flirtily, making you laugh. 

“Be quiet,” you chuckle, smacking Hunter in the shoulder. 

“You’re not saying no though,” Hunter points out. Jungsu feels a tug in his heart. His stomach suddenly doesn’t want the chips he originally came into the kitchen to grab.

“Well I’ll just grab a water and leave you two alone then,” Jungsu said. His hand feels clammy as he grabs the cool water from the fridge. His stomach felt queasy as he walked out of the kitchen and back to your brother’s room. Hunter clearly liked you and you didn’t look like you minded it. It looked like you had some feelings for him too. It made Jungsu disheartened. He can hear the way you laughed with Hunter ringing in his ears over and over. You used to laugh with him like that. He used to make you laugh like that. Could he ever make you laugh like that again? Jungsu finds that he doesn’t want that answer to be no. 

“Hunter likes you,” Jungsu stated. The two of you are back out on your back patio undering the glowing moon. It feels oddly reminiscent of the night you confessed to him.

“Yeah he does,” you smiled. “He took an interest in me on the day we first met and started to pursue me, but I wasn’t really looking for a relationship then,” you told. Jungus knows that he is the reason for that. It makes his heart weigh heavy. “He was respectful about it. Said he’d wait until I was ready, but he wouldn’t be going anywhere in the meantime.” Jungsu can see the genuine happiness on your face, yet it hurts him. He doesn’t like you being happy because of another guy. 

“Are you ready now?” Read as are you over him? Jungsu fears he might regret asking that question. 

“You know what? I think I am,” you nodded. “Hunter makes me really happy.” you placed a hand over your heart. He healed what Jungsu broke. Your heart may be healed, but Jungsu feels his break. He definitely regrets asking. He regrets realizing that he did care about you the way you cared, or used to care about him, only after you started to care for someone else. He was too late. 

“Then be with him.” Jungsu offers you a smile. It was the same smile you offered him when you told him it was ok that he didn’t like you back. Fake reassurance, that's what those smiles were, but you both played them off so well. 

“I will,” you tell him. Your words land a jab into Jungsu’s heart. He lost you. 

“I’ll head back inside now,” Jungsu announces. He turns to head back inside the house. 

“Wait a minute,” you said. 

“Yeah?” Jungsu turned back to you. 

“Goodnight,” you smiled at him. This smile wasn’t consoling though. It did still bring comfort to Jungsu though. Your smile always did. Because it warmed his heart to see you happy. 

I like you, the words sit on the tip of Jungsu’s tongue. However, he can’t say them. That wouldn’t be fair to you. He already made you go through the pain of unrequited love. He doesn’t want to hurt you again. His eyes gravitate to the stars above in the night sky then they fall back to you.

“Goodnight,” he gives you a matching smile. This one is also apologetic, but for a different reason. He feels sorry that he didn’t figure out his feelings for you sooner. His smile falls right when he enters back inside the house. His tears silently fall from his eyes when he closes the door to your brother’s room. Thankfully your brother is out cold. He lets his tears fall for his unrequited love. He feels the ache of his yearning heart. He creates a cute little daydream in his head. The same daydream you created of where he tells you that you were mistaken and he liked you too back when you confessed to him. He’ll live in that daydream for a while to distract himself. Then when the time comes he’ll move on from it. Just like the way you moved on from him.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 Years Later

“Remember when you confessed to me back then?” Jungsu asked you. 

“Of course I do? How could I forget my first heartbreak?” you laughed. 

“You were my first heartbreak too,” Jungsu informs.

“Huh?” You tilted your head confused. 

“I realized that I liked you too back then. Only after you moved on with Hunter.” He pointed to the shiny ring on your finger. 

“Jungsu,” you started. 

“I just wanted to tell you. I wanted to get it off my chest. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable either it’s…”

“Just so I know?” you asked. 

“Yeah, just so you know,” Jungsu says. It was a bitter-sweet confession.

Taglist: @purplelady85 @odesonnets @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh jungsu #xdh jungsu #jungsu x reader #kim jungsu x reader #jungsu #kim jungsu

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 14. choices choices...

don't wanna know the other side of a world without you. - Ruelle, The Other Side

S E P T E M B E R   1 9 T H   2 0 1 1

Be kind to me my rapping heart I said until the tapping stopped As scars grew faint, yet ache still bore I found myself at heaven's door

Welcomed by a light soft spoken Waiting for the gates to open And guide me to that life next-door To let me wander 'round some more

"Are you lost?" I heard below A voice with sorrow's unmistakable flow From a heart wounded by life's ruthless seethe Pleading for me to follow and find solace beneath

As I stepped over to the shore I wondered where I'd been before "I'll be your guide," the voice did say Unveiling life's secrets in subtle display

"Where to now," I pondered, my spirit unfurled Trusting the voice in this uncertain world In the realm of shadows and stories untold Guiding me through mysteries yet to unfold

"This might not be a pleasure", it said "For your life wasn't all happy 'til end" And deep in my heart I knew that was true There was more than joy that I went through

As I reflected on life's essence, shrouded in mist Recalling just moments cherished, some missed For all that I wished, was to see what life held Upon me and the one that made my heart melt

Beneath the sprawling sky of midnight blue Hand in hand, 'neath the stars, us too "See her smile? It shines like the moon so bright" Silence followed, as I'm pulled from sight

"Why are we leaving?", not wanting to go Still no answer from the voice that had all to know Into a world devoid of her, it led me astray Where I yearned not to linger in love's disarray

"Please let me return," I pleaded in vain But we'd already journeyed far from that lane In the silent void without her presence "You chose this, remember?", the voice did answer

I looked upon a life where her essence had no place A chilling darkness enveloped, a void to embrace No stars to illuminate the lonely track Yet her memories, like constellations, guided me back

My 'Bama' self wrote all that I knew Hoping that one day she'd remember me too "Did she forget about me?" I wondered aloud The voice softly spoke, "In her dreams, you're proudly endowed"

"Why is she not coming for me?", Iplead Then the voice took me to parts I did never see In the silent whispers of memories unknown I witness her essence in life apart from my own

"She found solace in another's embrace," the voice did convey In her loss, a new love bloomed, guiding her way Downward my heart sank, consumed by despair The thought of her with him, too much to bear

"Take me from here", I begged and I pleaded For seeing her this happy had me defeated "Keep on watching", the voice had said Forcing me to watch in dread, their love wither far instead

The voice pushed me further on her life's path Where her days echoed with sorrow's aftermath Witnessing her mourn the absence of him and me Alone, yearning for how things used to be

"One last chapter, this I'll unveil" The voice led me to a room pristine and pale There, by my bedside, I beheld her form Her fingers intertwined with mine, a hope to weather the storm

"The time has come to choose," the voice, stern and bold "End your life's journey or let it unfold" The end of my life or one in fear of losing love's call Is that truly a choice, or no choice at all?

"I'm not ready to cross", I murmured, a whisper Undecided, yet resolute, my choice I consider For without her, my heart's longing voice And chances, too, fall to a silent noise

So be kind to me my rapping heart I said to make the tapping start As scars returned, yet ache no more I walked away from heaven's door

#alex blake #criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #derek morgan #bau team #criminal minds fandom #bau #dr alex blake #fxf #ssa blake #ssa hotchner #ssa reid #dr reid #ssa morgan #ssa rossi #ssa jareau #original character #alex blake x female character #alex blake x original character #alex blake x original female character #alex blake x fem!character #wlw #fic #fluff #angst

[silly-songs-with-saph]

An indescribable ache, a painful yearning for both what has been and what has yet to come.

The past won't stop haunting me and the future seems forever just out of reach.

Until then I lay here and wait, and ache and mourn.

#not sexy fun times #saph speaks #i have so many ghosts #to the point where sometimes i forget how to be human

[imababygirl03]

So, I started writing yesterday and it takes kind of a dark turn, please enjoy.

Trigger warning: sh, depression.

This purely came out of my mind

Word count: 431

Every slice, cut, is like some relief is from some pain I didn't know I had. Every slice, cut, is like I can breath again. Every slice, cut, is like taking my stress away. I know every slice, cut, is wrong but the relief is so much greater than I can hope. Most said "Stop!" One said "I'm sorry" Another said nothing, one gave punishment. Parents, never know, never will know. Worried for anger, prepared for heartbreak, hoping for happiness that has yet to come. Distractions, stop the pain but the numbness always comes back.

One slice, pain.

Two slices, odd relief.

Three slices, welcoming relief.

Four slices, painless.

Five slices, calm.

Six slices, stress less.

Seven slices, controlled pain.

Eight slices, overwhelming pain.

This is my life, now. Slicing brings clarity. Slicing like a cake that never runs out, slicing like a knife to an onion. Every slice, cut, is forbidden, they say "Don't cut, your skin isn't paper." They say "Don't cut, your skin isn't flowers." Some say "Scars on a person is an angel trying to get back to Heaven because they miss home." Every slice, cut, is because life is too much for me to bare, too much for me to handle. I wait and wait for a positive, something happy but nothing comes. Nothing helps, nothing takes the cold ever lasting numbness away. A scream, screaming for help that will never come because I am screaming under water, no one can hear me. I have no voice. Pain, memory. Memory of family, pain from family. pain, thoughts of telling someone, anyone, will rip family apart. Help, med, pills, numb. Doctor "Pills is what you need for the trauma, you claim happened." Parents, separated, one pair beliefs, one pair caused trauma and pain. Brother too young and pure to know the truth. Mourning for the loss of a family. Identity changes, a small little girl, no more. A strong man, now, slowly putting pieces back like a puzzle. Cation, protection, always. My mind and boy at war. Separated, never alone again. Trauma separated, personalities apart, never one again. My mind, body and heart ache from the pain, yearning and longing for something I am with out. I am not the only one living in my body. Trauma made them, I'm never aloe, yet I feel so lonely. I long to be wanted, loved, cared for. I long for a loving family, I never had. Questions and questions, never ending, never stop. Never open again, too many questions asked, I've shut every one out but the wrong people.

[carelesstemper]

My heart aches

Not for some random one night stand or meaningless sex.

My heart aches for a love I haven’t even experienced yet. A love I can taste but can’t hold physically.

I know it would be this amazing thing to love and be loved. To have everyday regular things just feel so much sweeter because I have him by my side.

How warm and comforting it would be just to fall completely into someone and have nothing in life be better then witnessing the mornings first rays of sunshine with my person. Having someone to wake up with or even just to fall back asleep with.

The love I yearn for would be straight out of the books I love to dive into and get lost in. The books where I see myself as the main character whose experiencing love for the first time. I crave the person who looks at me with so much love that others notice it before I do. I want him to notice all of the little things about myself and have them end up to be the list of reasons why he loves me.

Falling in love with this person would be so easy. There would be no doubt to it. It would be so comfortable. Like walking home after a long day of dealing with what goes on in the world.

It would happen so naturally, that when it happens I won’t know it. I wouldn’t be counting the days like I am now.

The thing is, it’s not happening now and that’s the part that hurts. I mourn this part of me that hasn’t ever existed and its so hard to describe. I’m so excited to have someone to be excited about. I’m so over the waiting its taking to fall helplessly in love with someone. I just want to love and be loved.

To love so hard I could write about it and show my passion towards an art form and a person.

[ambrial-blog]

Are you Afraid to love, Blitzy!

Oh, Blitzy!

I was dominated by you, mind, body, and soul. You're all I can think about, and it's getting out of control.

You taunt me with that devil may care grin, smiling from ear to ear.

Those bedeviled eyes:  are like liquid fire. Burning me, Carelessly,  I yearn for your touch.

I drive myself crazy, with this aching need to posses you, to claim you and to twist you to my

Carnal Desires.

"you'll worship me.

Like I,  worship you darlin,  even though you run and hide from me.  I'll slip into your room at night just to watch you breathe.

Taking little mementos, nothing  you will miss. It bides me time , Until I can have you writhing beneath me, moaning in Ecstasy. Panting, feverish sweat.

Blitzy, I just to wrap my arms around you, envious of those who are around you.

Wishing, wanting, no needing you all to myself.

You can't escape me, I have you in my sights.

Stolas can't save you now.  

Surrender to me.

Surrender to Striker, and set you ambitions free. And yet you refuse, are you confused?.  Darlin,  hasn't anyone shone you love?.

Don't do this to me,  your turning a blind eye, your running away. Running scared,   Don't you hear me calling your name. Blitzy.

Can't you see, we're superior then most of our kind. I long for your touch, your warm ginger skin.  to taste those full salacious lips against mine.

"Your fiery eyes spark,  engulfing me in seedy lust and sweet victory,  as liquid desire consumes  me.

"I need you to see me, don't ya hear me calling your name, partner"

"And yet, you turn a blind eye, ignoring my calls. I can see the uncertainty flicker and flash, in  your eyes. Your hiding from me, but there is nowhere you can run that I can't find you."

"And I will find you!"

"Mark my words." "You'll belong to me" "I see you hiding amongst the trees, my gifts of appreciation, tokens of my love: leave you fearful and uncertain, of who I will attack next.

Nothing is sacred, everything is forsaken except for you. "I will bend you, I will break, I piece you back together" "We are cut from the same cloth, destined to walk the same path. Don't resist me!, oh Blitzy"

He'll break your heart, he will eat you up until there is nothing left. "You are safer with a sure bet, in me" "He'll ring you out, use you up until nothings left but a rotting husk.

"Sugar-cube, come out, come out wherever you are. "How long are we going to keep playing these ridiculous games Bossman?" "Cat and mouse" Lizard and snake" "Can't you see darlin, I'm the only one left who truly cares, whether you live or die" "I'll always be by your side. I'm the only one  you need, I'm the only one who can make you whole. "To fill in the empty spaces of your heart. I can raise you up, set you on a pedestal. Lavish you, Ravish you: like only a country imp can. I'll free you, from the chains that bind you" The open range is waiting for us, those long nights, the sweltering heat, our bodies pressed against each other: sticking to each other as our lips mesh together. "Say you mine, and mine alone" Deny me, and I'll scatter you across fire and brimstone.

"There you are, don't run from me, don't push me away"   "Stop this fuss, and allow me to heal what cannot be healed. Allow me do undue the damage you have wrought.  "Your tired and your scared as   snatch up wrist wrist and pull your body flush against mine.

"I can see the fear flickering in you eyes, as you fight against me me desperately trying to wiggle out of my grasp. "I can hear your heart pounding, the guilt swelling, seeping and gnawing at your mind. "They didn't have to die" But they gave you, their lives."

"You see it now,  there is no hope. no escaping" "You feeling creeping, the uneasiness I bring" "you mourn them" But it wasn't my fault, I had to do, what I had to do" "You need to understand" "You scream for Moxxie: but I already put a bullet in his head, there is nothing left of that vermin but a blood smear.  His wrathful wife, lay beside his peppered body: bloodless and white as a sheet.

"Your the only one left, besides my mark: but you are something sweeter, then a victory song" " Its strange, but I'm only happy when your near me, you've changed me in way I cannot yet comprehend.  "You've molded me, into the perfect killing machine. "A murderous vigilante." "I only have one weakness darlin, and its you" "Your my strength, my drive, my everything, my nothing" And yet,  your against me, fighting to save a life. A life that's not worth saving.

A meaningless piece of shit, your on the wrong side. "You've forced me to chase you, to obliterate those who wronged you. Who were they?. "But a clown and succubus. "A prince and a popper."

"A drug addled sister,  who you couldn't save, who didn't want saving!"

A neglectful daughter. And a pair of lowly vermin!"

"You scream,  as I snap you neck to the side, my tongue glides across your flesh. Your scent is enticing hitting my nose. "I can feel your body trembling, you don't know what's going to happen next. " I can't help myself, I crave you, need you and in the end  you have no left but me, Bossman." And that enough, because this cowboy can take care of you rest assured no one will find you. Because no one will be looking for you.

Blitzy.

Blitzy.

"Are you afraid to love?"

#Hellvua Boss #Fanfiction #The impish Heart A03 #The Impish Heart Wattpad #Striker/Blitzo #Yandere Striker #Poem #Rewrite #Dark AU

[emogirlalexis]

the temptation to break apart and disintegrate into a completely different thing entirely gnaws at my marrow.

my very muscle fiber screams with the ache of efforts my body hasn’t given up on though my mind already put in its two weeks.

what a torturous existence to crave a form you know to be but you haven’t broken the cycle yet.

puddle becomes mist becomes atmosphere becomes rain becomes snow becomes hail becomes ice

ice melts, dew drops glisten waiting for the sun

Always waiting for the sun.

- the cycle can be broken -

you can become free again, free to flow, free to nourish, free to cleanse; to feel clean, to FEEL FREE as you were never meant to be in one phase your whole existence

ebb and flow, wax and wane

you were meant to experience the joys of beauty and the pain of beauty dying,

The sorrow and anguish mourning a beauty your eyes will never behold again,

And the freedom of chance to find your climate.

I’m cold.

I’ve frozen straight through and one gaze too hard in my direction I might just shatter into a million crystals

So much more eye catching when it’s everywhere all at once

vs. contained in a careful guise.

time is a joke and atmosphere the punchline

when it rains it pours,

When it hails everything gets broken-

When the lights are out and the heat is off and there’s nothing but heartbeat and gooseflesh and hands reaching for something to hold on to

black ice keeps you from making it back home.

home to shelter - home to contain

a person who never minded the rain

I’m the window pane and you’re the racing drops

my heart yearns for the innocence I never forgot and the person who loved me not.

sick sweet nostalgia and a clouded sense of reality

drizzle turned tsunami

delight and terror in all my forms

meant to burst + decay endlessly.

#emogirlalexis #poetry #amateur poet #poets on tumblr #word vomit

[the-tomato-patch]

The Hand that Yearns for You ( Ch.2 )

Summary:

"Scourge, his agent, and Wrath had personally seen his death. The Force sang of the finality of that moment in a way that could only be fully understood in hindsight, and it mourned his passing equally. It would take generations for the Force to truly accept and settle once more, and then it would take longer to fill the vacuum." Scourge struggles with the concept of freedom and wonders where he will go now that his three hundred year burden is over.

Pairing:

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( Pre-relationship )

Word Count:

2.0k+

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50967205/chapters/136982368#workskin

Chapter 2

Time flowed, the sun set and the moon rose, days passed and the stars chased away the darkness. And still, things always hung in a state of potential. Potential love, hidden feelings, old grudges, pain not dealt with. Everything existing somewhere, something that would only take a hand, a word, and its manifestation would follow as natural as dawn on the heel of night. Some saw that potential as large as it was small. Either could be a handful of the purest love or a knife twisted expertly into the most vile jealousy. 

For Scourge, it had started slowly, building for years without his notice, from a simple indifference to a grudging acceptance, even companionable tolerance, then a budding friendship that exploded into this all-consuming fire which threatened to devour him whole with the release of emotions long since buried by duty, logic, and necessity.  Festering and ugly, and yet, beautiful. Like an affliction. And how did one approach this inevitable conclusion? How does one see the infection and not cut off their own arm to save themselves from its spread, fear the possibility of what their addiction to the one of their truest hearts desires could inflict upon them? Despite everything telling him it was not the Sith way, Scourge wanted it. It should've been wrong. And it very well could destroy him. But so would the eventual outcome where he didn't indulge this aching need. So long denied, never properly examined, for it had always been a forbidden fruit for a Sith. 

He never had been like the rest though, having dabbled in the passions of romance once before as an acolyte, and perhaps even love, however brief, as an apprentice. How strange was it, he thought wryly as he listened to the wind caress the leaves of the tree he sat under in the dark. That one as cursed and cold as he, filled with so much darkness, could find the brightness that this Jedi's soul, no, more than just a Jedi... Someone he had sworn an oath to, one who had his back unerringly, fought beside him, respected him, the occasional laughs they had shared, the insults, the understanding of what it meant to sacrifice, to walk a line neither the light nor the dark. She had known, had understood even as his lightsaber blade lit up red in the midst of all the chaos of her descent from his former masters fortress, just before his betrayal to the Emperor he'd sworn fealty to three centuries before, that the Force had found their threads and weaved them upon a tapestry for reasons even he couldn't understand beyond the necessity of purging a cancer upon the galaxy. He was to her what she was to him: A catalyst of change.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," said the voice of his salvation, his penance. He watched her approach silently, unable to summon the energy to answer her beyond a low, welcoming hum. "Thinking again?" Rhiasen guessed when he failed to vocalize his reply. Her words were the warmest breeze in the dark, wrapping around his mind with her calm and pleasant tenor, and suddenly the tree bark at his back felt more solid, grounding. 

"Nothing that couldn't wait," he said dismissively when his Jedi settled next to him. Her robe-clad shoulder leaned against him, a delicate curve where her flesh met his. The heat of her body, a comfort he never quite could admit to seeking, and so did by sheer luck. 

They sat together there, side by side. Silenced by the small gestures of comfort offered through the solace of quiet and companionship. Scourge liked these moments, he would call them tender, even, a rare quality not easily cultivated nor taken lightly in their world of peril.

There was tension there. Tension neither of them wanted. Uncomfortable questions hung in the air unanswered, desires half-voiced in the safety of dreams. Yet none moved, unwilling to break this little illusion of peace they'd managed to acquire. It had been a handful of days since their last moments. In which she'd questioned and he'd struggled to put his mind to words and lashed out in defense of it. They hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to each other beyond the requirements of their work together. Everything had been so busy and now...

The sky was clear tonight. No storms, nor the threat of one. Perfect clarity for all the stars in the sky to shimmer their eternal light down upon the surface, twinkling to mark their attendance to the affairs of mortals. His heart beat in a quickening pace. Each rise and fall of his chest a measure of his doubt.

He was sure that was not the way a Sith ought to feel. Insecurity did not suit him. And yet, there it was, seeping in, threatening to drown him. But her warmth was an anchor to reality, giving him the resolve to face his own. There would not be a future without her presence in it, now would there? How long did one fight an inevitability? And did he want to, even? No... No he did not. Even if it meant destruction, Scourge had reached his conclusion. Now all he had to do was follow through with it. "The other day, I'd meant to spare you from... myself. This..."

"Then don't," the words rushed out, hot, feverish. Like they had been boiling just beneath her tongue, waiting for the right moment to unleash. A krayt dragon, its scales flashed with sparks. And a dragon Rhiasen was, beautiful and terrible. For a second, they just stared at each other. A quick flick of eyes from him to her. Both trying to understand the shift, the air becoming hot and oppressive, and then she looked away first. Not as an escape but-

"Let me finish," he interjected, a bark of a request for silence that could've earned him a baring of fangs. Rhiasen merely sucked in a breath and let it out. Obedient and resigned. All her attention, her regard, fell back onto him once more. It had the desired effect.

"I am going to admit something that is very difficult for me; something only you could get me to confess." He started slow, feeling the prickle of his nerves along his arms, "For all my unnaturally long life, my focus was always singular. All consuming. Duty. Protect Vitiate. Destroy Vitiate. Always laboring towards one goal, for one person. But now Vitiate is gone, and I find myself at the start of many uncertain paths. Where do they lead? Where do I direct the power of these emotions that I have no felt for centuries?" 

Scourge pointedly looked at her then, finally facing her. And with his will, summoned up the energy to let himself be seen, feel, vulnerable. Bare the hollow cavity where his soul resides, still empty, but not void anymore. Because she has filled the spaces, wove him anew from broken shards. They could heal together, even if the scars didn't fade, only ease with time and comfort. And oh how he craved it. To be loved. To be touched and wanted and trusted. And not just solely for the selfish reason of having a body to burn away the hunger of physical pleasure, but her warmth to combat the hollowness left behind by centuries of solitude, the reminder that he was needed and missed when gone. And not just as a Sith, not just a weapon for an Emperor, but as a being deserving of soft words whispered in his ears late at night, lips grazing the sharpness of his facial features, teasing smiles and indulgence of mutual desire. All these little things, a piling, amassing mountain of indulgences he never allowed himself. But would now.

"I find it difficult... to speak about my personal wants. The possibilites of the future," Scourge spoke quietly. If one wasn't trained in reading non-verbal cues, one wouldn't have seen her shoulders draw in and the widening of her pupils. This is an important moment and they both know it. She is listening, is hearing every word. "As it stands now... there is nothing else but the future. No past I can't go back and no other road to walk, only this one."

 Rhiasen sat transfixed, gazing intently at his face. One look, one touch and she could probably read his mind. And even though his mental shielding was flawless, she seemed to get the idea and simply turned her body to mirror his. One knee touched his. A reminder he could move and take anything, more, deeper. That there was no rejection to be found. There was only trust and welcome. So Scourge decided, to trust, and welcome. And he carefully took her hand, lifted it, and placed her palm over his chest, where his beating heart lie beneath. 

"The answer is you. I am nothing without you." Scourge squeezed, to try and ensure that she can feel the pounding beneath her fingertips, the rise and fall of breath from his lungs. As much a part of her as her skin and bones were. A devotion no other could match, "In this new life of mine, you are the one thing I would die to protect. You are the one thing I would destroy for.. you are the one thing I treasure. And knowing I have this one thing that is so..." He paused, finding no easy words that could articulate the depths of how this realization consumed him. "extraordinary.. it makes this new life worthwhile."

Scourge ended. No more words, because he had already said everything that was needed. Her gaze had softened, turning contemplative. How easy would it be to just sink into those molten amber depths, as bright and piercing as a lantern in a darkened tunnel. Warmth, acceptance. It made Scourge shiver and ache for so much more. But he would not push, no matter how strong his need to bridge the space between and swallow down those soft sighs and-

"You really are a closeted romantic," Rhiasen chided affectionately, voice thick and heady. Like sweet wine, to dizzy the mind and intoxicate. But he wasn't hearing the admonishment, not completely, instead picking up on the affection, and then the briefest tremor of her lower lip, how her brows drew together just enough, and before she could muster up the emotional defenses that she was building to hold back whatever her thoughts had conjured, Scourge closed the distance, pressed their foreheads together, and simply let the touch speak.

"I feel the same way, Scourge. Always. I promise." The Jedi had let down her walls in an instant and all her feelings came forth, as transparent as spring water and refreshing as a bath, but scorching as fire to the mind. There were no grand gestures here, no attempts at seduction. Nothing, but them. A Jedi Knight with her head against a Sith Lord. They breathed, together. Nothing else seemed necessary as they existed in this moment. The great beast of emotion sated into purr with their closeness.

Scourge stroked her cheek. Reverence. That's what he felt with every pass of his thumb. Soft. Delicate. Precious. These feelings were meant for the people and things one truly loves, and never did they have an object until now. He had known companionship in all its myriad forms and shades. None ever elicited this aching joy, this fearful, pounding desire. Scourge didn't have any notion for when they parted ways from the tree or who drew back first to face each other. One moment, they were touching, and the next, sharing breaths as their foreheads separated. And before long, they shared a kiss. A press of lips, too chaste and short for him to explore as he wished. But as good a start as any to ease back into old memories of touching and sighing. Of chasing. Of letting instinct guide him in the language his heart so clearly yearned, so obvious yet buried underneath layers and layers of Sith trappings.

No more of that. His master was gone. Those trappings had all burnt with him on the sacrificial pyre to destroy a Sith spurned god. So he had no one to deny him the indulgence of running a thumb over her bottom lip, holding her gaze in silent entreat. And so under the remaining silence of night, they closed the distance once more to find the fire smouldering between. To savor its glow and invite its warmth closer. In the caress of soft lips and stifled breath.

#swtor fanfiction #fanfiction #lord scourge x jedi knight #swtor #star wars the old republic #fluff #potential ooc

[existentialmagazine]

Review: SAPPHIRE’s new whimsical indie-pop single ‘corvette’ combines resonance with infectiousness, leaning into love and heartbreak

UK based singer, songwriter and musician SAPPHIRE has found herself journeying through a solo musical endeavour with overwhelming interest, garnering over 200,000 monthly listeners since her 2019 debut. Pouring everything into her craft, this indie-pop gem is sure to pull interest from fans of Sabrina Carpenter, Lennon Stella and Madison Beer but with SAPPHIRE’s own unique flair. With her new original single ‘corvette’, SAPPHIRE only continues to demonstrate why she’s a name that’s surely only going to keep rising up.

Leading in with whimsical, intimate leaning tones, ‘corvette’ offers a heartfelt delivery you can’t help but feel wrapped up and embraced within, like you’re watching the city lights pass as you drive by with a bittersweet aching you can’t quite explain. Laced in sensitive, resonating guitar strings as it opens up, ‘corvette’ gently soars through a paired-back arrangement of sound, capturing an essence of powerful solitude. Whirring synth dips between the background of the track, intermittently adding a depth to the cautiously emotive sound. The chorus shifts with the addition of bright piano keys and twinkling synth pops to complement the guitar, an almost hopeful change in tone that’s still melancholic but lightly uplifted. Rolling into the second verse with a burst of momentum, the track bounds along with a newly added infectious steady beat as well as picking up in guitar strums, allowing ‘corvette’ to shine as a gorgeous multifaceted release rooted in both tenderness and addictive pop highs. The chorus builds just as atmospherically, delving into heightened instrumentals both in terms of volume and impact before the bridge turns things back down a notch, bringing us back to the opening’s softer sounds and message. SAPPHIRE’s graceful vocals glide through the sound with a fitting ease, sombrely delivering the beginnings with a more toned-down approach before leaning heavily into her powerful range as things progress, encapsulating both heavy emotion and a peppy edge. Luscious harmonies later add a further layering of dancing vibrance to the song, always evolving and offering an absolute treat to unpack. As far as pop anthems go, ‘corvette’ completely nails it, moulding together something meaningful with something you just can’t stop listening to one more time.

SAPPHIRE writes of an equally poignant story within her slightly sonorous sound, hedonistically chasing a romance that’s constantly on a ‘will they, won’t they’ edge. Opening with the weighted line ‘I walk home wasted, back from the bar it’s 3am but I didn’t see your face again’, SAPPHIRE immediately establishes the parameters of the relationship she yearns for, finding herself pining for someone to show up but always met with lonely late nights instead. Continuing ‘for you I’ve waited, every night from half past 9’, it’s clear that SAPPHIRE is almost addicted to the unresolved emotions that stew within with her persistence to keep returning, dreaming of the day fate brings them back together - or so she hopes. Singing ‘maybe you’ll come back’, it’s like SAPPHIRE carries an unrequited longing that deep down she’s aware will never flourish into anything, yet continues to tell herself there’s hope regardless. Asking ‘would you wanna see my face again?’ , the lyrics emphasise the distance that’s grown between these past lovers, revealing all her pent up thoughts and questions that would spill out of her lips should they ever meet again. More introspective lines like ‘think that I stayed too long waiting for you’ seem to show a self-awareness of her behaviour though, unhealthily obsessed with a dream that’ll never come into fruition but similarly incapable of letting go, mourning a loss that lacks closure. Tinged in heartbreak and rose-tinted visions, ‘corvette’ is a surprisingly lyrically heavy release that’ll likely relate to many that find themselves still wishing they’d bump into that one person they’re not quite over, always finding themselves envisioning what could’ve been.

Adding more on the release, SAPPHIRE shares “I wrote half of ‘corvette’ in October 2022. I never found the right moment to continue writing it as I knew it needed to feel like the right time. I had a session set up with my co-writer, Alex Stacey, and something told me that the time was right to complete ‘corvette’. I’d never been happier. We wanted to capture all of the sounds of New York in the production - imagine standing in the middle of the street there, with someone playing acoustic guitar on the fire escape above you, someone playing the saxophone to couples walking back from the restaurant, and a car going past playing that perfect driving playlist on the speakers. Also getting to create a story about how I was waiting in the early hours of the morning for a guy to arrive at a New York City bar in his corvette was great fun.”

Check out ‘corvette’ here to appreciate the warm, evolving soundscape and the hazy mess of love and heartbreak entangled within.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#music #singlereview #SAPPHIRE

[wakamotogarou]

The Teacher's Monologue

By Charlotte Brontë

THE room is quiet, thoughts alone People its mute tranquillity; The yoke put on, the long task done,­ I am, as it is bliss to be, Still and untroubled. Now, I see, For the first time, how soft the day O'er waveless water, stirless tree, Silent and sunny, wings its way. Now, as I watch that distant hill, So faint, so blue, so far removed, Sweet dreams of home my heart may fill, That home where I am known and loved: It lies beyond; yon azure brow Parts me from all Earth holds for me; And, morn and eve, my yearnings flow Thitherward tending, changelessly. My happiest hours, aye ! all the time, I love to keep in memory, Lapsed among moors, ere life's first prime Decayed to dark anxiety.

Sometimes, I think a narrow heart Makes me thus mourn those far away, And keeps my love so far apart From friends and friendships of to-day; Sometimes, I think 'tis but a dream I measure up so jealously, All the sweet thoughts I live on seem To vanish into vacancy: And then, this strange, coarse world around Seems all that's palpable and true; And every sight, and every sound, Combines my spirit to subdue To aching grief, so void and lone Is Life and Earth­so worse than vain, The hopes that, in my own heart sown, And cherished by such sun and rain As Joy and transient Sorrow shed, Have ripened to a harvest there: Alas ! methinks I hear it said, "Thy golden sheaves are empty air." All fades away; my very home I think will soon be desolate; I hear, at times, a warning come Of bitter partings at its gate; And, if I should return and see The hearth-fire quenched, the vacant chair; And hear it whispered mournfully, That farewells have been spoken there, What shall I do, and whither turn ? Where look for peace ? When cease to mourn ?

'Tis not the air I wished to play, The strain I wished to sing; My wilful spirit slipped away And struck another string. I neither wanted smile nor tear, Bright joy nor bitter woe, But just a song that sweet and clear, Though haply sad, might flow.

A quiet song, to solace me When sleep refused to come; A strain to chase despondency, When sorrowful for home. In vain I try; I cannot sing; All feels so cold and dead; No wild distress, no gushing spring Of tears in anguish shed;

But all the impatient gloom of one Who waits a distant day, When, some great task of suffering done, Repose shall toil repay. For youth departs, and pleasure flies, And life consumes away, And youth's rejoicing ardour dies Beneath this drear delay;

And Patience, weary with her yoke, Is yielding to despair, And Health's elastic spring is broke Beneath the strain of care. Life will be gone ere I have lived; Where now is Life's first prime ? I've worked and studied, longed and grieved, Through all that rosy time.

To toil, to think, to long, to grieve,­ Is such my future fate ? The morn was dreary, must the eve Be also desolate ? Well, such a life at least makes Death A welcome, wished-for friend; Then, aid me, Reason, Patience, Faith, To suffer to the end !

#poetry #poem #prose #Charlotte Brontë

[vidalinav]

“You’re going to die,” Lucien said. “I’m aware of it every moment I’m with you.”  

At the morbid words, Nesta began to frown but Lucien held up his hands. Wait, his look answered. 

Ordinarily Nesta might have interrupted him purely out of principle. But Lucien was lucky she knew him so well. He looked at her with that same look she’d seen a million times. One for every chase. One for every tease. One for everyday they laughed. 

He sighed, some noncommittal, frustrated sound and Nesta yearned to reach for him, to comfort him, but Lucien placed a gentle palm on her cheek. She could feel them burn as he rubbed his thumb across. “Even if you could live forever, I think I'd still be afraid to lose you.” 

Her heart beat much too fast, and when he grabbed her limp hand, opening her palm with his own, Nesta held her breath. The tone of his voice scared her, but it wasn’t because of her own mortality. 

It had never occurred to her that Lucien would mourn her when she died. That she’d be long buried and he’d be left here, in a dying court because Nesta could not fight death and win. 

Even so, he held tightly onto her hand and Nesta could feel the press of cold metal. “Take my heart,” he pleaded. “Take it all.” 

“I’m going to die,” Nesta said, for whatever acceptance was worth.  

But Lucien shook his head, something sad and a little hopeful. “You’re going to live and you’re going to love, and you’re going to do everything you dreamed.” He sighed as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I promise, you’re going to forget all about me one day.” 

Nesta wanted to fight him on that, but Lucien only took her hand, lifting it to his mouth. “But I’m cruel and I want you to remember as long as you live... that there’s someone out there who loves you. So much he can barely breathe.” 

Lucien tried to smile, but it made her heart ache to look and when he raised that ring to her finger, Nesta blinked away the burning sting in her eyes. “He’s not going to forget you, couldn’t even if he tried... and he wants you to know that every minute with you was precious. That he dreamed of marrying you when you threatened him the first time.” 

“With that big stick,” they echoed, reminiscing. Nesta laughed, but it sounded more like she was choking back a sob. 

“It was my mother’s ring,” he explained and Nesta looked to gold and diamonds, arranged like the sun. 

“You shouldn’t give this to me.” 

“All my sunny days belong to you. All of my sleepless nights.” Lucien’s lips raised sweetly as he shrugged. “ There’s no one else this ring belongs to.” 

#nesta archeron #lucien vanserra #apparently I can write angst in this #lusta #nescien #LucNes Monster #vidalinav writes. snippets