#so I very much hope you'll enjoy reading it too!

[seb-reads31]

That Hazbin women confessing feeling fluff was very wholesome and I loved to read it. Could you do a similar idea but for a first date and first kiss? still with a shy reader. Feel free to add the angels if you'd like.

Cautions - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1, cursing duh, niffty biting you (you'll see lmao), a cringy song reference 🤪,

Genre - fluff

Type - head canons

Comments - Ooooo, this sounds so sweet 🥹🥹 I'm so happy to hear you loved the confessions! Like with the confessions, I'm going to separate the demons and angels into two different parts, I hope you don't mind! (Again, Charlie and Vaggie are best friends in this. Implied fem!reader for Vaggie, and male!reader for Niffty. They may or may not have pronouns mentioned in them, cause I mostly use you/your pronouns for readers) I just now realized I forgot ROSIEEEE which makes me sad 😭 (I'll add her into another part I swear just ask 🙏🙏)

Is this the part where we kiss?

Charlie

- Your first date is gonna be a little rough, but it will be worth it

- However, you might be thinking that Charlie chooses to go to a nice restaurant, or a picnic in the park nearby with the least amount of sinners causing bloodshed and such, but no

- She takes you to LULU WORLDDD (I believe that's the original, and not the Mammon knockoff in greed. Let's also assume it's in the pride ring just in case you imagine yourself as a sinner <33) because she enjoys the rides and games there, and wants your first date together to be full of fun and laughter

- You two are a little awkward at first, like on all first dates, but you both very quickly become comfortable in each other's presence again after 1 ride, Charlie very quickly dragging you away to the next ride

- Several roller coasters, a few carnival games, and some over priced carnival food later and you both reach the haunted house!

- A carnival classic, the tunnel of love 💕

- You both looked at it, and silently agreed to go together, hand in hand, eating parts of your cotton candy

- You both climbed into the swan boat, the ride operator saying "Don't have too much fun, love birds~" then sending you both off into the tunnel, your faces burning from the tease

- You both recovered, just to see all sorts of beautiful art that depicted the classic baby Cupid shooting arrows at humans, making them fall in love

- You both awed at the sites, slowly and subconsciously intertwining your hands together again

- The ride was quite long, so you both chatted, about how much fun you're having, what ride you want to go on next, and how cute this ride is

- Suddenly, your eyes catch Charlie's, her giving you a sweet smile, your conversation forgotten, the both of you too lost in the others eyes to keep it going

- Almost as if you both were thinking the same thing, your eyes darted down to her curled lips, wondering how they would feel against yours

- You both looked back up at each other, and slowly leaned in. Just before you kissed, your lips brush against each other, you hesitating to lean fully in.

- Charlie notices, knowing that she wanted your first kiss to be memorable. She gently squeezed your hand, bringing her other to cup your burning cheek, stroking it softly and giving you the most love filled look you had originally thought you would only see in your dreams.

- When you smiled too, she leaned in again, you following suit, leaned in too, kissing her gently. She smiles into the kiss, so happy you kissed her, that you loved her so much to give her your first kiss, and that she belonged to you, and you belonged to her, heart, body, and soul.

Vaggie

- The extermination was coming up, and you were struggling a little with the actual fighting but refused to just stay inside the hotel during it, wanting to fight alongside your girlfriend

- And she appreciated it, and seeing the determination to learn how to fight the angels burn in your eyes made her feel nostalgic in a way

- And so, your training began! She took you to a quieter part of the land outside of the hotel, away from the cannibals that were still training

- She gave you a small selection of blades to choose from, all of which were made of angelic steel, supplied by Carmilla Carmine (Carbine?). As you looked through the weapons, you decided on [y/w] (your weapon) and raised it up to Vaggie. She nodded, then put the rest of the weapons away, then started explaining the best ways to use your weapon

- As she explained, she did a few examples, and answered any questions you had as you went. Eventually, she handed you the weapon, then asked you to do a simple attack. And you did pretty good! Vaggie gave you a small clap, very proud of her girlfriend. She asked you to do a more difficult attack, but not much harder than the first one. You did okay, just needed to adjust some of your posture

- She walked over to you and started adjusting your posture, nudging your foot to the side, adjusting your hold, then her hands went to your waist

- Vaggie didn't even realize where her hands were until you went stiff, then she looked up at your tinted cheeks and realized what happened

- She almost removed her hands from your waist until you muttered a small "w-wait.." and she also went stiff

- You gently drop the angelic weapon on the ground, then put your hands on her shoulders. A blush creeped on her face as well, realizing how close you both were.

- Vaggie's eyes dart down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, when she realized that your eyes were also looking at her lips

- She smirked slightly, then brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your eyes, her other hand going to the small of your back to pull you in closer to her.

- As she tucked your hair behind your ear, she leaned in slightly, tilting her head. As you got on, your blush became deeper, but you still tilted your head to the side, then your lips finally meet

- As soon as it begins, it ends. A small peck, but it spoke a thousand words from Vaggie. "I will protect you, because I'll be your armor." <3

Niffty (nifty?)

- Again, doesn't do shy guys 😭

- If you were to try and kiss her, this crazy bitch would BITE YOU

- So, in other words, remain 6 feet from her at all times if you value your.. undead life

- Like, I love how crazy she is but she literally KILLED THE ADAM

- You do not wanna test her 😭

Carmilla

- You both had been working hard recently, more shipments are being made, gathering the angelic steel from around the pentagram, and lots of paperwork that needed to be done

- You both could feel your backs dying as they hunched over those mounds of paperwork, however your saving graces showed up from a weapons delivery. Clara and Odette (Carmilla's daughters if you didn't know, I sure didn't) opened the doors to Carmilla's office, and tisking at the tiredness in both yours and their mother's eyes.

- That's how you both got kicked out of your own home and forced into a reservation at a nice restaurant lmao

- You both enjoyed your time there, finally relaxing, letting your hair down (OUT FOR LOVEEE) and joking around. Now, on the way home you held each other's hands, talking about how you needed to pay back Clara and Odette for their kindness in getting you out of the house and taking care of the paper work

- As you both returned, you were giggling happily after a story you told from when you were alive. You entered the front door holding onto each other as you hunched over, holding your stomachs from how much you were laughing.

- You both felt so relaxed, especially you, who had some wine at the restaurant and was feeling less shy about showing Camilla affection, and it showed.

- Your giggles died down as you both looked at each other, slowly leaning, and sharing your first kiss.

- As you part, a blush crosses both of your faces and you look away shyly

- Around the corner, Clara and Odette were silently cheering and giving each pats on the back for their perfect set up

#head canon #reader insert #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel carmilla #hazbin hotel x fem reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x gn reader

[mera-k1]

HIII I just read the smutty cuddling hc and I can't help but ask the same for ramuda & cozmez?? if it's possible, of course

hey!! ofc! hope you enjoy em♡

Smutty Cuddling pt 2

Ramuda, cozmez x gn!reader

-smut

-ramuda is a fan of cuddling, of course. who wouldn't be! he never has any ulterior motives during cuddling though. usually, it'll be your doing when it gets more.. suggestive...

-as the small spoon, it's easy to trail your hands down to the waistband of his pants and sneak your hand in to tease him.

-there's usually two ways he handles teasing. sometimes, he lets it happen and lets you have your fun or he's a brat about it. playfully denying your advances to try to tease him and teasing you right back.

-he's such a little shit... but he'll eventually give in to you. for someone who's affiliated with chuoku, he has a surprisingly low will to resist you when you start physically teasing him.. especially during a cuddle where he can't help but comply with your wishes.

-it's very hard to get anything to escalate during a cuddle with nayuta. he usually initiates cuddles in order to get the physical affection that he occasionally craves from you.

-the farthest it will go is the occasional touchiness from your end that he will sometimes return. usually hands going under each others shirts to give the other a teasing touch or kisses up to their jawline and whatnot.

-it doesn't go farther than that most times as, nayuta wants to cuddle rather than fuck. he'll let you know if he's in the mood but other than that, cuddling is what he wants at that moment.

-kanata always gives you a sharp glare if he feels your hands wandering or if you get a little too teasing for his liking. it's not as if he's opposed to it but he is a little strict with it.

-if nayuta is around, hard no on escalating it. if he's super tired too, he'll stop you without much of a word. don't take it personally! he loves you just the same but he's just not good with words.

-he escalates it very slowly when he does try though. usually just letting a hand wander under your shirt while he places soft kisses along your neck. slowly but surely.. so you'll have to have some patience.

#♡ fics ♡ #hypmic #hypmic x reader #hypmic smut #paradox live x reader #paradox live smut #paralive x reader #ramuda smut #ramuda amemura x reader #kanata yatonokami x reader #kanata smut #nayuta smut #nayuta yatonokami x reader

[shady-tavern]

Missing Piece

@piperjistic had asked for a forest spirit and while this isn't fully in line with your request, I still hope you'll like it!

Minor warnings ahead for non-graphic violence and a wee bit of body-horror towards the end, though it doesn't happen to the main character. Please be sure to take care of yourself!

*.*.*

For as long as the little girl could remember, it felt like something was missing within her. She could never put a finger on it, but it made her a restless child, picking up and discarding games, struggling with consistently staying interested and some days she just felt very strange. 

Like that one stained glass window she had seen when her parents had taken her to a nearby city. All disjointed fragments that still managed to be a picture, but it would never be one entire piece.

The stained glass window at least had been pretty compared to the ugly feeling within her.

"Have you ever felt like something is missing inside you?" she asked her grandma, who came to pick her up many a day while her parents worked. 

Things were strange between Gran and her parents, she never talked to them and they never talked to her and she never set foot onto their garden, preferring to wait for the little girl at the gate by the little dirt road.

Gran stilled and when the little girl glanced up at her, her face had gone dark and grim and for the first time in the girl's life, her beloved grandma, a joyful soul who loved her with all her heart, looked just a little bit frightening.

But her hand around the girl's remained gentle and the older woman kept walking at a sedate pace so her short little legs didn't struggle with keeping up.

Everyone always said to the girl that she would grow to be bigger and she couldn't wait for that day to arrive. Gran was silent for so long that the girl thought she was never going to answer.

"You best ask your parents about that," Gran said at last, voice quiet and heavy with something unspoken. Strangely, her voice reminded the girl of a draft horse she had seen, who had been forced to pull a too heavy burden, body straining as it slowly and laboriously set one hoof in front of the other.

"Alright," the girl answered and grinned up at her grandmother, hoping to break up the awful mood her innocent little question had created. "Can we make blueberry cake today?"

Gran smiled and it was like the sun returning after a dark, scary storm, her face brightening and looking as kind and loving as ever. "Of course, little chestnut." She leaned in, voice dipping into a conspiratorial stage whisper, "My wife picked an entire basket just this morning."

The little girl giggled and soon the two of them reached the end of the village, all talk about missing pieces and resulting, scary expressions forgotten. The blueberry cake was delicious and maybe a bit messy since the girl had tried to help a bit too enthusiastically and the cute little apron Gran had made for her was stained with purple-blue juice on one corner.

Gran's wife, Tanya, arrived just as they had taken the first bite of a still warm slice of cake.

"You baked without me?" she gasped in a mock scandalized voice. "Oh, the betrayal, how it stings!" She dramatically fell onto the kitchen table and the little girl laughed when the two older women broke out into a full blown performance just to ensure she kept laughing.

Gran brought her back home just as the sun set and a strong, steady wind blew in from the forest, bringing with it the smell of spring moss and damp, cool earth.

"If you ever meet any magical beings, be wary," Gran said as she stopped in front of the gate that creaked noisily as soon as it was two thirds of the way open. 

She looked down at the girl, her face serious. "One day you might and if you do, they will offer you deals and nothing good ever comes from accepting their offers. They will only bring ruin in exchange for empty promises."

As solemnly as the little girl could, she offered her little pinky. "I promise to be careful," she said and a shadow of a smile crossed Gran's face as they hooked their pinkies around each other gently.

Gran leaned down to kiss the top of her head before she left with a glance towards the house and the girl briefly glanced towards the forest. It was an old forest, not quite as ancient as in other places, but surrounded by plenty of stories and mysteries. 

The girl had heard rumors about creatures living in the woods, of magic being alive in ways the mages in the big cities could never hope to replicate. She decided to be very careful whenever she went into the woods to pick berries and mushrooms. She had promised, after all.

She entered her parents' house, neatly putting her boots beside her mother's and when she looked up at her parents, the question tumbled forth without much thought, "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"

Her mother, who was currently carving leather, stilled so thoroughly she might as well have turned to stone. Her father, in the process of cooking, seemed to freeze in place, the stirring of his ladle abruptly falling silent.

"You're still growing," her mother answered at last, voice quiet and her gaze on her work. "It will pass in given time."

The little girl stared at her, startled silent and with increasing heartbreak as the seconds passed, for she had just learned what her mother sounded like when she lied.

*.*.*

The conversation with her parents stayed with the girl as the months and years passed and she never asked again. Gran said nothing either, but every time she picked the girl up, she now glared at the house. 

Gran knew, the girl realized, but either couldn't say why she felt wrong or she didn't want to tell her.

Though, knowing her Gran, she probably couldn't for some reason. Gran had been born a rebel and she said she would die one, encouraging all of the little girl's bad habits, as her parents called them, with no remorse.

"This world will chew you up and spit you out, if you let it," Gran told her when she picked her up from school, her hand warm and gentle. "So don't be afraid to bare your teeth, little chestnut. Stand up for what you believe is right, that is the only way to slowly but surely kill off all things vile and dark."

The girl wasn't sure she entirely understood, but she nodded seriously anyway. Gran always told her everything no one else wanted to, blunt and direct without scaring her or hurting her feelings.

Gran felt strong, like a rushing river that wore down even the largest, toughest of boulders. The girl hoped she could be like her one day.

It was her Gran's teachings that got her in and out of trouble over the years and her words guided the girl into understanding when something was wrong. And how important it was to do something when she discovered evil.

As the village turned into a cute little town and more and more people moved in, drawing towards a hopeful future by their fertile lands and abundant forest, the girl had grown into a headstrong young woman.

Not once, in all that time, had she shaken off the feeling like she was lacking something. Like something was missing that should be there.

Her parents could no longer deny that something was wrong and their increasingly guilty and troubled looks said it all. It showed in the woman's life, that something within her was gone. As soon as someone looked into the little house she had moved into, they saw that no project was ever finished, every hobby dropped just after she had gained a modicum of skill in it.

She bounced from job to job, working for whoever hired her, before losing that job again, sometimes by leaving, sometimes by more talented, more passionate people coming along.

It was that restlessness that caused her to drift far enough from the town, the feeling of wrongness seemingly guiding her step, to cross paths with what she first thought was a traveling kind of circus.

There was a man leading the entire caravan of wagons, pale and primly dressed, clearly a mage considering his robes and pompous behavior as he hailed her down.

"We are no circus, young lady," he said when she asked about his business, but his eyes were cold and his smile about as pleasant as holding a palm full of slugs. "I am Master Egam and this is my curious collection. I intend to thoroughly impress the local lords."

He made a sweeping gesture at the wagons and she peered past him, at covered cages and grim looking soldiers.

Her gaze almost immediately fell back to the mage, however, and something ugly writhed within her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it felt like sharp, uneven edges pressed against her ribs from within, accentuating the feeling of wrongness.

"Now, which way to the nearest town? It's growing rather late," Master Egam said, his smile wide and winning and yet it caused something cold to drip down her spine. There was a sudden taste of wet iron and rotting earth on her tongue.

It took her a moment to realize why, for she had never experienced anything like it. He had put magic into his words and it filled her mouth with a nasty taste. "This way, about a mile or so."

"Why don't you guide us?" he asked, patting the coach beside him. When she hesitated and saw a flash of curious danger in his eyes, she offered a bland smile.

"Thank you," she said, climbing up to join him, careful to keep some distance between them.

He stared at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. "You seem strangely...familiar," he mused after a moment. "Have I met you before? Or family of yours?" When she looked genuinely surprised, he shook his head. "Right, that is very unlikely. Then again, you country bumpkins all look the same to me."

She was desperate to distract him from her, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish. All it took was a question about his exploits and soon he regaled her with all the horrifying details. Of the creatures he captured, the magic he had soaked up from them, the power he carried at his fingertips.

He was bragging, yes, but she could tell that every word was the truth. That he had chained a vampire into enduring sunlight at his leisure, that he had plucked all the feathers of a harpy to parade her around naked and that he had a griffin eating out of his hand for his amusement.

That he had caught one the most dangerous beings of all, a forest spirit.

She was deeply relieved when her hometown came into view and then she got to see the effects of his magic first hand. His voice seemed to be made of gold, for all he had to do was speak and people immediately rushed to obey, star-struck expressions and delighted, downright smitten smiles appearing on their faces.

She inched away from Master Egam and ended up by one of the wagons instead. Unable to resist, she tugged a corner of the covering up and peered inside.

Green eyes that shimmered like all the shades of plant life in the forest met hers and broken antlers rose from red and gold hair that tumbled down in long, thick waves. The forest spirit, she realized as she stared at him, wide eyed, his face sun-kissed and freckled and even chained down as he was she could see his innate power and grace.

The broken antlers disappeared, swiftly replaced by wolf ears as he now bared vicious fangs at her, wicked claws scraping over the iron lining the bottom of his cage as he growled.

"Careful with that one," Master Egam's voice made her jump and drop the tarp. "He's the most dangerous one I ever caught. A nasty piece of work."

"Why do you catch them?" she found herself asking and as she looked up at him, she already knew the answer before he opened his mouth.

"Because I can," he said, his smile as empty as his eyes were cruel. "Because the wild powers in this world need to know that they can and will be tamed. Now run along and don't tell anyone about this."

His magic was iron-rot on her tongue as she nodded, hastily pasting a smile on her face. It felt like fleeing as she turned and hurried away, her heart racing in her chest and the ugly, vile feeling that had scraped around her ribcage finally lessened.

The wrongness within her was as present as ever, a constant companion of subtle misery that dodged her steps, silent only whenever she found joy in things. Joy that was taken from her by its steady, suffocating grip sooner or later.

As soon as she was home, she began to pace, her mind whirring. She had to do something and whatever magic Master Egam possessed, she was somehow immune against it. She might be the only one who could think clearly around him.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm. Master Egam was dangerous and she was just a magic-less young woman who was all wrong inside. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't have to worry about what was missing for much longer.

It wasn't hard, in the end, to find out that Master Egam was staying in the mayor's house, that he had tossed him and his family out and now treated the most lavish place as his. The mayor and his wife and two children seemed dazed but they didn't question what was being done to them, they just went to stay with their extended family.

The wagons were kept by the mayor's house, blocking most of the street and guarded by the soldiers, which were armed and armored.

She watched them as the last sunlight faded, thinking. Beyond the window she could see the mage and people came to his home, bringing downright decadent food with loving smiles and hazy eyes, leaving again empty handed.

An idea began to take form. A foolish one, most certainly, but it was likely her best chance. While Master Egam was busy feasting and ordering people around, most likely fancying himself a king among peasants, he would be distracted.

On second thought, he was most likely not traveling to impress lords, but to work his way up to becoming the actual king of these lands. Maybe even an emperor, holding court among captured creatures and his magic charming everyone into blind obedience.

So she joined a group of townsfolk who came with carefully made little cakes and desserts and they barely acknowledged her. The soldiers didn't even looked at them, most likely long used to this song and dance.

It was less easy to go unnoticed by Master Egam, but the man was easily distracted by the new offerings, already a good way through half the food he had been given.

No human should have been able to consume so much without bursting, she thought and she wondered if this was the price of his magic. That he not only could eat far too much, but had to.

"Bring this to the beasties," he said, gesturing at a little bucket of bones and food scraps and the young woman took a decisive step towards it, keeping her head down as she grabbed the bucket, stepping outside without being stopped. Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot.

The soldiers didn't pay her any heed now either. They looked bored and hungry as they watched another plate of food being brought in, but they said nothing. She wondered if they could even if they wanted to. If they were similarly charmed as anyone else.

"I need to feed them," she said politely to the nearest soldier, who moved woodenly to stare at her with a slightly hazy gaze. Ah, that answered her question. "I need the key, please. Master Egam's orders."

He handed the key over, because why wouldn't he? When everyone was always so fully under the mage's control, there was no reason to doubt. She went to the forest spirit's cage first, ignoring his low growl as she pushed the tarp up and began to look for the lock.

He fell silent as soon as she slipped the key into it and opened the door.

"I'll get you out," she whispered and his head tipped to the side, his wolf ears flicking as he considered her. And then, ever so slowly without removing those intense eyes from her, he tipped his head back, baring his collared throat.

She crawled into the cage, making sure to pull the door almost-closed behind her, the tarp falling down and leaving her in murky darkness with only her slightly fast breathing and pounding heart. She slowly inched forward, patting the ground, until clawed fingers carefully closed around her hand, guiding it up.

The collar had no lock and she stilled, her heart leaping in her chest. What was she supposed to do now?

"Bleed," the forest spirit said, voice such a horrible rasp that she was half convinced his throat was full of glass shards. "Willing offer."

She wasn't even thinking when she reached out with her free hand, gripping his fingers and pressing her palm against his claws. She felt him jerk in surprise, but the pain was already blooming, blood running down her hand in a hot line. She reached out to press her hand to his collar, smearing as much of her blood on it as possible and the next second the collar clicked open, crashing to the floor with a rattle of chains.

The forest spirit inhaled sharply and then she felt his hands touch her shoulder, careful and helping her shuffle a bit to the side. Freeing the path to the cage door, she realized

"Free the others, please," he whispered, his voice no longer sounding like he was gargling gravel, but instead charming and lovely-sweet. Her mouth was filled with the faint taste of meadow-flowers and cool spring water.

Then he was out of the cage and she scrambled to follow him, catching the door before it could slam shut.

The guards were lying on the ground and she saw the forest spirit springing past the last one he had taking down, vaulting over a confused man with a tart and heading straight into the house, face snarling in rage.

The next cage held the plucked harpy, who hissed a high-pitched shriek at her, but fell similarly silent when the door to the cage was unlocked.

Her collar too opened with blood and then the harpy was out, her feathers re-growing with a burst of magic that was almost painful with its relief. She took flight immediately, though she clearly struggled as she escaped, as did the griffin the young woman freed. 

The vampire slunk out of his cage with a look of wild hunger and gratitude before he was gone between one moment and the next. Just in time for all the windows in the house to shatter outward in a massive wave of pressure, the forest spirit crashing to the ground, wheezing and covered in blood.

The young woman was at his side in no time and as she gripped him and saw him in the light of the street lanterns without the distractions of his eyes, she realized just how thin he was. How his limbs shook as he struggled to his feet.

He stumbled, eyes going wide when she dragged him with her, just in time to round the corner before Master Egam came out of the house with magic whipping around him, a howl of rage filling the night as he found all his cages empty, his guards unconscious – or perhaps dead – on the ground.

"What are you doing," the forest spirit hissed, but he seemed unable to free himself from her grip, which told her everything she needed to know. She wasn't weak by any means, but she got the impression that he should be far stronger than she.

"Saving you," she hissed back. "You're in no condition to fight!"

"Return them to me!" she heard Master Egam's voice boom behind her, so loud and rattling it filled the entire town, making people cower and stumble, their gazes going hazy. "And find me the one who did this!"

Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot to the point where she had to gag, but she managed to push on, reaching the little house she had moved into after she could no longer stand the guilty silence of her parents. The moment they were through the door, the forest spirit collapsed to the floor, breathing hard, sweating and bleeding.

"His magic," he said as he stared up at her with wide, bright green eyes that she knew she could get lost in if she allowed it. "It doesn't work on you. Why?"

"No idea," she murmured back. "Come, we have to hide you."

She had managed to empty out a large storage chest and squeezed him inside despite his protest just in time for her neighbors to come knocking.

"No one is here, I came looking," she said, heart pounding and blood still dripping from her hand as she gestured at the hastily strewn about contents of her chest. "I made sure they weren't hiding."

"Come help search," her neighbors murmured, gazes hazy and she followed them outside, hoping that the spirit stayed where he was, that he wouldn't be found.

She searched with the others until they were all ready to collapse and only then did Master Egam order them to rest with such fury that the cobblestone cracked around him. He had long since roused his guards – most of which were still alive – and had sent them out to the forest to capture those that had run for the woods.

"They can't go far," she heard him mutter to himself as he turned around to head back into the house. "Not with the state I left them all in."

He wasn't wrong.

When the young woman returned home, she found the forest spirit still in the storage chest, asleep and looking utterly exhausted. She dropped into her bed and slept until hunger forced her awake. 

The smell of cooking food woke the spirit as well and she stared in astonished surprise as he ate at an alarmingly fast rate. Half her pantry was gone by the time he curled up in front of the hearth and went straight back to sleep. She dropped a thick blanket on him and arranged pillows to hide him from the outside and sat down, thinking.

Master Egam was powerful and she had no idea if she could hide the spirit until he regained his strength, especially if he needed that much food every day. And even then there was no guarantee that he'd be powerful enough to defeat the mage. But, she reasoned, he might be able to escape, which was just as good in her opinion.

She dozed off and woke feeling warm, blinking blearily to realize the blanket was now draped over her, the pillows carefully arranged to leave her in a little nest. Only the floor beneath her was a little hard. Peering around, alarm searing through her, worrying that something had happened, she relaxed as soon as she saw the spirit.

He stood with his back to her, looking at all the half finished projects she had lying around, not having the heart to put them away, even though she already knew she'd never finish them. That this was it and her love for a new hobby she had found was instead curdling into quiet, miserable grief.

"Thank you," he said before turning towards her. He already looked far better than yesterday, less gaunt and shaky on his feet. His injuries were gone as well, leaving only a somewhat tattered, stained shirt and worn, knee-length pants over hale and whole skin behind.

He tipped his head and the way the light of a lit candle reflected in his eyes reminded her of the way animal eyes would look when a lantern swept past them in the dark. "What do you want in return for your help?"

She paused after sitting up, then shrugged. "I don't want anything." Gran had been very firm about deals with magic creatures, that they brought ruin more often than not, her voice harsh and bitter as she had said it. As if there was more to her words than mere warnings.

Besides, the young woman had grown up on stories about daring knights, wise mages and courageous princesses and princes. She had always wanted to be like them, to do good with her own two hands whenever possible. Had secretly dreamed about one day saving someone as she had grown up.

It had been far more scary and harrowing than in her imagination, but she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

"You want nothing," the spirit repeated, sounding like he didn't believe her. "Everyone wants something, help is never freely given. Especially not from my kind and especially not when you saved my life. Do not take that kind of thing lightly."

"All I want is for you to be safe," she said. "Don't get hurt again, promise me that."

The forest spirit inhaled sharply, pupils blowing wide until only a small ring of green remained and she felt a warm shiver go through the air. Like something powerful had just exhaled a blessing.

He said nothing for a long moment, before he dipped his head, suddenly looking regal as the wolf ears melted away and antlers appeared that looked far more intact than last night. "Very well." 

He joined her by the hearth, dropping down to one knee and offered his hand. "Let me see your wound."

She held out her hand and felt a tingle of magic, could taste soft, gentle meadow flowers and refreshing water as relief took away the lingering pain. Her palm was unmarred, not even a scar remaining.

"You have no idea what you just gave me, do you?" he asked quietly when she looked at him, his gaze so very captivating it looked like the entirety of the forest had gathered in his eyes.

She offered a small, crooked smile. "I've never been around magic," she said, all too aware that he was still holding her hand, skin warm like sunshine. "You can hide here until you've recovered."

He tipped his head to the side. "You would welcome me even now, knowing who is looking for me?"

"You're safe here," she answered. "He can't charm me and you need time to recover. Just make sure no one sees you."

"What do you desire for your help in return?" he asked. "And don't say nothing again."

She thought of the wrongness within her and wondered if magic could fix it. Then she remembered Gran's warnings about deals and ruin and bit back a sigh.

"I'll think about something," she said, though she didn't intend to. Once the spirit was strong enough, he would either fight or leave, but either way she doubted she would ever see him again.

He didn't look happy about that, but accepted her answer graciously enough. Getting to her feet, the young woman waved him with her to the kitchen corner. If he was eating her out of house and home he could help her cook.

When it became clear he was actually the better cook, since she hadn't been able to learn too much before her wrongness had kicked in, she happily left him to it and grabbed her money, sneaking out.

The entire town was walking around in a strange sort of haze, half of them still searching and the other half catering to the mage. 

She saw people bring more food to the mayor's house, along with other things. Jewels and prized possessions, feathers the harpy had and griffin had lost and one or two held squeaking bats in their gloved hands, as though hoping they might be the escaped vampire.

No one looked twice at her when she bought as much food as she could at the market and she bit back bitter worry when she saw Gran and Granny Tanya bring blueberry cake to the mage with happy smiles.

Only her parents didn't seem to be out and about. Strange.

She brought the food back home and the forest spirit noticeably relaxed once she was back, thanking her quietly before falling quiet again. The young woman, however, could only stand the silence for so long before she began to ask questions.

Before long she knew that the forest spirit had gotten captured in his sleep, that his home was to the north and that he could sense the power of the nearby forest.

They both fell asleep in front of the hearth and by the second day, the young woman dragged her bedding out into the living room and made a proper place to rest for the two of them. 

The forest spirit was in a better mood today and she realized that under all the tense grimness he was rather playful and enjoyed teasing and, most of all, making her laugh. She noticed as the days passed how he regained his strength, the gauntness disappearing faster than it would have for a regular person.

They kept busy in the small house in different ways. She watched him finish some of her craft projects and taught him to dance, he conjured sprigs of flowers for them to 'pretty up the place with' as he said and he let her brush out and braid his hair after long baths, the bath water never cooling until they were well and truly done.

Every night they curled up on the hearth together and it was then, as he looked at her, hair a healthy, shining red and gold and fox ears perked to listen better, that the truth spilled out.

How wrong inside she felt and he frowned at her in what she recognized as worry.

"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand and she put hers into his without a moment's hesitation. His face went soft and gentle in a way that ached somewhere around her tender heart as he held her hand with care.

Then he closed her eyes and she could taste meadow flowers and cold water and his frown deepened.

"I - you must talk to your parents," he said and as soon as the words were out, his head reared back a bit, ears pinning flat to his head as he blinked, looking startled and irritated. "Oh, how nasty."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and for the first time got the feeling that something was very, very wrong in a different way than she had thought.

"I'll go now," she whispered and he nodded, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze before she got to her feet.

Her parents looked worried and tense when they opened the door, relaxing a bit when they saw it was her, only for the tension to snap back into their frames. She realized immediately that they knew why she was here.

That there was a reason why she and they alone weren't slaves to the magic-charm of a mad mage. That they did know why she felt like a piece was missing.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked, sharp and hard in a way she had never spoken with them and they stepped aside to let her in.

They stood around the living room awkwardly until her father broke first, guilty and defensive and shoulders hunched, the silence around them heavy and thick and oppressive like summer heat without a cooling breeze.

"We didn't know," he said, almost pleading as he looked at his daughter. "When we met that...that man on our travels. We didn't know."

Something hot was wrapping around her heart and throat and a bad feeling unfolded in her gut, wriggling to get comfortable like a cat in a beam of sunlight. "Tell me the truth. Now. You owe me that much at least."

"We asked for a good life," her mother whispered, staring down at the ground, arms wrapped around herself and her head bent, shoulders tense. "We asked for nothing unreasonable, because being greedy only curses you. We asked for a good, warm, house, for enough money to buy what we desired until our deaths and to lead healthy, long and safe lives. We wanted the sort of fortune that would ensure we would have everything we desired until the day we died."

The heaviness in the air seemed to press down harder, like a thick blanket over sticky, sweaty skin, trapping heat and impossible to shake, no matter how desperately she wanted to get rid of it.

"What was the price?" the young woman asked, her tongue almost numb in her mouth. Though, she already knew. Could feel it in the marrow of her bones, could feel it in the stained glass shape of her soul, all disjointed and wrong and missing missing missing. Always missing something.

"You were but a babe," her father answered before she could ask again. "We didn't think...when he asked for a piece of you, something that wouldn't hurt you if he took it, we thought, well, if you grew up without it...you wouldn't know what you were missing."

Her heart shouldn't break, she thought, as pain and anger and grief greedily dug into her chest and belly. It shouldn't break when she didn't even feel all that surprised to hear what they were saying.

She thought of her life filled with things she couldn't finish, couldn't dedicate herself to no matter how deeply she loved, like her hands were too restless, desperately trying to find something to fill the void within her. All the friendships she had lost over the years, the disappointed people she had worked with and most of all, how miserable she had been.

She thought about feeling wrong and disjointed and like a stained glass window made by a clumsy apprentice and with the intent to make other people whisper and point and laugh instead of impressing them.

Weird, strange, not-fitting-in. Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, had sung through her veins for as long as she could remember and she had walked through life feeling like a part of her was gone, but unable to voice it. Unable to even name what was missing. 

Thinking that, maybe, this was just her lot in life. That nothing could be done about it and she had tried to do her best with the hand she had been dealt by fate.

And all this time, her parents had just...traded that part of her away. For small comforts. For a future they could have made themselves with their own hands had they cared to try. For a life bartered and paid for by someone else, so they wouldn't have to shoulder the burden. 

And then they had lied to her about it, had left her thinking that nothing could be done to make her feel better. That this was normal.

"Who?" she asked numbly and she blinked, realizing she was halfway to the door. When she looked at her parents, hot, angry hatred crawled up her throat like a wave of lava at seeing their wounded, self-pitying faces. "Who did you allow to hurt me?"

"Master Egam," her father whispered, his voice barely audible in the heavy, suffocating silence. "We can't let him see us or he might remember."

She was out the door before he could finish speaking, heart breaking and racing and she wasn't surprised at all, even though she thought she should be. So that was why his magic wasn't working on her – and her parents, if part of their deal was to remain healthy and unharmed at all times. Just what had Egam taken from her to make a deal that protected them no matter what?

She didn't remember the path home, but the moment the door fell closed behind her, she looked at the forest spirit and all the breath rushed back into her lungs. He was waiting with a plate of cookies he had baked that afternoon and his gaze was so gentle and understanding it made the wounded part of her tremble.

He opened his arms, a silent invitation and for a moment there was so much awful anguish in her, she didn't know what to do. Had no idea how to react if someone touched her, if it would drain the pain and anger or make it spill over, ugly and messy and raw. Like a wound that had had years and years and years to grow until it had spread and festered.

Then she moved and let him catch her and cradle her close as she broke down, crying as bitterly and hard as she had never cried before. He held her tightly as she shook apart, her head tucked under his chin and she cried and cried until she felt empty inside. Empty and wrong.

"They gave a piece of me to Egam," she whispered, voice thick and scratchy and he stilled. She tightened her grip on the shirt she had gotten him during one of her trips to the market, where food had started to grow scarce. "In exchange for a good, comfortable life."

He cupped the back of her head and kept holding her, offering no empty platitudes and no 'I'm sorry's, for which she was grateful. She didn't want sorrys. She was...she was too damn fucking furious for that, she realized, now that the pain had momentarily drained away.

"I want it back," she said, biting the words out like they were bones snapping between her teeth. "I want it back and I want this monster gone."

He hugged her tighter and she felt his smile press against her temple, sharp and dangerous and fanged and not the least bit afraid of her rage. Not the least bit judgmental the way others had reacted to her anger over the years.

"Let's shred him," he whispered against her hair, soft lips brushing forehead. "Let's get back what he stole from us."

*.*.*

It hadn't taken too long to prepare. The forest spirit had recovered fully and there wasn't anything in town that could help them against a mage, but in the end, they didn't need much anyway. 

They didn't need fancy things or mage slayers. Not when the mage in question would give them the weapons they needed, born out of his own greed and hubris.

Born out of a deal he had made with her parents and Gran really was right, deals only ever brought ruin. Because she and the part Egam had taken from her were about to become his.

The forest spirit gave her hand a squeeze and they exchanged one more look as they got ready behind her house, his eyes fierce and so trusting it briefly stole her breath away.

"When this is over, travel with me," he said, out of nowhere. "I want to show you my home. The brooks and meadows and mountains and lake."

She smiled back, a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning rage spreading through her, smoothing down her edges and settling around her heart like a protective blanket.

"Gladly," she answered quietly, then her smile turned a bit crooked. "What, you aren't going to ask for anything in exchange, leaf boy?"

He laughed softly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "You're too precious for deals," he said quietly and she could taste his magic, sweet and cool and it almost brought tears to her eyes, though she couldn't quite say why.

"Let's go," she said instead and he reached up to gather his hair, pulling it aside to allow her to put the pilfered chain from the wagon around his neck. They had scratched out all the symbols on the inside of the iron, destroying the enchantment that would block his magic.

With a bit of glue it would stay shut for now and he caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles until they stopped shaking. They both took a deep breath and stepped onto the street, a glamor settling over his skin, making him look gaunt and injured once more. He limped, casting her one last wink before people noticed them.

The townsfolk paid attention to her for the first time in nearly a month as she went to the mage's house. Word must have traveled ahead, for Master Egam was already awaiting them and the mayor's house was saturated with iron-rot. She could see a few hints here and there of the chaos that must've reigned before he had gotten things cleaned up to welcome them, sitting on a padded chair like it was a throne.

"Bring him to me, girl," he said, beckoning and his smile benevolent and his eyes glittering like cold glass shards. His hunger was deep enough to cut and she bit back a shiver at the disgust that crept beneath her skin the closer she came to him.

"My prized possession," Egam murmured, already ignoring her and his magic grew thicker in the air, almost making her gag. The forest spirit pretended to fight, snarling as he was dragged forward, looking like he was too weak to resist. "And you put him back in his proper attire too, good girl."

He absentmindedly patted her on the head and she made herself smile at him, empty and dazzled, like the other townsfolk, swallowing down bile. The spirit had told her that Egam had stolen a piece of his magic too, forcefully instead of willingly, but it was in his hands all the same.

It was time to get back what belonged to them.

She handed over the chain, his gaze on the forest spirit like he wanted to devour him whole. Like the monsters and villains in her stories growing up, greedy and cruel and insatiable.

Egam moved past her, already discarding her as unimportant. As under his control. As just another 'country bumpkin'. He was the powerful mage after all and, as he had said, he already had one of the most powerful beings under his control.

A powerless girl might as well be dirt under his boots.

That was the exact reason he didn't see her nick her hand on a small knife hidden in her pocket. Why he didn't see her smile at the forest spirit over his shoulder before reaching out. 

He didn't look at her and therefore couldn't react in time when she stepped to his side and reached up, pressing her bloody hand over his heart at the same time that the forest spirit lunged forward. 

The mage did react, aiming his magic at the bigger, perceived threat, like they had suspected. And just like they had hoped, his magic slid off of the forest spirit harmlessly, for when the young woman had saved his life and he had offered her compensation of the same magnitude, she had asked for him to be safe.

The forest spirit was unhindered, pressing bloody palms to the mage's chest, right over his heart, sharp, sharp teeth bared and he snarled, "I undo the deal."

"I undo the deal," she spoke simultaneously with him, the words the forest spirit had taught her, steady and patient as each one was nothing but pain in her throat. Because she wasn't supposed to say those words, but then again, parents weren't supposed to give away what didn't belong to them either, so she had a right to this.

A right to undo what had been done to her, as long as she could get through the pain that tried to keep her from speaking. Pain that was worse than any wrongness had ever been, any loneliness and pain and grief and self-loathing for not being like all the other people. 

For never getting to keep doing the things she loved, forever searching for something she hadn't known she'd have to buy back with blood and pain.

It was the worst pain she had ever endured, but it wasn't stronger than the rage in her veins, the taste of iron-rot on her tongue and the sun-warm hand that took her free, unharmed one, grounding and strong. The look of startled anger on the mage's face swiftly morphing into fear was everything in this moment.

"I undo the deal made made without my voice, without my consent, without my agreement. I undo it as it was made, in pain and blood and betrayal," they spoke in perfect unison, their only chance to both get back what had been taken from them.

Their only chance to catch him so by surprise that he did feel betrayed, that he was as helpless as they had been, asleep and a babe respectively.

The moment the last word left her mouth, a sudden relief gripped her throat, releasing the burning agony that had torn through it and at the same time, she felt something warm and big spread through her chest.

The wrongness disappeared in an instant, the feeling of missing turning into wholeness so filling and great she almost stumbled back, her skin tingling and euphoria singing through her so brightly she had to sob. Because that wasn't just a missing piece, a sliver of soul that he had taken and that was now returned to her.

Magic, he had taken magic from her. It glittered like stars in the dark in her veins, spilled through her mind like bright sunlight on shimmering waves and wrapped around her with a desperation like it had longed to return to her as relentlessly as she had wanted it to return to her.

Egam was screaming as he stumbled back and they let him, watched him trip and spill to the ground as he writhed, clawing at his chest where blood smeared, hot and red and the forest spirit gripped her hand tighter.

His magic was heavy in the air, making her taste rivers and entire fields full of flowers and even from the corner of her eye she could see how much more vibrant he was now, the glamor dropped. Captivating and downright otherworldly, beautiful and mesmerizing.

"What have you done!" Egam shrieked but his words no longer tasted of iron-rot in the air and she blinked, realizing the power of his voice had been stolen from someone else. As she watched him seemingly shrink down, magic leaving him, her breath caught.

Oh. Her magic had been the first he had stolen. Her magic was what had bolstered all of his and now that it was gone, everything he was unraveled until it left behind a pitiful little man, with eyes so mean and cruel he should belong in a story, not in real life.

"I promised you I would be your end," the forest spirit said and his voice was filled with magic. The sort of magic that had previously been used by Egam to charm everyone. "I think your hunger and greed are better suited in a different shape and form. In something that grows, don't you?"

And Egam tried to scramble to his feet and run, but the magic of the forest spirit was so thick in the air it her own magic sing in return, bright and sparking and the fury was still a living, roiling wave of heat within her. She reached out without much thought, letting her magic wrap around the forest spirit's, who threw his head back and laughed.

He laughed as Egam screamed in a pitch no human throat should be capable of. He laughed as the screams cut off and branches broke out of his back, his skin turning to bark and the mage grew and grew and stretched and the young woman found herself pulled out the house as floorboards and walls, doors and furniture and remains of windows were devoured.

She watched as a tree grew and grew and grew until the trunk was as wide as the house had been and it reached high into the sky, the canopy so thick and wide it sheltered the entire town under its boughs. 

And her magic was singing and singing and singing and she felt so hale and whole she felt like she was floating. The forest spirit turned towards her, grinning and took her injured hand, pressing a kiss to the cut, smearing blood over his lips as he healed it.

"We're free now," he whispered, eyes so very green and then she was laughing and crying and pulling him forward and he followed her, pressing kisses that tasted like fading copper and brightly like flowers and cold water to her lips.

They were free. Free and whole at last and she felt like she was truly breathing for the first time since she could remember. Deep breaths that seemed to fill her entire body, her magic twining with his as it surrounded them, forest and sky and her tears were wiped away with gentle, gentle hands.

"We are," she whispered, sinking her hands into his hair until she had threaded starlight through it. "Let me introduce you to Gran and Granny Tanya and then I want to see your home."

He laughed and picked her up and twirled her in a circle and she found herself laughing as well, flowers blooming to form a crown on her head.

Where previously a quiet sort of misery had loomed in her future, saturating all coming days, she now couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life looked like.

Bright, she thought as she held his face in her hands, their foreheads gently pressing together. Her future was bight and free and full of love and she was still laughing and crying, happy beyond words. And her magic, finally, finally returned to her, sang and shone and at long last, she felt nothing but right inside.

*.*.*

You want to support my stuff? Want more of my nonsense? Want to lord this over your mortal enemies as you laugh down at them from the top of your castle? Please consider heading to my patreon! A new short story gets posted every month =)

#my writing #short story #forest spirit #magic #fairy tale style #a bit dark tho #a wee bit of body horror at the end #and a wee bit of violence #rather non graphic tho #this took forever to write #i have around 11 k discarded words on this little mess #but I loved how it turned out #so I very much hope you'll enjoy reading it too! #also if you wonder #shady how do you come up with names? #i encourage you to spell egam backwards #I'm funny like that (not) #but I admit #his name amused me every time I typed it #alright done with rambling in the tags for now I guess #hope you liked my story! #btw just in case you're new to my stuff #this is LONG #a long short story

[jaemlonfz]

seventeen loves when you...

seventeen (separate) x fem! reader

tw: the lowercase letters are intentional, there's the explanation and then pure filth, fucking in the couch, cheating on games, morning sex, s/o jealous, biting, sex in a restaurant, fingerring, sex in the shower, phone dirty talking, fucking on the kitchen, sex with clothes, reverse cowgirl, sex on the yard, cowgirl, naked photo, stocking, fucking thights, high heels, eating pussy, lmk if i forgot something

wc: 3,2k

synopsis: seventeen loves when you do certain things

author's note: i really hope you like it, i didn't review it, the chan part is so small i'm sorry, reblog and like if you enjoyed reading it

seungcheol loves when you dress all in black

It doesn't matter if you're wearing his black shirt and baggy black sweatpants, or a beautiful long black dress with a slit up your leg, or even a black bra with matching panties. seungcheol claims that you look like a different person when you dress all in black, but he never told you that, he likes the suspense of coming home and randomly seeing you all in black, he likes to feel the butterflies in his stomach when he calls you to a romantic dinner and you're going to meet at the restaurant, he looks at the door anxiously wondering if you're going to arrive in the breathtaking black dress he bought. He likes the suspense of when you're making out, when he's about to rip your shirt and see your breasts tied up in a black bra that he bought with this exact occasion in mind.

seungcheol enjoys the anxious suspense and the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing you in black just for him.

-

“fuck” seungcheol grunted. you were making out on the couch when he decided to take off your shirt.

it’s not like you knew you were going to have sex with him today, but you decided to wear the beautiful black bra he bought you a few days ago. “what is it cheol?” you asked seeing your boyfriend's ears turn red and his breath getting heavier. “let me spoil you more” he said kissing your neck “you look so beautiful with my gifts”

jeonghan loves when you pull a prank on him

usually you have to be 100% attentive when around jeonghan, because how much this man likes to prank you is really absurd, but as you're still a bit slow it's very likely that you'll fall for 99% of his pranks.

and since jeonghan knows you'r not the type to joke with people the way he does, he forget to be cautious around you and simply doesn't remember to pay attention to the point where he notices some kind of joke coming up. so when you guys are playing one and you subtly put some cards under your leg, jeonghan didn't even imagine it or even thought about it. so when you won the game and bragged to his face and showing your victory in his face, he saw the cards on the floor and was so surprised

"you cheated?" he said indignantly, and when you nodded and let out a giggle jeonghan almost died

-

“my princess is so beautiful” jeonghan said as he kissed the inside of your thighs with your legs next to your head “I think I’m corrupting your innocence, I never imagined my princess cheating” he smiled at you

“I have to teach you a lesson now”

joshua loves when you wake him up with kisses

kissing is common for a normal couple, and it's common for you and joshua too. feeling your kisses for joshua is like having a dictionary of how you feel, in a week of dating joshua had already started to study your ways of kissing, and now after months he knows how to differentiate precisely what each of your kisses means.

It's as if he made a list with each form of kiss and each meaning, there's the forgiveness kiss, the horny kiss, the goodbye kiss, among other kisses, and he can definitely choose his favorite kiss, the good morning kiss.

joshua states with absolute certainty that your good morning kiss is the best, when you're still sleepy but you know he has to wake up, so you remove the strands of hair from his eyes and his cheek and press kisses on his face until you feel the trembling.

joshua says that this is the best feeling in the world, and that he wouldn't trade it for anything. he hates having to sleep on you for a long time when he needs to, so he does everything he can to avoid it.

joshua likes to feel you on top of him, kissing your face until you see his eyes open, the smile is the first thing he does when he wakes up with you. then he wishes you a good day and kisses your lips like never before. he ridiculously falls even more in love with you every morning he wakes up next to you

-

“shua” you print his name out of your mouth in your morning panting, joshua asked you to wake him up earlier than usual today, and when you woke him up you discovered why.

“I love your kisses in the morning, I love you even more seeing the sunlight on your body” he said on top of you, it was slow and sly sex in the sunlight, you were so sleepy but it was impossible to sleep with joshua on top of you making your morning better and better

junhui loves when you get jealous of him

it's not that junhui rubs himself with other people to see you jealous, most of the time he doesn't even know that he's making you get jealous until he sees your face.

junhui notice that he likes to see you jealous for three reasons:

first, your expression, you set your jaw almost as if you wanted to break your teeth, your gaze darkens and the tension in the air increases and you become more and more hot. second: it's another way for you to affirm that he's yours, that junhui belongs to you, and seeing him around other people makes you so angry just thinking about the likelihood of junhui no longer being yours. and it makes him so fucking hard third: he comforts you, it may seem strange but junhui loves the conversation after your jealousy, he loves convincing you that he belongs to you and that he would never stop belonging, he likes to tell you that

-

“oh my love, you look so cute when you’re jealous” you couldn’t tell if you were being devoured more by junhui’s eyes or by his mouth.

junhui was destroying your cunt, a session of kisses, bites and spit, all in your direction, you were so close to cumming but your pride didn't want to give in so easily

“come on baby, don’t hold back, become mine like i am yours”

soonyoung loves when you bite him

when soonyoung saw that he liked being bitten by you, he was embarrassed. it was like he wanted to hide it from you and pretend like he never noticed it, but you noticed it with him.

after that, every time you cuddled or hugged, you bit him lightly. you bit his arm or his shoulders, sometimes you would even bit his ear just to see him sighing heavily with red cheeks.

you bit him when you was going to tell him a secret, making it impossible for you to get away from him without biting a little piece of his ear, or when he tickled you and to make him stop you would bit his arm, but it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was someone so “biteable”

-

soonyoung was having the time of his life, he had you fucking in a restaurant bathroom, but it was a shame that you had to keep quiet to never hear your filth, so you bit him to keep quiet.

as soonyoung held your legs in the air like you were an accessorized the wall, you bit his neck to keep you from screaming your dirty thoughts, and that made soonyoung's dick twitch inside you.

you could even feel a weakness in the grip of his hands, he deconstructed himself with your bite and you were never more proud

wonwoo loves when you wear your glasses

glasses bothered you, and it wasn't the model's fault, you've been wearing glasses since you were a child and you've changed frames several times and they all sucked, so you switched to contact lenses when you became a teenager and you never stopped using them. However, there are certain occasions where using a lens can be a lot of work, for example, it's nighttime and you're ready to sleep and you just want to read a message that your boyfriend sent, until you sanitize your hand, put the lens on, then you have to sanitize the lens and store it in the necessary place, this is a waste of time, so in situations like this you use your glasses, and wonwoo just watches.

wonwoo observes how sexy you look in glasses, he observes how the black frames enhance your look and your expressions, he observes all of this in complete silence.

on a specific night, he completely lost his sanity, he was lying on the couch with his head resting on your lap when he decided to show you a video of a kitten that appeared on his Instagram, and you, as a person who doesn't see anything and is super lazy, decided not to go through the lens process and just picked up the glasses that were on the desk next to you. wonwoo saw you fitting the glasses on your face, he saw the glasses sliding down your nose and completely forgot about the video he showed you, which made you smile stupidly. he loved your glasses

-

“you look so beautiful in them” wonwoo said, fucking your soul on the couch. your knee was on your chest as you hugged them to keep your legs up in the air

“my love looks so beautiful with glasses, like a princess” he said, becoming more and more shameless in his thoughts “I’m only going to fuck you now when you wear glasses”

jihoon loves when you understand him without making any questions

even though jihoon was an independent man, he needed to be careful, and you loved helping him. it's not that you pressured him and were on top of him all the time, but you would always be there when he needed you.

jihoon spent weeks in the studio, and during that week there were a few times he would go out to eat something and there were a few times when he would go a day without eating, and when he realized that the next day would be like that he would call you and you would just go.

you would spent the afternoon with him, reminding him to eat, always placing bowls of soup by his side, helping him with music when necessary, or simply keeping him company, and there was nothing that jihoon liked more than your company

-

“you are such a good girlfriend coming to keep me company, feeding me, helping me with everything” he said kissing her belly “of course I have to make it up to you”

he praised you and showered you with kisses while also filling your pussy with his fingers.

jihoon worked magic inside you as thanks, and that was better than any gift you could receive

dokyeom loves when you shower with him

bath is something intimate, it's your moment with yourself. so in the first few months of dating, when you shout at seokmin to join you in the shower he definitely lost his mind, and since then that has become his favorite quote

seokmin loves when whenever you're going to an event together, and even though you're going to get late, you ask him to get into the hot water next to you. he loves kissing you while you rub him with the soap, he loves seeing your smile when he rubs your back, he loves singing along with you while you rinse off together

when he's on a tour in Korea, he takes you to the hotel so you can “evaluate” the shower, but that's just an excuse to see you having fun in the shower with him

- “minnie I miss you so much” you said whimpering next to your phone. at that moment your boyfriend was on a tour in another country. it was still afternoon in korea but seokmin was already getting ready for bed

“baby you should see this bathroom, it’s so good” he said and you could hear the rustle of clothes, he must be changing “you would look so hot showering in this bathroom, I would fuck you so good under it, we should come here to this hotel again some day, but I'm going to eat you in the shower.”

“fuck seokmin”

mingyu loves when you cook for him

mingyu is known in his friend group for being the guy who cooks, the only person who stops in the kitchen and they don't have to worry. so after receiving this title mingyu started cooking, volunteering without saying anything, as if he were the his function, so when he comes home and sees you in your apron fussing over some pot on the stove it's like you've lifted a weight off his shoulders, and he loves you so much for it.

and mingyu isn't relieved just by the fact that he doesn't have to cook, he simply loves his food. he loves the love you put on the meals, he loves seeing you humming some music while serving food on plates. that is something that warms his heart. but what about when you make his favorite food? mingyu is trying to not to ask you to marry him right away.

“baby am I going crazy or did you make my favorite meal?”, he said as soon as he entered the apartment, “of course I made your favorite meal, you deserve it” you smiled ass you saw your boyfriend taking off his shoes to enter the home.

-

“how beautiful can you be making food? did I tell you that you look really hot in that apron?” mingyu spoke as he bent you over the kitchen counter, brushing your entrance

“gyu…” you spoke slyly, your cheeks flushed and your ass red thanks to the slaps you received a few minutes ago

“I didn't know you looked so wonderful while cooking, I think you'll have to do this every day” he said whispering in your ear

minghao loves when you wear miniskirts

it doesn't matter if it's winter or summer, you'll wear miniskirts, and minghao loves it.

minghao loves seeing your legs exposed, whether at home or in public, he doesn't feel jealous or think it's too vulgar for you to leave the house like that, he simply loves it. minghao love when you guys are walking on the sidewalk and there's a strong wind and you have to lower a small amount of fabric that covers your legs. minghao love seeing you dying of embarrassment because you forgot to put a pillow on top of your legs and he could see your wet panties.

minghao loves your miniskirts.

-

minghao love when you sit on top of him, with your pussy fitted onto his dick, he loves watching you ride him and see your skirt sway

“minghao let me take off my skirt” you complained of fabric that bothered you when you shook on minghao’s dick.

“but you look so beautiful with it, I can see your ass so perfectly with it” he said while kissing your neck. “you should use it more often”

seungkwan loves when you watch the sunrise with him

you always loved waking up early to watch the sun rise, and when your relationship with seungkwan began you started sharing this hobby, you both started waking up together to see the wonderful landscape with eachothers company.

seeing the sun rise was like seeing the day begin, and seeing the sun rise with seungkwan was like knowing that you would have another day by your side, and it was a wonderful feeling.

even when far apart, you like to wake up early and take a photo of the sky to share with each other. it was like it was your morning ritual. seungkwan loved seeing you in the sunlight, he loved seeing the reflection of the sun when he looked intensely into your eyes.

at your house there was a backyard where you would lie on the grass and watch the sky together, but there are days when you don't just lie down.

-

you were on top of seungkwan warming him with your hottest part, the sun hadn't come up yet and you planned to wait like every morning with your pajama shirt draped over your shoulder he could see your boob, which he was playing with until now, red and swollen, you could see your purple neck with the marks from the day before, you looked so beautiful being all his, and the beauty it only got bigger when the sun came up behind you.

seungkwan couldn't help it and took a photo, you on top of him in the most beautiful pajama set, your chest exposed and your neck red, your pussy warming him early in the morning and the bright sky behind

vernon loves when you wear high socks

you see that your boyfriend likes your legs in an episode of a show where you and your group wear school clothes, the famous uniform with a shirt, blazer, skirt, a high pair of socks and a pair of black flip-flops. you noticed that vernon liked something about your outfit that day, but didn't know what it was, so we wore it on separate days to see what happened.

you had already discarded the shirt and blazer as they are things you wear very often and vernon frankly sometimes doesn't even notice, so you had the skirt and socks left.

the skirt you wore on a date, you were going to an ice cream shop and this was the perfect opportunity for you to test your theory, but when vernon didn't say anything it really took you by surprise after all it was what you suspected most.

but when you finally put on some random shorts with socks that reached halfway up your thighs you saw it. vernon couldn't look at your face without blushing and stuttering constantly, you barely touched him and you could hear your heart beating faster and faster, that's when you saw that your boyfriend loved seeing a stocking that suffocated your thighs

-

“vernon” you cried out of need, lying on the mattress “please”

“please what, kitten? use your words with me” vernon said sinic smile to you, who was crying beneath him

“fuck my pussy please” your cheek even hotter tha before. vernon was using you now, but not where you wanted him to.

“but your thighs are so beautiful, I have to fuck them” he said rubbing his dick between your legs, it had been at least an hour that vernon had been teasing you and doing nothing but using your thighs.

chan loves when you wear high heels

chan likes absurd high heels. he likes heels that would make him the same height as yours or perhaps smaller.

he doesn't have a specific reason for that, but it's something he loves so much, looking to the side and seeing you without having to lower his head, or maybe even having to look up to appreciate your pretty face.

chan likes to see you above him, it just turns him on, for no particular reason.

chan can feel his body shiver when he looks at your feet and sees them strapped into 10 inches heels.

damn chan loves seeing you tall

-

he loves seeing your feet 10 inches higher in the air while he eats you like no one else.

chan is starved for you on any occasion, but when you wear heels, he lives to see your legs numb in the air while he gives you the head you deserve.

“put those feet in the air while I fuck the life out of you.”

#seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #dokyeom smut #mingyu smut #minghao smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #lee chan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

༺༻

The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner reader insert #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #if this feels ooc thats not my fault (it is) i tried very hard (some effort was made) and he's really hard to write (he's fit)

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Silent Treatment

SUMMARY: How would they react to you giving them the Silent Treatment?

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WORD COUNT: An average of 540 words per character.

COMMENTS: I remember I had this idea after reading that Mammon had stolen and sold something from MC. MC used STAY on him, but if he did that to me I would be so upset that I would want him to suffer more than that. And I thought about the silent treatment, which would certainly be his worst nightmare. And that's why I thought of making this post. Beel's part is the shortest, but you'll see why.

I hope you enjoy 🤫

CONTEXT: This takes place in the Original timeline and not Nightbringer. So, to make matters worse for them/him, you live with them in the House of Lamentation.

Your argument was probably about Lucifer working too much and you wanting to give him a break. But his stress mixed with pride made him deny this offer in a rather mean and perhaps even disrespectful way.

Does he not want you to bother him? Very well then. What if you never bother him again?

At home, you ignore him. He tries to talk to you, but seeing how stubborn you are he ends up giving up. But this is already bothering him a lot.

At school, if necessary, you will talk to him about importante matters related to RAD as if he were any other student at school. And that's it. Anything else outside of that, you will continue to ignore it.

And that just makes everything worse for him. To have YOU of all people talk to him like he was just any student?! Not only does this hurt his pride, but this small sample of conversation with you makes him miss you more and more. But he will continue to hide it.

The last straw will be at home, when he asks you something directly and you ask one of his brothers to answer for you. Bonus if it's someone from the Anti-Lucifer League. But he must have lasted two or three days without talking to you.

He will lure you to his office, where it all started. Maybe he'll tell you to go get some important papers. You won't see him inside, but as soon as you're close to the desk you'll hear the door closing and locking. And that's when you see him calmly walking down the office stairs to meet you.

“So you decided to give me the silent treatment.” Lucifer says as he walks down the stairs.

“Didn't you want me to leave you alone?” You say, still not looking at him.

“I never said that and you are perfectly aware of that.” He finishes down the stairs and walks over to you. “I just didn't want to rest because I needed to finish that.” You don't answer him again. He already knows what you think about that. Your back is to him and he stops right behind you. “*Sigh* I'm sorry. I know you only want me well. I was just... I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I promise that next time I will consider the break.”

His voice is sad, so you know he was being sincere. But you wanted to see how much he missed you, so you remained silent and with your back turned to him. And he knows you. He knows what you want. He sighs again, more deeply, as if you're making him admit something that hurts his pride.

“Please... I miss you...” You haven't turned around yet. That wasn't enough and it bothers him. You had his desk in front of you.

He rests his hand on the table, leaning on it, and leans in to bring his face closer to yours. “Now you're just teasing me, aren't you?” He was now with that smug on his face. And he sees you give a little smile, which was the sign he understood to move forward. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You missed me too, didn't you?” he whispers near your lips “You little tease.” And he kisses you passionately and provocatively.

Mammon probably sold something of yours. Or maybe another things of yours. Of course, you hate it when he does that. So you decide to give him the silent treatment, because you know, you know perfectly well that he won't handle it. There is nothing else you can be so sure about as this.

The moment he realizes what you are doing, he collapses. The day wasn't even over yet. In fact, you were on break from classes.

He even gets kicked out of class for constantly trying to talk to you.

You know how much he hates being ignored and being ignored by you breaks his heart into pieces.

He wants to resolve this as quickly as possible, but not in front of his brothers. He waits for you to be alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your door and you ask who it is.

“It's me, the Great Mammon. I got your stuff back. All of them. Open the door and see.”

You decide to open the door, even if it was just out of curiosity and you see Mammon holding so many things that you can barely see his face. You can see your stuff that he sold and some gifts like a teddy bear, chocolates, clothes, accessories, your favourite nerd/geek/otako related stuff, etc... You let him in and put all that on top of your bed.

“I got it all back! But, um, you don't mind if some of them are new right? I also bought you more things. These are your favourite chocolates, right? And you really wanted this plush, didn't you?”

You remain silent, looking at him with your arms crossed. This already happened once and he sold your things again.

“I won't sell your stuff again, I promise. You can hit me with your stay if I ever do it again.”

You turn your back on him and go do something, like homework for example. You went back to ignoring him because he used that excuse before.

“Please hang me upside down like Lucifer, use your stay on me at full power, but please stop ignoring me.” he sounds desperate.

You sit at the table you have in the room behind the bed. Continuing to ignore him. The next scene you see is him kneeling next to you, his head at the same level as your thighs, and looking at you like a puppy with tears starting to come out of his eyes.

“Please. I never thought this was so bad. I can't stand not having you anymore. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. Damn it, I miss you yelling at me.” He places his chin on your thigh, looking at you. “Please, talk to me again~”

You can't take so much cuteness anymore. “Don't sell my stuff again! You hear me, you idiot?!”

His face lights up. "Am I forgiven?"

“Yes, for now you are.”

He gets up and hugs you, showering you with kisses. He won't leave you alone for the rest of the day.

Levi would hardly do anything that deserved the silent treatment. He practically idolizes you, he would never do anything to hurt you. So, something like this would definitely have been an accident.

He had arranged a date with you. But then an Ruri-chan's event came up and he ended up going to it instead of going to you. He got the dates wrong and thought the date with you was the next day.

And he only realized this mistake when the next day he sent you a message asking where you were and if you had forgotten about the date, and you replied that he was the one who forgot that the date had been the day before.

After that, you are bombarded with messages apologizing and saying how much of a complete idiot he is and doesn't deserve you. You don't respond anymore, which leaves him in a dilemma to decide whether to go to you or never see you again because you don't deserve to hear the excuses of someone as pathetic as him.

But he has to do it! He has to apologize to you in person! Even if it means you telling him to his face that you never want to see him again. He would deserve it anyway.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. The moment you open the door, Levi kneels down and places his forehead on the floor.

“I am so sorry! I'm an embarrassment of a partner. I don't even deserve your forgiveness. But I needed to show you my regret.”

Maybe you were already feeling a little bad for him, but you were also curious to know how far your silence could take him. You turned away from the door, gesturing for him to enter your room.

He enters with mixed feelings, on the one hand he was afraid of what you could do if you wanted to punish him. On the other hand... wasn't he kinda into those things?

But no, you just sit on the bed and use your cell phone to send a message to Levi, asking why he missed the date the day before. You still needed to talk to him, but not yet with your voice that he loves so much. When he happily tells you that it was because of Ruri-chan's event, you look even more upset.

“N-N-N-N-NO WAIT! I'm so sorry! Exchanging you for anyone else, even Ruri-chan is unforgivable! I should have warned you. I wanted to tell you, but it was all so short notice.”

You still didn't say anything and even crossed your arms with a sulky expression. He kneels at your feet and gets so close to your legs that he could even hug them.

“I know that what I did was a complete betrayal, and a wretch like me doesn't deserve another opportunity, but please, just let me hear your voice one last time, even if it's to say that you hate me.”

And you finally break. You know he didn't do it out of spite and you've already punished him enough. You know you're practically torturing him at this point.

Regardless of how you say or show that you forgive him, he will praise you, maybe even cry and if you let him hug you, he will cling to you desperately.

Satan was probably on a bad day. A really bad day. That kind of day where anything irritates him, even you trying to calm him down. And he ended up saying what he would regret the moment you left his side: He told you to shut up.

And that's what you did, but for longer than he was expecting. He realized you were giving him the silent treatment when he came up to you to ask if the two of you could talk alone, so he could apologize to you, and you acted like he wasn't there. He was upset at first, but soon after he realized that that was exactly what led to this situation.

He won't try to talk to you in public again. He's prideful too. He'll wait until you two get home, and you are alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. When you open it, you see Satan with a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. Either they're your favourite flowers, or your favourite colour or anything he knows you would like.

“Would you allow me to speak to you, please?” He wasn't angry, he was sorry and you could see it in his eyes.

You don't answer, but you let him into your room. If you pick up the flowers, he'll be a little more relieved. But if not, he'll put them on the table and get a little more worried.

“I'm so sorry. I should never talk to you like that. I regretted my words the moment you walked out the door. I realize what you are doing, you are doing what I asked you to do, and it tears me apart. I'm not mad at what you're doing to me, I deserve it and worse.” He kneels in front of you and bows his head. “But please tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. Because no words can mend the ones I used.”

If those words weren't enough for you and you're feeling like he deserves to "suffer" a little more for the way he treated you, you send him a message (he still doesn't deserve to hear your voice) saying that if he's really sorry about that, he could be your cat butler for a day.

He lifts his head and looks at you, blushing slightly. “With a condition: It will be for your eyes and your eyes alone! No making me go to the kitchen or something while any of my brothers is there!”

And if you agree, he will do it. Any request he will fulfill. If you tell him to end his sentences with "Nya" he will do it, partially embarrassed but partially enjoying it.

And at the end of the day, when you finally let him hear your voice again saying that you forgive him, but that you hope it doesn't happen again, he smiles, kiss your hands like a gentleman and asks permission to hug and kiss you again, after so long.

There's a good chance you decided to do this because you started seeing Asmo with more and more succubuses and incubuses.

Well, if he likes being with them so much instead of you, let's see what happens if you prefer to talk to the other brothers instead of him.

He starts the day with no idea what you've decided to do, so he compliments everyone, especially you. And the moment you don't greet him back he knows something is very wrong.

He cannot, nor does he want to, hide how devastated he already is. Of all the demon brothers he is the one who loves attention the most and not getting it from YOU is the worst thing that could happen to him.

In return, you will have ALL his attention. He won't leave you for a second. He needs to know what happened, even if he has to make a dramatic spectacle at your feet.

He will speak to you in the sweetest of voices, calling you all the affectionate names he knows of, even if he has to do so in other languages. Hon, honey, love, darling, Mon cher, mon amour, mi amor, amore mio...

If you just want to talk to him at the House of Lamentation, you'll have to ask the other brothers to basically be your bodyguards. Which will only make the situation worse for Asmo. And more fun for his brothers.

When you get home you tell one of the brothers to tell Asmo that when you are available to talk to him you will send him a message.

You were alone in your room when you sent the message to Asmo saying that you could "talk" in your room. Not a second had passed when he knocked on your door, almost as if he had been waiting in the hallway that entire time.

He’ll walk in like a happy puppy whose owner has finally opened the door for him. He will try to hug you, but you can't give in. You stray, cross your arms and looks in any direction other than at him.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” he asks in that cute, sad voice. “What could someone as cute as me have done to deserve this?”

To continue guarding your voice until he deserves to hear it, you write and send him a message. In it you talk about the succubuses and incubuses with whom he took a ton of photos and posted a bunch of stories, and it started to be much more than normal.

“Aww, my little sheep is jealous, that's so cute!” You turn your back to him. “HA! NO! Wait! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I thought you knew that you are the one I love the most in all three worlds. I love you almost as much as I love myself. I couldn't say no to my fans. Oh, I know! What if we spend a whole day together? What if we went on a special date? I can prepare everything! I'll reserve a table at your favorite restaurant. I can even buy you new clothes if you want.” You turned back to him, but still didn't say anything. “Pwease, talk to me again~ I'm sowwy~”

If you accept his apology and tell him so with your voice, he will hug you and kiss you al over your face. “Ahhh! I missed you so much~!”

Honestly, I can't imagine a single scenario where Beel would do something that would deserve the silent treatment. He's the type to apologize even if it's not his fault. Even if he ate something of yours, he would apologize in the next second.

So, most likely, you and Belphie were just curious to know how Beel would react. And this would probably happen after you had done this to everyone else but him and his brothers wanted to know how he would react.

At breakfast he greets everyone, but you're the only one who doesn't greet him back. And you already feel horrible because you can feel his sad gaze on you.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" he asks in an already apologetic voice. You still don't answer him, and that hurts so much, poor thing.

The other brothers tell Beel to start eating otherwise everyone will be late. But he says he doesn't want to. And everyone looks at him in amazement, except you. He is looking at you and only you, no one else matters, not even the food.

“Are you angry with me? I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I did this time, but I'm sorry. Did I eat something that was yours?” You still don't respond but you're almost at your breaking point. “(Y/N)?” He says your name in the cutest regretful voice that only he could do and you break down.

You turn to him and hug him, apologizing. You explain that he didn't do anything and explain that everything is fine. If you offer him the rest of your breakfast he will be very happy.

But he will be much closer to you for the rest of the day. It hurt him a lot and he just wants to make sure that everything was really okay. He will really like it if you two cuddle a little when your back home.

What could he do to make you mad at him? *cough* Lesson 16 *cough*. Anyway. There's a good chance he's been a little more selfish lately. Always wanting your free time to be spent with him, and try to convince you to fall into the temptation of laziness and exchange your responsibilities for him.

He needed to learn a lesson. He needed to value you more and realize that you are not a guarantee. Let's see what happens if he no longer has you.

He realizes something is wrong when you don't respond to him.

He tries to convince you to talk to him by being cute. That younger brother cuteness that he always uses against his brothers.

When he realizes that this isn't going to work, he isn't exactly going to give up. He will stop trying to convince you with words, yes. But he won't leave your side. He will be almost like a ghost behind you. At least until you all get home.

You'll have to lose him or convince his brothers to help you if you don't want him to follow you to your room the moment you get to the House of Lamentation.

If you manage to do this, you will be bombarded with messages until you finally respond saying he can come talk to you in your room.

He knocks on your bedroom door like he normally does. As soon as you let him in and close the door he will get extremely close to you, but he won't hug you no matter how much he wants to. He knows that could make the situation worse.

“So, what happened?” he asks close to your ear and in his calm voice. “Why are you upset with me?”

You poke your head in a gesture.

“Do you want me to think? To guess? *Sigh* Fine...” he says pouting sadly. “Um... I know you get upset because I make you late with your work. Sorry. I promise I'll stop being so pushy about that. But, you know I want to be with you.”

That was a good start, but it still wasn't enough for you. You had your back turned to him without speaking.

“You know, it really hurts to see you mad at me like this. I miss you.” and then it hits him. “Oh... that’s it, I miss you. I don’t think anyone likes to be seen as a guarantee, right? I'm sorry, for being so selfish with you. You always try to make me happy by giving in to my whims, I should do the same for you more often... I mean, I will do the same for you more often. I promise.” You turn to him, but still don't say anything. “um... What if... tomorrow, I have to give in to whatever whims you have? But go easy on me, okay?”

You accept the deal, and tell him so. He laughs, saying that he already missed hearing your voice so much. And if you let him, he'll hug you.

“We still have a lot of time until dinner, and I miss your cuddles. You're not going to say you didn't miss me too, right? Come on, just a few minutes. I promise I'll spoil you more than you spoil me, he he.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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[astraystayyh]

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter i. to forget

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 14.8k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.

a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3

special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3

quotes series masterlist. next chapter.

Day 1.

You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.

A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.

The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.

Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.

But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.

You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.

The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.

You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach. 

"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.

"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.

It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.

"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.

"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.

"What date are we?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."

"What year?"

"2022."

An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.

"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."

It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.

What have you forgotten?

“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”

"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.

"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.

His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.

"I- I don't."

"Oh."

You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.

"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.

"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.

You don't remember.

The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?

“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.

Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?  

In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.

You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.

“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.

Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.

You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.

Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you. 

The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.

You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.

“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.

“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”

"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."

His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.

He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.

Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.

“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.

You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.

Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume. 

It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.

“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.

“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?

“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.

“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.

“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.

Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.

“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.

"But-"

"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”

“Minho this is too much-"

“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket. 

“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.

“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea. 

"Okay," you concede. 

You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.

But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.

And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.

Day 2.

You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.

Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.

A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"

What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?

10:03. Still too early.

You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?

10:07. You need to shower.

You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.

It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.

You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.

Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known. 

The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.

“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.

“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.

“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."

“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”

You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”

“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."

“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.” 

There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course.”

The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.

It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.

“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.

Day 3.

Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table. 

You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.

There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.

Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?

You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.

So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.

“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”

“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.

Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.

This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates. 

Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.

A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.

You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.

“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.

“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you. 

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”

“You’d do it?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.

Everything Minho does is not to hurt you. 

You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.

Day 4.

“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door.  “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”

“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads. 

“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.

A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair. 

“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.

You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.

Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.

There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.

But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.

Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?

His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.

It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.

Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again. 

You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.

You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.

Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it. 

You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas. 

You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.

"Do you like it?"

You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."

"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.

"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"

Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.

Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun. 

You both refuse to venture into the unknown.

"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield. 

You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."

"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.

He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.

Day 5.

Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye. 

In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him. 

He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite. 

He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart. 

He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.

You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment. 

For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to. 

It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours. 

He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence. 

He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first. 

He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital. 

The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?

Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night. 

He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.

“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.

“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over. 

“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.

“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"

“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.

“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm. 

“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane. 

“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it." 

You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball. 

“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout. 

"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."

“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest. 

“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard. 

“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears. 

“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper. 

“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.

“I do.”

“What do you work as?” 

“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.

“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.

 “My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”

“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words. 

“You think my body is toned?”

“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"

"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”

“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout. 

“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most. 

You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.  

“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask. 

“Purple.”

“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”

“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”

“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”

“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it. 

“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”

“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.

“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.

“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”

“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips. 

“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?” 

“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”

"Of course not. I'll be back." 

"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."

Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out. 

Day 6.

The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.

However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.

You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.

A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.

“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.

He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.

“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.

“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.

“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”

“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.

“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.

“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.

“Pudding.”

“But that’s dessert?”

“I really like the one you used to make me.”

“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”

“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.

“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”

“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”

A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.

You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries. 

You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.

Day 7.

It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.

Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now. 

But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room. 

Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.

Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.

Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho. 

You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.

But then you did.

You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Mm?”

“How did we meet?”

You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.

“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?” 

You hum in response.

“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.

“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”

“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much. 

“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."

“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.

"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”

“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree. 

“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”

“How did we start dating?”

“You made the first move.”

“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.

“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”

“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."

“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”

“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”

“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”

“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?

 “I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"

"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears. 

“And did you love me?”

“I did. I still do, very much.”

“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”

Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep. 

Day 8.

Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.

Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us. 

It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance. 

What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.

Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.

You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain. 

You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own. 

Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.

These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”

“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.

“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.” 

He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking. 

“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”

“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory. 

A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze. 

The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.

It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho. 

'My heart will always remember you'. 

You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low. 

It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Day 16.

This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.

You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.

It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.

Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.

Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.

And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.

So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.

But you didn’t remember– you should have.

You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.

It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.

Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.

"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.

"Minho, I…"

"Today was my birthday."

His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.

"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.

A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.

"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."

Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.

"Minho, I’m-"

"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.

"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"

Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?

Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."

He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."

"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.

"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"

A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.

Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.

"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"

"I’m so sorry-"

"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."

"Minho..."

"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"

His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.

You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.

And then you hug Minho.

He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."

You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.

You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.

He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."

"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."

"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."

He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"

He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.

Day 17.

In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him. 

You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul. 

But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home. 

Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.

In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are. 

But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to. 

Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.

For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday. 

He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms. 

Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known. 

So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on. 

You were still nowhere to be found.

A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call? 

He couldn’t survive another call.  

Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.

So where could you have gone? 

An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.

He prays with all his might that he's right. 

He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.

Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.

Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.

"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care. 

Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders. 

Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.

You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you." 

"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks. 

"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.” 

Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.

"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?" 

He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips. 

"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.

"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed. 

"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised. 

"Because you are." 

His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away. 

"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge. 

You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground. 

"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly. 

"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.

"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.

"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."

"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"

"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.

"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?" 

"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap. 

"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand." 

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-" 

"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this." 

“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?" 

"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us." 

"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness. 

"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."

"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn." 

"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"

"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave." 

It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.

Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."

You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.

"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them." 

"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"

"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"

“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"

“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.” 

“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”

“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek. 

“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat. 

“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”

“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft? 

“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away. 

A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.

“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.

“You did.” 

“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat. 

"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.

"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“Use me. Use me to remember.”

#stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #skz imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #minho angst #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au #skz reactions #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction

[walpu]

hey, hey, I don't know how many times I've read your post "pre-relationship" especially aventurine part (omg i love how you write abt him 😭). I wonder how it will be once they are in a relationship and the kissing part please :3 thank u and have a nice day!

THANK YOUUUUU

Hope you'll enjoy this post too💛💛💛

being in a relationship with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (do I even write something other that hurt/comfort for him lmao), no beta

can be seen as a part 2 of this post but it can stan on it's own as well

Aventurine

It would take quite some time for Aventurine to move from the pre-relationship stage with you. Will dance around the subject, throwing hints and flirty remarks but as for making an actual move? Oof.

Would cling to your side and shamelessly say something like "aww, can't get enough of me? people may think we're dating <З unless that's what you want them to think haha"

Pathetic. /affectionally.

But seriously, he really wants to be sure that you like him before making a move. That you like him, not his money, not the idea of him. At least that's what he tells himself. And while this is part of the reason, the actual thing is that he's simply... confused. He's already more vulnerable around you than he ever was around anyone else. And dating means being even more vulnerable.

While he yearns for this genuine connection he's also a scared of it. Tim Kreider wrote the line "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" about him actually. Source: trust me bro.

It would take some time for him to get used to being in relationship. In the previous post I've mentioned that he, most likely, had some short flings in the past. I seriously doubt that he ever had any serious relationship before you though. It's so new to him. At first it would seem like nothing has changed between the two of you at all. Surprisingly, it looks like he even became a bit more distant.

Aventurine doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention to your relationship since it will only endanger you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm himself. Plus he is scared shitless.

He can't help but feel that he looses everything he holds dear. After all, it's been like that for all of his life. And he simply can't loose you.

Mini spoiler for his leaked character story, but there is a moment there when he looks at the aventurine stone Diamond gave him and he realizes that despite the fact that he worked so hard for it, now that he has it, it holds no real value since it doesn't fill the emptiness inside of him. Logically, he knows that this won't happen with you. He loves you too much. But there's this subconscious fear inside of him that he's just so messed up inside that he simply would not be able to love you like you deserve.

Be patient with him, this mans doesn't know what he's doing. Don't give up on him and he'll crawl to your side, holding onto you for dear life.

Once he will calm down a bit, he'll make it up for all those times when you were the one reaching out to him. Texts you, calls you, arranges spontaneous dates.

In the beginning of relationship would spoil you with expensive gifts. He knows what it's like to have nothing so he doesn't want you to ever feel this way. And the best way to prevent it? To make sure that you will have anything and everything. Maybe it's a subconscious way to bribe you. Maybe. Not like he realizes it himself.

Once he'll feel more stable and more confident, his gift giving tendencies will get less overwhelming. He still like giving you gifts but now he picks and chooses. His sugar darling deserves only the best, after all.

Acts all clingy, playful and unserious but actually listens to your every word and is ready to fulfil your every need.

Is actually very caring. Shows his care by pestering you and easing you tho.

If you feel down, will sit stay by your side. May randomly start tickling you, if you're ticklish. If not, will find another way to touch you in a playful and somewhat annoying way. After you cheer up a bit, Aven will put his chin on your shoulder and hugs your waist, softly asking what happen and why is his dearest darling seems sad.

As for kisses. Aven will loooove covering your face with butterfly kisses. And not only your face. Will randomly grab your hand and kiss your knuckles and fingertips. If you've made a mistake of exposing your shoulder then be ready for it to be kissed endlessly.

Adores kissing those parts of your body that are usually covered with clothes. It feels fore intimate for him.

And if you have freckles or/and beauty marks. Oh well. Will trace them with his fingertips, connecting them with some invisible lines and sometimes gasp playfully, saying that he found his constellation. Just a silly little guy being a silly little guy.

So touch-starved it's unreal.

Has very mixed feeling about his tattoo being kissed. Would feel... weirs if you would kiss it during your casual cuddling session. He exposes it for the world to see, yes. But still, when it attracts attention of someone who knows the meaning behind it... Makes him a bit tense, it catches him off-guard. However, if you kiss it after a lovemaking session or when he shares some painful memories with you, he will feel reassured.

Will slowly start crawling out of his shell when he's with you. Before he only shared some brief memories of his past with you, now he'll start slowly opening up about other, much more painful stuff.

It still happens randomly and out of the blue. He remembers something, he tenses up. But now, instead of repressing this feelings, he shares them with you.

Don't push him too talk, he'll slowly open up on his own.

Loves waking up next to you. Especially if you're still asleep. Seeing the sun shining on your face fills him with love and tenderness. Only with you by his side he feels truly safe.

#one day i'll learn to control my word vomit and my post'll stop being so fuckass long #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine #walp's writing #reader insert

[angelltheninth]

Hope I am not annoying ya too much. But maybe some spicy headcannons with Husk and Alastor seperatly where their S/O is helping them in the bar/kitchen respectivly and maybe during this time they get a little frisky after some heavy flirting.

Things always get spicy in the kitchen.

Pairing: Alastor, Husk x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, domestic fluff, established relationship, grinding, table sex, blowjobs, purring, biting, flirting, teasing, fingering

A/N: Every day we get closer to the release of HH and when it drops I will be unhinged as fuck. Be ready.

Alastor hums while he cooks for you, your favorite dish in fact

No special occasion needed for him to do so, he just enjoys making you happy

If you ask him before you hug him then he doesn't mind but he would rather have you help him with the dish as long as you're here

At first you do but you're quickly distracted by how handsome he looks with his hair tied back and his ears flicking back and forth while he cooks, fully concentrated on the dish

Too concentrated on the dish actually, and not enough on you

Tries to shrug you off, not too hard, when you start to kiss his neck, he's afraid he's gonna burn the dish if you keep this up

And that would be a shame now wouldn't it? He's worked so hard on it

You're very persistent in your kisses, in the way you keep slipping your hands to his front and cupping his growing erection

Gah, he can't cook like this

In order to prevent the food from burning he moves it from the fire and turns to you, a slightly annoyed look on his face

Why couldn't you just let him do this for you, you little menace

Now he has an erection and he has to put the cooking on hold until its taken care of

So what are you waiting for? Bend over the table

Hm, well he can still mix the ingredients together, he'll just have to do it while he's thrusting his cock inside of you, good thing for his shadow magic

Since he can't do everything at once you'll have to read the recipe for him, and be precise or else the food's gonna end up bad

He doesn't know which is more delicious, the dish he's about to make or you spread out on the table, moaning while taking his cock to the brim

As Husk is someone who hates getting interrupted he doesn't seem very amused when you get behind the bar with him

The Hotel isn't too busy so it's not that bad but there are still drinks that he needs to make for the guests

Or for himself, more for himself

If you wanna help you can clean the glasses, save him some time on that, that way his shift will be over sooner and you can go have some real fun

Yeah he knew that's what you wanted, you think his eyes would miss the way you looked at him when he was doing his tricks earlier

Since you're here now he's gonna put you to work

Make a few drinks with him, he'll help you, he'll stay behind you the whole time

He does actually help at first, his chin on your shoulder as he watches what you're up to, his chest purring quietly, just for you to hear

When he moves to slide the drink to the side you can feel the beginnings of his boner

He ignores it for the most part but you can't you keep feeling it twitching to hardness against your ass every time he moves

Suppose this is your punishment

It definitely is judging by the chuckles that he lets out when you stifle a moan

Two can play dirty, and things are about to get real dirty if you have anything to say about this

Husk figures you must have dropped something when you bend down only to have his mouth fall open in shock when you unzip the zipper of his pants and plant a kiss on his barbed cock

Quickly he pushes you under the bar to hide you from view

Keep quiet, and keep sucking him off too, for the rest of the shift in fact, don't you dare stop, don't you dare whimper

He hisses at some costumers when you lick across the tip, giving them the impression that he's pissed off and moody when in reality he's trying his damn best not to let out fat load of cum into your teasing mouth

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x you #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x you #husk headcanons #husk imagine #husk x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #husk smut

[sluttyminghao]

Seventeen x Phone Sex

95 line - 96 line - 97 line - 98+99 line

♡ word count: 955 ♡ genre: smut - 18+ only ♡ a/n: this is pretty self explanatory, but I'm writing some thoughts and mini drabbles about seventeen! I'm grouping them to make it easier to read, and I hope you'll enjoy them all! big shoutout to @bf-wonu and all of my friends at @svthub who helped me with ideas!

Seungcheol: he wants you just to relax and guide you through your orgasm, nothing too special. he’s going to still be a hard dom for sure, but i think since he’s not with you he’d be a little more relaxed and laid back. He would have a slightly gruff note to his voice; it only turns you on more and leaves you more willing to do as he says. “You’re being so good for me, baby, I bet you’re fingers aren’t as good as mine” he’d grunt out as his hand pumps away on his fat cock, imagining it’s your hand instead. The whimper that crosses through the phone line and hits his ear is enough to have his hand speeding up, a low growl emitting from his throat as he feels his orgasm near. The dirty talk that would omit from this man’s mouth would be genuinely insane, like when he’s with you he doesn't even dirty talk this much, so you’re not sure what the difference is when it’s in person vs over the phone. He would also want the both of you to cum at the same time, even if that means staving off his orgasm for a little bit just so that he can cum with you and imagine he’s cumming inside you. Even when you have cum and he has also, he wouldn't want you to stop until your moans turn into needy whines from overstimulation and only then, would he let you off the hook and let you fall into your mattress. After you’ve both finished off, he asks you if you’re okay and makes sure you clean yourself up (even though he wishes he could be the one to do it), and would even go as far as ordering you some takeout to have while he fills you in on his day, and asks you about yours. No matter where he is, whether he’s right next to you or on the other side of the world, the aftercare is still the most important part for him.

Jeonghan:  With Jeonghan, you never know what kind of persona you’ll get when things start getting steamy over the phone. A good majority of the time, he’s going to be teasing you incessantly and taking you to heights you’ve never experienced. He’s the type to be extremely cocky over the phone when you start getting needy, and he would say the filthiest things to you that would bring anyone to their knees in an instant. He would jokingly tell you that you only call him when you're needy and it makes him feel like a cheap whore, but he loves helping you through an orgasm, even if he isn't with you physically. He always gives you very direct instructions as well, and I think he’d also want video and photo evidence, especially if you are in mid-orgasm or even when you’re making yourself feel so good, just so that he can get off to the image/video of you also. “Sweetheart, you look so pretty like this, can I get a full body shot of your body? God, you’re so hot, I can’t wait to get home later and fill you up and mark you as my own.” He’s going to just make you feel cheap and dirty but you can’t even say anything about it because you feel so good, and you know that when he gets home he’s just going to reiterate what he told you over the phone, and will make you cum over and over. While he has you on the phone, he would make you overstimulate yourself, just to hear the whimpers and whines from you, before telling you to stop and making you’re okay. If he was feeling particularly generous, he would order some food for you, or most of the time you’d just crash out after the mind-blowing orgasm and he’d arrange for food to be sent later.

Joshua:  He would be so into this, I think he’d get so into it sometimes that he forgets he’s not in person with you and would turn over to go and fuck you, but realizes you’re not there but instead on the phone trying to catch your breath. He’s going to be the most gentle out of the 95 line, but still has a pinch of assertiveness and dominance to him that has your stomach tightening and your toes curling whenever he lowers his voice. It comes off as a mix of deep and husky, which will only further your want for him. He’s not going to tease you to the same extent as Jeonghan would, but he’s still going to tease the fuck out of you and make you beg for more, and beg to cum. He’s going to make you beg a lot actually, especially when you are on the verge of your orgasm. I think when he’s got you on the phone as well, he will talk you through basically the whole thing, right down to making you imagine what he would do to you if he was with you, and what he’s going to do when he gets home and can get his hands on you. There would be some times when he probably forgets he’s on the phone with you or ends up doing some other task like cooking food and would end up having to get you through another orgasm while he’s flipping pancakes or something along those lines. He’d be very sweet about it though, you know in that overly sweet and slightly cocky way, and would make up for his being away once he gets back, with his fingers and his cock, and also his filthy words and phrases.

#sm: masterlist 2024 #sluttyhao smut #sluttyhao reaction #kpop smut #kpop reaction #seventeen smut #seventeen reaction #seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut

[yunohentai]

night lights. warnings: noncon/cnc ?, pervert heeseung, boob guy hee, reader's older (like 2 years?), reader's shy and sophisticated, virgin reader + experienced hee, dumbification, she says no (which is like noncon) but is enjoying it so its cnc, clicking pics and recording sex too ig??, indication of blackmailing towards the end, he masturbates alot. this is like real filth with some wild kinks. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK + minors dni please.

Lee Heeseung has huge secrets, everyone thinks he's a perfect boy with great grades and a promising future ahead... but little do they know. He's the biggest pervert you could come across. Just 19 yet he's obsessed with sex. He lost his virginity at the age of 17 to a 20 year old girl who rode his dick in a huge crowded party. he was so obsessed with the feeling that since then he's been having sex every week, different pussy every time and well he got blessed to have a huge, thick cock which he knew how to use well, oh and his amazing looks... got all the girls on his dick, ready to let him ruin them.

While you, Y/F/N... knows only the main thing. 'Sex is done to reproduce.' without too much of an idea, and neither you've ever felt any "dark" desire. Innocent little sweetheart who is focused on building up a career and leading a stable life. You love shopping, studying English literature and posting on Instagram. Your tits are so huge. It's as if your tits are honey and boys are bees, they want you and your body so much... but you don't wanna give it up.

Heeseung and you were in the same college but have never crossed ways until today. You were wearing a sage green dress till your knee, which showed alot of your cleavage, your sister always bought you outfits like those in hopes you'll finally have a boy in your life.

You were on your way to class while reading through your 'Wuthering Heights' notes quickly, not noticing your way as you bumped into a guy, falling on top of him. It was obviously none other than, Heeseung. It was a very bad collision. You fell in his lap, your arm hurting as he just stared at you with his mouth wide open, eyes on the main attraction, the huge tits that were almost slipping out of the dress.

Unknowingly his hand moved towards your chest, fixing your dress as you gasped softly and looked into his eyes. he felt your cleavage and the softness made him harden a little as he got up and helped you up too. "I'm so sorry." he apologized and bowed, eyes stuck on your milky white legs. "I'm sorry too! Please forgive me!" you felt really shy and guilty as you bowed, your breasts coming all out again as he moaned lowly and made you stand straight again, "hey it's fine. anyways, I'm heeseung. Freshman." you smiled at him while fixing your dress.

That fucking smile. His heart fluttered, and butterflies filled all of his stomach and he smiled too. "I'm Y/n, Junior." he nodded his head as her cheeks burned with shyness. "I hope we become friends." he winked and walked away, leaving you a mess because of how well that handsome boy treated you and even cared about how your dress revealed your private parts! so considerate!!

He had left straight for the bathroom as he then sat in cubicle, gasping to himself. " Oh wow" he said to himself as he then started wanking, he couldn't help thinking of her. Heeseung tries to use his negative emotions like, anger and all because he works his ass off all the time. So he mostly channels those emotions sexually, kinda hot.

~ ~ ~

The day had ended as you were by your locker, putting in your books and taking the one you're gonna study at home. as heeseung came running to you. "Oh my god- listen y/n do you major in English lit. ?" he asked her, acting all worried. as you nodded your head in confusion. "why?" you asked and he leaned on the lockers. "Okay so our teacher is making me get tutored by a very annoying girl so I told him I'll find someone else, and while looking for someone else I saw you. Do you mind?" he told her with a pout on his lips, and the look in his eyes, that could make everyone melt. "Hmm... I'm not that good at it but I can help."

heeseung smiled. " thanks alot!! btw, your number?" he asked with a pretty smile and you nodded while softly blushing as you both exchanged numbers and shook hands.

~ Timeskip to a month or so later ~

You and Heeseung sat in the hallroom of your rented apartment as you helped him out with the freshman English lit syllabus, wearing shorts and sleeve less top that barely kept your tits inside. "Okay let's take a two minute break." you said and took your phone scrolling through your instagram. you were wearing a really soft shade of pink which highlighted your hard nipples because of cold and your cleavage. Heeseung pulled out his phone and subtly clicked alot of pictures of them, from even different angles.

"hey, i'm gonna use the bathroom." he said and you nodded, very busy on your phone as he quitely went towards the bathroom but sneaked into your bedroom. he knew you won't look for him for the next 10 minutes, so he went into your wardrobe for like the 5th time this month and stole another pair of your panties, it was a lacy white one as he sniffed it and moaned. "Like always. even her fucking panties smell heavenly." he said and put it in his pocket as he went back outside.

he was a bit shocked to see you stretching from your spot, your complete breasts visible and ass in the air, as you lazily tried to grab the charger and your earphones. your hard pink nipples rubbed on the wool carpet getting harder as he felt his dick harden, he looked down and saw the boner. he sighed and coughed, making her gasp and sit back up, fixing her clothes. "Are you alright?" he asked and you nodded. "Let-let's get back to work!" you said and he shook his head. "Wait y/n let me help you." he said and smirked, he knew you were gullible and he could atleast get to touch your tits tonight.

He sat down, way closer to you than before. "Straighten your back." you were about to question but he shushed you and you nodded, giving up. You followed his command as he then leaned down, now his face was almost buried in your chest and your eyes widened. "Hees-" he silenced you and grabbed your tits using his hands. "Heeseung stop!" you said in an angry tone. "just let me do it, y/n!" he said and removed your shirt with one hand and held your hands tightly with the other one. he was so ecstatic to finally see the tits.

he hooked his lips on your nipple and started sucking on it aggressively while caressing the other one, you could feel wetness spread down between your legs. Confusion was what you felt, what's happening- why am i loving it..? she let out a string of hot moans as he grew harder and harder, he then sucked her tits really good, the nipples un-hardening slowly. he then pulled away.

"see. that's how they un-harden" he rolled his eyes and you looked into his eyes. "oh... thank you... heeseung.. can we conti-continue?" he shook his head. "I'm going home." you nodded as he left.

you didn't know or understand this feeling between your legs, as you went into your bedroom, touching between your legs and gasping. "Oh god- i'm just gonna sleep-" you gasped and hugged the pillow between your legs falling asleep.

And well in your sleep, you humped that pillow, thinking it's heeseung's thigh. oh your first wet dream!

while heeseung thrusted his dick into your panties, and also wanked himself off, moaning and grunting your name. how you moaned, your scent, the smell of you in the panties, your tits, your innocence, your beauty.. everything turned him on so bad as he grabbed his phone and wanked himself more and faster, watching you boobs.

~ The next week ~

For the full next week you were acting weird. turning red whenever heeseung was around, and not even avoiding him at all, trying to get closer to him. While heeseung enjoyed the attention and continued to secretly steal your panties and click lewd pictures of you.

For example, He dropped his fork down on purpose and went down the table, where you sat with your legs open wide and enjoyed the food as he clicked a photo. Then when you were busy looking for something under your bed, he got a picture of your perfect round ass. Oh and when you thought he was in the bathroom and sheepishly pushed your hand inside your shorts, feeling and caressing her clit. that photo made him feel so fucking turned on. he litreally caught you touching yourself, he thought. And last, when you had left your main door unlocked and he got in, you had taken off your lens and were showering, you didn't even see him when he got the most lewd of all pictures and videos. Photo and video of you squeezing and scrubbing your tits and them bouncing etc.

He was in love with your body and with sexualizing you. He was excited to fuck you and feel your pussy.

Today you went over to heeseung's so you could help him out with the work and studying as his exam was approaching. you wore the tightest and revealing dress today. it was till your thigh and super tight on the breast region making them pop out more. you had no idea why you were doing this but dressing up for him was fun.

you rang the bell and smiled as he opened the door. "hey y/n, welcome" he greeted as you walked in, taking of your jacket and hanging it. heeseung was done with life now, you're wearing a peach dress till your thighs which was flying everywhere because of the fan, showing him your black underwear and the fact your tits were spilling out and your nipples were visible, you weren't even wearing a bra.

he was now almost offended, she acts innocent? and then dresses like that? is she fooling me.. he pushed away the thoughts and led her into his bedroom as the two sat down and today you were helping him finish his sketches for submission. his arm was pressed in the region between your breasts as you led his hand and helped him sketch. "see, that's how you do it. you're bad at this." you said and continued to lead his hand, as your tits then rubbed on his arm.

That. drived him insane, but he held back and decided to play the same game with you. you giggled at his bad drawing and made fun of him. "Oh yeah? You're so mean" He said and started to tickle you as you giggled and fell backwards onto his bed as he was on top of you tickling you while you giggled and bounced. His eyes were stuck on your tits. "OKAY STOP STOP NOW."

He stopped and you looked into his eyes, seeing a certain look on his face which scared you and brought that same feeling between your legs. "Y/n, Can I?" he asked leaning in to kiss you as you let the thoughts leave your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and let him lead.

His hands were next to your head as he softly kissed you, slowly speeding up and biting your lips. His hands ranged lower while touching your thighs and touching you sensually as you made out with while breathing heavily. Soon the reality hit you as you pulled away and tried to push him off of you. "heeseung no no-"

You were resisting him but the soft look in his eye had now been replaced by something darker, something more scary. Chills went down your spine and your pussy fluttered. "Shh" He whispered and started to leave a trail of harsh bites kisses from your chin to your shoulder blade. "I've been waiting for this moment. Don't fuck it up for me."

"Heeseung stop, let me go." you said as a few moans left your mouth too. He rolled his eyes and slapped your face as you gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. With one swift moment he threw everything that was on the bed away and pulled you closer to him.

"Are you nicely gonna take it off or should i tear it off?" He asked as you looked at him with doe eyes hoping he'd stop but the need in your eyes stood out to him more. "Fine." And there was your dress, left only in shred around your thighs.

Your tits fell out with a small bounce as he licked his lip at that view. He shimmied off the shreds and your panties to the side as you tried to stop him, few tears forming in your eyes. I want to feel more.. you thought but tried to kick him off of yourself. "Please stop this!!"

His hand moved between your legs harshly as the other one held you down, he rubbed your clit harshly and waited for your wetness to grow so he could put his fingers inside your walls while you complained and cried. His lips were abusing your tits like an animal, biting, pulling the nipple and kissing them. You were moaning and rubbing your hips against his fingers while he thrusted them harshly.

"It- hurts.." You cried out with your eyes closed and he smiled. "Just the way my dick used to hurt watching you in those tiny clothes love." He said and continued abusing your tits and pussy. The tears weren't there because of disgust or any negative feeling, you were crying because you were actually liking it. You knew your dad would kill you if he found out you consummated before marriage.

He was just there admiring your beauty as you threw your head back and moaned softly to his touches. He moved a bit away and stopped touching you as you looked at him. He was rummaging through his side table cupboard as he pulled out a vibrator. You were confused as you watched his click a button and put it into your pussy. "OH GOD-" you moaned and threw your head back.

He then took off his own clothes and started to rub his tip while watching you get off. "Need to get my dick wet myself because you're too dumb to do it for me." He tsked. He noticed how the area around her breast and her face had turned, there was drowsiness in her eyes. "M-my belly-" you moaned as he then stopped to pull the vibrator out.

"Please stop it heeseung... this isn't r-right" You whispered as his hands moved behind your head, and he grabbed your head by your hair. His lips were inches away from yours as he whispered. "I don't care." and there he was, pushing both of your hands above your head and pushing your legs wide apart.

You could feel it, all too much. Even the smallest of touch and the smallest sound in the nearest area, you could feel it all, hear it all. You closed your eyes tightly, slowly fighting the grip his hand had on your hands while he just slid his penis inside you, your faces inches away as a few more tears fell out of your eyes. "I hate you" You whispered out as you felt rippling pain with his soft motion. "D-DON'T!" Heeseung stares at you as you complain about the slight pain.

"Be a woman, Y/n." He whispered as he slowly started to move, taking his time and let the pain turn into pleasure. The moment it did change, it was too clear. You couldn't protest anymore as your hands moved to his shoulder, scratching and wanting him to increase his speed so bad but no word left your mouth except the moans.

"Fuck. this feels so good. so so good" he panted out like an excited child, but in a deep voice. You could feel the shivers on your back as you shook underneath him, letting your breasts bounce and jiggle with each and every hard thrust. Heeseung continued to pound into you senselessly, his eyes stuck on your breasts well it shifted to see your face twist into a pleasure-ful expression. "Gorgeous"

His hands were free now so they dived lower, rubbing your clit while he moved his hips graciously rubbing against THE stop. You felt these overwhelming feelings for the first time in your life, you knew you could just explode anytime and then there came the tickles in your belly. "My belly!" you gasped as you felt his pace increase, it was indicating your coming orgasm and well also how deep his dick was into you. It could be seen when he thrusted inside. "m-my god-"

"You're all mine now" he smiled, watching his cock create the bulge in your belly, proudly. He groaned when you clenched a little too hard on his dick. It twitched inside of you, as you felt him paint your insides white. That feeling broke your control too as you felt all of your tension and stress evaporate along with the "liquid".

You felt free, but little did you know by putting that small camera right in the correct corner... he might have changed everything, and made sure that you stay with him and only him.

#heeseung smut #heeseung #lee heeseung #heesung x reader #heeseung x yn #enhypen legal line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagine #jake smut #jay smut #enhypen hard thoughts #sunghoon smut #nct smut

[ivesambrose]

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𐙚

Its been a rather cold month so I decided to channel something warm to look forward to 🤍

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Picture 1

You may have been dealing with challenging situations or people who are quick to throw jabs at you or throw a wrench in your plans. This may have led you to question your own intuition and potential making you scared and hesitant to take a step forward or take any risks in the fear of failure. You'll realize that their scattered mindset and opinions aren't supposed to be your core beliefs. You're not supposed to take advice from people whose life you don't see yourself living. Rather, you should focus on what makes you bloom from within.

You can look forward to a shift in belief system that will in turn change your entire life and reality for the better.

You can also look forward to something that excites you in the form of a rewarding opportunity (especially in terms of career for most of you) that you have been wishing for or were being patient for the longest time.

You can look forward to something valuable that will grow with time and won't be a fleeting thing. You'll be able to trust your intuition and judgement again. You'll be receiving nurturing and quality connections in your life as well. People who care and support you and your dreams.

All of this comes at the small cost of slowly letting go of your self sabotaging tendencies.

Timing: Coming 21 days

Picture 2

You've recently fathomed the power of your thoughts and words and how time and circumstances are irrelevant when it comes to them materalizing. This has been happening a lot but in the past you have questioned them but now you've grown more adamant, strict and assertive. You've learnt to stand your ground. You want to fully step into your power more than anything and allow no one not even yourself to stand in your way.

You can certainly look forward to a completion and celebration. Your labour has been steady and your harvest will be abundant. Enjoy your prosperity. You'll also be embarking on a new journey in your life, ideas and outlook will expand, no one will be able to confine you.

There's a lot of passion coming your way, it will allow you to overcome any fear you may face.

That long awaited renewed hope, clarity and peace is finally yours. You can actually see your path ahead, the destination that you'll reach, so you'll choose to embrace and enjoy your journey.

You can also look forward to a physical glow up, being appreciated, being proud of yourself and your achievements. Shedding guilt. As well as connecting with people or existing friends who feel like your tribe, with whom you don't have to mask your true self to be loved and accepted.

Timings : coming 14 days, stay loyal to your end goals. (September for some of you too)

Picture 3

You can see the dots connecting in your life, maybe you don't know how exactly, you may not have the outline laid out in front of you but when you aren't overthinking it, you realize how one thing leads to another and gain momentum. Things aren't exactly as a standstill as you think. You're extremely disciplined and focused, so whatever you have set sights on is bound to happen or be yours.

You may not realize how powerful your esoteric gifts are but you will. You can look forward to your visions, dreams, written words actually coming true as though it were a prophecy. Be mindful of the people you share your wisdom and insights with. I do see you aren't as happy with your current social circle or people you interact with. You trust very few and you sometimes feel very isolated. But you excellent foresight and there's always a silver lining in your circumstances.

Life will begin to change as the days get warmer and longer.

There's so much beauty in you, you don't even realize that you're a muse to many or are about to be. You might go into hiding only to rise from the ashes as something wild and free. The transformation that you seek is ongoing and something you know is inevitable. Celebrate it when time comes or start from today itself.

Timings: Coming 12 days, summer season (July and August is standing out for some of you as well)

#tarot community #free readings #divination community #pick a card #pac #pick a picture #pac reading #tarot readers of tumblr #psychics of Tumblr

[seventies-arcana]

PAC: what type of lover do you attract?

hello lovies, i hope this reading reaches you well. in this pac reading, you will find out what type of lover/romantic partner you naturally attract. this reading is for entertainment and enjoyment purposes. ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should choose, then read the message. images are not mine. pick a picture to begin ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the nails): the type of person you attract is kind-hearted and good-intentioned. they bring out the best in you, which makes you very happy whenever you two spend time together. they also have a tendency to spend their money on you, whether it be for buying you lunch, drinks, gifts, or covering your tab. they enjoy spending their money on you, no matter the price. they might, however, play a little game of hard to get. once they've gained an interest in you, starting to leave hints of their attraction, they want to make sure you'd put an effort into the relationship. they might even want you to make the first real move, beyond the lingering gazes and fleeting touches. but it's worth the effort. it might take some time, but once you two are officially together, the relationship is very fun. enjoyable, like dating your best friend or partner in crime. you'll tease each other in light-hearted fun, and you'll wonder what took you two so long to get here.

pile two (the lily pads): the type of person you attract is charming and exciting to be around. they make you feel flustered inside, butterflies in your stomach, because they're so alluring. you're like a moth drawn to a flame. maybe their a little impulsive, but it's never too much, and it adds to their appeal. you probably spend a lot of time with this person in social atmospheres, like bars, clubs, or social gatherings. if you're a more introverted person, they try to convince you to spend time with them at these kinds of events. but they enjoy nights in as well-- they use it as a time to simply talk. they are a great conversationalist, and a great person to confide in. beyond their outgoing persona, they could be a relatively sensitive person deep down, and don't handle jealousy well. conversations with them regarding what both of you seek in a partner might be a way they try to hint at their admiration for you. once you're together, they'll want to brag to everyone about how great you are, and probably post you on social media often.

pile three (the florals): the person you attract is someone whose intelligent and mysteriously compelling. they are someone you've met before, who reappears in your life after a few months or so. they have a cool front, it's hard to read them, and they keep things to themselves, however deep down they are so immensely passionate. they're the type to yearn and pine for weeks before they ever make a move. because of their stoic upfront, you might not even notice their admiration for you, and may not consider them in a romantic way-- at first. because once they finally make a move, maybe with a bold flirt or innuendo, you realize what you've been missing out on. and the relationship, once it begins, is cool as fuck. they'll take you out on dates that have you try new things, that ignite your senses. their kisses and their touch practically set you a flame, you can't get enough of them.

pile four (the bunny):

the person you attract is so adorable and considerate. they're someone who expresses love through physical touch, in romantic and platonic relationships. they care so deeply for the people they love. they dote on you, making sure you've ate, that you got home safe, and that you're having a good day. they are a great listener, and this might be something about them that you find attractive. they love getting to learn things about you, interested in what you like, your hobbies, your goals, etc. they may struggle with admitting their feelings towards you, possibly having a fear of rejection or having bad experiences with love in the past. you'll likely have to make the first move, but once the relationship is brought to the next level, their doting increases ten fold. they'll offer to give you massages, make you dinner, and spend time doing things they know you enjoy.

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#Spotify #seventies arcana #tarotblr #tarot community #divination #tarot #spirituality #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot reading #tarot readings #pac reading #pac #channeled message #channeled reading #love #free tarot #free tarot readings #oracle #oracle reading #attractive #law of attraction

[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: message from your secret admirer

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: message from your past lover/crush

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

pile 1

they lack self-confidence to get close to you - they might even not trust themselves around you. they might fear acting up or looking foolish around you. they are very apprehensive about taking action and you not accepting them as they are.

they find your personality very sexy. it's like they enjoy when someone takes charge - you don't mind taking up space and making your presence known and they adore that. your ambition, drive, and authoritative personality is addicting to them.

of course, they find you attractive - they worry that you don't find them attractive... they think that you won't take a chance on them and that you might not be open to a relationship/date with them because of how they look.

you are supportive. maybe you supported them or encouraged them in some way, or maybe they have seen how you interact with the people you care about. they can tell that you are a genuine person.

its wild; i feel like this person has a very active imagination. they might dream of marrying you or what being married to you would be like. they like the idea of walking with you on their arm. i feel like they wonder if they wait long enough and linger in the background that perhaps you will make the first move. they really like you. they think about the timing very often - they believe that you are the one for them. they really hope that you feel the same and are attracted to them. this is beyond lust for you - they love you.

pile 2

this is going to be a by chance meeting - you aren't going to run into each other everyday. you'll have a very positive few days with this person then it will be one of those things where it's like do you or don't you. perhaps this will be a "the one that got away" moment.

i feel like the connection is moving too quick for there to be much visibility into whether or not they even know much about you. so this connection has to make its own hold pattern - slow down a learn a bit more about each other. if someone peaks your interest, ask for their number.

i feel like you are out of your element with this connection. you don't see your beauty like they see it. you probably don't think they are attracted to you. you just need some confidence - trust that you are beautiful and make your move; stop waiting for masculine energies to make the first move.

they see that you lack confidence despite you being pretty and deserving attention. you are careful about what you do and what you say - this intrigues them. they are so curious about what you would say/do if you had the confidence to do so.

i feel like, unfortunately, no one will make a move in this situation. so you will keep to yourselves and spend time in solitude. stop thinking about what could have been and make it happen. you don't have to be unhappy with your present circumstances. start making a shift in your beliefs. you can put an end to your feelings of loneliness; you just have to change your mindset - abundance awaits you.

pile 3

they doubt themselves around you. i feel like you are rather close to them in their day-to-day life, but they don't think they can gain your attention. they tried - believe me, they have, but they just don't feel they are getting anywhere like they hoped they would.

they have been getting to know you for quite a bit of time. they love how passionate you are about the world around you. they also enjoy that you are building something for yourself.

you are very lovely to them. you are just at the beginning as your beauty journey too - you are going to continue to blossom and bloom.

you hold back which intrigues them. you can resist what others indulge in, which attracts their interest. you celebrate the small wins in very minimal ways, which they adore.

something is changing in the near future. you have to accept this connection as it is - i feel like you guys could be great for one another in the romantic sense, so why not try it? you can build a future together. this person wants to help you to grow in new and exciting ways. pay attention to subtle hints and messages from those around you. communication, fresh perspectives, and opportunities are ahead of you.

#astrology #astro community #astrology tumblr #tarot art #daily tarot #rider waite tarot #tarot witch #tarotdaily #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card #pick one #pap #pac #paid readings

[normansnt]

Shitty day

(Hazbin Vox x Fashionista!Male reader)

No warnings maybe some foul language.

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

To say Vox was annoyed was an understatement. Val was bitching about something again and Velvette was on phone calls the whole day yelling in every. single. one of them. And when the clients she was yelling too still didn't budge she went to whine to Vox.

All in all Vox had a headache the whole fucking day that even a reboot couldn't fix. He knew what he needed. He needed you.

You were one of the most valuable people at Velvette's fashion boutique second in command after her. And since you made a shit ton of money for the whole company Vox noticed you. Oh, he noticed you every time he visited Velvette he saw you delicately dancing in between shelves of fabric needles is your mouth needle pillow on your wrist and a thimble on your finger.

You moved so magnificently among the many unfinished pieces you started, he couldn't help but watch. It was like water flowing between rocks but you sometimes stopped here and there to make an adjustment on a dress or suit.

Velvette of course noticed this, she notices everything.

"Jesus fuck, just go talk to 'im he is gay if thats what you're wondering of course he is he works in fashion. Or what do I care just move your ogling elsewhere."

And that he did.

He flirted with you, and to his surprise you flirted back. Not because he didn't think he had a chance he knew he was a handsome fellow but most people seeing him cower in fear. You didn't.

He liked you. He liked you a lot.

This was about 4 months ago.

Now its a habit that he visits you almost every day after work. Since then, you have gotten your private office so you guys had privacy.

You're usually still working on a piece or two when he walks in back hunched smile gone and he falls face first into your couch.

Today was the same he was even massaging his temples.

You noticed that today was a particularly hard day for him so you left to get some coffee.

When you returned he was still in the same position. You chuckled to yourself quietly. You loved the relationship you two had. Now, you weren't exactly a couple (yet) but you were the one he trusted with opening up. You were his safe place, and even if his day was good you were the first one he would tell the good news, or if his day was not good nor bad just an average day he still came to you to calmly watch you work while you guys talked.

You lifted his screen up sat down on the couch and put it on your thighs. You two were very comfortable with each other this was nothing. He turned around so he could look up at you.

"I made you coffee" you lifted the mug while smiling at him. He smiled slightly. Fuck, he loved you so much.

"Please be my boyfriend."

Vox blurted out without sitting up. He was just laying in your lap looking up at you hopefully.

You chuckled quietly and instead of answering him just bent down to kiss him. Vox eagerly returned the favor.

"I'd love to be your boyfriend" you answered after you two parted. Vox sighed with contempt as you intervened your fingers with his. Even though it was a shitty day, and there will come shitty days, you'll be here with him. Those days don't even seem so shitty anymore.

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

I know its short but its sweet so I kinda love it.

I need to write much more for Vox cuz honestly I fucking love him but for some reason ideas usually hit me for Alastor😭

Also I'm a true believer that under that big-shot TV persona he is a broken little boy and actually really sweet so😎

ANYWAYS

I hope you enjoyed your reading, ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

#male reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #gay fanfiction #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader

[alonetimelover]

pairing: harry styles x polish!reader (fem, she/her)

summary: harry plays a show where one of the most important people in his life attends - his fiancée's granny.

submitted by @otaktomotyl, thank you and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!

a/n: i found polish translations on the internet, i hope they're okay.

masterlist ask, comment, come say hi!

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, harryshoee and 37 201 others

harryupdates HARRY landed in Warsaw. I repeat, HARRY landed in Warsaw.

view all 3 013 comments

harrysmoustache and he's holding yn's hat???

harryshoee yn and harry can finally reunite... 🥹

harrysfan92 do you see his arms???? he looks like a Greek god, god damn

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harrysmoustache

liked by harryupdates, stylesbabie and 12 301 others

harrysmoustache HAARY AT YN'S COUSIN WEDDING!!!!

view all 2 492 comments

harryupdates you're so fast with those updates, lyla. im gonna lose my job...

stylesbabie yn be aware, he looks good enough to be THE groom. keep him close

⤷ harryslipstick i think that ring on her finger is saying more than anything

harrysmybestie guys, you know we are so close to see HIM at HIS OWN wedding...

⤷ harrysmylife don't

⤷ harrysmoustache why would you say that?!

⤷ outofstyles am i the only one awaiting that day impatiently??? i wanna see him being all nervous and loving and all of the emotions that people feel at the weddings

stylesislife only harry styles could come to my wedding wearing a tanktop that he also wears to his shows

⤷ hArrysbtch the only man i could forgive AND compliment on looking so fucking good

stylesbabie yn's cousin posted a photo from the ceremony, and you can see yn and harry being all snuggle and touchy 😭😭😭 i love them so much

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"What do you mean you're not coming up on stage? Harry, my love, what changed during the last two hours?" YN asked into her phone, anxious Harry being on the other side, soundly biting his nails. "And stop biting your nails, you've got a very nice colour on them."

"Is babcia (granny) here?"

"Mum texted they're close to the gate. Jeff, was kind enough to go there and pick them up so they wouldn't get in any trouble."

"Good, good, good. can- can you come backstage? I think I'd like some ted talk before the show," he said quietly, smile growing on his face. "And some kisses, too."

"Give me 10 minutes, I'll find that kind guard and ask him to guide me. I can't remember when to turn right."

"I'll wait for you. I love you."

"I love you."

Harry got up from the couch and started pacing from one wall to the other. His hands were trembling, getting sweaty. He couldn't remember when was the last time he felt this nervous before start of the show. Not wembley or Slane Castle were as nerve wrecking as Warsaw. He knew it perfectly that it wasn't because of the city or the country. Well, it partially was.

It was YN's home show. But also her whole family was just outside the gates or already walking down the hallways to get to their seats (VIP of course, besides YN's younger cousins that wanted the front row, barricade experiance). And probably the most important guests for Harry - YN's grandparents, especially her granny. A sweet 92-year-old lady that started learning english and using an iPhone to be able to talk and contact Harry. A lady who bought his heart with sweet butter biscuits that no one could replicate. A lady that listened and then learned his whole three albums for this day - the day she would finally see him play live.

So he was terrified to disappoint her.

"What if i mess up the lyrics?" he asked YN when she finally came to the greenroom, he had been pacing in.

"Then she will sing it to you."

"But what if she won't like hearing me live? I mean, it's- it's a possibility. What? Why are you giggling. I'm really stressed here, my darling."

"I'm so sorry." She kissed the crown of his head. "It's just that you're afraid of impossibility. There is no way she would laugh at you or be disappointed in you." YN stroke his hair, gently massaging it, bringing Harry peace.

"You sure?"

"I've never been more sure in my life."

"She'll like it." Harry reassured himself aloud.

"Yes, she will. Not only she loves you like her own grandchild, she's also nervous. This morning she facetimed me to help her pick up an outfit. She bought quite a few things after she saw some pictures of your fans on the internet." She laughed, finding it quite adorable.

"Did she?" Harry lifted his head from yn's lap. "Oh, bless her."

They spent the next few minutes in silence, letting Harry's heart to calm down and steady its pace.

"Wait, did you say that you've never been more sure about something in your life?" Harry eventually broke the silence.

"Yes?"

"So, you had doubts when I asked you to marry me?"

"Oh god."

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harryloveontour

liked by harryupdates, stylesmaaan and 21 491 others

harryloveontour first look at harry at tonight's show in warsaw! it wasn't even the first minute, and he was already seen sending kisses towards yn!

view all 6 023 comments

harrysmylife and it was not only for yn!!! her whole family is with her. even her grandparents.

⤷ stylesbabie omg, they must love him soooo so much

ynandhmyparents they are the sweetest couple i've ever seen, like ever

harrysmoustache is anybody live??? i need to experience this show, i have tissues ready

⤷ hArrysbtch hslotwarsaw is live and it's in such a good quality

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 21 291 others

hslotwarsaw this is harry's reaction to seeing yn dancing with one of the fans during adore you!!!

view all 3 491 comments

harryupdates omg, his reaction was priceless!!!!

hArrysbtch the way this man said "back off, my friend. she is taken. ring and all. no, no, no." he wa ready to jump from that stage to stop that man from hugging yn!

⤷ stylesbabie i mean, did that guy asked yn if that was okay?

⤷ lovingharry he did, you could see it on the videos that people already posted

harrysmoustache he's like "excuse me, man. that is my fiancée. MY fiancée."

harrysmylife oh, this concert just started and i know it's gonna be the best of all times

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lately you've been on my mind

honey, ah ah ah

The whole stadium was singing back to him. He could describe the feeling it awoke in him each time. It was similar but never the same. Especially today, everything seemed to touch him deeper, better, and clearer.

"Someone's stealing your girl, Styles"

Harry heard someone in his earpiece, making him stop singing. He played it cool by putting the mic towards the audience simultaneously looking for YN.

It didn't take him long. She was right where she promised to be. The space designed specifically for her family, not enclosed but clearly separated from the main audience. There she was dancing and laughing with some middle-aged guy.

Harry was a jealous person in nature. In particular when it came to his partners. He wasn't proud of it, and he definitely didn't have any way to believe that YN would sprint after every Tom, Dick and Harry. Every day she showed him how in love she was, there could be no way.

But here he was. Jaw clenched, not singing and glaring towards his fiancée.

"Harry, everything alright?" Again the voice in his earpiece.

YN stopped dancing, feeling that unmistakable eyes almost glued to her. Oh, it didn't look good.

"How you doin' Warsaw?!" Harry finally screamed into the microphone. The squeals, screems and whistles gave him all he wanted - distraction.

And when YN smiled at him so lovingly and sweetly, it was enough to carry him till this moment.

"Your sign says 'help me shoot my shot'. Is this person with you?" Harry asked the fan who was holding the very neat and colourful sign. Somehow he didn't recognise him from just a minutes ago.

"She's here."

"Wow! Your voice is so loud, man. But how do you want me to help you when she's here. She's next to you somewhere?"

And then if it would have been possible, Harry's jaw would touch the floor. That guy shamelessly pointed towards YN. Now he remembered.

People screamed so loudly, because everything was shown on the biggest screen behind the stage.

"Well, back off, my friend. She is taken. Ring and all. No, no, no." Harry tried to play it cool by laughing at the end. "And, as far as I'm concerned, we're not lookin' for the third one in the relationship."

Now the stadium was laughing along with the long 'ouuuu'.

"How did you know you'd be close to YN, anyway?"

"Manifesting."

"Manifesting?" Harry repeated so everyone could know the answer. "Well, you're doing it right, so I suggest betting or playing lottery. And, to be honest most importantly," he pressed. "Not stealing someone else's future wife!"

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 34 201 others

harryupdates harry introducing yn's grandmother at tonight's show.

view all 7 201 comments

hArrysbtch she is the sweetest lady, my god. i love her even though i don't know her 🥹

harrysmoustache "this show is very special to me. here are my future parents in law as well as grandparents. hello, hi!" i still can't comprehend harry being engaged...

harrysmylife "granny, how are you doing? do you need anything? no? you're good? excellent! that's what I wanted to hear. please give it up for granny!" and the way he started clapping both of his hands and the whistling???? and then speaking in polish i think???

⤷ polisharry Yes! He said 'dziękuję, babcia że tu jesteś' which means 'thank you granny for being here

harryfan82 this show is sooo good

outofstyles did anybody see harry constantly looking towards that area, where yn's whole family is?

⤷ harrysmoustache absolutely! i can't imagine how nervous he is, considering it's the first (at least that we know of) time he sings in front of them

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hArrysbtch

liked by harryupdates, harrysmylife and 33 101 others

hArrysbtch HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY MEDICINE BUT THE BAND STARTED IT WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE. I CANT. HES REACTION IS PRICELESS. HES TERRIFIED.

view all 8 101 comments

harryupdates he didn't even started it on cue, thank god the audience was so pumped up for it and sang it!

harrysmoustache "no no no no no. we weren't supposed to play it. sarah!" the fear and confusion in his voice was everything. they got him good.

outofstyles "you're gonna pay for it. all of you." this is so funny

stylesbabie the funniest thing is how when he started singing it, he was all touchy and sexy. it was like he forgot about the problem in the moment...

godstyles "granny's terrified" HARRY YOU DIDN'T PUT THE MICROPHONE DOWN, MAN

⤷ harrysmoustache but they showed granny being all smiley during medicine. i think she enjoyed it just like any other song!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, stylesbabie and 41 202 others

harryupdates harry smiling while talking to yn's little cousin (yn was translating everything to her and then to harry). she then opened as it was with "harry, I wanna say goodnight to you"

view all 3 201 comments

hArrysbtch i hate kids but that baby was so cute i wish i could squish her cheeks

harrysmoustache he was all smiles and gentle eyes while talking to her, he loves this family so much

styleslove i love when people are so open with their feelings for their partner's family

harrysfan081 so cute

stylesbabie give this man a child already

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hslotwarsaw

liked by harryupdates, stylesmylove and 61 201 others

hslotwarsaw harry after splashing water at yn and her family at the end of the show!

and with this photo, we're ending our 'photo-stream'. thank you all for helping us prepare all of the fan projects and thank you for welcoming harry so warmly in our country! till the next time!

view all 8 20q comments

harryupdates you did amazing job!

hArrysbtch yn's granny got so happy at the moment harry decided to threaten her with a bottle

stylesbabie granny had a water gun and threatened harry back with it!!!!! it was soo cute, he run away laughing

harrysfan88 best show so far

harrysmylife "this one of the loudest show i can remember. and i know why. my fiancée's whole family is here. and believe me, they can make so much noise it's impressive!" my friend stood next ro them and confirmed, they were so loud during the whole set list!!

harryshands i can't imagine better way for harry to cope with this amount of pressure. he delivered one of the best performances in his life - sound and entertain wise. truly amazing

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"Harry, my sweet boy."

Harry turned 180° from the conversation he was having with Jeff to see the face of the lady with the heavy accent he knew so well.

"Babcia! (granny)" he exclaimed, jogging towards her and ambracing in a tight hug. "How I've missed you."

"You saw me yesterday, you."

"I know." He pulled away, still having his arm around granny. "But it's already been almost 24 hours. A long time, don't you think?"

Granny shook her head with a smile and placed her head on Harry's chest. She was rather exhausted from all the lights, noise, dancing and standing up for almost three hours.

"You wanna sit down, granny?" YN asked, squeezing her grandmothers arm in a way showing her she was nearby.

"Oh, yes. My legs aren't 20 years old as much as I would like them to be."

The three of them sat down on the green couch and talked about the show. Granny was impressed with all the fans having the time of their life, but specifically the ones that seemed to take in the show on their own terms.

"There were those two girls just hugging the whole time and singing softly all the songs. It was so lovely," granny explained.

"It's funny how they were two of very little to not use their phone during the show," commented someone in the room.

And before harry got the chance to defend people taking photos and recording, granny sat up straight.

"Well, in the 60s, my father took me to see The Beetles and I wish i had a camera then. It was such a magical moment that I would want it to be not only engraved in my mind but also on paper. I took so many photos of you, Harry. I need you to print them so I can show them to my friends on the next bingo evening."

YN nodded her head with a smile, not only planning to print the photos but putting the whole concert that harry recorded on the CD. Granny loved watching that type of thing on her telly.

"Harry," granny spoke up after a few moments. "I do have a question however."

"Ask away, granny."

"That song, medicine. What is it about?"

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #slavic!reader #polish!reader