#both in and out of the ring. i love them both!!!

[mwphisto]

LaDs: How they’d propose

~ just some fluffy head canons!

~ all love interests included, reader’s gender not specified

A note from Soul: my friend just got engaged the other day and now I’m in the mood to brain storm how the lads men would do it! Gotta love fictional men because I can mold them however I want (jk) lol - I started drafting this before the wedding banner was announced so I'm not really going off of anything seen in the trailer!!

Xavier

He and Jeremiah spent months preparing this.

The back of Philos has been perfectly prepared for Xavier's grand proposal idea. He and Jeremiah had tediously grown and tended to some of your favorite plants for what felt like forever. Treating them as if they were real babies, nurturing them with only the best soil, water, and daily sunlight.

Now, they were all in glorious full bloom. The greenhouse smelt of the prettiest florals, decked out in warm fairy lights, and a table for two with a white table cloth and fancy dinnerware was set up in the middle of it all. It was perfect, exactly what Xavier had envisioned.

"Woah, Xavier..." you had been starstruck the moment he guided you back there. Your eyes twinkling as you took in all the flowers, the decorations, the soft melody playing from a speaker hidden somewhere among all of this. It was breathtaking.

"You did all of this for me?" Mentally, you were trying to recall if you had forgotten an anniversary or an important date. but you came up empty handed. "Yeah, with Jeremiah's help of course, but the ideas were all mine." There is a light blush on his face, the hand holding yours squeezes suddenly and you can't help but feel nervous.

"What's the special occasion?" You two stop right before the table, and Xavier turns to you, pulling your other hand into his and bringing both to his lips. "Do I need a special occasion to shower you in love?" Of course he didn't, but this felt so... special.

"I love you, my little star. More than you would ever be able to comprehend." He starts slowly, eyes lingering on your hands before traveling to your face. Your heart is pounding in your ears, you can feel the anticipation radiating off of his body.

"I cannot fathom spending another day without you by my side. I don't dare to dream of a future that doesn't have you in it. I don't want to wake up to bed without you snuggled beside me." And your heart jumps into your throat as Xavier slowly gets down on one knee.

"My starlight, my universe. I love you so much it hurts. Would you do me the gracious honor of being my wife?"

Your vision is blurred with tears, so blurred that the ring he presents you is nothing more than a sparkling blob in his grasp. You're nodding before the words can leave you, a babble of "yes" and "of course" and about ten million "I love you too"

Zayne

He didn't tell a soul what he was going to do, he had only told his parents of his intent to propose to you.

A week long trip to the Arctic in the middle of a grueling summer. A rented cabin just for the two of you, and a well thought out itinerary so you can see the aurora each night. It would be at its strongest, brightest, and most vibrant on your first night. That's when he'd do it.

"It should start any minute, right?" Your eyes were full of child-like wonder, staring excitedly up at the stars in the night sky. "Yes, any minute now." Zayne was a bundle of nerves, surprising himself when his voice came out steady and unwavering.

You two had just finished eating dinner. A comfort meal you prepped together in the cabin's kitchen. Sharing some wine, light music playing on an antique record player, the fireplace a blazing warmth. It had been so perfect, so cozy, that Zayne nearly popped the question as you two ate. But he held off, he had a vision in mind.

He sat back against the cushions, watching his breath puff out in front of him as you excitedly stood at the railings of the cabin porch. Your head unmoving in its upward tilt towards the cosmos.

The moment the aurora made itself known, Zayne would get down on one knee and pop the question that he's been dying to ask. The custom ring he designed sitting safely in a velvet box, just inside of his pant pocket, his fingers a little clammy as they held it.

Then he heard it, your gasp of wonder as the skies filled with greens and blues and even touches of purple. "Zayne! The aurora!"

You were bouncing on your heels, pointing as if he couldn't see the image filling the sky, and whirled around with a smile on your face. Except, Zayne wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. Your smile faltered - but not in a bad way - no, it turned into a look of awe.

Zayne's ears were red, his cheeks flushed all soft and rosy as he presented himself on one knee, a dazzlingly ring sitting in a navy blue velvet box just inches from you. "I had a whole speech written in my head, and now I'm finding that I've lost all my words..." He laughs a little before glancing down at your hands.

"You know me well enough to know I have never been great with expressing myself through words. But for something as special as this, I have been giving it my best practice for months to make it worth while." You can feel your throat tighten, staring at him in the same way you had stared at the aurora.

"I can't imagine going on with my life without you by my side. You have turned my dreary world into one full of color and wonder." He takes your hand, and you realize it is trembling just as badly as your own. "Meeting you changed the entire trajectory of my life. Meeting you gave me purpose, and I never thought I’d get so lucky.”

"Would you do me the greatest honor of spending the rest of your life with me?" And you can barely get the "yes" past your lips before you're falling into his arms and hugging him like he'd disappear if you didn't. "I love you so much." It's a gentle whisper as he takes your hand, slipping ring onto your finger.

Rafayel

Only Thomas and Talia knew vaguely of what Rafayel planned. For once, Thomas restrained himself with pushing deadlines - not that Raf would have cared either way. He appreciated the sentiment.

His goal was for you to be completely surprised, to not suspect a thing. So, he didn't plan anything grand leading up to the actual event. He just did things that you two loved doing together. Dinner at your favorite restaurant - the same one you had your first real date at. Then, the little desert shop just down the road for ice cream.

Only when you arrived back at Mo Art Studio did your suspicions raise. "What do you think?" The sun was setting, bouncing off of the ocean water and creative a pretty spectacle across all the art that Rafayel displayed for you to see. "Rafayel..."

You had a million and one questions on the tip of your tongue, eyes glossing over as you jumped from piece to piece. Each one was so distinctly you. Some detailed portraits, others abstract, some of just you, some with the both of you, you couldn't breathe.

Rafayel stood by the entrance and watched, watched as you circled each piece with bated breath. "Rafayel when in the world did you have the time for all of this?" You spun to look at him, noticing the smile on his lips as he unfolded his arms and pushed off the doorway. "Every time we were apart, every time I missed you, I got to work."

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before lifting it to his lips. "Painting, sketching, sculpting you, us, it helped the loneliness be a little more bearable." Only then did you notice the lit candles, the ambiance accompanied by waves crashing on the shore. The ocean breeze cascading through the open windows. Rafayel had used his evol to light the candles, they wouldn't do any harm.

"Speaking of loneliness." His throat cleared, drawing your attention back to his face. "I don't like being alone. I don't like waiting, either." And then? You were gasping, eyes wide as dinner plates as Rafayel got on one knee before you. "I intended on doing this down by the water, with the sunset as our backdrop. But now, right here in this moment, seems like the best time to ask you this."

"You have renewed my life with the most vibrant color palette. Not a day goes by that you don't bring a smile to my face." His hand is trembling as it squeezes yours, his other fishing for something in his suit jacket's pocket. "I never want to lose that vibrancy, nor the joy that you have colored my days with."

He pulls out a box, flicking it open with his thumb to present you with the most stunning ring you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"My beloved, my heart, my entire world... will you marry me?"

You're choking on a sob, "Of course I will, Raf. Yes." He can barely the slide the ring onto your finger before you're pulling him up and into your arms, crashing your lips together as tears leak down your cheeks. It's only when you part that you realize he is crying too.

Sylus

He didn't trust anyone with this information. Not even the twins.

Coming from him, you'd expect something larger than life. But, instead, Sylus had a much more intimate idea in mind. "Why won't you tell me where we're going?" But you're giggling, playing with the rings on his fingers as his private jet cruises the sky. "Because it will ruin the anticipation. You know how much I love seeing you squirm."

The destination was a sprawling flower field. The kind you'd never find in the N109 Zone, and one that would be a lot less grand a much more artificial in Linkon. He'd seen so many pictures of this place, and not a single one did it justice. Just as he had suspected, which is why he flew the two of you all the way out here.

"Oh my god, Sylus! It's gorgeous!" You were entranced, turning on your heels to stare at him with wide, glittering eyes. The sun was making its lazy decent, casting the field in a warm orange glow. The breeze was warm, rustling the flowers - which were as far as your eyes could see, disappearing into the distance.

"I knew you'd love it." With the rental bike parked and your helmets secured, Sylus entwined his fingers with yours. "A picnic?" You looked at the old-fashioned wicker basket hooked on his arm, a lopsided grin gracing his lips. "Yes, c'mon let's go."

He guided you through the rows of flowers, chuckling softly as dragonflies and bumblebees dances around the blossoms, making you jump and cling to him a little tighter. "Don't worry, there won't be this many where we are heading." And the destination in mind was one of the large trees spread out among the flower field.

By the time you got there and set up the picnic, the sun was ready to disappear beyond the horizon. As if on queue, fireflies began popping up among the flowers. The sight was mesmerizing, and the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. "So, are you going to tell me what the occasion is?" You brought a napkin to your lips, dabbing the strawberry juice - that Sylus desired to kiss - off.

"I wanted to make this as grand for you as possible, but in a way that it was still only you and me." He starts carefully, crimson eyes boring into your soul as you give him your full attention.

"I adore you, more than words can possibly convey. The love I feel for you is so strong it knocks the wind out of me sometimes." And he shifts, moving from his lounging position to one knee. And you swear the entire world begins to spin as he pulls a maroon leather box from his pant pocket. "You are the other half of my soul."

"Sylus-" but it's carried away on the wind, that same lopsided smile on his face as he lets you process before continuing.

"I want to keep building my life with you, I don't want to keep going on without you bound to me for the rest of eternity. Just as I am forever bound to you. I would be the happiest man alive if you promised to stay with me as my wife, until we both cease to exist."

You're nodding, eyes glossing over as stray tears leak down your cheeks. "Yes, Sylus. I'd want nothing more than to be your wife." And you can barely breathe as his trembling hand slides the ring onto your finger. Your knuckles graced by the warmth of his lips.

The soft whispering promise of "I love you, more than anything."

Caleb

Not a soul knows of his intentions, and he feels its better that way.

Everything was planned meticulously, you just had to come along. Caleb had set up an entire mental itinerary of everywhere he'd be taking you. The last stop being Skyhaven, aboard his personal aircraft. Then, he'd pop the question.

"Last stop on our adventure, pips. Almost there." He's smiling at you, noting the slightly tired look in your eyes as you stare mesmerized out the window of his aircraft. "We did so much today! How are you not tired yet?" But even as you spoke, your eyes were widening at the sight of cotton candy clouds. The sun had just set only moments prior, the last few rays gracing the world until morning.

"I could never be tired if I'm spending my time with you." And he could hear your eyes rolling without you having to say a word never mind look at him. "Trust me, pips. This last stop is worth it." But you could only chuckle. "I must be missing some sort of anniversary. How come we've done so many special things today?"

"I just enjoy doing things with you, isn't that a good enough reason?" But you could always see right through him. Yet, for some reason, something in the back of your mind told you to stop pressing and just let things be. "It is, I suppose. I like doing things with you too."

Luckily, your last stop was Caleb's backyard. He had set it up before leaving to get you in Linkon earlier that day. Blankets and pillows set up in the grass, lights adorning the large apple tree that resided in his yard, music playing softly thanks to Otto, and lastly two glasses and a bottle of wine. It was intimate, meaningful, and you could both crash right after. Because with all the tension in his body, he knew he'd be lucky if he didn't pass out after hearing you answer.

"There is a meteor shower tonight, I figured we could watch it together." Warmth filled your chest, a smile spreading from ear to ear as you took his hand and dragged him towards his own set up.

"I totally forgot about that, Caleb! This is perfect." The ring was already grasped in his other hand, letting you sit down first before getting on one knee. The look only your face was utterly priceless, worth every ounce of stress it took for him to get his timing right.

"I've beens struggling for over a year now to figure out what to say to you when I finally did this." And the ring was presented to you, no box, just between his fingers, and it was as if he held the whole world right there instead. "And even now, I still don't have a clue how to put everything you are to me into words."

"Though, I'm sure you know very well by now that you are my everything. You've always been my everything, since we were kids." The first meteor is streaking through the sky, but nothing can draw your attention from him. "I want you to stay with me, and I promise you that I will never leave you alone ever again."

Your throat is tightening, eyes brimming with tears as you're nodding before he even says the words. "Will you marry me? It would be my greatest achievement in life to be your husband." And your answer leaves your lips like a never ending prayer. Yes after yes, I love you after I love you. The ring is slid onto your finger, and you've never felt more whole in your entire life.

"I love you, with every fiber of my being, Caleb."

Hope you enjoyed!! - Soul

[lambilegs]

A LESBIAN'S GUIDE TO MEHENDI FESTIVITIES. (SEVIKA X READER)

you and sevika attend your cousin's mehendi and you guys are complete lesbians about it, pretty much.

contains: reader is from a family that's portrayed as desi, reader is mentioned to be wearing a sari and makeup, one makeout session but no explicit nsft content, flirting and sexual tension, homophobia, internalized homophobia, some angst, lots of fluff

divider by: @/cursed-carmine

a/n: so, pride month is (sadly) coming to an end, and I thought I'd post this before june is finished to commemorate this great month. happy pride to all you lovely, wonderful readers. and to my desi readers specifically -- this entire fic is truly dedicated to you guys. being both desi and queer is no easy feat, and the world often tries to convince us that we have no place in it that reconciles and allows every part of our identities to co-exist. but, I promise, being queer and desi are never aspects of yourself where you need to give up one in order to have the other. our culture is intertwined with queerness, and the judgement we receive is a product of society, not our heritage. and I wish you all community and peace wherever you can find it — I know it's not easy for all of us to do so, for things like our families, our communities, our fear, our lack of safety can all contribute to why we nee to keep certain things hidden. but I truly hope every one of you find support, kindness and acceptance in any way you can, whether it be now or in the future when you have the independence or finances required to do so. whether that be through an online community, a friend group, art, or one day separating yourselves from people who are pressuring you. your existence is such a beautiful, empowering thing, and I'm proud of you for embracing your queerness even if it's only with yourself right now, for even that is a major step and one you should take pride in. your life is worth so much, and I admire all the ways you work to carve out a safe space for yourself within your community, your family, or even just in yourself. I love you all so much, and inshAllah, I pray we all have an abundance of freedom in the future. and I’m always here to talk.

“And my mom asked me to tell you to not start an argument with anyone,” you say, smacking your lips together to rid them of the residue of lip gloss.

Behind you, already dressed and ready since a half hour ago, Sevika sits on the edge of the hotel bed with her arms crossed. She watches you complete the finishing touches of your makeup, barely hiding the way her eyes linger on the open back revealed from your sari. Everytime you catch the movement, your stomach flips in anticipation. 

She snickers. “Hey, it’s not my fault that your cousins say stupid shit.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’ll only warn you to avoid calling them out in front of her. Otherwise, she’ll hassle me about it,” you mutter, slowly prodding in one jhumka into your ear.

Your eyes flicker to the time and you hiss in shock, fumbling for the other earring. When you shakily move too fast, your face contorts into a sting as your earring pricks a patch of skin. 

You hear Sevika’s shift on the bed, her heavy footsteps ringing behind you. Her hand is on your waist a moment later, coaxing you into turning around.

Quietly, she tuts, taking the earring from you. “Always in such a damn rush,” she mutters, her fingers brushing your jaw as she tilts your ear to face her. 

With careful, practiced precision, she holds onto your ear with a gentle touch, so different from her usual demeanor. That’s one thing about her. While on the exterior, she seems so rough and fast and quick to act, she’s impossibly gentle. Way more than most people expect her to be. Maybe in some sort of strange juxtaposition, it’s her strength that makes her so soft when it comes to touch. Maybe she knows just how much power she wields in her rough hands, her bulging arms, and so, because of that, wills herself to be infinitely tender when someone opens themselves up to her touch. Maybe. It’s just a theory, really. Many of those have been created within your girlfriend’s presence.

You try to stop a smile from stretching over your face as she nudges the earring in, her grey eyes honed in on the spot. When you wince slightly, her eyes flick to yours momentarily, but she keeps pushing in, most likely knowing that freezing up will only hurt more.

When it’s inside and secured, she nods. “There. Don’t rush it next time.”

Always needing to end a love gesture with a scold – that’s her. It’s hard to take it badly, though, when in every syllable, laced are the sentiments, Be more careful and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.

“Yes, sir,” you drawl, a grin spilling onto your face like yolk, shells broken and discarded.

She smacks your ass as you make your way to the door. “Don’t push it.”

On the ride to the mehendi, she grips your thigh the entire time, kneading the flesh and toying with the stitched embroidery of your sari. The entire time, you rub the hairs of her forearm, slowly stroking your thumb over the soft strands of it. You love her hair, how unabashed she is in the keeping of it. To her, it’s just another form of rebellion she’s committed herself to. Another way she’s carved out comfort for herself in the pain and hurt of life. Another thing about her that without her even knowing, rouses admiration and motivation amongst so many other people.

Including yourself, your own arms now dusted with hair, a physical marking of your heritage. A sight that brings you more comfort the longer you keep it.

“Did I mention how handsome you look?” you tease softly, lifting a hand to stroke through the blunt ends of her short hair.

Handsome is an understatement, truly. She’s sporting a maroon kurta, one that her aunt got her from Delhi, and it hugs her arms just right, the fabric rough with threaded texture. The first few buttons are undone, revealing the tattoo at her collarbone, that of which is sharp and defined. On her right wrist, she wears a simple, gold bangle, one from her mom’s wedding set. Lip piercing to match, and she’s practically radiant. 

The corner of her mouth twitches up. “Only about fifty times.”

“Only?” you echo. “I’m not doing well at all, then. You deserve a whole lot more than fifty.”

She huffs a silent laugh, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot.”

You roll your fingers into her hair, tugging on her head lightly. “Oi. That’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.”

She shoots you a narrow-eyed stare. “Can you not? I’m driving.”

Petulantly, you hum, releasing your hold on her hair and sliding your palm down her face. 

Before your fingers can drift past her chin and back onto your lap, she catches your wrist in her grasp, pressing a soft kiss to the warm inside of your palm. 

You turn your head to the rolling greenery gliding past the window’s view, seeking refuge so that you can let the smile itching at your mouth bloom in full.

You two reach the lavish length of your cousin’s home, the wide expanse of her family’s backyard more than enough room to house multiple tents to shield relatives from the scorching sun. You suck in a deep breath. A crowd has already gathered and grouped together under the white fabric, tables adorned with glasses and cutlery and vases with pink and cream bouquets. Beaming string lights are hooked everywhere, and you can already picture how beautiful they’ll look once dusk settles and paints the sky in hues of deep blue and purple. 

The image is gorgeous, yeah, but it’s the people who concern you most. Everyone knows about you and Sevika, but that doesn’t mean everyone is welcoming. Or even tolerant. And you’d think that after months of uncomfortable side glances and disgusted stares levelled at you two from elders, you’d be used to it. But, you’re not. You’re really not. You can barely touch her at these kinds of events without feeling the weight of a hundred eyes upon you. Without feeling razor-sharp judgement slicing through the bubble of comfort you and Sevika have built to surround yourselves in.

It only kills you how understanding she is. You suppose it’s expected, considering she herself is familiar with this kind of dynamic in her own family. But, where your truth has always been meekly admitted, half-veiled and tailored to maintain the peace as much as possible, hers is brutal, practically set aflame. It’s unforgiving to anyone. If you offered it, she’d hold your hand in front of anyone, anywhere.

“All okay?” she asks, the back of her knuckles stroking along your arm.

“Yeah.” You tightly nod, flashing her a smile you hope looks convincing. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She says nothing, only nodding in response, watching you carefully as you flip your mirror back up. Silently, she exits the car then rounds the length of it to open your side of the door. You paw at her wrist as you stumble, trying hard to clutch onto the layers of fabric so you don’t trip.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she says, voice split between incredulity and exasperated admiration.

“It’s an acquired skill,” you say with mock haughtiness, tipping your chin up at her.

She shuts the door, your purse in her other hand. “Yeah, lucky you.”

“Awe, are you jealous? Maybe I’ll teach you one day.”

“Yeah, maybe when Hell freezes over.”

“Hey, I mean, I did manage to learn a ten minute dance in one week. I’m probably the best tutor you’ll get.”

It’s true, though it makes the entire ordeal sound way simpler than it actually was. The sister of the bride, otherwise known as your younger, menacing, pain-in-the-ass cousin, decided to plan a dance for the mehendi at the very last minute. She sent each of you a video on WhatsApp containing what movements to do, and you had spent every evening after work diligently practicing. Locked away from Sevika, of course, who kept eyeing you with a snarky smile and pointing out whenever something looked stiff.

Sevika snorts, her head dipping to your ear so she can whisper hotly, her prosthetic fingers dancing along the bare skin of your back, “Last time I checked, you only got that dance down after two breaks downs and making me promise to use the strap after.”

Your entire body writhes, skin fluttering with goosebumps from the cool touch of metal. With a light shove to her side as you reach the gate (with a whole worker keeping track of the guest list, mind you), you trot on forward.

How the next hour or two goes is exactly as you expected. You barely get to talk to the bride except for two kisses on the cheeks, her arms being diligently worked on while her sister feeds her. You and Sevika sit with your immediate family, everyone catching up on how life has been during the past few weeks. Your mother makes you physically turn around to check if you put the sari on correctly (you don’t miss how Sevika, who spent four hours helping you with it, clenches her jaw). Your cousins make stupid, bigoted jokes, and Sevika’s deadpan glare is enough for their laughter to subside. And the younger children, the ones who haven’t been exposed enough yet to be tainted in such a way, come running to you, asking you when you’ll take them to the park next, and if you can propose a beach trip to the family.

You humor them the entire time, one toddler on your lap while the older one rambles on about how grade school is like as of late, fumbling over her words and pausing every now and then to run her fingers through your bangles.

From the corner of your eye, you see Sevika watching the interaction with a thoughtful gaze, her arm naturally sliding along the back of your chair and giving your neck a free rest spot to lean against. You can see your mom’s gaze dart to the movement, but you try to ignore the anxious squeeze in your stomach and focus on the eager young girl in front of you. 

When the lot of you squeeze into the packed line for food, you manage to pinch and encourage Sevika into picking up the youngest of the kids, your three year-old cousin with the ruffled, dark hair and big brown eyes. With a heavy sigh, she picks him up, groaning when his pudgy little hands go to her lip piercing, plucking at it as though it’s a toy.

“Sevi Didi,” the little girl at your side says, her hand locked in yours, “will you be dancing tonight?”

You laugh outright, barely able to contain your amusement. “Please. Sevi Didi has all the rhythm of an uncle with a broken hip.”

“Hey,” she shoots back with a glare, readjusting your cousin so his entire torso is leaning into the side of her chest. 

You shrug with mock innocence. “It’s true.”

The little girl to your side clutches onto your fingers tighter, bursting into a fit of giggles. “She should– oh, she should join our dance.”

“The little kids’ dance?”

She nods, her chipped teeth flashing at you as the apples of her cheeks glow in a bright, mischievous grin.

“She might be a bit tall for you guys. Could cause an accident or something,” you coyly respond, glancing at Sevika over your shoulder.

She snickers, raising an incredulous eyebrow at your youngest cousin, as though he can understand the exchange to its full extent.

Your heart practically throbs at the sight. Sevika has never had the most fondness for kids, usually finding them to be disruptive and a bit too nonsensical for her naturally low tolerance for human interaction. But, you know, underneath it all, is an effortless empathy she distributes to them. Maybe it’s due to her own lack of care received during childhood, but you’ve never seen her behave cruelly to a child, always handling them with gruff distance, yet tender touches and subtle smiles. 

After loading your cousin’s plate with a bit of rice and samosas, she goes eagerly racing back to your aunt. As you, Sevika, and the curious child she’s still carrying (who’s continuously pulling and tugging at her hair and making her sigh in exasperation) continue on at a slower pace, you smile shyly upon feeling her metallic fingers drifting along the sheer fabric hanging at the back of your sari.

“Can you not?” you whisper, feeling your face flame up.

“You’re the one who showed me all those idiot Bollywood films, remember?” she says, nose tickling your earlobe. “I know what gets you riled up.”

“Yeah, and it’s very much not engaging in exhibitionism in front of my family,” you hiss back.

She snorts, but relents, leading back and dutifully following you until you set both of your plates down on the table. 

Your cousin, as it would have it, enjoys the warmth of Sevika’s lap and the free toy her short hair seems to provide him with. And so, she spends the rest of the meal with him resting on her lap and staring at her curiously as she rips off pieces of roti and dips it into her curry. When she confirms it with you, she shares little bits with him, the corner of her lips curling up as he eagerly gobbles it down. 

You only deal with one (singular, so there’s a win) uncomfortable moment through the evening. Well, at least one direct moment. 

One of your mother’s friends asks if she should set you up with a nephew she has, and your mother immediately straightens up, sending a panicked look to the other woman.

You want to be quicker than whatever vague explanation your mother has to offer, which pushes you to awkwardly pat Sevika’s back and splutter, “No, uh – this is my girl– partner.”

The entire table falls into silence, as per usual. No one agrees or nods along, as per usual, and everyone sits frozen, gazes casted down. It’s one thing to have Sevika here. Not that that’s a small deal, you’re well-aware that it’s already a huge thing to have her present. But, having her here and making no action or declaration of romance allows people to forget that you two are a couple. They get to look at you two and convince themselves that you guys are just two good friends currently in a phase, or that you brought her here only as a guest.

But, then uttering the words “girlfriend,” “partner,” and reaffirming what she is to you – that’s different. That’s public, that’s bringing it to attention what the two of you are. It’s shining light onto a truth that everyone would rather keep shoved into a dark corner that grows puffy with dust and thick, stifling air. 

It takes a few minutes for conversation to rouse back up after that. No one mentions what just happened.

Sevika squeezes your knee under the table. You both meet in the bathroom after dinner, so that you can weep in peace in her arms while she rubs your back and shushes you. It’s a familiar cycle of events. So familiar that by the end of the fifteen minute meeting, she has you laughing through the tears, her lips pressing kisses to your nose as she grumbles about the annoying shitfaces out there.

And she makes it up to you in a series of moments dotted throughout the rest of the event. Moments that make you appreciative of having her here in spite of all the tense conversations that render everyone quiet and shifting. Moments that make you almost astonished when you think of things in the plainest of terms. You’re here, at a relative’s mehendi. With your girlfriend. Your dashing girlfriend who’s clad in the sexiest kurta, rolling her eyes when any uncle approaches her, but begrudgingly engaging in conversation anyways.

Even if it’s not as perfect as you’d wish, the two of you are cementing a place for yourselves in this family. You’re doing what years ago would've been the impossible. You’re forming an image that the young kids here can absorb and recall when they’re one day older and maybe realizing how similar they are to you both. 

Even Sevika, in the traditional wear usually designated to men, is slowly exposing a whole new world to the younger people here. One where it’s okay for your cousin’s curls to grow out even if it means he gets mistaken as a girl. One where the girls can take offense to their mothers telling them it’s inappropriate to play tag with the boys after dinner.

It’s these thoughts that linger in your mind as you get your mehendi done, watching as the hired artist methodically dances with the pipe, the paste transforming your palm into a mosaic. The scent fills your nostrils, rich and heady. Unlike your cousins who used to wretch and groan from it, the smell feels familiar to you, like an old friend coming home. It carries memories of countless aunties and grandmothers, hands wrinkled and withered from years of hard work, delicately holding onto you with one hand while tracing beautiful shapes with the other. So much hard work just to leave you adorned and decorated for a mere two weeks. There’s a certain poeticism to it, you suppose. Another human being devoting so much time and focus just to stain your body with something beautiful and intricate, even if it’s only temporary.

In the middle of it, Sevika pulls a foldable chair next to you, spreading her legs out unabashedly and tossing an arm behind your chair. You toss her a curious glance, lips cracking when you find her eyes roaming over your hands. You know how attractive she finds the mehendi, and it only makes your mind run through millions of scenarios. The kind of mehendi you’ll get on your arms, feet, and even back, one day in the future if you two get married. The way she’ll kiss up all the patterns and trace her tongue over them.

You blink hard, trying to get a grip.

Doesn’t help that she leans in and quietly asks, “Gonna get my initials in there?”

You glare at her despite the way your tummy flips with the question. “You do realize it’s not our wedding, right?”

She chuckles dryly. “And? You’re always telling me I need to work harder for it.”

You cast a wild gaze between her and the henna artist, hoping you can silently convey the message of Oh, my God, shut up.

The artist does nothing but grin, her eyes flicking between you and Sevika. “You guys are cute.”

Despite the embarrassment of the moment, only furthered by how Sevika winks at you as she’s tugged away by some aunty wanting to hear about her degree, relief washes over you at the artist’s clear approval and acceptance. Lots of people would tell you that you ought to not care so much. That you should be loud and queer, and not seek the opinion and comfort of others. It’s easier said than done, though, when the very roots you’ve been raised in demand attention to community, and are tangled with the soil of family and connection. Especially in a space like this, it’s hard to just dismiss the opinion of others, to care only for yourself when your very actions keep the thread linking you to your family intact. And God knows that thread already has its strays. 

You try your best to keep said strays to a minimum, you really do. 

But, it’s hard when Sevika has you whisked away to some abandoned corridor once the women are moved to the inside of your cousin’s home, thumb pressed into the corner of your mouth as her tongue slips into the hot crevice of it. Her other hand roams all over your body appreciatively, sneaking under the fabric to grope and squeeze your tummy, sharp edges making you shiver.

“Sevi,” you gasp, barely getting the words out as she keeps interrupting you with more wet, sloppy kisses, your lipgloss smearing all over her chin. “The dance– I need to–”

“You need a good luck kiss,” she mutters, her voice a deep rumble from her chest. 

Her thick, steady arms wrap around your waist, coaxing you to stretch on your toes to reach her. And pressed against the wall like this, lodged between it and her hard, warm body, you feel all your senses circling around her like a vulture. Wanting nothing but to consume this formidable woman, her unbreakable spirit. Your girlfriend. 

Dried flakes of the mehendi scatter about the ground as you loop your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth as she massages yours with her lips, tongue licking against your bottom lip. When her teeth graze against the plush inside, a warning, before sinking in, you release a choked up whine.

“So pretty,” she groans, her lips moving to your cheek to press slow, mindless kisses down your skin, the slide of her tongue making you shiver.

Those words echo in your head when you’re dancing minutes later, lips completely bare from the mess you had to quickly wipe off after your little escapade. Meanwhile, from across the room, the light skims over the streak of product left along Sevika’s neck. A mark of her as yours. You told her to wipe it off, but she insisted barely anyone would see, claiming that she likes having a reminder of you.

It’s a bold statement, but doesn’t come close to the way you point to her then beckon her over when you’re at the front and center during the dance. Up until that point, you had been a little meek, filled to the brim with embarrassment over having your girlfriend see a messy, uncoordinated dance filled with giggles and tripping. It didn’t help that she was braced against a pillar and smirking the entire time, eyes hooked on your figure and wandering about shamelessly. Whenever you stumbled or one of your cousins slammed into you, you could see the mirth gleaming in her eyes as she watched you in oh-so-cruel amusement.

So, wanting to both impress her (an urge that never dissipates no matter how long it’s been), as well as engage in your own little act of boldness and love, you playfully smile at her and crook your finger at her when mouthing the lyrics. You try to ignore the confused, bulging eyes the aunties direct between you and Sevika, and try instead to focus on the hoots and whistles of the crowd, mostly from people your age. And how the bride slowly turns to Sevika, then sends you a wide-eyed, eager stare that says, Tell me everything. And the way the rest of your cousins follow suit, playfully blowing kisses at their husbands and winking at their boyfriends.

And, of course, the way your beloved’s sweet little gap shines as she bursts into one of her rare, but beautiful, bouts of laughter. Wickedness gone, she’s an angel. 

And it might not feel like much, but in that moment, her here, her initials imprinted on your fingertip, it feels like a moment of revolution.

info:

the initials of a groom are often hidden in the mehendi of a bride, and it's a joke that if he finds it, he gets to sleep with her on their wedding night.

didi - older sister

jhumka- a kind of earring

sari and kurta - types of traditional wear

[jehhskz]

Celestial

pairing: angel!felix x fem!reader

genre: fast burn, fluffy, good vibes, smut (MDNI!)

wc: almost 17k

summary: "Felix, I told you a million times, stop messing around or one day you'll end up falling off the clouds!"

warnings: there's smut; a scene based on my beloved angel's last mission: love; i didn't research about tarot on purpose, all mentions are pure delulu

jé's note: this one goes to my european beautiful twin @jeonginsleftcheek 💕 ozzy, happy birthday, i hope your days are as bright as you make mine, thank you for our talks, laughs and delulus, you're a real gift for me; i wrote this one with lots of love, i hope you enjoy it, i love you a lot ❤️

my other fics

It was a beautiful and sunny day of June, summer had just begun and if you lived at Sunce Island you knew that was known as the most wonderful time of the year, almost as magical as christmas. 

You were typing away on your laptop, sipping on your orange juice and soaking in that rare moment of calmness, listening to the soft clacks against the keys before the footsteps and laughter coming from the second floor became noticeable as they neared the stairs. 

An excited group of college students passed you by, waving at you. Smiling back, you politely waved at them before getting back to work.

The beginning of summer also meant lots of new visitors at the island and luckily the Inn getting lots of new guests too, so you were working hard to make sure everyone would have the best time while staying there.

Focused on updating the Inn's social pages, you didn't notice the chubby little hand that tapped on the reception desk, tiny fingers reaching for the bell. You stopped typing and looked up just in time to see the woman who rushed and scooped the little boy up in her arms, before he could ring the bell for the third time. 

“Lucca, what did I tell you before we got out of the car?” She looked the little one in the eyes, holding his hand.

“Not touching anything” He murmured, looking down and upset that his fun was ruined.

“Yes, we can't go around touching other people's stuff” She reaffirmed and the boy nodded, the mom let go of his hand and looked at you “I'm sorry, he just turned 2 and is going through that exploring phase” She explained, offering you a shy smile.

“Oh don’t worry, that’s okay” You smiled at them “You've got a pretty name, Lucca” 

“Thank you” He shyly murmured, nuzzling in his mom's arms. You both laughed at his cuteness, making him feel even more shy.

During registering her family entry, a man walked in and while waiting by her side, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on your chat. 

After watching the family walk their way to the stairs, the brunette leaned closer, smirking charmly at you, his tone soft and low as he spoke.

“This could be us, you know?” He had a teasing spark in his eyes while he beckoned at the stairs, making you roll your eyes playfully, understanding what he meant when showing the couple who spent their honeymoon there and was back with their little one to celebrate their 5th anniversary. 

“Would the kid have your curly hair?” You smirked.

“Of course… my hair and your pretty smile” He giggled, running a hand through the tousled curls, flirting back to try and conceal his flustering.

“Okay, good” You leaned back, pretending to think for a moment  “...then I guess I'd like to have two” You said with a cheeky smile. 

He nodded and you noticed his cheeks getting rosy despite his attempts to conceal it, looking away. You held back a laugh, it was quite endearing how a man like Chan could get all flushed so easily and you loved to push his buttons every time he came to stay there, which happened often. 

“You and me, two kids and a dog” He chuckled, looking back at you.

“Sounds like a plan, baby” You nodded, grinning at him and holding your hand out for him to seal the deal.

“Yeah, but I think you're forgetting an important detail in this big plan of yours” He held your hand, interwinning your fingers and gently giving it a squeeze against his.

“Hmm, let me see…” You tapped your freshly red nails against the desk, glancing up as the words rolled out of your mouth “Friday night, homemade pasta, red wine…” 

You glanced at him “Am I missing anything?” 

“A red dress, maybe?” Chan's cheeks were red again, but he was also getting excited, picturing his night.

“Nuh nuh, this part will be a surprise” You winked at him.

~ ♡ ~ 

The clock hit 6 when you closed all the tabs on your computer “That's enough for today” 

You organized the little notes scattered all over your desk, threw the strawberry lollipop's papers away, grabbed your keys and phone and applied some lipstick on before you were ready to go. 

Silence, that was so rare on the island that was always so vibrant with people buzzing around, but there was this very moment that locals would refer to as the resting hours, when the only sound belonged to the sea, because all tourists were back into their rooms, getting some rest and ready for the upcoming events.

You smiled admiring the way the sky looked like a painting with the hues of orange and pink as the sun kissed the sea goodbye, the breeze was cool, refreshing, just perfect.

Letting out a content sigh, you sat down, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin over it, you closed your eyes just in time to miss the shining spot falling from the sky, straight to the sea.

A strangled yelp made your eyes flutter open, at first you didn't see anything but the waves that were getting high, so you thought you imagined it, until a hand was raised, then it went down and another was up, a mess of limbs coming up before the waves crashed, almost like swiping whoever it was away. 

“What the…” You panicked. It was a person, you realized. Somebody was drowning and after a quick look around, you confirmed you were alone.

Alone and witnessing somebody drown. 

The conclusion made a creep shiver run down your spine. 

You didn't think, there was no time. 

Acting up on pure instinct you stood up and ran into the water, losing a sandal on the way, you ignored the freezing sensation when you dove in, giving strong strokes until your hand reached the person's, you grabbed their wrist, holding tight as the waves kept coming, you pulled them to you and noticed it was a boy and he was unconscious because he simply let you turn his back to you and wrap your arm around his neck without panicking or react, which made you panic a lot, but that wasn't time for that, you had to take you both back to the shore.

Swimming back wasn't easy, the waves kept crashing relentlessly and you were struggling to not swallow the water, your heart was beating so fast it was almost as if it was trying to escape your body.

Gathering all your strength, you took a deep breath and gave strong strokes once again, reaching for the shore and letting his body roll, laying down in the sand. 

You were panting as you laid beside him trying to catch your breath before leaning into your elbow and you coming closer, noticing he was breathing, you sighed in relief, touching your own heart, feeling how rapid it was beating. You took a good look at him, eyes roaming down his clothes.

He looked pretty and expensive in his all white outfit, his silk shirt had some shining silver details and his boots were silver too, probably a costume, you assumed and then your gaze shifted to his face, with his eyes still closed, you noticed his plush lips had a cute heart shape and his skin was kissed with little freckles. 

“Where's your friends, uh?” You teased, poking his arm and looking back into the sea. There was no yacht in sight. Your lips twisted and you turned back to him “Bet they are all drunk too. Too drunk to even noticed you fell” 

No response, just his chest rising up slowly, like he was peacefully sleeping.

He was probably a junior, you assumed. It was definitely his first time on the island, that much you knew. A face like his wasn't something you’d forget. 

“What were you doing? It’s better not be those stupid tik tok dance challenges” You frowned “Don’t tell me I risked my life to save you because of this” You rolled your eyes, face contorting “Because if you did, I'll smack you when you regain consciousness” 

Still no reaction. 

You gently pushed away a wet strand of his hair that was on his face, chuckling quietly “This is so silly… I feel like Ariel” You thought for a moment, still holding the strand between your fingers “Should I sing you a song to wake you up?”

To Felix, your giggles were a faint sound as he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes were still closed when he turned his head to the opposite side slightly and started coughing non stop. The persistent cough startled you and you pulled your hand back, staring at him with widened and surprised eyes. The boy rolled to the side, the coughs finally coming to an end, his eyes fluttered open slowly and he blinked a few times, your figure slowly becoming clear to him.

The wet and completely disheveled hair contouring your face, the little droplets that rolled down so lazily on your glowing skin, the parted lips and surprised gaze… 

It was the girl from the beach! 

He recognized you right away and he got flushed, noticing you were even more pretty up and close. Felix's hand came to rest on your cheek, holding your face gently and making your brain short circuit for a moment.

“What happened? How did you end up here?” His voice was shaky and from his expression and pouty lips, you wouldn’t be surprised if he started crying right away. You pulled back, his hand lingered in the air as you gasped and stared at him murmuring a “Dude, what the hell?” 

“I… I was supposed to protect you… I should have…” His little rambling was confusing to you, but you laughed nevertheless. Drunk people were so random, you were barely paying attention, until he mentioned something about you being so pretty. 

You turned to face him again, a little shy, pushing a strand of your still damp hair behind your ear. Damn, the drunk boy was really pretty, maybe you should leave your number at the place he was staying, so he could meet you up after sobering up.

Yeah, you'd definitely be doing that.

Felix sat up, he touched the sand by his sides, fingers digging on the fluffiness, his mind not so fogged up anymore as he gazed at the waves, then at his hands covered in sand and finally back at you.

“You're not dead” His tone was more calm, you shook your head.

“Well, it was really close, but no, we're alive” You shook your head joking. 

“Oh…” He nodded, you weren’t dead, okay, that was good, he was relieved. Felix gazed away, murmuring “I thought they picked us up”

“Oh no, I bet they were so drunk, they didn't even notice you fell” You shrugged, standing up, cringing at your soaked skirt covered with sand and clinging to your body “I saved your life, you own me now, blondie”

Felix struggled a little to stand up and you held his arm, helping him out. He felt the same annoyance as you because of his damp state, pouting and gazing down at his outfit.

“Alright, we must clean up. Tell me, where are you staying?” You watched him look up and point up to the sky. 

“Up there” 

“Ha, very funny. Does this pick up line actually work?” 

He gazed at you with confusion, Felix had no idea what you meant. You sighed, it was getting late and you were getting hungry. 

“For real, what place are you staying in?” You tried once more and he pointed up again.

“Ugh, who are you, an angel that fell from Heaven?” You mocked, looking away.

“Exactly!” Felix nodded and you gazed back at him in completely disbelief.

You stared at him from head to toe, he did look ethereal, angelic even and he probably heard that a lot too, so maybe that was why his foggy mind was confusing him. As some noises started becoming noticeable, you saw the people were coming back to party and soon the beach would be crowded again. You let out a sigh, looking at him.

“Okay blondie, I can't leave you here like this. You're coming with me and tomorrow we can go and try to find your friends” 

You turned around, missing Felix's little smile before he came to stop by your side. It was a small walk back to the Inn, you put back on your sandals when you reached the promenade, chewing on your bottom lip while the gears worked inside your mind. All rooms in the Inn were occupied, you'd need to take him to your house. But being alone in your house with a random drunk stranger wasn't an option either.

You had to come up with a solution and it was when you were about to reach the gate, fingers grazing over the keys in your pocket, that you looked at the house just three gates away and had an idea. 

~ ♡ ~ 

Felix's heart was buzzing as he watched you unlock the door. He followed you inside with sparkling eyes roaming all over the place, taking in every detail. The pastel blue walls adorned with your paintings and drawings, the shelf with your books collection, little flowers and the three green pots decorated with tiny strawberry drawings from your recent hobby: ceramic classes, the pictures with warm smiles and never ending blue skies behind. His lips tugged up in a soft smile, fingers hovering over a picture of you, sitting in a swing, during a spring day spent in the park, Felix didn't notice when you left, going for the guest’s room.

You rummaged through the dresser's drawers, picking a white t-shirt and a blue sweatpant, your face twisted when you fished out an underwear too. Your brother lived in another city, but loved coming to random visits so he would leave some clothes at your place just in case. You looked at the bed, went there and fluffed a pillow, smoothing the dark blue quilt lightly, before going after the drunk boy. 

He was still absentmindedly looking at your stuff when you stood next him, gently touching his arm and handing out the clothes. 

“The bathroom's just through that door. There's clean towels in the second drawer” You beckoned towards the hall and Felix nodded, holding the clothes against his chest. 

“Thanks…” He trailed off, waiting to learn your name.

“Y/n” You told him, watching his face light up and he smiled.

“Thanks, y/n. I'm Felix” 

“Alright, Felix, let’s go shower and change before we get a cold and…” You stopped talking when you noticed his grin getting wider, cheeks getting slightly rosy and then you realized what you said, mentally face palming yourself “Oh no, that’s not what I meant, you go up there and I go the other way” 

Felix's lips turned down, but he didn’t say anything, simply watching you turn around and walk to the opposite side. 

Shower together? Maybe another time, you couldn’t help the little smirk playing on your lips as you walked into your room, imagining how fun it would be to undress the cute blonde and wash his body with your favorite body wash: that one with the strawberry scent. Hmm, he would look so good, all wet and covered in lather, you could probably eat him!

Your intrusive thoughts made you giggle, while separating a pair of clean underwear and your black night dress. You stopped before laying it in your bed, fingers grazing over the silk fabric, your lips twisted, remembering it wouldn’t be something appropriate to wear while having a stranger in your house, so you brought it back to your wardrobe and picked the pink pajamas instead. 

“Okay, that’s better” You smiled and then your gaze met your phone on the bedside table, picking the device up, you quickly typed a message to Jisung, before heading to shower.

Felix was amazed after opening the wrong drawer, a sparkling green and blue ball caught his attention, picking it, the citrus scent filled his nostrils and his eyes sparked with curiosity. He read the little note attached to it, with instructions on how to use it. His smile got wider and he wasted no time in getting rid of his soaked clothes. The blonde struggled a little to turn the water on and giggled like a child after throwing the ball inside, watching the water become blue and bubbly. 

He hopped in, the bath tube was so full the water was splashing out, but it was also so warm and good, Felix barely noticed it, still giggling with the bubbles floating and popping in the air, playing and splashing more water around.

~ ♡ ~ 

You walked out of your room, fully dressed, with a pink towel wrapped in your hair and finishing applying lotion in your arms. Your eyes roamed around, no sight of Felix yet, so you walked to the couch and plopped down onto the lilac fluffiness, grabbing your phone and smiling at the notification. 

Mystic boy 🔮: okay, i'll be there in 40 minutes ✌🏻

Mystic boy 🔮:  i'm bringing pizza 🍕

Turning the TV on, zapping through the channels, the towel was gone long ago, and when another show started you realized that several minutes had passed and Felix was still in the bathroom.

“Hmm, what's that little gremlin up to now?” You murmured, deciding to get up and go check.

“Felix?” A knock on the door. No reply. Another knock and nothing. You gazed down, noticing the trail of water coming out from underneath. 

That little gremlin definitely did something. You sighed, opening the door slowly just to find the blonde’s feet lazily resting on the edge of the bath tube, his head rested on the other end and his eyes closed, lips tugged in a little grin as if he was having the sweetest dream in his little slumber. 

Your gaze trailed down to the wet floor, before coming up back to the boy.

“Felix!” You shouted and he jolted in surprise, body slipping backwards, his head got under the greenish and full of lather water, limbs flying all over while his hands tried to grab the edges so he could stand up.

His head emerged up, his hair dripping as he stood up, splashing more water out and your eyes widened up. 

“Oh my God, what are you doing?” You didn't bother to cover your eyes, and obviously they instinctively roamed down, following the drops running down his chest and abs until…

And you felt a little disappointed noticing the lather wasn't letting you get the full view. 

You noticed Felix's lips moving, he was giving you an explanation but you were too distracted to actually care. 

The sound of the intercom pushed you back to earth, Jisung had arrived. You did a  massage on your temples.

“Jisung’s here… hurry up, he brought pizza” You sighed out before walking out and closing the door, leaving Felix and his mess behind.

You made your way to the gate, barely seeing Jisung's face behind the pizza boxes he was holding, but his annoyance was very clear, by the way he spoke to you.

“Are you insane?” He handed out two boxes and you almost let them fall.

“Oh, hi Jisung. I'm great and you?” You kicked the gate closed and followed him inside your place. 

Jisung ignored your sarcasm, eyes scanning all around, looking for the stranger. He went to the kitchen's counter and placed the pizzas there, turning to face you.

“I can't believe you broke our first and most important rule: don’t let strangers into our house!” He scolded you and it was impossible to hold back your little shudder. All those years you had known Jisung, that was the first time you saw him like this.

“Ji, let’s calm down, okay? Did you pay attention to my text?” You weren’t mocking him at all, you knew his concern was real, just like yours was too, when he brought a crazy tourist to spend the night and woke up the next day with a hickey, his house spotless and a note saying he didn’t need to thank her for the clean up. Later that day he found out the 100 bucks he was saving were gone.

“I told you, he was drunk… I saved him, the inn's full and…” 

You noticed Jisung’s eyes widening and blinking, gazing over your shoulder, so you turned your head to check and your lips parted slightly.

“Okay, I'd let him in my place too…” The brunette sighed, flushed by Felix's beauty when the angel appeared fully clothed, with his hair damped, a shy smile and towel in hand.

“Boy, shut up!” You smacked Jisung’s arm, but he didn’t even flinch, still staring at the blonde.

“Uhh, hi!” Felix shyly waved at the boy.

“Damn!” Jisung grabbed your arm, clearly charmed by Felix’s deep voice.

“Jisung, behave! What the hell?” You hissed, pulling your arm back. Felix giggled, but his cheeks got a rosy shade.

“Excuse him, he just spent too much time under the sun…” You rolled your eyes, beckoning at the boxes “Now let's eat before they get cold”

The boys helped you set the table and Felix's stomach growled when you opened the box, the delicious aroma filling up the dining room. 

“Hmm, this is amazing!” Felix's eyes sparked as he grabbed another piece and yours widened when you noticed he was piling up the pieces and giving them a huge bite. 

“I'm curious, there's pizza in heaven?” Jisung asked him, gazing at the blonde with genuine curiosity. Unlike you, he believed Felix when the angel said he fell from the sky.

*** 

‘I could tell…’ He said earlier ‘Your aura shines differently’

You rolled your eyes, mystic boy clearly was affected by his new found boy crush. 

‘Really, Jisung. You see auras now?’ You mocked, taking a bite.

Jisung gave you a long stare before he spoke ‘Yeah, yours is really grey, by the way’ 

Your mouth fell agap in offense and Felix giggled, you were about to snap at the brunette, but Felix said ‘He’s joking, your aura's pink and beautiful…’ He smiled at you and murmured ‘...just like you’ Which made you almost choke on the cheese.

*** 

“No, our food's different from yours” Felix shook his head, eating another big bite.

“And does it taste good?” Jisung asked again, taking a sip of his soda.

“I bet it tastes divine” You mocked, sipping on your juice.

“Oh for sure!” Felix nodded, grinning happily, not perceiving your tone.

After dinner they boys helped you to clean everything and you went to your room, to pick a pillow and some blankets for Jisung, who would sleep on the couch. 

Once he was settled, you turned the lights off and just when you were passing by the half open door from the guest’s room, you heard Felix calling your name. 

You slightly pushed the door open, peeking inside, seeing the blonde already tucked under the covers, he beckoned for you to come closer, smirking as he watched your small steps lead you towards him.

“You forgot to wish me goodnight” He whispered and even though the lights were dim, you could see his pretty features and the delicate contorn of his heart-lips pouting. 

“What? I just said it before you came here” You tried to sound nonchalant, as if his cute pout didn't give you an urge to squeeze his pretty face.

“I want a goodnight kiss” He looked away and then shrugged, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You gotta be kidding me!” You were about to turn on your heels.

“Changbin always gives me one, before going to sleep” He casually said, turning to face you with those puppy eyes. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head, but Felix pouted again, closing his eyes like he was waiting. He wouldn’t give up easily, you realized.

“Okay, fine…” You murmured under your breath, leaning closer “But don’t push your lucky” 

Felix smiled and pouted again, you closed your eyes as you gave his forehead a kiss, lips lingering just a little too long before pulling back.

“Night night, y/nnie…” He said cutely, which made you flushed, but you did your best to not let it show though. 

“Goodnight, Felix” You walked away, watching him happily wave at you as you closed the door slowly.

You sighed. It was such an eventful day, you were happy to finally slide under the sheets, so tired that sleep met you right away.

~ ♡ ~

Next morning you woke up before the alarm went off, so you surely gave yourself those blissful 5 more minutes of sleep, before sadly leaving the bed. After going to the bathroom and changing into a pink sundress, you walked to the kitchen.

First thing you saw was Jisung leaned on the counter and Felix standing in front of him, upper body slightly curved forward, fists clenching and uniting. You stopped some steps away, hearing him groan, and your eyebrows narrowed, wondering what he was up to now.

The straw of Jisung’s chocolate milk escaped from his lips as he excitedly whispered wow wow wow, as if something magical was happening.

It wasn't.

Felix's face was getting red due to the effort, he groaned again, louder. Frustrated. He gave up and decided to sit back in front of his new friend, grabbing his milk and sipping on the chocolate sweetness. 

“That's okay, buddy. Maybe you just need more time” Jisung gently patted his shoulder and Felix nodded, looking upset.

You walked to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients to make some pancakes. Jisung came behind you when you were putting the apron on, helping you to tie it around your waist.

“I'm afraid, but I'll ask anyway… what are you guys up to now?” You whispered to him.

“He can't get his wings out” He whispered back, glancing over his shoulder. Felix was gazing at the other side, head resting on his hand, appearing to be sad.

“Oh…” You simply said, cracking the eggs open, you still didn't fall for that ‘angel talk’, it was just your luck to have two silly boys in your place. 

“Girl, I know you don’t believe it, but he's telling the truth” Jisung took the bowl from your hand and started whisking the mix. 

“Ji, you do realize how insane it sounds, right?” You leaned against the counter, watching Felix grimace again, his fists clenching, he was trying whatever that was, again.

“Yeah, I know… but isn't it also exciting?” Jisung grinned with conspiracy “I never met an angel before”

“Well, it would honestly be concerning if you’d tell me that you did” You picked the bowl from him, poured it onto the pan and turned up the heat to the stove.

Jisung ignored your comment and kept his tone low “He was playing around, then he accidentally slipped and the last thing he knew was waking up and seeing you”

“Playing around?” You chuckled in disbelief, flipping the pancake “Is that what angels do? Damn, I used to think they had duties and stuff”

Jisung left the kitchen after murmuring something about going to pick his cards. You put the pancakes piled up on a plate, the vanilla scent adding to the cozy atmosphere in the kitchen. The sweet was covered with syrup and you grabbed a knife to cut some strawberries to add too.

You popped one into your mouth and noticed Felix's curious gaze at you.

“You want some?” You offered, showing him the fruit.

“Mhmm” He nodded, opening his mouth and waiting for you to feed him. As if this was the most casual thing ever.

What a cheeky gremlin. All the info you had ever heard about angels was they took care of people and all that, but not even 24 hours there and suddenly you were baby-sitting him.

“Don't get used to it” You scoffed, feeding him. You shivered in the moment his lips wrapped around your fingers too, wet and warm around your skin. 

His eyes closed and he hummed again, the sound deep and obscene. You mentally face palmed yourself, for the way your body reacted, for the intrusive thoughts making you want to push your fingers and play with his tongue, for wondering how sweet his lips would taste.

The pop of him letting go brought you back to reality, he smirked at you with mischief, as if he knew exactly the effect he had. Weren’t angels supposed to be so pure?

“More” He pleaded with those puppy eyes.

“You can pick it, yourself” You pulled back, trying to act nonchalant and he giggled, picking one and taking a bite.

“Doesn't taste as good as when you fed me” He sighed, but picked another one to eat, anyway.

Jisung came back, wingling the little purple box in hand. You decided to eat breakfast before sitting down and using the cards. Felix watched it all intently, the way Jisung skill mixed them over and over, before laying it down like a huge fan.

The blonde concentrated as he was instructed, closed his eyes, took deep breaths and let his hand hover over the shining paper for a moment, when he finally picked three. His heart beated faster as Jisung turned them over, one by one, gasping quietly and looking surprised.

You looked over from behind Felix, trying to understand what those images meant, two of them were reversed and when Felix moved to fix their position, Jisung shook his head.

“They must stay like this, just like you chose” He explained, which made you and the blonde gulp in worry. 

Jisung looked at the cards carefully, chewing on his lower lip and running his index finger on the images, contemplating, just like you saw him doing over and over again, on that little corner at the café, telling people they would meet their soulmate while walking by and watching the sunset on the beach. It was so simple, yet so romantic and delusional. No doubt that it worked all the time, not because of Jisung's impressing tarot reading skills, but because that was pretty much the experience of every tourist that was single when they stepped into the island. 

“Okay… the reason you can't get your wings out is because you're stuck here” Jisung held his own hands, resting his elbows on the table.

Felix gazed at him with confusion, and you looked down at the cards.

“What? Like he has a mission or something?” You picked one, looking at it carefully, it had a drawing of a lonely leaf floating on water.

Jisung shook his head “No, not really. It doesn't say anything about it here” 

“That's so random, read it again!” 

“Y/n, you can't simply start all over just because you didn't like the answers you've got the first time” Jisung told you, looking back at Felix.

“Maybe you broke them? Does it hurt?” 

“A little, here” Felix touched his back, where two little scars could be felt under his fingers. Every angel’s wings would be retracted there, but they could spring them free, when needed.

“And his friends can't come to like… rescue him or something?” You asked with genuine concern “Like… how do we send him back?” Jisung looked back on the cards, analysing the meanings.

“It says here they will, but not now…” Jisung pulled a new card, it had a little yellow bird caged “Oh, they aren’t allowed to come yet, because he needs to learn how to behave” 

Jisung looked up at Felix, smirking “Who'd think angels could be naughty?” 

Felix blushed, looking away and you giggled, he was cute when he got all shy like that. 

“Alright so, we must plan our new schedule now” Jisung suggested, picking his phone and opening the calendar.

“Ohh, baby-sitting an angel, that definitely wasn't in my bingo card” You sighed.

~ ♡ ~ 

“So, Jisung will come pick you up to shop for some clothes later. This will be your phone, I saved mine and his numbers here…” You gave your old phone to Felix “...so if you need talk to us, all you have to do is click on our names and send us a text” 

“Okay!” Felix grinned, admiring the device on his hands. You turned around, starting to type on your computer. After planning everything out, it was decided you'd bring Felix with you to the inn, since Jisung had readings all morning. 

“That's like bringing your kid to work” You chuckled, murmuring to yourself. At least Felix was just sitting there, not causing any trouble.

Until your phone started buzzing over and over. You picked it up, checking the notifications: lots of texts, mostly random emojis sent from an unknown number. 

You didn't need to open them to know it came from Felix, his giggles gave him away, but it was the picture you didn't even notice him snapping, that caught your attention.

It was his face, zoomed out in such a strange angle, half to the side, eyes and nose looking so big, he reminded you of a…

“Oh my God, what is it? You're looking like a frog!” You whined, staring down at the screen, zooming out the picture he sent you, that was also his icon on the chat app.

Felix chuckled, imitating the sound of the animal, and your eyes widened, freezing in surprise, but you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Nuh nuh, we gotta fix that” You turned to him, opening the camera and his expression changed when you snapped a new picture: a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes gazing down, some strands of his hair falling in front of his forehead and your stomach got filled with thousand butterflies going wild. 

“Uhh, hiii. Excuse me!” You turned your head, seeing two girls standing in front of the desk. 

“Good morning, how can I help you?” You said politely, offering them a smile.

“We've got a reservation under the name of Yildiz” One of them replied and you typed the name.

“Here, room orhideja. Upstairs, fifth door by the left, it's the lilac one” You picked the key with the little matching orchid keychain and handed it to her. That's when you noticed the way both girls were staring at Felix.

“Thanks!” They said together, smiling, but not to you, and actually for the blonde. 

The one with pink hair styled in braids reached out for her suitcase, groaning and when Felix noticed her ‘struggle', he stood up. 

“Would you like some help with that?” He offered, already coming out from behind the desk.

Obviously they said yes, nodding right away, exchanging glances. You rolled your eyes. Damn it, college girls could be so obnoxious. 

“I'll be right back” Felix winked at you before turning to them, grabbing their suitcases and walking with them in hands, going for the stairs.

“Hunf…” You shrugged, avoiding watching him go. 

You should have seen it coming, it was Felix and his perfect angelic face, of course he would cause a fuzz. That moment in reception was just a sneak peek of what you had to endure with all those girls trying to catch his attention somehow, until finally Jisung arrived, taking the boy with him like divorced parents looking after their kid. 

Okay, the frog picture would stay. 

Letting him stay in the inn wasn't an option anymore, you realized. Those girls wouldn’t give him a break, and even though you had lots of young guests full of hormones, it was still a family's place after all. And he was innocent, they would eat him alive. There wouldn’t be a single feather left in the end.

You couldn’t allow that. No, no. Plus, you had a spare room, it's not like you'd sleep together or anything, so there would be no problem. Just for a couple of days, soon their friends would come and life would be normal again, you'd pretend this was nothing but a crazy dream. 

But reality wasn't as simple as you imagined it would be. 

~ ♡ ~ 

Giggles, lots of them, loud and annoying as you followed them, letting the sound lead you to the backyard of the inn, to the pool area. Spotted. 

Surrounded by a small group of girls was Felix, giggling with them, his slim but toned figure almost glowing under the sun, wearing that white yet so sinful tank top and denim shorts. 

You groaned with annoyance, stepping closer enough to witness what was happening: a navy bottle in one hand, the other splashed out against the back of one of them, the girl peeking over her shoulder to gaze at him, holding her hair to the side. Your eyes followed his moves, hand roaming down her back, rubbing the white lotion. 

“My turn next!” A girl exclaimed, raising her hand.

“Felix!” You crossed your arms in front of your body, lips pressing together and a foot tapping insistently on the ground.

The giggles died right away, turning into annoyed glances that you completely ignored as you watched him turn and grin widely at you.

“Y/nnie!” He greeted you with a surprise hug, earning a squeal from you.

“What are you doing here, uh?” You asked, pulling away from him and smoothing your crop top. 

It had been a month since your life changed, saving a crazy drunk from drowning, just to learn he was an angel, which still sounded very insane to you from time to time. Nobody came after him, not even tried any contact. In the first week, every morning, without noticing you were peeking, Felix would stay in the backyard, trying to get his wings back. It was very cute, actually, the way his eyes would close, cheeks would turn rosy and his fists clench hard.

As the days went by, it seemed like he was getting used to life down here. Curious, he wanted to learn about everything, so at night, when he would offer to brush and braid your hair, you'd watch tv together and talk about your lives and experiences, it was fun to learn about the celestial world, Felix told you that unlike many others, he wasn't human before becoming one, so he had no previous memories like some of them. 

That was the reason everything felt so new and exciting for him, why he was always giggling and with sparkling eyes as he would tell you what he and Jisung had been up to during their days. 

Felix spent lots of time with Jisung, they clicked right away, which was great for you, because he would drive you insane most of the time, messing stuff around while trying to ‘help’, plus, it wasn't good to let him be in the inn either, especially without supervision, because scenes like this were highly like to happen. So you got him a video game to keep him distracted while Jisung was busy and it was working just fine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up, I wanted to see my jagodica…” His gaze roamed down the red fabric, and his arms wrapped around you again, holding you tight. Your heart skipped a beat because the nickname caught you off guard, and you couldn’t hold back your grin, especially after taking a little glimpse at the annoyed girls behind him. 

You weren’t there when I woke up… Your arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tight too.

Cute. He was so precious, he made it sound like you were in a special relationship without even realizing it, and you wouldn’t be crazy to say otherwise. 

“Alright, enough of helping. You're being needed inside, now” You pulled back and held his hand. Felix smiled, looking at your fingers intertwined, and let you pull him along with you back inside.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, sitting down beside you.

“Just…” You looked around, trying to find something to keep him busy, then you remembered the booking site “Click on the heart on people's comments and answer their questions” 

“Okay!” He nodded, starting to like the comments. You smirked, resuming to work with Felix every once in a while asking you the info he needed to reply to the guests online. 

Your fingers blindly tapped against the desk, seeking for your black coffee.

“Uuuugh, that’s awful” He groaned, face twisting as if he was in pain, holding your cup away.

“Silly, don’t you have coffee in heaven?” You grabbed the cup from his hand, chuckling and taking a sip “You guys are missing out” 

He kept groaning how awful that was, body shaking as if he was trying to get the coffee out of his system. You chuckled again, standing up and leaving the little drama queen alone for a moment. 

“Alright, angel. Try this” You held out the small and pink milk carton for him. 

“What's it?” He picked it, inspecting the drawing of little strawberries with caution. 

“Strawberry milk. Don't worry, you're gonna love it” 

He nodded, but you could tell he was still a little suspicious, while trying it out. It changed right when the liquid hit his taste buds and his eyes popped up like a cartoon, humming and giving up a thumbs up in approval.

“This is amazing, we don’t have stuff like this up there” He looked at the carton again, rambling to himself “Maybe we could ask for them to come and pick some… is it possible to send stuff up there?” 

You giggled, gently pinching his cheek “Silly little gremlin, you can't send it to the heaven like fedex” 

“That's not fun” He pouted and sipped more, making you giggle again. 

It was almost evening when a couple stopped by the desk, asking for recommendations of a nice place to go have dinner. You were still chatting with them, asking what their vibes were, when Felix chimed in.

“You should go to the Garden's bistrô” He typed something on his phone and then showed the screen for the couple.

“Ohh, it seems nice” The man said with a smile.

“Yeah, exactly what we are looking for” The woman agreed, smiling too.

You watched as he even suggested to them what they should choose from the menu. A smirk tugging in the corner of your mouth, you waited for them to leave before you playfully poked his side.

“Garden's bistrô? How come I didn’t know about this place?”  

“I saw it on tik tok, it's trending on the best places to visit” He said with a proud smile.

You simply nodded and after being silent for some time, while you finished putting everything back in the right place, Felix spoke again.

“We should go there” 

“Yeah, sure. We could go someday…” You said absentmindedly, writing down some notes.

“No! Let’s go now!” Felix gently shook your arm and you turned to face him.

“Please, y/nnie. You never spend time with me” He pouted.

“What do you mean? We always spend time together” 

“Yeah, but only after work and always in your house. It’s not the same” 

“You won't leave it, will you?” 

“Of course not” He shook his head.

“Okay, fine…” You sighed out “Just gotta go shower first” 

Felix grinned, hugging you and randomly giving your cheek a big smooch, chuckling after from your surprised gasp and flushed face.

“You're cute, jagodica” 

~ ♡ ~ 

It wasn't a date, you kept repeating to yourself in the shower, and while applying your favorite lotion, then after changing your dress twice, choosing a red backless one and styling your hair down. 

You stopped by the mirror and did your makeup, going an extra mile with that red lipstick, you smiled at your reflection and put on the little tub inside your purse, grabbing your phone and leaving your room.

Felix was waiting outside the house, looking effortlessly good in blue jeans, a white shirt and a denim matching jacket on top. His hair was a little tousled and his eyes sparked when he saw you, eyes roaming shameless down your figure, that side smirk appearing on his lips. 

“Looking good” 

“Thanks, you aren’t that bad either” You tried to sound a little nonchalant and he smiled, grabbing your hand.

“Let’s go!” He excitedly grabbed your hand and almost made you fall with the sudden pull for you to follow him.

It was a small run - walk - to the bistrô, accommodated between the buildings, like a hidden gem, the place was small, green and cozy. There were all types of flowers decorating the walls, and a beautiful view from the sea. Felix guided you to the table there.

After placing your orders, Felix saw the yellow tulips on the vase near your table and with a cheeky smirk, he plucked the flower without you realizing, being distracted admiring the love quotes delicately written on the wall. He gently tapped your shoulder and you covered your little gasp with your hand, admiring the tulip he gave to you.

“Are you crazy? You can't pluck the flowers” You whispered, giggling. Your heart swell with such cute gesture.

“Oh no?” He looked at you with panic, picking the tulip and trying and failing to put it back. Which made you giggle more.

“Stop it…” You picked it back, holding it close against your chest “It's mine now, here's another lesson for you, once a gift is given, you can't take it back” 

He nodded, taking mental notes and then stared at you “Do you like it?” 

“I love it!” You smiled at him with sincerity and he smiled back at you. 

The sweet moment was interrupted by the waiter who came with your meals, and Felix chuckled watching you quickly hide the tulip, putting it on your lap, both sharing a cheeky glance, thanking him for the food and chuckling when he left.

Dinner was good, filled with chat and laughter. You didn't notice the time passing, chuckling with him once again, as the waiters started to pick everything up, in a subtle way to invite guests to leave. 

You let him hold your hand on the way back, swinging them as you walked down the streets. The air was getting windy and some dark clouds hid the stars, so you hurried up to make it back before the rain would start.

Inside, you went to pick a vase to put your flower, while Felix stayed in the living room, glancing out of the window. A thunder made him shiver slightly, crossing his arms. 

Oh, sleeping with storms outside really was something else. You thought, turning to the side and cuddling your pillow, you were almost drifting to dreamland, when your door opened. 

Felix didn't even say anything, he just rushed under the duvet like a cat and you noticed he was trembling.

“Hey hey, what's wrong?” You instinctively touched his arm.

“The rain…” His whisper was barely audible because of the pouring rain, but you understood, opening your arms and letting him scoot closer to you.

“Shhh, it's okay… I'm here” You soothed him, fingers gently carding through his hair, his head resting against your chest, hearing your heartbeat.

“Can I stay here?” He whispered again, his tremblings were slowing down. You pondered for a moment, but when you gazed down and saw those puppy eyes staring at you, there was no way you could tell him no.

“Okay, but just because of the rain” You sighed out and he grinned, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you flush towards him. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks y/nnie…” He said with a cute voice and if he wasn't trembling a minute ago, you'd think he was faking this fear of rain to try and be sneaky.

“That's okay, just don’t make me regret it” You murmured, shifting and turning away from him, trying to act nonchalant as he was then spooning you. Felix shifted too, molding your body against his, face nuzzling on your hair, his voice muffled.

“Night night, y/nnie” 

“Goodnight, Felix”

It wasn't raining in the morning and you woke up some time before your alarm went off. Stirring up, you felt trapped and then looked down, confirming your suspicions. Felix had a leg thrown over your thigh and one hand was casually resting against your breast. Your eyes widened and you tried to escape from his embrace, only to be squeezed. 

You pushed his hand away, groaning “Hey, what do you think you're doing?” 

“Y/n?” Damn, his voice sounded even deeper. He was sleepy, very sleepy as his hand came up once again.

“Hey hey, you can't do that!” You scolded him, holding his hand down and away from his target. Ignoring the tingle you felt in your core.

“Why not? It’s soft…” He rambled in his slumber “I like it” Felix chuckled softly at his confession.

You wouldn’t lie, it got you flushed, but you also wouldn’t give it away either.

“It's not proper, but we will have that talk when you are fully awake” 

“Mhmmm” 

“Now behave, or I'll kick you out of my bed” You threatened him. 

“Mhmmm” He kept his leg over yours, but his hands were then resting in ‘safe places’. 

That wasn't the only night you slept together, rainy nights were happening more often, it was quick and not too loud, but it was enough for Felix, who would wrap his arms around your body and make you fall on bed by his side, when you'd give his goodnight kiss.

And deep down, you were enjoying this more than you should.

~ ♡ ~ 

Felix learned his lesson and wasn't plucking flowers anymore, except for that day when you arrived back upset and he left a red rose on your bedside table for when you'd wake up the next day. Cutely lying it had already fallen when he got it, you knew it didn’t, but his gesture was so sweet, you just smiled and didn't say anything else. He smiled, looking down at the yellow tulips bouquet in his hands that he got after his visit to a little flower shop he found during his exploration of the island. 

His smile faded when he walked in the inn. Standing there, lazily leaning against the desk, was a man, his hair tousled and curly, muscular arms full on display thanks to his black tank top. Felix's lips pressed together, watching the way you were giggling at something he said, and his whole body felt like burning when the man touched your hand.

Felix's body wasn't the only thing that felt like burning. The moment Chan held your hand and playfully intertwined your fingers, he jolted with a hiss, pulling his hand away instantly. 

The blonde smirked, feeling proud. He didn’t get his wings back yet, but at least his powers were. And in the moment your confused gaze went from Chan's palm to Felix's smile, something inside you told you that it wasn't a coincidence.

“You should probably run some water on it” You told Chan, noticing how red it got.

“Yeah, guess I should do it now. Before it gets worse, talk to you later, y/n” He nodded, walking away slightly disappointed.

Felix approached you with a smirk, showing you the flowers. You picked them when he handed the bouquet to you.

“It was you, wasn't it?” You smelled the fresh scent of them.

“I've got no idea what you're talking about” He looked away, failing to sound nonchalant and you smirked.

“Yeah, just like that other day on the beach. That dude who randomly tripped and fell on his face” You giggled, remembering how your legs was the last thing the random guy saw before kissing the sand.

“Well, if he paid attention to where he's walking, stuff like this wouldn’t happen” He shrugged. And you found his jealousy adorable.

“Cute” You giggled again and Felix blushed slightly, looking away. 

Felix invited you out to dinner that night, another new habit of his. He was loving to explore the island and consequently find new restaurants too, but that night in particular he wasn't hyped to try the delicious pasta, he actually wanted to hide the news that he almost burned the kitchen down, while trying to recreate a recipe he learned on tik tok. 

Dinner was great, there was a violinist playing some romantic songs in the little cantina, and between the bites of pasta and sips of wine, you and Felix got tipsy very fast. You decided to walk back home, wearing his jacket, with his arm thrown over your shoulder and yours around his waist, you strolled slowly though the pebbles by the beach, admiring the small waves from a far.

“Well, today was fun” You commented, lifting your arms up and yawning. 

Felix hummed in agreement, his fingers still running through your hair, while you sat on the floor, with him behind you on the couch, a random movie you both weren’t paying attention to was on TV. 

“I'm going to bed now” You stood up, smoothing your pink nightdress, you yawned again. Felix chuckled, standing up too and playfully poking your nose.

“Cute sleepy, moranguinho” 

“Uh?” You looked at him with heavy sleepy eyes. 

“It means little strawberry” He chuckled once again and you groaned. Boy was spending too much time with tourists to your liking.

“Hm, okay. Goodnight” You gave him a quick peck on his cheek and turned on your heels, going to your room closely followed by him that even had the audacity to pull the duvet and lay down before you.

“What do you think you're doing?” You lied down too, but kept a distance from him.

“Going to sleep” He replied cheeky, grinning.

“Your room's over there” You beckoned and instead of getting up, he scooted closer.

“I know, but you aren’t there” Your heart fluttered and your gaze went down.

“Our agreement was only on rainy nights” You murmured, fluffing your pillow.

“A storm can start at any minute now” He said with conviction and you shook your head.

“No way, the sky was clear” You said and Felix just stared at you, as if he was waiting and some minutes after, you heard a thunder. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” Your mouth fell agap in surprise “Did you do that?”

He chuckled, finding your surprise very endearing and shook his head.

“Maybe somebody up there's by my side” He pointed up, joking. Earlier the news warned about random climate changes to be expected.

You were still impressed, letting him pull you closer and hugging you, staring at you with a mischievous smile.

“What now?” You asked, staring back at him.

“A kiss” He whispered, pouting.

“You already got one” You tried to not giggle, covering his pout with your hand and Felix licked your palm, making you squeal and pull back.

“Hey!”

“But I came to sleep here, so that one doesn't count” He shrugged.

“Okay, fine” You rolled your eyes and leaned in, giving his cheek another small peck “Goodnight, Felix”

“Y/n…” His hand held the back of your neck, his touch was gentle, just to keep you in place before you pulled more away. Your heart was beating fast and your face was so close to his, you could count his freckles even under the dim light.

“Felix, what…” Your voice was barely audible.

“I want a kiss” He repeated, his tone more serious now, gaze traveling down to your lips before coming back up to meet your eyes “Like the one people were sharing at the restaurant” 

Your heart flipped and you shivered, staring at him. All this time living the blonde, you got used to his playful personality and his casual flirting, but in that moment… It didn’t seem like he was joking.

“Why?” You asked softly, his hand still keeping you in place, but you knew you could pull away if you wanted to.

“Because Hyunjin told me that’s how people express their affection” 

“Hyunjin? Who's him?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was making friends you weren’t aware of on the island.

“He's the cupid, the angel of love” Felix explained.

Right, you forgot there were sections in Heaven, with angels belonging to groups and having assigned duties.

“Oh yeah, okay… hmm, but you know, there's lots of ways you can express your affec…” Your words got cut short when Felix decided to close the distance between you two, pressing his lips against yours. Softly. Hesitant, even. So delicate, you could barely feel his lips, just the jolt of electricity that ran down your whole body.

He pulled back just a little and you blinked a few times, standing still. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed and heart racing when he whispered.

“Kiss me… now” And that's what you did, taking the lead, you were the one to close the barely existing gap between you, pressing your lips more firmly against his soft ones and the jolt felt stronger this time. 

Felix gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, tilting his head slightly, mirroring your actions. He parted his lips slightly and shivered when your tongue traced his bottom lip before diving inside. He didn’t even notice the thunder, having his own storm happening inside him, Felix never felt such a thing before. He let his tongue slide into your mouth, moving against yours, tasting you, exploring you while his hand that was on the back of your neck trailed down slowly, caressing your collarbone and you could feel his little smirk when his feather like touch reached your breast, giving it a little squeeze and earning a little gasp from you. 

He liked that, the softness, how it felt on his hand, your little sound, how it made him feel a funny tingle down there. 

He squeezed it again, and you gripped on his arm. Your lips were moving in sync, you were feeling tingles all over, and that's when you felt it too. When Felix pressed his body harder against yours, not only he got hard, he also was hopping lightly against your thigh and your eyes fluttered open when you noticed that, gently pushing him.

“Okay, enough” You whispered against his lips, a little breathless like him. Felix nodded, but instead of pulling away, he captured your lips again, kissing you like you did to him on the first time and you let him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, the kiss was getting hungrier, and you rolled over, straddling him. The sound he let out was the most beautiful thing you ever heard and you bit down on his bottom lip, letting your soaked panties drag against his covered length.

Felix felt in heaven, which was a funny comparison, but no words could describe better the sensations he was feeling inside, overwhelming him, turning him into a whimpering mess under you. And the best part was that you didn't even start. 

He let his hands roam over your sides, feeling you up before they went for your breasts again, fondling them, you moaned against his lips, leaving them to trail wet kisses on his neck. Hips rolling slowly against his, you barely moved and he groaned deeper, crying out your name over and over again as he came on his pants. 

You pulled back, looking at his face, panting, shaking beneath you, with his rosy cheeks and hair falling on his forehead, lips slightly parted and the cutest clueless expression. 

“Shhh, that’s okay… y/nnie got you!” You caressed his cheek and gave him a little peck. He looked so good, you wished you could just eat him up. So you kept moving, a little faster now, seeking your own high too, almost instinctively. 

Felix's eyes rolled to the back of his head, groaning, that was too much, his hands went for your hips, holding you, letting you do whatever you were doing that was making you moan and look like a hot mess on top of him. Until your whole body was trembling and you collapsed on top of him.

“Y/nnie, are you okay?” He whispered, his tone soft but also concerned, touching your hair gently.

Your reply was a muffled ramble against his shoulder, Felix didn't understand much other than great but that was enough for him to relax. You shifted again, adjusting yourself still on top of him, letting your fingertips caress down his chest, while you calmed down. 

Then reality kicked in and you suddenly lifted your head, staring at him and before you could say anything, he pulled you in for a kiss that made you melt into his arms. That kiss felt different, less desperate, more romantic, slow and sweet, just like his hands caressing your skin, still unsure, but curious, eager to learn you. And you'd gladly help him in his mission, sighing and arching against his palm as he took note of every little reaction he could get from you. 

You knew you should stop, this was surely wrong for so many different reasons, but every word in that big list seemed to fade with every caress and every little kiss so carefully peppered on your neck, leaving just a blank space ready to be filled with your sweet moments together. The reasons why it was right. You were burning up for him, not just out of lust, but also the love you were tired of ignoring. 

Felix was taught when you loved someone, the best way to express it was with actions, every kiss and touch was like a confession, like a promise, like a tattoo. Something precious, to be imprinted on your lover's soul and carried forever. Leaving traces of you was always a great option too, although Felix wasn't really sure how to do it. But he wanted to learn, he wanted to learn everything from you and with you. The pretty girl from the beach…

Countless were the nights he spent admiring you from afar, daydreaming of what life would look like, if he only had a chance. He was scared, when he fell, but that feeling was gone the moment he opened his eyes and saw you there. The angel thought he was dreaming, that was too good to be true.

Just like it was too good to finally be breathing in your sweet scent, while trailing soft kisses on your neck, lips gently grazing over the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to give an experimental lick, smirking when you shivered and doing it again, getting more deliberated. He took his time, following his instincts, slowly rolling you to lay on your back, his body hovering above yours, he sat down on his knees for a moment, letting you pull his t-shirt up. 

You smirked, admiring his abs, mesmerized with the glow of the moonlight on his skin, fingertips reaching out, roaming all over, feeling him shiver under your touch. Who would have thought there was a gym in Heaven? You wanted to laugh, but held back, it wasn't the moment for that. Instead, you sat up, kissing his collarbone, shoulder and then his neck, each kiss lingered longer than the last, until you reached his jaw and went for his lips again. 

Felix touched your shoulder, playing with the thin strap of your night dress, twirling it between his fingers while the kiss got deeper, until he pulled back just to lean in again, lips going for your neck, he found the sensitive spot right under your ear and nibbled there, when you moaned, tilting your head back, he let his tongue and teeth explore freely, while he pulled the night dress down. 

He was doing it like you did to him, until his hand tugged on the delicate fabric and he made it lower even more down, exposing your breasts. His brain short circuited when you laid on your back again and his breath hitched, reaching out to touch and squeeze them. 

Hovering over you again, with those big and needy eyes staring at you, thumbs teasing your nipples, you bit down your lower lip, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“Go ahead…” You sighed out, closing your eyes right before he leaned down, capturing a nipple and sucking a little too hard. You whimpered and he looked up at you.

“Baby, it feels good, but it’s also sensitive, so just be a little bit careful, okay?” You said gently, caressing his hair. Felix nodded, twirling his tongue around the bud before he started sucking again, his hand never stopping squeezing and teasing the other.

“Yeah, just like that!” You purred, panties getting more damped, and he was hard again, occasionally rubbing against your thigh. 

He let it go with a pop and did the same with the other before his hands slowly pulled the silk all the way down, until he tossed it somewhere on the floor. His eyes got darker as he gazed down at your body and stopped at the dampness on the white lace. 

“You've got soaked like me…” He said under his breath and you smiled. His innocence was so cute. 

“I did, but it’s not the same as you, love” You smiled again at his confused expression, looking back at you.

“No?” 

You shook your head, gently grabbing his wrist “No. This is arousal, it means I'm enjoying what you're doing…” You guided his hand to the fabric, letting his fingers run down your covered middle and your hips instinctively circled, seeking for friction.  "Feel it?"

“It's wetting my fingers…” He breathed out, that side proud smirk appearing as he kept rubbing “You must be really enjoying it, then” 

You purred and Felix pressed his thumb, watching closely how you shivered and moaned, he did it again, rubbing a little harder. 

“I want to feel it better” He suddenly pushed the fabric to the side and stared mesmerized at your glistening folds, his voice was barely audible when he let out a breathless wow. 

He let this finger run over your folds and looked at you, who nodded for him to keep going. Soaked fingers pushed in between and you sighed in pleasure again.

“Right here…” You put your hand on top of his again “That's where I'm the most sensitive. That’s where you need to focus”

“Like this?” He did little circles with his thumb and you withdrew your hand, purring again.

“Yeah, just like that”

He kept on, going slower and then faster, applying more pressure and trying different ways until your legs started to tremble lightly.

“Wanna kiss it…” He whispered, already lowering his body and your heart jumped.

“Oh my God, do it!” Your foggy mind didn't even think twice, watching him intently, you shivered when felt his soft lips pressed against your clit.

His soft kisses became little experimental licks, your taste was so inebriant for him that he was soon licking and sucking on it as if he was savoring his favorite meal.

“Oh Felix!” Your hand tugged on his silk hair and he groaned against your core. He held down your thighs when your legs tried to close, shaking beneath him.

“Not yet!” He groaned, remembering how you were shaking like this before you collapsed on top of him. And he wanted to taste you more. So he kept going, your loud moans sounding like a melody to him, grinding against the mattress, because his cock was so hard it was getting painful.

“Felix, please!” You cried out his name once again, feeling your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave. Your whole body trembled and he was still there, lips wrapped over your clit as you came down your high.

“Did you like it?” He lifted his head, smiling at you with his lips and chin glowing with your essence.

“I loved it… you were… amazing” You were still a little shaky, pulling him back up to you. Felix smiled proudly, nuzzling his face on your neck, peppering kisses there.

“I loved it too…”

You chuckled lightly and gently pushed him to the side, making him lay on his back and straddling him.

“You're gonna love this, too” Your fingers hooked on the sides of his sweatpants and you slowly pulled it down his thighs, bringing his ruined boxers along with it. His hard and leaking cock slapped against his abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, you wanted it in your mouth, but that would have to wait for another time.

“So pretty…” You murmured and Felix blushed, watching you wrap your fingers around it, thumb smearing the precum down his length. He moaned and it was the most delicious sound you had ever heard.

“You're so cute, and I'm just starting” You giggled softly, stroking him, admiring his rosy cheeks and parted lips. You stroke some more, leaning down to kiss him, swallowing his moans, moving your hand faster and stopping suddenly, when you felt his desperation and knew he would come. He whined in protest.

“Shh, shh… don’t worry, love. I'll give you something much better…” You stood on your knees, lowering your hips until you could drag his cock against your folds, coaxing it with your arousal, both moaning.

“Much better…” You said in a sultry whisper, guiding him to your entrance. Your teeth sank down on your bottom lip as you aligned with him, lowering your hips slowly, his groan was so hot, you focused on that, ignoring the burning sensation as you made room for him.

“Y/n…” He held your hips, letting his hands roam over up and down your sides “I… I'm feeling it… again…”

“Yeah baby…”

“It’s too tight, I can't…” He whined again, closing his eyes. That feeling in his lower stomach was building up again and he knew he was about to explode.

“I know, I know… just hold it back, okay?” You stood still, adjusting to him and also letting him calm down a little, secretly loving the desperate written all over his pretty face.

“I'm gonna move now… hold it back, alright?” You told him, placing your hands on his chest. He opened his eyes, nodding.

You started, letting your walls slowly drag around his cock, setting a slow pace, softly moaning, Felix thought he was dreaming again, he let his hands run up and squeeze your breasts, reminding him that you were real, that was happening. He concentrated, doing his best to hold back, even when you picked up the pace, bouncing faster.

“Oh god…” He groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You slowed it down a little, grinding on him, you could tell you were about to come too, clenching more around him. You lowered down, kissing him, it was messy and desperate, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming more evident as you were riding him fast, his hands came back to your hips, helping you move.

You came on his cock, nails digging on his chest, crying out his name while you clenched around him even tighter, over and over again. He came without warning too, whining and crying out your name, he even cursed as he was spilling his seed inside you, that kept riding him, until you both came down from your high.

You collapsed on top of him again, panting and satisfied, closing your eyes and just feeling his rapid heartbeat.

“That was… wow…” He was speechless, tracing idle patterns on your back. You chuckled softly, holding his free hand and Felix smiled at them together, how small and delicate yours was compared to his. He brought them to his lips, giving the back of your hand a little kiss.

The calmness didn't last long, it barely even lasted minutes, when his hand lowered down your back until he stopped at your butt, giving the flesh a little squeeze.

“Hey!” You lifted your head.

“Can we do it again?” He whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“Yeah… we…” You started saying, when you noticed he was getting hard again and you giggled “Wait, you wanna do it now?”

“Mhmm, want more. Let's do some more” This time he rolled on top of you, and even though you were a little sensitive, you wouldn’t be crazy to tell him no.

~ ♡ ~ 

The annoying sound of the intercom woke Felix up and he groaned, holding you tighter against his body when you tried to sit up.

“Shhh, it's sunday. Stay here” He murmured, still sleepy.

“Gotta go check, might be important” You told him, gently starting to untangle yourself from him.

“I'm more important!” He protested, pouting and you giggled.

“You're, and that's why I'm going to check and will come right back to you. Okay?” You caressed his hair, brushing a strand away from his face. He nodded, letting go of you.

You swung off the bed, picking the t-shirt he was wearing last night and putting it on, also fishing for underwear and shorts in your drawer. You squealed when Felix leaned off the bed and reached out, slapping your butt when you bent to put it on. 

He was still chuckling when you left the bedroom, going for the living room and checking on the little screen, you saw Jisung waiting there.

“Hey, what's up?” You greeted him after opening the gate and Jisung stared you up from head to toe before he passed you by and walked into your house. 

“You're creeping me out, what happened?” You chuckled nervously, following him. Your heart came up to your throat as soon as you realized he was going to your bedroom, where a fully naked Felix was lazily lying in bed, like a cat. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” You ran and stopped in front of him, blocking his way. 

“Ha! I knew it!” Jisung squealed, raising his fist up.

“I don’t know what you're talking about” You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. He leaned closer, raising his hand and touching your hair. Your eyebrows furrowed and you pulled back slightly.

“Are you sure?” He opened his palm and you gasped. It was two little white feathers. 

“So, how was it?” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows, looking at you and poking your sides “I bet it was heavenly!” 

“Boy, shut up!” You shook your head and desperately grabbed his wrist to prevent him from getting there “Don’t go there, it's sacred you know?” 

“Ohhh I know” He teased again, and you bit your tongue. You didn't mean it like that.

“Mind explaining to me why you are suddenly at my house on a sunday morning?” 

“Well, last night while I was putting the box back on the shelf, a card flew out and landed on my face…” He finally changed his plans, walking to the couch and sitting down. 

“Hmm…” You hummed for him to continue, sitting beside him.

He took it out of his  pocket, handing the card to you. It was an image of a silhouette of a couple who appeared to be naked, kissing. 

“Cute, but what's it with the little squares?” You giggled at the censor covering their intimate bits. 

“It’s the passion” He pointed at the golden letters at the bottom. You read it, humming again.

“The passion? And you really want me to believe from all 100 cards, this is what you chose?” 

“78 cards, actually. And I didn’t choose anything, it hit me” He shook his head, pulling his hair back and showing you a very faint bruise on his forehead “See?”

“Hunf, there's nothing here” You touched his forehead with your index finger. 

“Because you seduced an angel”

“Hey, I didn’t seduce anyone. That was totally consensual!”

“That's not what the cosmos says” Jisung shrugged and you smacked his arm.

“Enough of this whole gossip from the cosmos. I thought you were supposed to help people with it”

“And I'm… that’s why I came here” Jisung rubbed the spot you hit, as if it was hard enough to hurt him anyway.

“Explain…” You whisked your hand in the air.

“So, apparently your little adventure messed up with the universe” He started explaining and you narrowed your brows.

“No way! You think the universe's mad at me or something now because I misaligned it?” You knew it, deep inside, you thought about it, for about 2 seconds, but the idea crossed your mind. But you tried not to worry much even after learning this news, you were in love, what was so wrong about that?

Jisung thought for a moment “Well, not exactly mad… but something clearly happened”

“Like what?” You gazed at him with curiosity.

“I don’t know… I tried to read it, but the cards kept messing up” He shrugged again and ran a hand through his hair “So I came here, maybe if Felix's there then they will say something?”

“Okay, get everything set, I'll go call him”

“Alright”

~ ♡ ~

“Come on, give us some answers” Jisung murmured, opening the fan of cards on the table once again.

You lost the count of which attempt that would be. Everytime Felix tried to draw a card, the wind would blow and fly them away.

“Maybe it's not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe they just don't want us to know” Felix said, watching the cards fly again.

“Yeah, if it was bad, they would probably be at my door right now” You chuckled, trying to soothe the mood and jolting when the intercom rang. The three of you stared at each other in shock.

You dragged your feet all to the screen, imagining how the celestial jail looked like. After taking a deep breath, you stared at the screen to be greeted by your neighbor waving at you.

You clicked the speaker “Lucy, hi!”

“Hey y/n, I was cooking lunch and accidentally made too much gnocchi. Would you like some?” She raised the pot she was holding.

“Yeah, I'd love it. Thank you” You smiled at her, and went out to pick the food.

The boys got excited when you came back with the pink pot in hands, quickly getting up and helping you to set the table. The cards were left scattered on the floor where they landed, all facing the ground, with the exception of one…

The cradle.

~ ♡ ~

“Hey girly, are you hungry?” You bent down, caressing behind Lucy's dog ear.

You were at your neighbor's house, looking after Laila, the maltese, while her owner went on a little trip to visit family in town. Laila shook her tail in excitement and you giggled.

Picking the spinach and chicken option, you opened it up and poured it down to Laila's pink bowl and the dog came trotting.

Since being there, you decided to do a little cleaning up in the house. Felix offered to help you, so you stayed in the living room while he went to the garage.

You heard a weird click sound when you were dusting off the shelfs. Looking around, it seemed like everything was the same. You didn't look up, but even if you did, you wouldn't notice the subtle crack appearing on two strings of Lucy's huge chandelier.

Still cleaning up, more clicks, so subtle, they went unnoticed. You kneeled down in front of the coffee table, the chandelier slightly swinging above your figure.

“Cute” You quietly chuckled, holding a small knick knack of a dog, you noticed Laila approaching and showed it to her.

“Look, it's you!”

Swinging more, the chandelier's sounds were clear now, creeping you out, making a shiver run down your spine. You looked up and gasped, no sound coming off from your mouth, eyes widening in panic.

The chandelier was plunging to you and Laila. You leaned forward, pushing the dog away with all your strength and embraced your body, closing your eyes and trying to protect yourself.

You felt a rush of air and suddenly everything went silent. Your heart was beating like crazy inside your chest, you whimpered, afraid of opening your eyes.

“It’s okay. You're safe, I'm here” Felix soothed you down. You lifted your head, opening your eyes slowly and gazing at him.

“Lixie?” Your voice was barely audible, he smiled at you, nodding and then you noticed.

Everything around was white, like you were inside a cocoon, and when you paid more attention, you realized the white and big feathers. Your lips were the first to start trembling, and then it was your whole body.

“Shh, shh… it's alright” He held you tight.

“It's true!” You tried to speak, still shaking “You really are an angel!”

“I told you so” He chuckled, but you were still in shock. You reached out, fingertips lightly grazing over the feathers and you pulled back, starting to cry.

“No, no, no. This can't happen” You clutched at his shirt, wetting the fabric with your tears “This means you'll leave, they will take you away from me”

“No, y/nnie… I'm not going anywhere, nobody's taking me away from you” He tried to calm you down, although he didn’t know for sure. All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t be away from you.

“You… you promise me?” You hicupped, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I promise” Felix whispered, wiping that tear away. You leaned against Felix's chest, closing your eyes and quietly crying.

Not much time had passed when you heard Laila barking like crazy and your heart almost escaped up to your throat.

“Y/n, Felix, what's happening?” You heard Lucy's voice and opened your eyes, feeling like your soul just came back into your body, when you noticed his wings were gone. Little shards of the chandelier all around you two.

Felix smiled when he saw you entering the bedroom, with your hair slightly wet and wearing a crimson nightdress. He put away the book he was reading, gently tapping on the mattress for you to get there. You crawled towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face there, inhaling his scent.

“Thank you for saving me, today…” Your voice was muffled against his skin and although your tone was as soft as the little kisses you were peppering there, he twitched in anticipation.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby” His voice was a little shaky already and you found that adorable.

“Ohhh, but I want to” You cooed, tongue darting out and licking right under his adam's apple.He shuddered and you giggled against his skin, lazily licking again, tugging on his t-shirt.

“Y/n…”

“Ohh I love how you say my name” You teased, pulling down just to pull the fabric up and out of your way. You straddled him, letting your red nails play along his chest and abs, while your lips kept giving his neck little love bites. You moaned quietly, feeling him twitch again, he was getting hard and ready for you.

“You're so hot…” You whispered against his skin, trailing kisses down his chest, playfully licking his nipple and he whined loudly, making you chuckle.

“Awwn, you're sensitive here” You teased, grazing your fingers over the other and giving that one another small lick. He whined again.

You lowered your body, lips never leaving his skin, teeth gently grazing over his abs while you hooked your fingers inside his pajama pants, bringing them down. You stared at his white boxers and almost drooled.

“Just relax and enjoy” You winked at him, lowering his underwear and gasping when his cock almost hit your face.

You wrapped your fingers around it, holding it by the base, that was where you started licking first, making your way up until you sucked on the head. Felix groaned, loudly, obscene and deliciously.

His hips bucked up when you started bobbing your head up and down, swallowing him more each time, he felt dizzy, like the room was spinning. You smirked, noticing he was gripping on the sheets, you grabbed his hand, bringing to your hair.

Felix held a handful of your hair and in the spur of the moment he pushed your head down, making you take him whole. You gagged on it, tears appearing in your eyes, and he got worried, of course, but also turned on, awfully turned on. Just like you.

“Oh baby, I'm so… sorry, I…” He tried to speak, it was hard, your mouth felt so soft and warm wrapped around him, his brain was short circuiting. At least his grip on your hair got a little loose.

You let him slip out of your mouth, stroking him slowly “It’s okay, love. I kinda liked it”

Your admission made him even more dizzy, wasting no time, you sucked on the tip, playing with it on your tongue while your hands fondled his balls.

“Are you gonna come?” You batted your eyelashes at him, voice sultry. He nodded, desperate, gripping tighter onto your hair.

“Good!” You smirked again, giving it a hard suck, before letting it slip out of your mouth again.

“Come on y/nnie's mouth, let me taste you” That line went straight to his core, he felt like he could pass out, your words, your lips, the way you pushed him almost whole into your mouth again. It was too much, he shuddered again, harder and you felt the white ropes sliding down your throat.

You hummed, satisfied, licking his length clean and sucking him slowly as he came down his high, just then you crawled back on top of him, the blonde panting and his cheeks rosy. You smiled, giving him a peck.

“Think I need to save you more often” He let out weakly and you chuckled, lying down on his chest.

~ ♡ ~

Summer was coming to an end, slowly the tourists were waving the island goodbye and much to your luck, you weren’t forced to kiss your lover goodbye too. Nobody came after Felix, even after that incident. In fact, he was praying they never would. He was happy on the island, happy to be living with you and life never felt so good.

“Babyyy, my tummy hurts” Felix dramatically whined, entering the kitchen, benting a little, hugging himself.

“Hmm, let me guess… you ate all the strawberries that were here?” You grabbed the little basket with just one strawberry and he nodded, pouting.

“Awn love, I told you to stop doing that” You chuckled, caressing his cheek, even though he ruined your baking plans, you couldn’t get mad at him when he looked at you so cutely like that.

Felix leaned closer and stole a kiss. “I won’t do it anymore” He murmured against your lips and you chuckled.

“You promise?”

“No” He chuckled with you, giving you another kiss.

“I knew it. Now, go find something to do, I need to bake another cake now and you distract me” You smacked his butt and walked to the fridge.

“But what if I already found what I wanna do?” He grabbed your hips when you bent, seeking for the ingredients. You shivered, feeling him pressing against you.

“Felix!” You hissed, but he knew you loved when he did that. You straightened up, turning to face him.

“I thought you weren’t feeling good?” You stared at him suspiciously, crossing your arms in front of your body. He came closer, kissing your neck.

“Just got better” He smirked, whispering against your skin.

“You little gremlin” You scoffed, letting him grab your hands and put your arms over his shoulders “I'm busy, you know?”

“Yeah, you've been busy a lot lately. It’s time for a break” He nibbled lightly on your neck, easily picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen's counter.

He spread your legs, setting in between, caressing your thighs in circle motions. Capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, he tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him closer, melting into the kiss when he gently pulled your hair, tilting your head and deepening the kiss, sucking on your bottom lip.

“Mhmmm, seems like somebody was waiting for me?” He broke the kiss, teasing you when he felt the absence of underwear under that cute floral dress you were wearing.

“Surprise!” Your giggle got cut short when he caressed your middle, coaxing a moan from you.

“Such a sweet, jagodica. Never fails to amaze me…” He whispered, giving your earlobe a little bite. Fingers pushing between your folds, rubbing circles on your clit until you were aroused enough for him to slip his fingers inside you.

“Lixie…” You sighed, gripping on his arm, forehead resting on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He hummed, pumping in and out fast, preparing you for him.

“Need you…” You lightly bit down on his shoulder.

“Need me?” He smirked, Felix loved hearing that, he wanted more “How so?”

“Inside”

“Oh, but what about my fingers?” He teased, pushing further “Isn't that enough?”

“Nuh nuh…” You shook your head, grip on his arm getting tighter and your free hand slid between you, palming him “Want your cock”

He twitched inside his pants, feeling strangled.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t we?” He withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, staring at you.

He let you unbutton his jeans, watching your fingers work quickly to pull it down, you smiled, seeing him tilt his head back, his adam's apple bobbing up with a sigh of relief when you freed his cock. Your lips trailed kisses on his jaw and neck, leaving a little love bite there, while stroking him.

You softly moaned, shivering when you felt the dress being pulled down, his hands fondling your breasts. He leaned down, licking on your collarbone, all the way down, sucking on a hickey right above your heart. Your fingers carded through his hair, playing with the strands, moaning when he started giving gentle and little love bites on the flesh.

He held his cock, bringing it to your core, rubbing the head against your slick, groaning, wanting to just dive in, but holding back.

“No teasing” You pleaded, tugging lightly at his hair.

“No teasing” Felix repeated, cheeky, shaking his head. But he kept doing just that, teasing your entrance, letting just the head in and pulling back, chuckling at your frustrated groan.

“Lixie!”

“Okay, okay. No teasing” He chuckled again before kissing you, swallowing your moan when he pushed all the way in with just one thrust.

You held onto him, occasionally kissing his neck and shoulder, while he pounded hard and fast into you. He held your hips, pulling you to the edge, slamming harder against you, getting your mind hazed.

Felix smirked, hearing your cries and rambles.

“Does it feel good, love?” He kissed that sensitive spot under your ear. “Do you like it when I fuck you like that?”

You whimpered, nodding “Mhmm… love it…” And he smirked, sucking on the sensitive skin.

“Mine” He admired the lilac mark appearing there, not resisting the urge to suck a new one a little under.

“All mine…” He emphasized his words with slow but deep thrusts.

“All yours… forever…” Your legs were getting shaky with your climax approaching.

“Gonna cum, Lixie… I'm gonna…” You cried out, starting to clench around him. His hand reached down between you, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“Shh shh, Lixie got you, love… let it go, come all over my cock”

And you did, clenching hard around him, holding him tight and crying out his name while you saw stars. Felix groaned, keeping up the pace as he brought you down from your high, seeking his own. You were shaky and spent, letting him spill it all inside you, clenching again, milking him dry.

He embraced you, tracing idle patterns on your back, while you both calmed down.

“I love you” He kissed the top of your head and you looked up at him.

“I love you too, my angel” You leaned in, giving him a sweet kiss.

~ ♡ ~

Autumn was beginning, but the weather was still nice on the island, Felix clenched his fists on the sleeves of his blue coat, sighing. The sound of the beach was like a lullaby, putting him to sleep.

“Lixie, hey!” The full moon was already hanging bright in the sky, when a soft giggle woke him up.

“Alma? What are you doing here?” He stared at her with surprise, his heart skipping a beat. The little angel wasn't supposed to be down here. Did she fall too?

He sat up, opening his arms and letting her come into them. Felix picked her up, noticing how strong her lilac aura was shining.

“I was missing you” She pouted and Felix wanted to squeeze her cheeks for being so sweet.

“Ohh sweetie, I missed you, too” He caressed her hair gently, smiling when she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

“They said you can't go back anymore…” A tear rolled down her cheek and he wiped it. But deep inside, her words gave him relief. He couldn’t go back anymore. His heart felt full. He was going to stay and be with you, forever.

“But I wanted to see you, so Jeongin helped me…” She smiled slightly, happy to be with her friend and he smiled too.

“I hope I'm not causing you both trouble”

The little angel shook her head “It’s fine, I'm already going back”

“Oh, okay”Felix put her back down, kneeling in front of her, he noticed her cheeky smile, staring at him. Alma looked both ways and leaned closer.

“I've got a secret” She whispered and covered her mouth, giggling.

“A secret?” He raised an eyebrow, curious

“And may I know what's it?”

“Don’t worry, you will soon…” She giggled again and hugged him a final time.

“I've gotta go, now” The little angel gave him a little peck on his cheek and ran, stopping in the middle of the way, she turned, waving at him.

“See you, Lixie!”

A bright golden light fell from the sky, covering Alma, and suddenly it disappeared, along with the little girl. Weeks had passed, Felix kept visiting the beach, but Alma didn't appear anymore.

~ ♡ ~

“I'm y/n, feel free to call me if you guys need anything…” You smiled and handed the keys to a new couple that was visiting the island for the first time “Enjoy your stay!”

“Thank you!” They said in unison, smiling at you before picking their lugares and heading to the stairs.

Your phone buzzed on the desk and you smiled, seeing who the notification was.

My angel ❤️: baby, was there something wrong with the brownies? 🥹

You: hey love… no, it was absolutely delicious as always!

You: why?

My angel ❤️: you barely had a bite

Your stomach twisted a little when you remembered your attempt to eat in the morning. It really got you upset, because his brownies were your favorite treat.

You: yeah, my stomach's feeling a little sensitive lately, i must be getting sick 🫠

My angel ❤️: my poor fragolina 🥹 what about i make you a light soup and we cuddle and catch up on that show you like?

You: sounds perfect, thanks love 😘

With a smile, you put your phone down, excited to close everything and finally be back into your lover's arms. Knowing that you would feel better instantly.

In your house, Felix put the apron on and went to tik tok, looking up cozy soup recipes. While cooking, he grabbed the fluffy blanket and cushions and took them to the living room, went to change into his blue pajamas and then got back to the kitchen to pour the soup in the bowls and take them to the living room. Just in time to see you opening the door.

He placed the hot bowls on the coffee table and rushed to you, holding your face between his hands and giving you a big smooch that made you giggle.

“Heyy” You greeted him, smile getting wider as you looked at the couch and the bowls.

“That's so sweet, thanks love” This time you were the one cradling his face, but instead gave him a sweet peck.

“Don't need to thank me, jagodica” He held your hand, pulling to sit down “C'mon, eat a little. You will feel better”

He handed you a bowl and you smiled again, enjoying the warmth against your fingers, you were cold due the little walk back home. Felix turned the tv on and grabbed his soup too, he clinked on yours, like making a toast and you chuckled.

Your stomach was still sensitive, but luckily you were able to savor the whole bowl. Felix didn't let you get up, taking your empty bowl and going to quickly wash everything before he came back, lying behind you on the couch. He pulled the blanket over your legs and cuddled you, that snuggled up against him.

“Are you feeling better?” He murmured, gently rubbing small circles on your tummy.

“Mhmm, much better” You purred, enjoying his caress.

“Good” Felix murmured again, still caressing you, when he noticed not only the heat coming off from his palm was getting slightly different, but it seemed that under his motions was shining a new light. He gazed down.

Your aura was pink, but your tummy was shining in lilac light.

“No way” Felix gasped under his breath, it felt like the more he stared at it, the clear the lilac circle appeared.

“Uh?” You turned your face to him, staring at the blonde with confusion.

“Baby, when did you start feeling sick?”

“I don’t know, it's been a while now. I probably should go do some blood checks and stuff. Maybe I'm developing some lactose intolerance or something” You shrugged, the idea of giving up on cheese upset you.

Felix grinned, finding it endearing how oblivious you were being. He held your hands, squeezing them.

“This isn't funny” You scolded him and he laughed.

“Of course not. This is the best thing that could happen”

“What do you mean?” You were still confused, being pulled by him into a tight hug.

“Baby, you're pregnant” He whispered and you were glad you were sitting and being held, because you'd fall right there.

“No way!” You sighed in disbelief, pulling back to look at him, your heart drumming like crazy. Was that even possible? You never thought about it before, so you never used any barrier and then putting two and two together, you realized.

“Oh my God, we're having a baby!” You felt the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, a happiness so big and amazing that you felt like you could float around if he didn’t hold you.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, squealing in excitement and Felix chuckled, equally excited as you. He started peppering kisses all over your face, whispering I love's you after each one, letting a hand go down, caressing your tummy gently.

After you went to bed, Felix pulled you to lay down on his chest, you embraced him, lazily tracing patterns on his abs, enjoying his fingers carding through your hair.

“You're gonna look so cute all round” He murmured, kissing your forehead “She's gonna love you”

“She?” You looked up at him, who smiled cheeky at you, humming.

Your heart swell with love and you looked down at your tummy, placing a hand over it and caressing it slowly.

“Mommy loves you so much already” You murmured and then looked back at him, smiling “And I love you, too. My angel”

“I love you more, my jagodica” He gently held your chin, tilting your head and giving you a kiss.

thanks for reading, let me know if you liked it ❤️

tagging: @doitforbangchan @athforskz @jeonginsleftcheek @moonchild9350 @hyunjincanraptoo @changbinniescurlyhair @hwangjoanna

[starryeyed-apple]

paper rings (and all my dreams)

summary: you find the shoebox of memories that xavier has kept of all your lives together.

★pairing: xavier x reader/MC ★wc: 1.3k ★content: fluff, emotional and really mushy. established relationship, reader is aware of past lives, nostalgia, talk of previous lives, in the moment proposal, very brief suggestive words. nickname for xavier: love. nickname for reader: starlight. ★a/n: I've had this idea for a while, and that trailer drop gave me the motivation to finally write it!

Silence isn't a foreign reaction when it comes to Xavier.

The man had always been quiet, aloof. Stoic with strangers, and it had taken you time to learn the subtle intonations of his voice, the shifts in his expression when he was happy or sad.

He'd slowly gotten better at portraying his emotions to you, just as you had learned to read him as well as his favorite books that lined the shelves of his apartment.

But when he walks into you sitting cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, in the center of miscellaneous memorabilia, he's completely silent again, harder to read than he used to be.

"Sorry," is the first word from your mouth, setting down the folded paper in your hands.

Xavier stares at the pale blue paper, and the lavender colored paper ring it goes with, both sitting innocently in front of you.

There's a distant, hazy memory of folding them. A late afternoon, school uniforms, a wooden sword. A sweet smile that had always been for you, then and now. Butterflies in your stomach, heart racing in your chest. Promises in paper of never being apart.

Something that felt like yours, but not. A dream, or a vision. A promise of something that was supposed to come, or already had. The strangest rush of déjà vu you'd ever experienced.

Xavier's eyes glaze over, far away from here, and you rush out, "I just—I was looking for that photo album, and I didn't—I was curious, and I didn't think you'd mind. I'm so—"

"It's okay."

His voice eases you in an instant, and he carefully steps around each preserved physical memory until he's sinking down next to you. He lifts a folded note, handing it to you, and your heart skips a beat when you open it.

Words are scrawled back and forth along every inch of the lined page, along with doodles of shooting stars and flowers. You brush your thumb over the familiar scrawl of his letters, asking to meet up after class again, and then look towards the even more familiar handwriting.

"Was this…" You swallow, brows furrowed, still struggling with the surge of countless memories that swam through your mind now. "…me?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, pensive, as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Reading over the innocent conversation passed between friends in the back of a classroom. "I kept stuff from the first time I met you. And the second. And now, too."

"I can tell," you murmur, glancing over the movie tickets from one of your first dates. Used hotpot coupons, pressed flowers, bookmarks he'd borrowed from you, leftover photobooth pictures.

"I'm sorry," he's the one to mumble it this time, and you try to look at him, but his face is buried against your neck, refusing to let you see. "I need you to know that I don't expect you to be anybody other than who you are now. I just…"

"I know, love," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair.

For as long as he lived, and long it was, he never wanted to forget.

He never wanted to forget you.

You let him hide his expression against you until he's ready to show it, and you smile down at him when he lets you see his honesty, and his anxiety. Face flushed, eyes wide and uncertain, then fluttering closed when you press a kiss to his frown, easing all that tension away.

"Tell me about it?" you ask, any possible trepidation erased by hope, nostalgia you wanted to make your own as much as his. "About…me?"

You gravitate towards the faded charms that are tied together, two stars linked. His lashes flutter when you lift it, tears clinging to the ends when you smile at the plush fabric.

Turning back to him, your smile widens, thumb wiping away the tear that stubbornly escapes his eyes.

"About us?"

He blinks a few times, wiping his other eye, and reaches for the paper rings.

"The first time I met you, you were sweet, and shy, and saw me when nobody else did." He runs his thumb along the purple paper, tracing each crease in the folds. "I liked you so much, but we ran out of time."

He takes your hand in his.

"The second time, you were fierce, a force to be reckoned with, and fought me on everything." He smiles, a chuckle caught in his throat, as his fingers gently caress your ring finger. "I knew I was in love with you then. I knew I always had been. But I let you down. I'm sorry I let you down."

"And now?" you breathe out, meeting the question in his gaze with a nod.

"Now," he whispers, sliding the paper ring up onto your finger until it's nestled where it was always meant to be, "you're kind, and you're relentless, and I love you. You're the strongest person I know, and you feel like home, and the rest of my life. You're everything to me."

Xavier's forehead rests against yours, his nose nuzzling against yours. Then along your cheek, until his lips are pressed to your ear, so you don't miss a single word.

"I want our life in pictures that I can look at with you. I want our books sharing the same shelves. I want to grow a garden together. I want to go to sleep with you, to dream of you, and wake up to you."

He's holding you tighter and tighter, and you're giggling, burying your face against his neck when he keeps rambling.

"I want you to tell me my cooking is bad, and that I drive too fast, and that I snore a little sometimes. I want you to get mad at me and I want to make it better. I want to be a better person for you."

"Xavier—"

"I want to get a little jealous sometimes—"

"A little?"

"And I want to keep you in our bed for days until you can't walk—"

"Xavier!"

You're laughing, and he's laughing, and you pull back to cup his face in your hands. You see him now with no more masks, no cards kept against his chest. Just him, and you, and what sounds like…

"Xavier," you say again, slowly, watching his eyes widen when you ask, "are you proposing right now?"

The prettiest pink blooms across his cheeks, and his eyes dart away, then back again when you gently shake his face for his attention.

"I'll do it again. I'll do it better," he promises, and you laugh, a choked but happy sound. He looks back down at the paper ring on your hand, his blush spreading to his ears. "I'll get you a better one."

"I like this one," you stubbornly insist, and now he laughs, his body beginning to emit a golden glow that only grows brighter.

To make your point, you take his hand in yours, sliding the blue paper ring onto his finger until it fits just as snugly as the one on yours.

"I want all that too," you whisper, gazing up at him, and you hear his breath catch in his throat. "I want you when you laugh, and when you're pouty, and all jealous too. I want to kick you out of the kitchen when you make the smoke alarm go off again. I want to go grocery shopping with you, and hold hands on the subway after work, and do taxes together."

His nose wrinkles. "I hate taxes."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss the pout right off his face again. He leans in for another when you pull back, and you melt into him, wrapped around each other for kiss after kiss.

"But I'll do them with you." Xavier rests his face against your neck again, your fingers running through his hair. "I'll do everything with you, my starlight. Always."

You smile, looking at the paper ring on your hand. Grateful for every version of you that you'd been, for every you that he's loved. That you found each other again, and get to be in love now.

"Always," you murmur, and hold him close.

taglist: comment here if you want to be added! blank blogs will be blocked ⭐️ Xavier fics: @santaluna @itsmysmut @onigiriinthecorner @inzayneforaj 💖all fics: @frostbitten-cherry @asiatic-apple @heartyluv @floatinginaer @sweetcalebb @princessofenkanomiya @lazygelpen @deepspacebunnieblue @cherryartchaos @kireeen @stargirlygirl @draftbeerbibi @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @slovesyouuu @ineffabl-y @grlyeetswrld @toelady @asiaticapple

[selenitespeculations]

“Danny I really think everything’s gonna be fine!” Jazz said, a bit of chastisement in her tone.

“And I think that their fundamentally incorrect understanding of ecto-entities will get in the way! I don’t know what they’ll come up with but I’m sure it won’t end up good for me.” Danny grumbled. “You know how they are! We’ve both tried to show them evidence ghosts are sentient, feeling beings but they refuse to even acknowledge any of it! They mental gymnastics it at an Olympic level to make it fit their theories.”

“Which is why we’re doing a picnic in the park instead of telling them at home.” Jazz remarked. “I really DO think they’ll come around, but a safe distance from the lab is always a good idea, at least until they have a chance to digest the new information.”

“More like plan my eternal doom”

“You’re being dramatic, Danny. They’re your parents and they love you.”

“I know that! I just worry that they won’t see Phantom-me and Alive-me as the same person.” Danny flopped back on Jazz’s purple duvet. “I know you think if we just explain it well enough they’ll see, but I really don’t know…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain the foreboding sensation in his gut.

“Well even if everything goes horribly wrong, Sam and Tuck both have bug-out bags, and will be on standby if things go pear shaped, which they won’t, but we’re prepared either way!” Jazz said in her annoying yet endearing big sister voice.

Danny sighed, they’d been having this conversation for weeks now, hashing and re-hashing out details and grievances. Danny wasn’t even sure they’d be able to convince Jack and Maddie to go on the picnic in the first place, much less get them to sit still and listen long enough to explain the very convoluted situation he’d found himself in. Getting them out of the lab had become harder and harder ever since they’d started contracting with the GIW.

“Have we disabled the sensors arround the park?” Danny asked.

“As you well know, Tucker told us this morning that he had managed to put them on a feedback loop. The GIW won’t even know anything’s wrong if you have to go ghost.”

Danny sighed again. Louder and longer this time, just to be annoying. It’s his duty as a younger brother after all.

His phone started ringing, loud and obnoxious with the “I’m a Barbie girl” song that Tucker had made his ringtone. He could change it, but Tucker had put a decent amount of effort into locking it as his ringtone, and Danny didn’t wanna hurt his friends hacker ego by changing it too quickly.

“Hey Tuck, what’s up?”

“Tell me I’m a genius!” Tucker exclaimed. This was bound to be good.

“Hmmmmm I don’t know, that thing with Technus last Saturday-“ Danny started in a teasing tone.

“That’s in the past Danny, let it go already!” Tucker whined. “Besides, after I tell you what I just figured out you’ll never think about that again!”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“So you know how lately the GIW’s been on your ass the moment you go ghost?”

“I’m well aware, thanks.” Danny cut in sarcastically.

“Well I was poking arround in their servers and-”

“Tuck you spend half the day in their servers, what could you possibly have found that we didn’t already-”

“What I found,” Tucker said loudly, taking back control of the conversation before it devolved into bickering. “Was a spell circle made out of code!”

Danny blinked. “A what?”

“A spell circle! Like in thoes books Sam’s been obsessed with lately.”

“What kind of spell circle?”

“The kind that locks down the rest of their servers! I’ve only been skimming the tip of the iceberg this whole time!” Tuck said excitedly. “Sam’s taking a look at it now, once she figures out a way through it we should have access to their entire server.”

“So that’s how they’ve been staying ahead of us huh?” Danny asked. This new found magic competency from the GIW was a bad sign. Hopefully they only recently developed it, instead of Danny missing such an important detail.

“Most likely.” Tucker agreed. “I’m sure that info on how they’ve been tracking you is behind the magic firewall. Probably stuff on methods and other bases as well. Now tell me I’m a genius!”

“Hmmnnn I don’t know, seems Sam’s the one doing the legwork here-“

“Hey!”

“Just kidding, just kidding, you’re a genius Tucker Foley.”

“Thank you!” Tucker huffed jokingly. “How goes planning for the big reveal?”

“Talking it over with Jazz right now.” Danny said, glancing over at his sister, who’s been looking over notes of some kind while he’d been on the phone.

“Well I’ll leave you to it, and remember dude, we’ve got your back!” Tucker exclaimed before hanging up the call.

Danny turned back to Jazz, “Whatcha looking at?”

“My notes on mom and dad’s phycological profile. Me going to Gotham for college should be enough to get them out of the house, and with all the fudge we made we should be able to get dad to sit still long enough to get into the meat of things.” Jazz replied. “I’m bringing a broken lipstick laser for mom to fiddle with, and as long as we get past the whole ‘your son is half ghost’ thing and into the explanation before she fully processes it, they should be shocked enough to internalize what we’re telling them.”

“See you’re just as nervous about this as I am!” Danny said, vindicated.

“Of course I am Danny! I love our parents, but they do have a habit of shooting first and asking questions never when it comes to ghost stuff.” She looked down at her hands, “I want to believe there’s no risk at all, that their love for us will overcome their obsessions, but…”

“We don’t know how liminal they’ve become.” Danny finished for her. “Their obsessions might be too strong to fight with logic or love.”

“Yeah.” Jazz agreed softly. “But as your older sister, I promise that no matter what I’ll keep you safe!”

Danny was getting deja vu. Jazz reminded him so much of Jay sometimes. The fierce protectiveness, putting up a face of positivity when Danny felt helpless.

“I love you Jazzy.” Danny said quietly, feeling a million different emotions tangle up inside of him. His throat felt tight. “No matter how this goes down, I’m glad you’re my sister.”

“Your favorite sister?” Jazz teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“My favorite older sister,” Danny chuckled, “we don’t need Dani sensing a sibling competition and coming to fight for her honor.”

They both laughed, remembering the last time Dani was back in Amity, when she had declared a sibling fight club to prove herself the superior sibling.

“No we definitely don’t need that added onto everything right now.” Jazz said once they’d caught their breath. “Are you sure there’s no other siblings you want to tell about our plan?”

“I told you Jazz, Jay doesn’t need to know!” Danny defended. “He worked so hard to make sure I got a safe normal life, I don’t want to disappoint him.” His voice got quiet.

“If you say so, little brother.” Jazz acquits. “Though I’m sure that he wouldn’t blame you-“

“I know, I know, I just don’t want him to think all his work getting me out of Gotham was for nothing.” Danny said quietly. He felt a little guilty, both for not telling Jay anything about his ghostly double life, and lying to Jazz about his past. But secret keeping was in his blood, and it would take a lot more before he would even entertain the idea of spilling his guts to either of his older siblings.

“You know Danny, if you really don’t want to tell them…” Jazz trailed off before starting again tentatively, “I just want to make sure you’ll be safe.”

“I know Jazz.” Danny knew, logically, that it was the best course of action to tell Jack and Maddie in a somewhat controlled environment. It would be much harder to get them to sit still and listen if they found out on accident. “And I want you to be here when I tell them. I’m just worried, there’s so much that could go wrong.”

“Worst comes to worst, you fly to Gotham. Jason’s there already I will be too, this time next week.” Jazz assured. “But really I think the most likely outcome is positive.”

Danny was pretty sure that “worst comes to worst” would be more than just cutting and running. In fact he could think of ten way off the top of his head that this could end in disaster. But Jazz was already nervous enough, and speaking his thoughts out loud wouldn’t help anything. They sat in silence for a bit, there wasn’t really anything else to go over without going in more conversational circles.

“Ima head to bed.” Danny said after a moment, standing and stretching out his back.

“Sweet dreams little brother,” Jazz replied, looking back at her notes, “I’m sure tomorrow will go smoothly!”

Danny laid in his bed, windows open to let in the cool breeze wafting through the summer air. Jazz would be leaving next week for Gotham. She’s going into the psychology program at Gotham City University, already had her little apartment and a paid internship lined up. Jazz always had all her ducks in a row, something Danny was a bit jealous of. He felt like he was flying by the seat of his pants most of the time, never quite sure what to do next or what he’s aiming for. Survival had been his main concern for so long, so much that he didn’t really think about actually living his life now that he was free to do so. Or half life, he supposes. Jazz and Jay will be in the same city, while he’s still hiding out in Amity Park. He wasn’t even completely sure he could leave now, Amity was his haunt, and ghosts could usually only leave their haunt for so long without any health consequences. But Danny was still half human, so all the usual rules were up in the air. He could be affected the same way as any other ghost, or have no problem at all, or anything in between, he wouldn’t know until it happened. Yet another reason he had to tell Jack and Maddie about his little ghostly problem now. If he was stuck in Amity indefinitely, they’d catch on eventually.

Danny fiddled with his phone. Not the normal one, but the dated flip phone he’d gotten nine years ago now. It’s crazy to think that he’d been here in Amity longer than he’d been in Nanda Parbat. He still has nightmares sometimes, about that night. If Jay hadn’t found him, he would’ve been a goner. Most of it’s a blur, time and trauma making the memories take on a weird sheen in his mind. He’d been so young, but when the assassin had told him Grandfather no longer needed him, he’d just felt tired. He’d tried so hard to be everything Mother and Grandfather wanted him to be. To be more like Damian. But no matter how hard he trained, when the moment came to act he always hesitated. That may as well have been a death sentence in the league.

Jay had saved him, given him a chance. Hope for a better life, where he could be a normal kid, grow up to be whatever he wanted to be. But Danny just had to go and ruin everything by going into that stupid portal. He didn’t blame Sam, never had. Danny knew better than to be messing around in the lab. Sure, Jack and Maddie should have locked it, but teenagers are stupid, and the trio probably would’ve found a way in anyways. Now he’s stuck between two worlds all over again. No way he’s telling Jay he spoiled the chance he worked so hard to give Danny. Jay’s got enough on his plate without Danny adding all his issues on the pile. They still talked relatively often, Danny telling Jay about all the regular civilian teenager stuff going on in his life, but as he got deeper and deeper into the world of Ghost Vigilanteism, Danny found it harder to talk around. Luckily, he doesn’t think Jay’s too suspicious, probably assuming regular teenage angst is the cause of the stilted conversations they’ve been having lately.

Then there’s Damian. His twin brother, who’s been in Gotham for six years now. When Jay told him that Talia had dropped Dami off in Gotham, he’d been genuinely shocked. He didn’t think Mother would be willing to let Dami stray too far from her for at least a few more years. Damian had a tough go of it, from the little Jason had told him. Danny knew Jay wasn’t telling him everything, but he could hardly begrudge that when he was holding things back too. Jay probably just didn’t want to scare him. He’d had asked Danny, after Dami had settled in Gotham in a more permanent way, if Danny wanted him to tell Dami he was still alive. Danny had debated back and forth with himself till he was sick to his stomach. What would Dami think? Would he be angry? At Danny, for being so weak, or Jay for hiding him away? Mother may have told him Danny was still alive already, but he kinda doubted it. Talia always kept the important stuff close to her chest. Dami was the same in that fashion, while Danny had to learn to keep his heart off his sleeve. He saw the news sometimes, talking about the great exploits of Batman and Robin, and oh how it made him feel so lonely. Sure, it was chaos and crazy fights most of the time, but watching his twin fly through the air by their father’s side, he seemed so free. Danny almost sent Jay all the letters he’d written, was still writing, but he’d chickened out at the last second. What if Dami thought him childish for holding on so tight to a family that wanted him dead. What if he was disappointed by how Danny was spending his time in his new “civilian” life?

Now it felt too late. How could he just pop up in Dami’s life after nine years of silence, nine years of his twin believing him dead. But if tomorrow went as badly as he thought it might, he may not have a choice in the matter. He could never force Jazz to put her life and dreams that she worked so hard for on hold just because Danny’s a half dead screw up. And Jay had already given him so much. If he had to run from Amity Park, his father would be the best bet, and Dami would discover that he’d been hiding like a coward this whole time. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that Jack and Maddie would see through their obsession to the son they’d been hurting, hunting, for two years now, but Danny had the same foreboding feeling he’d had that night on the parapet in Nanda Parbat, right before the end of everything he’d ever known.

Protective Instincts

Hmmmmmmmmm

Idea.

So we all mostly headcanon that Jason was around tiny Damian when in the League right? And if we do demon!twins or siblings Danny they meet too?

Well what if, now hear me out, what if while taking care of them Jason notices early on how Danyal, or as he likes to be called Danny, doesn't seem to have the heart to be an assassin compared to Damian. And even under the pits influence and the LOA teachings, Jason's protective instincts of protecting kids is still strong. And notices how... lack the protection around Danny is compared to Damian, the true heir.

What if, when Jason leaves the League to start his revenge against Bruce, he fakes Danny's death by killing off the little 'guards' he did have and takes the kid with him.

But as he goes to Gotham Jason has to decide.

Drop the kid off in a good family, give him a new identity and keep him hidden or keep the kid and raise them?

[shosweet]

you sit on your bed across from satoru gojo, antsy and squirming as you try to say what’s been on your mind.

“i’ve been thinking…” you mumble, twisting the little golden band on your ring finger.

“yes?” his voice is soft, understanding. he’s patient, but anxious with anticipation.

“well, you show a lot of love and care for your students… and you did well raising megumi…” you rambled, eyes averted from him. he waits with wide eyes, the deep blue in them trembling.

“i-i was just thinking that.. maybe you want to… have a kid of your own?”

his heart started thumping rapidly, his own pulse being the only thing ringing in his ears.

his own child? with you?

he smiles and leans his forehead on your shoulder, overcome with so much emotion.

“there’s nothing i want more, love,” he whispers into your skin beneath.

“really? you really wa— mmf,” you gasped before his lips crashed onto yours. he kisses you slow, deep, pouring his love into you from his lips. he gently presses his weight onto yours until your back meets the soft sheets. as your tongues and teeth clash, your fingers tangle in his pearl-white strands.

his hands move down, caressing your body until his hands tug at the hem of your sweater. as he lifts the fabric off, you do the same with his shirt. his bare chest is flush against your own as his lips return to yours. as the last of your clothes slip off and red patches bloom over each other’s skin, satoru hovers above you, one hand on your side as the other lines himself by your entrance.

you haven’t had sex with him without a condom before, much less without the genuine thought of having a child together. he searches your eyes as you search his, finding the slight furrow in his brow.

“are you sure?”

the words slip from both of your lips at the same time, a small laugh following afterward. you reach up to cup his head before kissing the spot between his brows, the creased lines slowly going away.

“i want to, satoru. i want this, i want you,” you whisper to him.

“i want this, too. god, you’re my world,” he whispers back. “i want nothing more than to make a world of our own, love you for the rest of my life.”

he kisses you again before his flushed tip meets your entrance again, warm and wet with need. he slowly pushes into you, gasping into each others lip at this feeling. you feel him. all of him. each twitch and throb, how full and warm you are because of him.

he starts thrusting, slow and delicate, making sure you feel each and every move he makes. he takes his time, praising and loving you the way you deserve. he laces his fingers with yours as he whispers sweet nothings into your soft skin:

“i love you so much…”

“you’re so precious...”

“my love, my everything…”

as you reach your highs, you feel his cum spilling inside you, warm enough to make you shudder and curl into his touch as each drop is a promise to love you and protect you for the rest of time. as he rests his forehead, glistening with sweat, on yours, he lets out a small chuckle.

“you’d be such an amazing mom,” he says, nose nudging yours.

“and you’d be an amazing dad, ‘toru,” you smile.

he kisses you sweetly, melting into you as the night slowly slips away.

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. call it the end ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis it’s been months since the livestream that altered your relationship with daniela and the members take matters into their own hands to rekindle your guys’ relationship.

disclaimer: pt3 of “you get me so high” (fluff version), slight angst, fluff, here’s pt2 - angst version see…sorta inspired by parent trap but i actually cannot remember that movie for the life of me so it might actually not be…inspired by parent trap 😭😭😭

currently playing: call it the end - rosé

the fallout isn’t loud.

you don’t scream. you don’t block her. you just stop giving her pieces of yourself.

you stop waiting for her texts. you start sitting farther away in rehearsals. you leave before she can find you backstage.

you stop looking at her like you’re still hoping she’ll choose you.

and she notices.

it’s in the way her voice wavers during vocal runs when you don’t meet her eyes. in the way she stays behind after practices, watching you walk out of the room without turning back. in the way her laugh rings hollow now, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s still happy.

the others notice too.

manon sees it first. she’s always watching.

lara sees it in your posture.

sophia’s the one who says it out loud, during a late-night takeout run when the three of them are waiting for their orders.

“okay,” she says, staring at the pickup counter. “is it just me or do they both look, like, dead inside?”

“it’s not just you,” lara sighs. “i heard crying in the bathroom after rehearsal two days ago. don’t know which one it was, but...”

manon peels the wrapper off her straw. “it’s both of them. they’re just miserable in shifts.”

“you’d think after all this time they’d get over themselves and talk,” sophia mutters.

“they’re not gonna,” manon says. “not unless we do something.”

lara raises an eyebrow. “like what?”

manon shrugs. “i dunno. trap them in a room until they work their shit out?”

sophia looks way too into the idea. “no wait…seriously. like... do it old-school. lock the door. no one leaves until someone cries.”

manon glances at lara, who’s already nodding. “they’re useless. it’s time.”

—

they do it after practice.

manon times it perfectly. she pulls dani aside and says, “hey, can you grab my jacket in the second vocal room?” sophia asks you to check for her phone charger in the same place. lara pretends she forgot her speaker.

you both walk in, separately, at almost the same moment.

you freeze when you see her.

she freezes when she sees you.

then the door slams shut behind you. click.

locked.

you whip around. “what the-?”

manon’s voice is heard from the other side. “you’re welcome!” “we’ll be back in an hour!” you hear sophia yell out, followed by lara. “don’t kill each other!”

then silence.

daniela is sitting on the edge of the platform riser. she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week. you stand by the wall, arms crossed, heart pounding in your ears.

at first, neither of you say anything. the air is thick. full of unsaid things. heavy with the weight of everything that never got to be love.

finally, daniela breaks the silence. her voice is small, careful.

“why have you been ignoring me?”

you laugh, but it’s cold. “you can’t be serious.”

she winces. “i mean- i know you’ve been mad. but… not like this.”

you look at her slowly, exhaustion pooling in your chest.

“you said you were straight,” you say. “on a livestream. with me right next to you. and you acted like what we had, like i, didn’t mean anything.”

daniela opens her mouth, but you hold up your hand.

“you don’t get it,” you continue, voice trembling. “i gave you everything. i let you into parts of me i’ve never let anyone near. and you didn’t even hesitate to shut it all down.”

tears prick at your eyes, and you hate how easy it is for them to fall now.

“you laughed. you laughed and said you were straight like i was just another joke to you. like i wasn’t someone you were crawling into bed with every night.”

daniela flinches. she’s crying now too.

“i wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“well you did,” you say, voice breaking. “and you never apologized. you just left me to figure it out alone. i was humiliated, dani. i didn’t want to be your secret. i wanted to be your person.”

daniela stands up. steps closer. desperate now.

“you are my person,” she says. “i just, i didn’t know how to say it. i was scared. everything in me was screaming to say something but i panicked. and then when you stopped talking to me i thought maybe you were just... done.”

you wipe your face. “i was trying to protect myself. because loving you hurt. because you made me feel like i was something to be ashamed of.”

her voice cracks. “you’re not. you never were.”

“then why didn’t you fight for me?”

“i didn’t know how,” she says. “but i want to now.” you hesitate. it’s still raw. still so broken in places.

“you really think it’s that simple?” you whisper. “that you can just show up now and everything will be okay?”

daniela drops to her knees in front of you. her hands shake as she reaches for yours but doesn’t touch, just hovers.

“i love you,” she says. “i love you so much it makes everything else feel smaller. and i want to try again. out loud. publicly. with you. if you’ll let me. if you can still let me in.”

you look at her. really look.

she’s not hiding anymore. not even a little.

and finally, finally, she whispers, “we don’t have to call it the end.”

your walls don’t fall in one go. but you let her take your hand. and you let yourself hope.

—

the next few days feel different. lighter. real.

you don’t talk about it with the others, but they know. you walk a little closer to each other again. daniela doesn’t reach for your hand in secret anymore.

you laugh at her again. you let her touch you in front of people. you even let her kiss your cheek backstage, once, when she thought no one was looking, but manon definitely was, and she winked like a menace.

you don’t say the word “together” out loud. but it lives in the space between your smiles.

a couple days later, you’re doing a chill livestream with daniela, manon, and lara, promoting gnarly, answering questions, teasing each other.

it feels like it used to. better, even.

daniela reaches across you to grab a hair clip from the table, and says without thinking, “love, can you pass me that notebook?”

you go still.

manon and lara freeze too. wide-eyed.

daniela doesn’t even blink. she’s completely casual. like she didn’t just drop the word love in front of tens of thousands of fans.

you glance at her, stunned, then you smile. huge. real. “of course, my love.”

and you hand her the notebook without breaking eye contact.

manon immediately makes a fake gagging noise. lara dramatically falls back onto the couch, muttering “i’m gonna be sick.”

daniela just grins. you laugh.

and this time, no one hides. no one runs.

maybe this is what it means to start again. not from scratch,

but from something earned.

a/n: idk which version i like better 😣 anywhooo this concludes ‘you get me so high’ thank you to everyone who was, for some reason, interested in this also idk why..but when i was writing this, i started thinking abt parent trap. i haven’t watched that movie in YEARS so i went by memory 😭😭😭

[n1daehodefender]

HELLOOO I finished session 3, I want to cry.

Anyway, that’s not why I’m here, I want to ask for a simple but wholesome request for what we have been through: Marriage proposal + wedding! with dae-ho, Thanos and Nam-gyu! Just a headcanon of how they would propose to the reader and how their wedding would go!

Have a good day, evening and night! And keep up the hard work Queen! ❤️

Proposal + wedding hcs!

Pairing: Kang dae-ho, Nam gyu, Thanos (all separately)

Warnings: none, just fluff:)

A/N: i loved writing this sm😭 requests are open keep them coming!! I’ll write at least one per day, if im bored def multiple

Kang dae-ho

How he would propose

Dae Ho spends weeks planning the perfect proposal, wanting it to feel personal rather than flashy. He’s the type to overthink every little detail because he wants it to be just right.

He chooses a place that holds deep meaning to both of you—maybe where you first met, or where you had your first real heart-to-heart conversation.

The proposal isn’t in front of a huge crowd. Dae Ho would prefer something intimate, just the two of you (or at most, a few close friends hiding nearby to celebrate after).

He carries the ring with him for days, waiting for the perfect moment. He almost proposes early a couple of times because he can’t stop staring at you, but he reins himself in because he wants to do it right.

The actual proposal is quiet, emotional, and full of sincerity. His voice might shake slightly when he asks, “Will you marry me?” because the moment means so much to him.

When you say yes, he pulls you into the tightest, warmest hug. He holds onto you for a long time, as if he’s grounding himself in the reality that you chose him.

Later, he admits he was more nervous about proposing than any challenge he’s ever faced.

Wedding hcs!

The wedding has a calm, heartfelt energy. Dae Ho doesn’t care about extravagance—he wants the day to feel genuine, peaceful, and full of love.

He helps plan every detail with you because he wants to make sure it reflects your happiness. He’s thoughtful like that.

The venue is likely outdoors—maybe a garden, small courtyard, or somewhere close to nature. He wants beauty, but not flashiness.

His face softens the moment you appear. He watches you walk down the aisle with so much emotion that his friends (and probably his mom!) tear up seeing how much you mean to him.

His vows are simple, sincere, and full of quiet promises “I’ll protect you. I’ll stand beside you. I’ll always come home to you.”

The whole event feels cozy—small guest list, lots of laughter, lots of warm glances exchanged across the room.

During the reception, Dae Ho sticks close to you. He’s not big on the spotlight, but with you, he’ll dance, toast, and beam with pride.

He insists on helping clean up at the end (even in his wedding suit) because he’s that kind of guy.

Nam Gyu

How he would propose

Nam Gyu is terrified of messing it up—not because he doubts your love, but because he wants the proposal to reflect how much you mean to him.

He practices his speech in front of the mirror (and probably with his dog, if he has one). He wants his words to come out right, but every time he imagines the moment, he gets choked up.

He tries to plan something fancy at first, maybe at a nice restaurant or a rooftop at night—but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he just wants it to be real.

In the end, he proposes in a quiet, private moment—maybe during a walk you often take together, or when you’re at home sharing a meal and laughing over something dumb on TV.

His hands are slightly shaky when he pulls out the ring, and his voice is soft but steady: “I don’t need anything else, as long as I have you. Will you marry me?”

When you say yes, he exhales this breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and immediately hugs you so tightly you can feel how hard his heart is beating.

He’s glowing with happiness for the rest of the day—and keeps staring at your hand like he can’t believe the ring is really there.

Wedding hcs!

Nam Gyu tries to go along with tradition (because he wants to honor your families) but always checks in to make sure it’s what you want.

The ceremony is small to medium-sized, probably at a peaceful place—a quiet temple, a pretty garden, or a scenic outdoor venue with soft lighting.

He’s nervous leading up to it, but the second he sees you? Total awe. His eyes shine, and he definitely tears up—no shame, just pure love on his face.

His vows are soft and a little shaky because he’s so emotional. But they’re beautiful and honest.“Every day, I’ll try my best to deserve you. I’ll be your home, wherever we go.”

The reception is filled with heartfelt speeches that make him blush. He sticks by your side most of the time, always gently checking that you’re okay and enjoying yourself.

First dance? He holds you close, forehead to yours, swaying gently like no one else exists.

Nam Gyu treasures little keepsakes from the wedding—a pressed flower from your bouquet, a ribbon from your dress, the program. He keeps them safe forever.

Thanos (su-bong)

How he would propose

Su Bong doesn’t plan to propose in a traditional way. He probably tells himself he’ll wait for the “perfect time”—but when it comes to you, his emotions always get the better of him.

The proposal ends up happening during a moment where his love for you hits him all at once. Maybe you’re patching him up after a fight, or you’re laughing together during a quiet night in, and it suddenly overwhelms him that you’re his person.

Without much of a grand setup, he just blurts it out—but his voice is firm, sure, and filled with raw emotion:“Marry me. Please. I want you to be mine—officially. Forever.”

He doesn’t get down on one knee in a fancy way—he’s probably holding your hand or your face, looking right into your eyes like the world doesn’t exist beyond you.

The ring? Oh, he put serious thought into that. It’s bold but meaningful—something that symbolizes strength and loyalty, because that’s what your bond means to him.

When you say yes, Su Bong lets out a breath that’s part relief, part joy. He pulls you into his arms and holds you so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat pounding against yours.

Wedding hcs!

The wedding is bold and powerful, just like your relationship. It’s not about showing off, but it definitely has presence. People remember it.

The venue is dramatic: think city rooftop at night with lights, or a grand hall with rich colors—deep red, gold, black.

Su Bong stands at the altar looking like he owns the world, but the second he sees you? His tough exterior cracks. His eyes soften in a way only you’ve ever seen.

His vows aren’t long, but they hit hard. He promises strength, loyalty, and that he’d destroy anything that threatens your happiness.“You’re mine. I’m yours. Always. Nothing will touch you as long as I breathe.”

The ceremony feels electric—there’s this intense energy between you two that everyone can feel.

At the reception, Su Bong isn’t afraid to pull you close, to dance with you like he means it, to show everyone how proud he is to be yours.

He keeps his arm around you most of the night, always ready to steal a kiss or whisper in your ear.

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 09

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 4.3k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

It feels like the world is falling on Jungkook.

He’s let things drag on, and now he’s stuck. Hina traveled all the way here to see him—because he neglected her. Spending those weeks with you felt like living in his own little paradise, and even though he texted Hina sometimes, she was long forgotten the moment you were around. And now, Jungkook feels like an asshole. He became what he always despised: a player.

Slowly, he sits up on the bed, palming his face as he looks at the sleeping body next to him. Neither of you deserves the way he’s treating you. 

He knows where his heart lies—it belongs to you. But he can’t just sneak back into your life like nothing happened with Hina still unaware that her ‘fiancé’ is the villain in this story.

He gets out of bed, giving one last glance at Hina before walking to the living room, soaked in darkness, and collapses on the couch. He has explaining to do. To both of you. 

He scrolls through your messages—each one asking if everything is okay, to call you when he can. He didn’t reply to a single one. And he knows he has to, before you knock on Jimin’s door, worried.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, throwing his phone aside and burying his face in his hands.

“Is everything okay?” Jimin’s voice pulls him out of the spiral.

Jungkook lifts his head to find his best friend standing in the doorway.

“Does it look like it?” he breathes, watching Jimin grab two beers from the fridge before heading out to the balcony.

Jungkook follows him silently and sits next to him, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” for the bottle. The cold beer is a pathetic contrast to the heat burning in his chest.

“I’m going to lose Nabi… And hurt Hina.” He mumbles taking a sip of his beer, jaw clenched as Jimin nods slowly, looking at the city above them. “I’m a fucking asshole. I deserve neither of them.”

“You’re right.” Jimin hums without hesitation.

“You’re supposed to comfort me.” Jungkook turns to him, frowning.

“I’m your best friend, not your fan. I’m supposed to call out your bullshit.” Jimin corrects him making Jungkook nods in defeat. “I told you to end things with Hina before starting something with Y/N. I told you to tell her the truth. Didn’t I?”

He sighs, nodding again. Jimin has told him. Again and again. He knows it.

“I was supposed to buy that plane ticket weeks ago… to end things with Hina. But I let time pass, and now it’s worse.” Jungkook whispers, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“What are you gonna do?” Jimin asks quietly, letting his friend find his own answers. 

“I can’t lie to Hina. I don’t love her. I don’t want to drag her into a loveless marriage.”

“You didn’t want to marry her to begin with.” Jimin points out.

Again, his bestfriend is right. He had no intentions to marry Hina to start. Jungkook is a people-pleaser, especially when it comes to the people he dates. When Hina found the ring he had hidden, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t for her.

“If she didn’t find the ring,” Jimin asks, “would you have ever proposed to her?”

“No.” Jungkook admits, looking at the floor. “I never imagined marrying anyone but Y/N.”

“That’s your problem. You always let life make decisions for you.” Jimin sighs, staring at his friend. “What are you scared of?”

Jungkook looks down, taking a deep breath.

“Hurting them.” He replies in a whisper.

"You're hurting them more by lying." Jimin shakes his head. "When Hina found Y/N's ring, you could have told her it wasn’t what she thought and told her the truth. Instead, you let her believe the ring was for her when it clearly wasn’t. And now you have to watch her wearing the ring of your first love."

“You’re right.” Jungkook pinches his lips together. “I’m a fucking loser who runs from his problems.”

But he wants to fix that.

“I’m telling Hina the truth tomorrow morning. I’ll pay for her return ticket,” Jungkook says. “And then… And then….” He swallows hardly before hiding his face in his hands. “Fuck, Nabi is going to hate me.”

“You don’t know that,” Jimin says, trying to comfort him.

“No… I know it. She told me.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I can only blame myself. Fuck… I feel like the day she left me.”

Jimin sighs and looks down at his beer.

“She’s not a kid anymore. Y/N’s mature. She knows you.” He gives Jungkook’s shoulder a small squeeze. “She knows you’re a dumbass, even when you’re being genuine.”

Jungkook nods slowly, but it doesn’t make him feel better. He knows Jimin is just trying to be kind.

“Kookie… you’re not a bad person. Some part of you was just too excited to have her back, and you stopped thinking with your brain,” Jimin adds, and Jungkook lets out a dry chuckle. “But you’re not sixteen anymore. Be honest. Tell her the truth. She’ll explode, yeah, but once she calms down, she’ll come back to you.”

“I don’t really think so,” Jungkook mutters, taking a breath.

“Dude. We both know her. She plays tough, but she never loved anyone the way she loves you. She’ll come around—with time. Just… don’t push her.” Jimin tilts his head to catch Jungkook’s eyes.

He knows Jimin is probably right. If you didn’t love him back, you wouldn’t have let him come back into your life. It only took a few months, a few dates and one trip to Busan, to ignite something again. 

Even after seven years. Because deep down, Jungkook will always have a special place in your heart. Just like you in his. You’re meant to be. And it was written a long time ago already.

Jungkook reads your messages but doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn’t want to. But because he has to have that conversation with Hina first.He sleeps on the couch that night. At least he had a few perfect weeks with you.

That’s the only comfort he can afford right now. Jimin gives him space for that big conversation he’s about to have, dragging Kentaro out of the apartment.

Jungkook stares into his coffee, hands clasped tightly around the warm mug when Hina walks into the kitchen with a soft smile.

"Good morning," she says.

"Good morning," he replies, avoiding her eyes. She leans in for a kiss, but he gently pulls away. "Hina... I-I have something to tell you." He adds, stepping back to grab a mug for her.

Hina tilts her head curiously as she watches him pouring her a cup of coffee before setting it on the counter in front of her.

"Did something happen?" she asks, her voice laced with growing worry.

"I... I saw her."

Hina’s face falls. She knows exactly who he means. She’s heard every story, seen the pictures at his parents’ house. You’ve always been there, like a shadow, like a memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“I see.” Hina says, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding.

“I understand.” It’s all she manages to say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Hina has never had a problem living with the ghost of you hovering behind Jungkook. When she met him, they were two heartbroken souls trying to heal. She turned the page. He never did. And she knew that.

She envied the love he had for you. And a part of her always hoped… that one day, he might love her like that too.

“I love you,” she says, softly.

He pinches his lips together, staring down at his coffee. Silence hangs between them before he finally lifts his gaze.

“I love you too… but not in the same way.” He swallows, standing straighter. “Hina… I can’t marry you.”

His eyes fall on her as she’s silent, chewing the inside of her cheek. He wants to punch himself for hurting her. She doesn’t deserve what he’s putting her through.

“Hina—”

“I heard you.” She nods. “Does she love you back?”

“She does.” His voice is low. He looks like it’s physically hurting him to say this to the only genuinely good person he’s ever known.

“I’ll never be the one to stand in your way.” She takes his hand in hers. “If it’s meant to be, go. I want you to be happy.”

Jungkook gets up when he sees the tear fall from her cheek. He walks over and pulls her into a hug as she starts sobbing.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” His voice breaks as he tightens his arms around her.

Hina pulls back and looks at him as he gently wipes the tears from her cheek with his thumb. He feels horrible to hurt her. Jimin was right, if he did that earlier, he wouldn’t be here right now.

“I want you to find someone who’ll love you… completely.” Jungkook says as she nods, sniffing. “That person isn’t me. If I marry you, I’ll always think of her. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you… Jungkook.” She whispers, looking down. “And I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you.”

He wants to say she’s wrong. That he’s just a coward who cheated on his fiancée with his first love because he can’t keep his dick in his pants. But this isn’t the time to make it about him, and he knows he’d look even more like a narcissistic asshole if he talked about himself right now. So he stays silent. 

“Well,” Hina takes a deep breath, wiping her cheeks. “I’m here for five more days. I’m probably asking too much, but can I… at least have you for that time?”

“W-What?” Jungkook blinks.

“Not as your fiancée. Just… as your friend.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. She should hate him, but instead she wants to make the most of the days they have left.

“You did promise to show me Seoul,” she adds with a sad smile.

“I did.” He gives her a soft look.

“She’s lucky to be loved by you,” Hina says again, then hesitates. “I, uh… I’ll move my things out of your room—”

“No. Stay. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Jungkook insists. “You’re not going to spend your last days here stuck in Jimin’s living room.”

She nods. And maybe Jungkook is the lucky one—for having known someone like Hina at all.

“Do you think we’ll still be friends after I go back to Tokyo?” she asks quietly, playing with the spoon in her coffee.

“Do you… want that?” Jungkook frowns. “I disrespected you. I cheated on you. Lied to you.”

Hina chuckles softly, her fingers caressing the wood of the counter as she takes a deep breath.

“I won’t lie, I’m a little upset that she came back in your life. But I also understand that you love her. You were still healing when we met. I knew what I was walking into when I fell for you.” Hina explains as Jungkook nods.

He looks down at his mug, guilt crushing him.

“But… thank you,” she adds, voice barely above a whisper. “For not letting me be the other woman.”

That hits him hard. Because she could’ve been. So easily.

“Maybe… if she hadn’t come back, you would’ve moved on. Maybe it would’ve faded with time,” Hina adds, chewing her bottom lip.

He doesn’t agree. Not even a little. Because he never forgot you—even before seeing you again at Hyesun’s wedding. He had actually hoped never to meet you again. Because he knew. He knew he could never erase you from his memory. You were, and still are, the love of his life—now and forever. And Hina couldn’t change a thing.

You were never going to fade. Not from his skin, not from his bones.

“I need to call her now… to… explain.” Jungkook says simply, exhaling deeply before leaving the kitchen.

He knows Hina is probably still watching him. Raking a nervous hand through his hair, he grabs his phone and starts pacing in Jimin’s room. He sits on the edge of the bed, thumb between his teeth, praying, just a little, that you won’t pick up.

But you do.

And he hears your voice—slightly breathless like you were waiting for his call and ran to your phone, slightly worried.

“Kook? Why didn’t you reply to my texts? I tried to—”

“Nabi…” he murmurs, and you go quiet. He can feel your silence in his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls and texts. I had something going on here, and—”

“Is everything alright?” you cut him off gently. “Are you okay?”

“I am. Please, don’t worry about me,” he says, wishing he could just teleport into your arms and kiss the worry off your face. “I’m okay. Just… yeah.”

He presses his palm against his face. Hina was the easier part. You… you're going to be the hardest truth he’ll ever have to face.

“Do you want me to come?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head instinctively, as if you’re standing right in front of him.

“No. I’ll be back at the end of the week. I just… I have something I need to finish here.” His voice drops. “Nabi… I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

“What?”

“Just… trust me.”

Silence.

“Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you whisper. He wonders what you’re doing. Are you sitting? Standing? Crying?

“Don’t worry, okay? It’s nothing. Really,” he lies, swallowing his own guilt. “I love you, Nabi.” His voice cracks. “I just wanted you to know.”

And before you can say anything before he can hear something that might break him further, he hangs up.

You only just found each other again. You haven’t said it back yet, and with the way things are now, he doesn’t want to hear it. Not like this. Not when he knows he still has a storm to confess. He doesn’t want to break his heart harder once he’ll tell you the truth.

When he steps out of the room, Kentaro and Jimin are unpacking groceries. Hina’s still sitting at the counter. Silent. Like she has been all day. Jungkook sinks into the stool next to her and feels the weight of everything crash back down. But he knows that he’s the only one to blame. Jimin glances a few times in his direction, without saying anything.

The rest of the afternoon blurs. He dissociates, barely notice when Kentaro put a beer in his hand. His brain is somewhere between regret and memory. Somewhere between your laugh and Hina crying in his arms.

The sound of Kentaro’s voice yanks him back.

“Why do you look like someone just died?” he groans playfully, tossing a pillow at Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook blinks, barely registering.

“You’ve got your fiancée, your best friends, and you still look like you’re on another planet.”

He is. He’s on your couch, in your arms, watching some dumb drama with you and stealing glances every time you laugh.

“Sorry.” He sighs, rubbing his face and taking a sip of the beer.

“Let’s play a game!” Kentaro suggests.

“We’re not in college anymore,” Jimin groans, playfully shoving him.

“So? You’re not fifty or something either.” Kentaro replies, pushing him back in return.

The doorbell rings.

Jungkook doesn’t flinch. His eyes stay fixed on the droplets sliding down his bottle. Jimin gets up. Hina squeezes his hand, still trying to be the gentle one. He doesn’t deserve her kindness.

Then he hears you.

“Where is he?”

You sound breathless. Worried. Urgent.

“Y/N—” Jimin starts, but you’re already through the living room.

You freeze.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch. Hina’s beside him. Her hand is on his. Her other hand rests on his back. And when your eyes lock on his, the world stops.

“Hello?” Kentaro raises a brow.

“I came here as soon as the shop closed,” you say, voice tight, eyes darting between their hands and Jungkook’s blank face. “I thought something was wrong. I thought you needed me.”

“Y/N…” Jungkook breathes, getting to his feet, panic crawling up his throat.

You take in the setting: half-finished beers, snacks, music humming in the background. It’s not the emergency you pictured when he said he couldn’t see you until the end of the week.

“So you’re here, partying with your friends?” you ask, your tone sharper now. “That’s why you couldn’t see me?” You step closer. “Cuddling with… who are you?”

Hina stands up, understanding who you are without being told.

Jungkook’s brain short-circuits. He wanted to tell you this...not like this. Not with everyone watching.

“We weren’t—” Hina starts.

“Of course you weren’t,” you cut sarcastically, shaking your head.

“Nabi…” Jungkook reaches for your arm.

You step back.

“Wait. The Nabi?” Kentaro stares like he’s seen a ghost. “You're the Nabi?”

You frown at his words like they’re absurd, and yet Kentaro is staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost. Of course, all of Jungkook’s friends know who you are, even the ones you’ve never met. Jungkook can feel the dominoes falling.

“Can we talk in private?” he asks, gently, stepping toward you.

You’re trying so hard not to explode. You want—need—to believe there’s a logical explanation. That you misunderstood. That this isn’t betrayal, not really.

“Are you okay with that?” Kentaro asks, worried for his friend, as Hina who widens her eyes and shakes her head for him to not say too much. “What? You’re his fiancée after all.”

Your brows widen, your gaze falling on the other woman in the room, right behind Jungkook. Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes.

“Fiancée?” You repeat. Your gaze whips from Hina to Jungkook. “Fiancée?”

And just when Kentaro opens his mouth, Jungkook raises his voice.

“Shut your fucking mouth, man. For God sakes!” Jungkook snaps making Kentaro freezes.

It’s the first time that his friend sees him explode like that.

Jungkook knows that Kentaro is loud, it’s not his fault. He’s not aware of the situation here. He doesn’t even know half of the story.

“Y/N…” Jungkook says your name in a breath as he takes a step to you, taking your hand. “Let me explain—”

“Explain what?” you hiss, yanking your hand from his. He sees that you’re connecting dots in your head. “That story about your friend juggling two girls? That was you, wasn’t it?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“I knew something smelled off,” you laugh bitterly. “But I told myself, ‘Jungkook would never.’” You glare. “And yet… here we are.”

Jungkook’s heart clenches at your words, and he swallows hard. His throat is so dry he almost coughs, though he’s not sure if it’s a cough or a cry he swallowed in that moment. The look on your face right now is exactly what he tried to avoid. But deep down, he knew that with all the shit he did, it was only a matter of time.

“And you’re okay with it?” You turn to Hina, who takes a deep breath, her eyes dropping to the floor like she’s intimidated by you, and Jungkook can understand why. “I can’t believe it,” you say, letting a dry chuckle escape your throat as you take a step back.

Jungkook is bleeding his emotions through every pore. His skin burns. His throat aches. He can’t breathe.

“You should dump him. In that story, he said you were just someone ‘special.’ Someone you’re about to marry shouldn’t think so little of you.”

Jungkook’s eyes fall on his thumb, which he’s nervously scratching, ripping the skin next to his nail until it bleeds.

“He played both of us.” You shake your head, grabbing your bag from the floor. “Don’t try to contact me ever again,” you spit at Jungkook before turning your back and walking to the door.

Jungkook takes a tentative step forward, but he’s stopped when the door is kicked closed. He’s torn between apologizing again to Hina, showing her the respect she deserves, and running after you. But when his eyes meet Hina’s, she gives him a small nod, silently telling him to go after you.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispers to Hina, not waiting for anyone’s reaction as he rushes to the door.

He stops at the elevator, jabbing the button with shaky fingers. You’re probably already inside. His mind races—no, panics—and he doesn’t waste a second before sprinting to the stairs.

Jungkook catches your arm just in time, right before you reach the front door of the building.

“Nabi, let me explain,” he pants, out of breath.

You push him away and keep walking, stepping out into the night.

“I’m not with her anymore!” he shouts, chasing after you.

“I should give you a medal, then,” you snap, yanking your car door open. But before you can get inside, he slams it shut, trapping you between him and the car.

“Get off.”

“Y/N,” he pleads, steadying his breath. “I’m not letting you go until you let me explain.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, probably hard enough to taste blood. Your arms cross tightly under your chest, and Jungkook exhales shakily. You're not walking away. You’re angry. But you’re listening. That flicker of hope nearly kills him.

He reaches out to touch your arm, then stops himself. You don’t want him touching you. Not right now.

“You’re the only one I want, Y/N,” he says softly. It sounds more like a beg than a declaration.

“You played on two boards, Jungkook.” Your voice is cold. “You lied to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He swallows hard. “But that wasn’t what I wanted. None of this—”

“What?” you cut him off. “Sleeping with me? Or asking her to marry you?”

You try to open the door again. He blocks it.

“Shit, Y/N, listen to me.” His voice raises instinctively. Your eyes widen. He instantly backpedals. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

His tone softens.

“Nabi…” He gently cups your face to make you look at him. “Have I ever made you doubt that I love you?”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, nothing exists but the two of you.

Then you shake your head slowly. No...he’s never made you doubt that.

He never hid that you were his entire heart.

“I never thought I’d see you again after you left. I tried to move on, date others... but fuck, Y/N. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to marry. You know that.” He swallows. “When I saw you at Hyesun’s wedding... I didn’t even think. I had to. Because our story wasn’t over. We both knew it.”

Your eyes close briefly like his words cut too deep.

“But that girl,” you take a deep breath, reopening your eyes. “She was still your fiancée. Maybe not now, but she was—when you asked me out. When we kissed. When we fucked.” You gesture wildly; your voice full of fire.

Jungkook sighs, his head falling forward as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Things got out of control. I hurt both of you, I know. That was never what I wanted.” His voice breaks. “I was just so fucking happy to have you back, I lost sight of what I needed to do. I should’ve broken up with her the second I realized it. Wherever you are, I’ll be there too. That I will never love anyone the way I love you.”

You shut your eyes. It’s too much. You feel it, he knows you do. But will that be enough?

“Please, Y/N. Forgive me. I fixed it. I swear. I told her everything—I’m with you. Only you.”

Jungkook sees the way you take a step back, bumping into your car. His stomach drops.

“I don’t date cheaters,” you say quietly, lifting your chin. “You should’ve never come back into my life, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Y/N…” he breathes, taking a step back like your words physically knock him down.

“You think because you broke up with her recently, I’m just going to smile and open my bed to you again?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re a fucking liar. A narcissist who thought he could have both. What was I, huh? A side chick?”

“How could you say that?” Jungkook frowns looking at you, rolling your eyes. “I’ve never treated you as a ‘side chick’. You were never that to me. Never. Fuck, Y/N. What should I do to prove to you that I’m genuine about my feelings for you?”

He watches as your gaze drops, your jaw tight. A tear slips from your eye, trailing down your cheek.

“Disappear from my life.” You reply with difficulty before wiping your cheek angrily with the sleeve of your jacket.

“No…” He shakes his head, his view blurring slowly. “You can’t ask me that.”

You take a deep breath, pulling your car door open again. He grabs your wrist—not hard, but desperate. This conversation isn’t over for him. He wants to fix everything; he wants to go back to how perfect you two were a few days ago.

“Let go.” You warn making him frown. “Let go, or I’ll punch you. I’m not kidding.”

Jungkook’s hand fall back on his side at your words. Not because he fears your punch. But because he fears your hate more than anything else in this world. He watches your car drive off, the red of your taillights disappearing down the street.

And even though his heart is in ruins, he clings to one thing: This isn’t the end. You both just need time to cool down. He just got you back. he’s not going to let you go. Not again.

< previous - MASTERLIST - next >

WATTPAD.

[hongjoongspoetry]

ajhbdajhsbfjahdfja this was absolutely amazing, gosh the emotions I went through reading this, I hope though all my thoughts and comments makes sense cuz I'm dead tired from work as I'm writing this (apologies in advance if some of it doesn't make sense😅)

Girl you have nothing to apologise for. Never did I once expect someone to write a bible-lengthy "review" on one of my fics, but im so fucking here for it!!

First of all what a cool but also kinda scary concept of having a metal chip in your arm which showcases how much in danger your soulmate is in!! And the name?! Soulometer!! That's such a good name for it!!

Now that I think about it, I could easily have made it into a horror story instead- Thank you for the lovely comment, imo, I thought "soulometer" sounded silly but I couldn't come up with anything better 😭🩷

Not the mc having Hongjoongs laugh as her ring tone💀 but also lowkey iconic of her to just let it be and own it even if it means she might be put in some awkward situations from time to time when her phone rings.

AHAHAHAHAAH personally, id never do that. considering we both are from sweden, imagine if you were on the bus and hongjoong's maniac laugh just rings out during rush hour- I swear on my cat, I'd make the bus stop and then throw myself in front of it 😭🤭

The light bickering between her and Hongjoong as they speak while she's on her way home made me chuckle because it feels so natural and fun. They kinda sound like me and my friends when we text each other😅

Sidenote: Reading your reblog made me realize just how much value I put in creating "a good" friendship for my characters. BUT DUDE IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR MY DIALOGUES ARE SOUNDING SOMEWHAT NATURAL AND REAL. Creating a good and realistic dialogue has been one of my biggest "weaknesses" when it comes to writing, as I tend to want everything to be perfect. and we all know real life dialogues are far from perfect, considering incorrect grammar, usage of words and flow is being used in a convo. so thank you so much for saying that 🥹

Another thing, I literally live for your reaction memes 😭 They fit so well into every scenario you wanna comment or thought you wanna share 🙂‍↕️

"[...] A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue." The last sentence🥺😭 it's like the both of them can't believe that the other one is there. I think it's clear from the way Mingi is reacting to her being in front of him that this was not something he had planned. Not even sure he knew it was her place he was in front of... Oh I also get the vibe that despite her not wanting to see him her feelings are conflicting with each other, like a raging storm within which cannot decide which way to go.

I love that your vibe/gut feeling is correct! Fate (literally) and the magic sprinkle of the soulmate bond brought them together 😈 Like they can't avoid each other forever, and Mingi knows that, obviously, but the MC thinks everything is just a coincidence 🤭

I do believe a part of her is relieved to see him hence why she invites him in to her home. Because even when you're sometimes furious at someone who hurt you in the past you might still be yearning to know they're okay, thoughts floating to them from time to time as you might reminisce on the past. I do believe both of them have been doing that from time to time even if one of them might not admit to doing it.

YES! And pair that off with the fact that they are soulmates. They are literally born to be together (whether it's romantic or platonic). They are the one song stuck in their minds that they can't stop hearing in their heads, no matter what. Their meetings are inevitable and all of their choices would lead up to them meeting again. So the MC inviting Mingi to her apartment, was both her own doing but also an invincible pull from the soulmate bond.

HAHAHAHAH I CANT GET OVER THE BLUSHY MEME PICTURES- WHY DOES THE POKEMON LOOK SO FREAKING MISCHEVIOUS AFKHAEKF

And the thumb on his lips moment!! Excuse me while I go giggle a bit to myself before composing myself lol🤭💓

The thumb on the lip moment is an event that lives rent free in my mind. Like it can either be a perfectly good move or a disatser 😭 But I love to use it 😈

I also am getting the vibes here that Mingi is not over her at all, mc might be closer to letting him go but Mingi is giving me the vibes that he truly never forgot about her and wants a relationship again but is unsure of how to proceed or how to even mend what has been broken in the past, you know.

Yeah, Mingi never really forgot about her. Like she was the one that got away and he has literally no one to blame but himself. And it takes so much on him because he knows they are destined for each other. As much as it hurts him to be selfless, it also hurts him to be selfish and "keep" her with him... my mingi 😔

Not Jongho and Wooyoung distracting her with all kinds of antics����😭 but also those two are like the best combination of distraction because Jongho tries at first to gauge and see if she wants to talk and when the answer is no he immediately goes on to distract her in different ways together with Wooyoung. Like what do you mean Wooyoung slid her a package of gummies before sprinting out of her office?!😭 that's adorable and would get anyone in a better mood🥺💕

Wooyoung would literally KILL for his friends, so I just had to include him here. And Jongho, even if hes the youngest in the group, I feel like hed go over and beyond to help his members/other people he keeps close to his heart. And if that's not enough, what better combo than two menaces 😭 I also feel like we don't get to see Jongho be included, even if hes a "side character", and I really enjoy writing Jongho whether its his fic or not.

*sniff* he cares so much about her, he even got her tangerines😭 and PEELED ONES AT THAT?! 😩💓 he loves her so much like that's true love right there, even as a teen the fact that he took his time to get her her favorite fruit cuz she didn't eat lunch and then go on and peel it and make sure it's completely "naked" with no white parts and all of that jazz. It's acts of service like this that imo shows how much someone really cares and in this instant I feel like Mingi cares so much about her, probably memorizing small details like this one. Eg. he could have just given her the tangerine and not done anything more than that but no he knew her preferences and decided to make sure it was the way she liked it before giving it to her to eat.

"HE NEVER FORGOT ABOUT THE TANGERINES!!!!" I scream as they drag me to the dungeon. No, but fr, that would be my sign to return to my ex, boxing or no boxing. Listen, everyone, get yourself a partner like Mingi who pays attention to the smallest of details and who actually listens to you.

That must have been so terrifying, realizing that first of all your ex boyfriend and potentially first love is your soulmate and then realizing if you don't do anything now you'll potentially loose him forever if the soulometer is anything to go by. Sprinting as fast as you can as the world is probably moving in slow-motion as you hope you won't be too late in body slamming your soulmate so the car won't hit him. What a scary feeling that must be and oh so overwhelming with everything hitting you at once.

Literally imagine you find your soulmate and are on the brink of losing them in the same SECOND. Bro, I fear I'd never recover mentally. Like id be gone- And if it wasn't a fluff event, believe me Mingi would've died then and there. Just because im a menace who loves angst. But that's not related to this rn AHAHAHH. but yes, I really tried to explain the panic and fear the MC was in while trying to save her soulmate, and I hope I did at least convey some of it :3

And Mingi making sure to protect her with his hand protecting her head and the other one going around her waist to make sure she won't hit the ground too hard🥺

One thing about me I will always write gentleman!teez. I believe in gentleman!teez supremacy til the day I die and no one can convince me otherwise.

I'M GOING THROUGH IT HERE😭😭 Mina how can you do this to me😭 I need them both to never get into a single bad situation ever again I don't think my heart could take it💔

IM SO SORRY ESTHER!!! 😭 (muhahahahehehhehehe😈😈😈)

SO HE DID KNOW😭

HE KNEW ALL THIS TIME!!!! DOESNT THAT MAKE EVERYTHING HURT TEN TIMES MORE

oh boy... mc is so valid in her anger but I'm so conflicted because Mingi obviously loves her so much so he must have a good reason as to why he didn't tell her. Perhaps he felt as if he was only hurting her and that she didn't deserve to be with someone who only made her worry and get upset but at the same time that's not something he gets to decide all on his own without telling her first...

bro... did you like hack into my google documents planner? because why the hell have u been correct in every theory?? What is this sorcery????

asking shyly for permission to kiss someone is one of the best tropes to ever exist😌💕✨

On god, I don't even want a kiss if the other party doesn't ask like a lil nerd... LIKE YES OFC KISS ME DAMMIT KHFWKEJF

I'm in shambles at the ending😭 what a perfect ending to their story Minaaa😭😭💓💓 this was so good, so amazing the tension, the past coming back, the love between them and the way they care so deeply even if there is anger between them. ughhhh just everything 💗 Honestly just amazing spectacular and just everything you'd need in a soulmate au🥰

Thank you so much Esther. For reading and taking the time to write everything down. From your thoughts to the amazing pictures. I honestly can't thank you enough and I don't even deserve you 🩷🥹

Sparks and Bruises | Song Mingi

🥊 Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

🥊 Pairing(s): Underground boxer!Mingi x Real estate agent!Reader, brief Hongjoong x Seonghwa

🥊 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, second chance AU, fluff, exes to friends to lovers, angst (more than what I planned on)

🥊 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), reader is allergic to peanuts so go with it for the plot, brief description of bruises and cuts, explicit language, crying, kissing, car accident, pet names (love, sugar, sweets), mentioned hospital, flashbacks, not beta read

🥊 Wordcount: 12.5K

🥊 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). I just got off work (it's like 10 pm here), so I'm super tired and can barely keep my eyes open. Anyway, this is the last instalment of the Cherry Blossom March Event and while I'm sad it's over, I'm also happy because now I can focus on finishing my other stories!! A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their day to read, leave notes and comments on my works <3 Btw I am no real estate agent and everything you read in this fic is based on excessive research (which could very well be wrong).

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of minor injuries as well as matures themes. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard

The arrow inside the plate on your wrist, no bigger than a lighter, irregularly traveled back and forth, going from one end of the meter to the other. For some, it would be worrisome and  concerning, but for you, it was the opposite. You had yet to meet your soulmate. The person responsible for the occasional spike in your soulometer — the metal chip showing how much danger your soulmate was in. A mandatory procedure ordered by the government a couple of decades ago, probably one of the dumbest things the rulers of the world ever implemented into society.

“We have thought it over and… We’ll sign the contract!”

You were startled as the couple attending your showing returned from their not-so-private discussion on the other side of the kitchen. The faceless person you were supposedly destined to be with — as much as a machine could decide your destiny — occupied your thoughts more often than not, even while at work.

You put on your million-dollar smile and clasped your hands together. “Perfect. Shall we set a date for you to sign the papers then?”

The couple was expecting and in need of a bigger place than their flat, which could barely fit the two of them. After many buts and ifs, the newly wed pair eagerly agreed and a date was set. You didn’t usually have showings late into the night, but considering the husband worked early mornings until late evenings, and the wife wanted him to be present, you made an exception. Money was money, after all, and you were always in need of it.

Declining their offer to drive you home, you bid the happy couple goodbye and locked up after yourself. The apartment wasn’t too far from your place and you didn't think it would be necessary to order a cab for a ten minute walk despite it being quite late. The stiletto heels you decided to wear that morning made it feel like thirty instead and you quickly regretted being a cheapskate. Why did you have to make your life more insufferable than it already was? You only needed the sky to open up and let a waterfall of rain seep down on Seoul. At least you were smart enough to wear pants and a turtleneck instead of a dress or skirt. Despite it being late March where flowers decorated the bland parks and the trees grew out their long-awaited hair again, it felt like the start of winter. 

“This is what you get for listening to Iggy Azalea,” you hissed to yourself as a familiar burn spread through your pinky toes and the back of your feet.

A crazed laughter cut through the chilly air and you automatically reached for the phone in your purse. Setting the ringtone as your best friend’s giggle was a good idea when you were still in high school and just recently turned eighteen. It wasn’t as fun when you were a woman of twenty-something-something years old with an image to uphold and your face plastered on a few boards all through town with your phone number scribbled beneath in big, bold font followed by a text literally begging people to reach out. You swore to change it every time someone called, but the thought always got lost in the shuffle of your other hundred tasks waiting to be done.

You braced yourself for it to be another client calling in the dead of night, but it turned out to be one of your saved contacts. Swiping right and putting the phone up to your ear, you answered with a tired, “Hello.”

“Finally! She answers!”

“Some of us still have work, Hongjoong. Do you know how many times I had to apologize for my ringtone?”

The identical maniac laugh recorded into your phone years ago, erupted from the device and you rolled your eyes. 

“And yet you never change it. After all these years, you still have my voice as your ringtone… That’s quite romantic.”

“Watch it or I’ll have a wild Park come for my head.”

“Seonghwa would never do that.” You let the line fall silent and Hongjoong could hear your pointed look on the other side. “Okay, he probably would. Where are you anyways?! I can hear cars in the background.”

So the bass boosted headphones hadn’t ruined his hearing yet. All those times he ignored you were on purpose then. Good to know.

“I’m on my way home from work. Had a showing a few minutes ago and it went well actually.”

Another voice accompanied Hongjoong on the other line, but you couldn’t quite make out the words. 

“Seonghwa is scolding you for not calling one of us to drive you home and I have to agree with him, sprout. It’s not safe to be out this late.”

The nickname sent you down memory lane dating all the way back to middle school, when you and Hongjoong were the shortest kids in class but didn’t let that hinder you from showing off your talents and wits. Hongjoong a smart kid who excelled in everything from math to musical history while you burned everyone in debates, presentations, speeches, basically anything relate to public speaking. Hence your choice of profession.

“I know, but it really slipped my mind and it’s not even that far from my flat, I promise. Like I’m almost there, just a few more minutes. I can practically see the building lights from here.”

“Good. Stay with me on the call until you enter though. Now, let me tell you about this guy who tried to steal my laptop…”

If he could, Hongjoong would have talked for hours which was quite rare. The man was usually drained from being cooped up in his studio all day, running on zero sleep and five iced coffees. It was in fact how you became friends. 

The kid with round chipmunk cheeks and a menacing smile approached the girl sitting in the back of the class, not making a peep. Hongjoong kicked up a conversation by complimenting the pink bows in your hair — a little detail none of your other classmates had noticed, let alone found them pretty — and offering you a peanut butter cookie that you sadly had to decline because of your allergies. Instead of ending the interaction at your meek thank you, Hongjoong took it as an official proposition of becoming friends. Seven year old Hongjong refused to go back to his seat and even nearly threw a tantrum in class, leaving the homeroom teacher with no other choice than to make you seatmates. 

You and Hongjoong quickly became a duo. Wherever you went, he followed. It marked the start of a long lasting friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“...Can you imagine that?! He grabbed my stuff and proceeded to lie straight to my face!”

You hummed into the phone at his rambling. A smile graced your face as you neared your apartment building, but disappeared quickly. Hongjoong’s voice became background noise as you slowed down. A figure dressed in all black and a hood thrown over their head sat at the doorsteps. Both arms planted on their knees and head shoved into the palms of their hands. The person was on the taller side and looked quite buff beneath the baggy clothes. You didn’t recognize them as one of your neighbours, but the swooping feeling in your stomach hinted on something else. 

Not heeding Hongjoong’s previous warning of being cautious, you decided to approach the stranger. The clicking of your heels interrupted the peaceful silence of the night and the person immediately looked in your direction. Sharp and angry eyes met yours, and the furious spark swirling in them morphed into surprise. Your heart jumped in your throat as you recognized the person. Of all the people in the world, you certainly didn’t expect to find him at your doorstep.

“Hongjoong? I’ll have to call you back.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Nothing– Or well, something, but nothing dangerous– I’ll just call you back okay?”

“...You sure?”

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.” 

You quickly pressed the red button and lowered your phone. The man was still staring at you, the fear that his imagination was playing a trick on him lingering. That if he looked away, you’d disappear from his line of sight.

Sweat spread along your palms and your pulse was loud in your ears as you walked up to the man.

“Mingi?” 

He scrambled up to his feet and took hold of the railing with one hand while the other pressed against his left rib and a surprised wince slipped through his lips. 

“Long time no see, huh?”

Your eyes darted all over him. Red and blue blemishes covered almost the entire surface of his face and trickles of sweat ran down the side of his face. You didn’t want to think what hid beneath his clothes. 

The last time you saw him was all the way back in high school. A scrawny boy with legs for days, but the coordination of a newborn foal and a smile that lit up your world. The man before you grew into his big features and lost the youthful look. The pointy nose and plump lips were still there, but accompanied by prominent cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a piercing gaze and a chiseled face that wasn’t the shape of a triangle. His hair, once black and short, was now a dark shade of brown and longer than ever, reaching below his nape and bangs falling over his brows. A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue. 

Ignoring the bitterness pooling in your stomach, you decided to keep the conversation civil. A stark contrast to how your last encounter went. 

”Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, no, I was on my way home, but just needed to sit down…”

You weren’t going to pry despite clearly seeing he was anything but alright. If he didn’t want to tell you, who were you to force him? 

Offering him a light smile, you tried keeping the tone light. “What are the odds of you sitting on my doorstep, huh?” 

“Yeah… How long has it been since…”

“Four? Five? Five years.”

Mingi whistled lowly and a silence occupied the street. Everyone decided to stay in as no cars or other people lingered around. You wouldn’t say it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you didn’t know what to do. Leaving him out in the cold wasn’t an option, but inviting him didn’t sound right either. After a long fight between your brain and heart, you decided to listen to the beating organ in your chest.

“Wanna… come up? To my apartment.”

Mingi looked up at you through his fringe and the soft roundness to his eyes teleported you back to high school. Keeping your composure, you hastily added on to the sentence.

“T-To, to clean up and maybe have something to eat?”

Had someone asked you five years ago what you’d say to Mingi if the opportunity presented itself, you surely wouldn’t have invited him to your home or offered him a free meal. The most he’d get out of you would be a one-finger salute. Fast forward one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days and Mingi was lent a helping hand instead. It was enough time for you to mature into a more rational woman who could, for better or for worse, put her feelings aside and think with her brain. 

Mirrors surrounded the entire inside of the elevator, even on the doors, and you held back from laughing at the reflection. There couldn’t have been an odder pair than you two. Mingi, dressed in all black with colorful blotches decorating his intimidating face, and you, wearing designer from head to toe. Even your bags were opposites — his a dingy gym bag that was a thread away from falling apart and yours from the recent Louis Vuitton collection. It was quite a funny look, but not a bone in your body vibrated with glee.

As the elevator doors closed and the mechanism carried you up the many flights of stairs, the reality dawned upon you. A multitude of questions you hadn’t thought of before inviting Mingi inside popped up like mosquitoes during summer nights — annoying, but unavoidable. The poor attempt of convincing yourself it was just a kind gesture, a friend helping a friend, you couldn’t shoo away the nagging fact that nothing of your and Mingi’s past was platonic. Shame and guilt curled in the pit of your stomach. Knowing your soulmate was out there somewhere, probably waiting for you, while you were cozying up to a man who wasn’t meant to be yours in the first place was sickening. 

The ding of your arrival sounded through the speakers and you quickly went first with Mingi hot on your heels. Unlocking your front door, you threw the keys in a bowl the shape of a fish — a housewarming gift from Hongjoong — and stripped your outerwear. It was first when you put your stuff aside that you realized Mingi was still standing by the door and hadn’t moved since crossing the threshold. The man was shamelessly taking in his surroundings and you wondered what he thought of your apartment. Was it to his liking? Did it suit you? Did he like it? Why did you care?

“Uhm, you can just hang your stuff here,” you gestured to the coat rack mounted to the wall, “while I get dinner ready.”

You didn’t wait around to see him subtly nod, instead you made an escape to the safety of your kitchen. It was weird having Mingi over. It was weird being civil to one another. The tension was still there since your last encounter, like static in the air that wouldn’t really go away. The soft pad of feet grew louder and you threw a look over your shoulder to see Mingi in the doorway, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes darting all over the place. Aside from his appearance, it seemed that his habits hadn’t changed — good as bad — but it wasn’t your place to pry. Not anymore.

“Is it alright if I… wash up now?”

A heat crawled up your neck and attacked your cheeks. “Y–Yeah, of course!” You cleared your throat and continued, “The bathroom is on the left of the hallway and there are towels in the cupboard above the washing machine.”

Mingi nodded, but didn’t budge from his spot. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and leaned against the doorframe to take on a relaxed posture, yet he looked anything but relaxed.

“I… I– Uhm, don’t… I kinda don’t have a spare set of clothes to change into…”

“Oh… Oh!”

“Yeah,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth, a low hiss escaping as he tried to ignore the stiff atmosphere. 

“That’s alright! I think I have something you can use. Uhm, you can start washing up while I see what I can do.”

Rummaging through your closet for your brother’s clothes to lend Mingi wasn’t something you ever imagined doing in all your years of living, but here you were. Hunched over, searching like a madwoman for an extra hoodie and some basketball shorts or a pair of sweatpants that wouldn’t be too small on the giant currently occupying your bathroom. Your brother had been in your apartment a grand total of three times and by some stroke of luck, he’d left behind clothes he thought might come in handy for his next visit. Who knew they’d be useful for more than just that? 

You didn’t find a hoodie, but you did spot a black compression shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants that would have to do. You just hoped they wouldn’t be too tight. To be on the safe side, you even snagged one of your brother’s boxers. It was one thing to share clothes and another thing to share underwear, but if you got to choose, you’d happily accept the fresh pair instead of reusing your sweaty undies. The choice was up to Mingi in the end. With the clothes neatly folded in your hands, you marched toward the bathroom and triple knocked on the door.

“Uh, I found some clothes you can use!”

The harsh drops of the shower abruptly stopped and you patiently waited for a response, but nothing came. You raised your hand, fingers balled into a fist, and as you swung it forward to knock again, the door suddenly opened. A cloud of steam escaped from the hot bathroom and Mingi’s very naked body appeared in the slight opening. His stomach was a perfect display of muscle, each of the six abs sculpted like marble. You would’ve ogled longer hadn’t the raspberry and plum colored blemishes covered a huge part of his toned skin. His hair dripped on the tiled floor and a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips. The warmth tickling your whole body evaporated into a numbing cold at the bruises. Swallowing nervously, you forced your eyes back up. 

Mingi flicked his head sideways to move the wet strands from his face and his tongue darted out to lap at his dry lips, a motion you followed attentively. The raise of his brow, a silent question urging you to speak up, had you stumbling over your words.

“S–So, I... I, uh, found something you can… change into!” 

The clothes were thrust harshly into his bare chest, and Mingi nearly dropped the towel in order to catch them. Before he could utter so much as a "thanks," you bolted back to the kitchen and whipped out leftovers from last night. Anything to keep you busy and distracted from the jaw-dropping image that refused to leave you alone. Mingi eventually joined you in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside the stove, where you guarded the kimchi stew from overheating, and crossed his arms over his chest. The already prominent muscles grew more defined beneath the tight fabric. It was difficult to ignore his gaze peering down at you, and you couldn’t decide if your cheeks flared from a natural bodily reaction or from the heat of the stove.

The circular table behind you was already set, with a pair of utensils and plates aligned opposite each other. You removed the pot and placed it in the center of the table, silently beckoning Mingi to take a seat. His hair was still wet, but not dripping and despite wearing clothes, you couldn’t muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. The late dinner was done in a deafening silence interrupted by the clink of utensils and lip smacking. Not able to bear the thickness in the air, you cleared your throat and asked the first thing to pop up in your mind. 

“Um… do you... want me to treat your bruises?” 

The confidence you spent years mastering and using in your daily life deflated like a dramatic balloon flying around the room until it fell limply on the floor. Mingi was mid shoving food into his mouth and froze as soon as the words reached his ears. His lips were parted enough for you to catch a glimpse of his slightly crooked front tooth and a wave of nostalgia hit you square in the nose. The man before you had changed so much, yet not at all.

Mingi took a bite of the kimchi and rice to buy himself time to think your proposal over. It wasn’t a bad shout as you did have experience treating his wounds considering you were the one tending to him back in high school. He slowly chewed and swallowed, and you were starting to regret ever opening your mouth.

“Sure,” he answered while giving his full attention to the bowl of stew before him and you  couldn’t have been more relieved. He didn’t have to see the way you bit the inside of your cheek, tightly gripped your spoon or raised your brows to your hairline.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and for once, you didn’t care if it wrapped around your throat and suppressed the air from entering your lungs. This was all so surreal. There wasn’t a day where you thought you’d be eating left-over kimchi stew with your ex-boyfriend and then agree to treat his wounds — the thing that drove you apart all those years ago. The universe worked in a funny way. Instead of bringing you closer to your soulmate, it led you straight to the past. 

Putting the bowls in the sink, you gestured for Mingi to return to the bathroom while you put away the dishes. It hadn’t dawned on you that by helping Mingi treat his wounds, you’d have to merge your personal bubbles into one and actually touch him, even if it was as much as a graze of your fingertips along his skin.

Rounding the corner of the hallway and stopping before the entrance to the bathroom with a medkit in your hands, you were caught off guard by the image before you. Mingi was seated on the toilet lid, hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs. You could see the top of his head — something you rarely did back in high school — as he faced the tiled floor. A swoop in your stomach urged you to run your fingers through his strands, but the impulse was quickly shut down. You stepped into the bathroom with feigned confidence. Mingi looked up as your sock-clad feet came into view, your big toes wiggling nervously. You placed the kit on the sink and grabbed the things you needed, starting with alcohol wipes. There wasn’t much you could do about the colored bruises already turning an ugly shade of yellow and purple, but the few cuts — like the one on his bottom lip and around his eyebrows — were easier to treat.

“This may sting,” you whispered, shuffling closer to him.

Mingi parted his legs to give you better access to his face. You put a finger beneath his chin and tilted it upward before gently dabbing the wipe against his brow ridge. A hiss filled the bathroom, but you didn’t stop cleaning the wound. Despite not being in this situation since high school, when Mingi would get his ass beat in the boxing ring and show up at your door with new cuts adorning his face every other weekend, you still remembered all the steps of the treatment. They were etched into your spine and controlled your limbs without a strain.

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows almost touching from how deeply furrowed they were and Mingi wanted to smooth out the skin between them, but did no such thing. Instead, he diverted his attention elsewhere and focused on your lips, which he’d argue was the worse choice of the two. Scooping a generous amount of ointment on a Q-tip, you dabbed it on the cut and finished it off with a small band-aid that smoothly blended in with his hue. You tried to put off treating his lips, but apparently even Mingi had a limit to how many punches to the face he could take, and you eventually had to bite the sour apple and just get it over with.

It had been silent since you warned him about the sting from the alcohol wipes, broken only by a few of his grunts and hisses. Yet, the silence never felt as loud as it did in that moment when you cupped his chin in your left hand and stared intently at his plump lips. A determined heat swirled in your eyes and Mingi couldn’t look away. It took everything in him not to instinctively bite down on his bottom lip or run his tongue over it.

“Relax your lips,” you said, brushing your thumb along the bottom row. 

You didn’t realize what you had done until a second later and Mingi couldn’t chuckle at your appalled expression, as he was equally frozen in place. Both of you were left wide-eyed, mouths hanging open and brains going haywire. A pleading sparkle glimmered in his dark eyes, but you refused to give in, keeping your focus on his lips — lips that were so kissable. Warmth washed over you and there was nothing you wanted more than for the ground to swallow you whole. The weight of his burning eyes was too heavy for you to bear, so you tried to redirect the attention by doing the one thing you did best — talking.

“Are you still fighting?”

It seemed to do the trick as Mingi broke out of the captivating spell. In an exhausted tone, the one you’d hear between a couple constantly bickering and reaching their end, he breathed out your name.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

You hastily applied the ointment and retracted your hand, but Mingi was faster. He grabbed your wrist, his thumb landing on the soulometer in the quick act and an electric crackle burst where your skin connected. A beat or two passed before he decided to speak up.

“I am fighting, just not as much… I kinda feel bad for my soulmate.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a faint smirk and a chuckle followed at his poor attempt of easing the awkward air.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you didn’t think it was possible for it to go any further from there, but hearing the rest of his sentence proved you wrong. Before the hollow feeling could reflect on your face, you forced the corners of your lips up in a fabricated smile. An identical smile to the one caught in a multiple of billboards all over Seoul. 

“I wish mine would do the same. They always seem to find themselves in some trouble.”

A thick gulp ventured down his throat and the shaking panic in his eyes morphed into a forced calm. “I’m sure if they knew you were this worried, they’d stop running headfirst into danger.”

Five years had passed since the soulometer was injected into your wrist, enough time for your soulmate to change their ways, to stop giving their other half constant fear every night. Yet, it wasn’t the distance or the lack of knowledge about each other’s lives that weighed on your heart. The true reason lay deeper — your soulmate simply didn’t care enough to stop or perhaps they lacked the means to break free from the dangerous path they’d chosen. It was never about being physically apart, but about the emotional distance — the helplessness of knowing that, despite everything, they continued to surround themselves with danger. You didn’t have the heart to confide in Mingi about it, to express the quiet ache you carried, because saying it aloud would mean admitting that the person you loved was still caught in a cycle they couldn’t escape, or didn’t want to. 

Truthfully, Mingi was also the last person you wanted to confide in about the matter.

“I guess so.”

The brief and accidental encounter with Mingi was supposed to stay a long lost media in your brain, cluttered together with other minor memories. That was what you told yourself as Mingi left your apartment, sweaty clothes in a trash bag and belly full of warm leftovers. The version of him you remembered from all those years ago still lived on in your imagination, the bitter note of how everything ended, a constant reminder as to why the encounter should just be that — short, consistent and insignificant. As the morning sun peeked from between the high buildings and the dark sky bleed out to a baby blue hue, you’d return to your everyday life of selling apartments while the dishwasher rinsed the memory of what occurred in the space of your four walls. 

The open PDF on the computer screen illuminated your face and the bazillion numbers would’ve been overwhelming if your mind wasn’t occupied by the thoughts of a certain man with feline-shaped eyes and annoyingly juicy lips. Whatever you did — drown yourself in work, spend time with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, try out the new restaurant in town — nothing was good enough to forget Song Mingi and that night. The situation just felt so right. A domestic reality you yearned for since you graduated high school and moved into your own flat. The wish to have someone by your side, to stuff your face in greasy food, stay up late at night and watch a plethora of rom-coms while cuddled up to them, and sleep until the sun was high in the sky. Mingi re-awakened those feelings you locked away in a chamber behind your heart.

A stack of papers fell on your desk with a thud and pulled you out of your wishful thinking. Jongho, your freakishly strong colleague, plopped down on a vacant plush sofa that was mainly there for clients to use while discussing potential deals.

“You excited to get drinks after work?” He asked, tugging on his perfectly made necktie.

You massaged your forehead, completely having forgotten about the collective outing you and your co-workers had every month. “Is that today?”

“Whoa, don’t tell me you, the most unforgettable person I know, forgot about our end-of-the-month-party!? Woo is gonna have a blast when I tell him!”

Jongho didn’t question your sudden loss of memory at first. The younger agent found the situation perfect for a round of teasing or perhaps even as future blackmail material. Concern flashed in his eyes when you made no attempt to defend your honor and instead buried the rest of your face in the palms of your hands.

“Hey… is everything… alright?”

“Yeah… No? I don’t know.” 

Something was really wrong because you were never tired. In fact, Jongho had never seen you without a smile or a spring in your step. You were always collected, whether it was your clothes, hair or mood. Fire alarms went off in his head and plans be damned if he didn’t at least try to figure out what was going on. It was easier said than done, though, because he didn’t know how to approach the topic and ended up sitting there with his mouth parted like a fish out of water. The overthinking was starting to trigger a headache, so he settled on the simplest, but hopefully, most effective question he could think of.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous. “I need to not think about it.”

A mischievous gummy smile spread across his face. “You just signed yourself up for regret, my dear friend.”

As you were about to ask to elaborate, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out for the biggest menace in the company.

“Wooyoung-ya!”

Albeit curious, the pair didn’t try to fish out context clues or the story behind your emotional state. Wooyoung lived up to Jongho’s promise of making you regret joining them for drinks and it didn't stop there. They both continuously visited your office throughout the rest of the shift. Wooyoung would nonchalantly enter the room as if he didn’t have anything up his sleeve, step up to the window and inspect the wilted plant burning up from being in the sunlight for too long, when he was actually throwing you curious glances from the corner of his eye. Then, before quickly taking his leave, he’d subtly slide you a packet of gummies and run as if his life depended on it. One would believe you were engaging in some shady transaction that would definitely make you both lose your real estate license. 

Jongho was a different story. The youngest of the trio wasn’t good with his words, but the affection could be read through his actions. Although they were questionable. He, too, invaded your room in subtle fashion and touched everything that didn’t require human contact — your Sanrio figurines, picture frames, ornaments still up from Christmas. While it was annoying in the moment, their antics kept you from circling back to the one person who had made his grand return after five years of radio silence. Good thing you hadn’t planned on rekindling that flame ever again. But what was written in your calendar didn’t align with the universe. 

The happy hour had ended a while ago, and while Jongho and Wooyoung made sure to get you home first, your stomach rumbled the second you stepped foot into the apartment. What better meal to have in a tipsy state than some ramen? 

The trip to the corner shop was supposed to be quick and relaxing — a weak attempt to distract yourself from the headache blooming at the back of your head. Perhaps that was why you weren’t fully aware of your surroundings, stumbling into racks displaying different flavors of chips and accidentally knocking things out of place. You purposefully ignored the scorching gaze of the cashier and hastily moved to hide between the aisles. But what you didn’t expect was for another figure to round the opposite corner, causing you to bump headfirst into them. The ramen cups and energy drinks piled up in their basket tumbled to the floor, and you quickly crouched down to gather as many things as your arms would allow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

The person didn’t say anything and you expected them to be very annoyed, but that wasn’t the case. The familiar face looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile caused you to freeze on the spot.

“Hey.” Mingi flared his fingers in what was supposed to resemble a wave, but it came off more awkward than intended.

A painful cramp fluttered at the back of your neck as the position wasn’t the most comfortable, your head craned uncomfortably as you looked up at him, the strain making it feel like it might snap at any moment. Yeah, the university wasn’t on your side.

“Here.” 

He knelt down to be at your level, though it would never really match, and urged you to place the belongings in the basket. It was impossible to tear your eyes from him, but Mingi didn’t notice your stare as he gathered the unscattered snacks and drinks in the carrier. Once was a coincidence, twice is a pattern, you thought and swallowed thickly.

“Alright, let’s stand up.” 

He rested his arm on his propped-up knee, while the other hand was held out for you to take. On a count of three, you both stood up simultaneously and your hand immediately returned to your side. 

“What are you doing here?”

The question came off more like an interrogation than a casual inquiry and you winced at your loose tongue. Mingi didn’t seem to care though.

“Nothing much, just wanted a late night snack.” As if you didn’t understand, he grabbed one of the ten ramen cups in his basket and gently shook it. The contents rattling together and overpowering the whirring sound of the freezers. “What about you?”

“Ah, same here…”

Mingi glanced down at your empty hands and smacked his lips together, “Cool.”

“Yeah…”

The young cashier who couldn’t be older than a high school graduate nearly suffocated from the sudden thickness in the convenience store. 

“Uhm, you gonna get anything?”

“What? Oh! Right! Let me just…” You trailed off and darted over to the refrigerators, grabbing the first thing that came into view. 

You snagged a bag of shrimp chips on your way back too. Banana milk and shrimp chips, what a combination! The reasons for your late-night adventure had started with the craving for ramen, but somewhere between the aisle mishap and the distraction of other snacks, the noodles had been completely forgotten. In the meantime, Mingi moved over to the cashier register and patiently waited for the kid to scan his items. 

You shuffled behind him and Mingi turned sideways, one of his brows cocked up. “Here, give me that.” 

Before you could protest or dodge his advances, the items in your hands were stolen from beneath your nose and placed on the counter. 

“Hey, no, I can pay for that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Mingi–”

“I said don’t worry about it.” There was a certain finality to his tone that told you there was no point in further arguing. Mingi swiped his card as the cashier packed your things in two separate plastic bags. 

Standing outside the Seven-Eleven, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, the handles of the bag clinging to your wrist. “You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

Mingi’s breath escaped in a cloud of vapor, lingering in the cold air before it dissolved into the sky. The corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin. 

“I know.”

Never letting you pay for anything was just another addition to the long list of habits he still clung to since high school. Mingi really hadn’t changed, and you couldn’t deny the disappointment that settled in as you witnessed it.

“Good. Then I’m leaving now. Good night.” You turned on your heel and began walking in the direction of your home.

“W–Wait! Let me walk you home.”

You didn’t spare him a glance. “No need for that. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, actually.”

Another ‘I know’ died on his lips. If anyone on this earth knew how out of danger you were, it would be Mingi.

“T–That’s good, but... it would help me sleep at night if I knew you got home safely.” 

After all this time, you still had a hard time telling him no. Sighing, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat, your resistance crumbling despite yourself. “Fine, you can walk me home.”

The walk was short, but lasted longer than ever and you were regretting your choices of not standing your ground against him. You would never admit it out loud, but his dimpled smile and two moles were your greatest weakness and there was no way you’d ever win against them. 

Mingi cleared his throat. “What have you been up to? You know, since high school.”

“Have you thought about what college to apply for?” Mingi asked and intertwined his fingers across his abdomen.

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. 

You lay on the grass, staring up at the night sky. The black canvas was dotted with a million, billion stars, leaving no space untouched. It had been Mingi’s idea to go stargazing, but considering neither of you had a driver’s license or the energy to trek up a mountain in the middle of the night, you figured the view wouldn’t be any different from your backyard.

He turned to you and followed the outline of your profile. God, you were beautiful. “Really? How come?”

“I don’t know. I feel like there are so many options, like how will I know what’s good for me.”

“Whatever you choose, sugar, you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Now it was your turn to face him and he flashed you a reassuring smile.“Sometimes, the best choice is the one that feels right in the moment.”

“...Being with you feels right.”

Nothing could compare to back then. Sure, you experienced fleeting moments of happiness, but they didn’t last longer than the life of a snowflake. Did Mingi ask that to see if you were still stuck in the past? If your time together was the peak of your happiness? He didn’t get to do that. To slither his way into your heart and admire everything you had been through without him by your side.

“Nothing special. I’m a real estate agent, so I’ve been busy selling houses and apartments.”

“Nothing special my ass. That’s amazing. But what is expected of the smartest girl in our high school, huh? I always knew you’d achieve great things.” 

Blood pooled beneath your cheeks, burning hotter than a fever of thirty-nine degrees, and you hated how, despite everything, he still turned you into a giddy high school girl who made eye contact with her crush. To be fair, it wasn’t too far from the truth and that was a scary realization on its own. All it took was a measly compliment and you turned to mush.

“What about you? What are you doing these days?”

A silence stretched between you far heavier than anything you had ever felt before. It was as if the question had torn through some fragile barrier, leaving him exposed. His eyes, once sharp and filled with glee, now seemed distant, as though searching for something lost. You could feel the weight of the pause, like a storm brewing in the space between you. What was he really doing these days? More importantly, what had he been doing all this time out of your reach?

“A little bit of everything. Anything I can get my hands on, really.”

“You didn’t study after high school?”

“You know school wasn’t my strongest suit. Stuffy classrooms and obnoxious teachers talking my ear off never got me anywhere, I mean, I barely passed high school. I was more comfortable with my hands in motion and figuring things out as I went. School was ever it for me. It always felt like I was waiting for something that never came.”

Mingi wasn’t wrong. Although he was a smart kid, staying awake studying until the dead of night and then working an underpaid nine-to-five job wasn’t for him. But you couldn’t shake away the bitterness of how he threw away the opportunity of a normal life with you for a bloody ring and a life of unpredictability. The punches he took in that world weren’t just physical — they hit somewhere deeper, somewhere you couldn’t reach. You had always wanted something more stable, something real to hold on to, but Mingi had chosen the chaos, the fight, over everything else. Perhaps that was why the universe decided not to tie your red string to his pinky, knowing it would hurt you more than his decision.

Coming to a stop outside your apartment, the memory of your first encounter after a few years still fresh in your mind. 

“Like boxing?”

Mingi’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak, his mouth pressing into a thin line. The silence between you both was heavy, filled with things unsaid. It was the kind of silence that made your heart ache, knowing that there was so much left unresolved between you, yet you couldn’t find the words to fix it.

“Good night, Mingi,” you finally said, taking a shaky breath as you turned back to your door again. 

The finality in your tone hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. You didn’t look back as you reached for the door handle, but you knew Mingi was still there, standing in the same place, holding onto the same regrets.

Reaching your apartment, you flicked on the lights and quickly discarded your outerwear. You turned on the switches in every room and placed the bag of goods on the kitchen table. 

Disappointment fueled every movement. Grabbing a pot from the lower cupboard, you filled it with water, not caring as it splashed everywhere. When you set it down on the stove, you didn’t bother being careful, letting it thud onto the surface. You waited — oh-so-patiently — for the water to reach its boiling point and shoved a hand into the plastic bag. The expected rustling of plastic and cold drinks didn’t come. Instead, you felt the hard, smooth texture of something else. Knitting your brows together, you took hold of the square object, no bigger than a container of pudding.

In your palm was a plastic box of peeled and cut oranges.

Your head rested on your folded arms, eyes cast on the baby-blue sky taunting you from behind the windows. It was a beautiful day. What a shame you were stuck in a room with thirty other kids and no air conditioning. Your homeroom teacher was late — an uncanny occurrence, considering she always emphasized the importance of being on time and never failed to follow through. Until today.

The door to the classroom slid open with a thud, but the class had yet to quiet down, and by that single reaction, you knew it wasn’t Ms. Choi who had entered. The previously loud chatter of your friend group turned into hushed whispers and skittish snickers that reached your ears, but you didn’t bother to see what had gotten them so giggly. It was probably Jihoon, the new boy in class, who effortlessly managed to twirl every girl around his finger with just a look. He wasn’t your type — you preferred them tall, lanky, and clumsy. Jihoon was on the shorter side and had muscles that seemed unnatural for a sixteen-year-old. Plus, you weren’t into soccer boys. No, your style was more martial arts.

A hand, twice the size of yours, appeared out of nowhere and placed a clementine — your favorite fruit — on your desk, just inches from your face. Your eyes widened, staring at the bright fruit in disbelief. Groggily, you pushed away from the comfortable spot against the desk, only to quickly notice the figure looming over you.

Song Mingi.

“You skipped lunch,” he stated nonchalantly, offering an explanation for the sudden appearance of the fruit.

The muffled squeals of your friends, combined with Mingi’s unexpected act of chivalry, sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to react. Gift-giving and small acts of service weren’t foreign between you and Mingi. He always seemed to know your cravings, bringing you peeled fruit and sugary snacks without you ever having to ask. In return, you tended to his cuts, massaged the tension from his neck and shoulders after heavy training, and always seemed to find ways to care for him without words. But that was done in private, never in public. Especially not in front of your friends who were having a field day with his new revelation.

“Ah,” Mingi breathed out, picking up the orange once more. 

Silently, he peeled off the thin skin, revealing the vibrant fruit hidden beneath. But he wasn’t done yet. With a casual movement, he stuffed the citrus-scented rind into the pocket of his school uniform before carefully removing the white pith wedged between the clementine’s segments. You didn’t like the white parts. His towering form caught the attention of the rest of the class and by now everyone intently watched the exchange. 

The clementine looked bare now. He held out the fruit again, waiting for you to extend your hand, careful not to let it touch the surface of your desk. A yellowish stain colored his nails, a discoloration that wouldn't fade with just one wash, and the acidic smell lingered, even stronger now. It was the main reason you didn’t like peeling them in the first place.

Mingi, having heard your confession a few weeks ago, made it his mission to always give you peeled oranges. It warmed your chest to know he was keeping that promise.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t satisfied with your first and second encounters because the third one happened just a little less than a week later. You were meeting up with Hongjoong and Seonghwa at a nearby cafe to catch up on the hecticness of your lives — also known as gossip about your workplaces and bonding over the latest episode of When Life Gives You Tangerines. The name of the drama threw you down a steep hill of memories, but you stood up, dusted off your knees and trekked back up. You didn’t want to associate him with the family of fruit anymore.

The clock had just passed five-thirty AM and you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. It didn’t help that you hit every red light possible. At least the weather was nice. Not a single cloud occupied the baby-blue sky and the spring breeze scattered butterfly kisses along your body. It could’ve been worse. You thought of gloomy clouds and cold rain, and immediately shuddered. Yeah, it definitely could’ve been worse. 

The breath caught in your throat as a bus sped by, just a little over the limit. You exhaled in relief as it passed, but that relief was short-lived when you locked eyes with none other than Mingi on the other end of the sidewalk. It felt as if the universe were laughing in your face, throwing everything you didn’t want right at you. You’d take gloomy clouds and rainy weather over seeing Mingi again. The worst part was that it was a lie because even in the stormiest times, he managed to light up your surroundings, and the erratically beating heart in your chest served as your witness. 

A black hoodie swallowed his towering frame and a pair of chunky headphones covered his head. You couldn’t see him that well, but you assumed the shining reflection around his collar was from his stacked necklaces. The cuts along his face had healed nicely — in fact, they were completely gone — and you wondered if your last encounter had anything to do with it or if he had just gotten better at dodging flying fists.

You always seemed to end things on a bitter note, yet you ignored the sourness on your taste buds and raised your hand in a small wave. He returned it with a tight-lipped smile and a subtle tug of his headphones, letting them rest around his neck instead. Mingi bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating something. Coming to terms with his thoughts, he raised a finger, wordlessly telling you to wait and threw a quick glance at the red light as if it would hurry up from a single look. Although you had every right to ignore him, you just couldn’t. You had always been weak when it came to him, never really able to tell him no and it appeared some things just never changed. 

Mingi’s face lit up as the light turned to green. The man was so eager to cross the street — to get to you — that he didn’t bother checking both sides before walking out. Unlike the others, he missed the speeding vehicle heading zooming through multiple red lights and showing no signs of stopping. You felt it before you saw it. The spike in your left wrist, the rush of the arrow sky rocketing from zero to a hundred. Your legs moved on their own before you could form the first letter of his name. One moment you were rooted to the ground, eyes wide and mouth parted, and in the next you harshly collided with Mingi, hoping your spurt of strength was enough to knock him off balance and away from the dangerous metal chunk on wheels. 

The world didn’t stop spinning, but time slowed down as Mingi fell backward. His hand came up to cradle your head, while the other slithered around your waist. Your own arms were pressed against his chest from the push you gave him. The landing was harsh, but Mingi took most of it as his back slammed against the pavement and your face became buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The passersby approached you with questions of worry and concern, their faces etched with confusion and anxiety at the entire situation. Everyone was a bit shaken up at the tragedy that could’ve been. Your body refused to cooperate and the only thing you could do was tangle your fingers into the material of his hoodie, clinging to it for dear life, trying to distinguish reality from imagination. How cruel — he had just returned to your life, only to almost be taken out of it again, permanently.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers massaging your scalp as the other hand scrunched up the back of your shirt.

A stutter of words slipped out, none of which Mingi could make sense of. He sat up, trying to get a better look at you, but you refused to part from the comfort of his chest. You didn’t need to see it to know your soulometer had calmed down — you felt it in every fiber of your being. Your soulmate was safe, and you were too, now that you were in the arms of a living, breathing Mingi.

“Please, sweets, I need to know if you’re alright.”

Desperation dripped from his voice like sticky honey falling from a dipper and it struck sharply in your core, bringing you back to the present.

“Okay,” you mumbled against his clothes, just loud enough for it to reach his ears and Mingi exhaled in relief. He pressed a kiss on your hairline and your heart fluttered at the domestic gesture. 

A couple of strangers offered to call an ambulance, but Mingi waved them off, saying it wasn’t necessary and that no one was harmed — just a bit shaken up. He thanked them nonetheless and it did the trick as the crowd dissolved, the people returning to their everyday life, but with a story to slap down on the dinner table.

Mingi placed a palm beneath your left thigh as the other went around your waist to keep you sturdy as he got up from the pavement. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

It didn’t matter how much you wanted to tell him to let you down, that you could walk on your own and didn’t need a chaperone — the words wouldn’t roll off your paralyzed tongue. Feeling the stares of strangers burn into you, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and didn’t pull away until you were safely in your apartment. The entire journey home, you tried to wrap your head around the event: the near-death experience, your body taking over while your mind went slack, the sudden spike in your soulometer. You didn’t dare think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t reached Mingi in time — if you were just a second too late, if you hadn’t noticed the car. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pressed your lips together to distract yourself from the tears threatening to soak Mingi’s hoodie.

You needed a distraction from the what-ifs, and you needed one pronto. Trying to focus on something other than Mingi being flattened by that stupid car, you racked your brain for something, anything else, when it suddenly hit you. In all the seven years you had your soulometer, it had never even grazed, let alone pushed hard against the other end of the scale. 

Back inside your apartment, you plopped down on the sofa and dropped your head into your hands. A throbbing ache pulsed through every part of your head, and the constant buzzing of your phone wasn’t helping. You had an inkling of who it could’ve been, and as you fished it out of your bag, the hundreds of messages and missed calls from both Seonghwa and Hongjoong confirmed your suspicion. You sent them a reassuring text, apologizing for bailing on them and blaming it on your headache. Mingi was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes never left your hunched form. He was waiting — for a call, a sign, something that would tell him when to reach your side and offer his help.

In another life, you’d be flustered — happy, ecstatic that he was there, worried for your well-being, wanting to make you feel better. But the nagging thought of the situation — too perfect to be a coincidence — wouldn’t let you go. What were the odds of your soulmate and Mingi both being exposed to danger at the same time? How was it that Mingi’s body was void of bruises just as your soulometer stopped acting up? 

Licking your lips, you inhaled shakily and found Mingi’s gaze. The pull to be wrapped in his arms was strong, almost unbearable and you wondered if he felt it too. The need to run your fingers through his hair, to rest your forehead at the junction of his neck and shoulder while he soothingly rubbed circles in your back. The feelings were more intense than back in high school, now full of want and need that you couldn’t satisfy by being in his mere presence. However, you were willing to put it aside in exchange for your question marks to disappear and there was only one person who could give it to you.

Your voice was raspy and weak, breaking mid-sentence as the words struggled to escape. With every ounce of vulnerability, you asked him, “Are we soulmates?”

Mingi didn’t move for a moment. He looked to the side, his jaw clenching as he uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the counter. It was inevitable, really. The question was bound to come up sooner or later, and he wasn’t a fool. Mingi didn’t live in a bubble separate from his worries. They were woven into his everyday life, especially since you’d crossed paths again after all these years, with you at the center of them. The anxiety hovered around you like planets orbiting the sun — always there, needing you to survive, but never able to get too close. Mingi never stopped thinking about you. Since your high school graduation, he’d found himself more often than not lying awake in the dead of night, thoughts circling back to you — wondering how you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. You had to be. Mingi only ever brought you pain and hurt, something he loathed himself for. The lies and secrets were the main reason behind it all, but the icing on the cake was his devotion to boxing, which had long surpassed his love for you. At least, in your eyes, because that was what he had allowed you to see — what he wanted you to think. It would make the end of your relationship easier, giving him a lie to hold onto instead of the truth.

But Mingi was tired of lying. He didn’t plan to re-enter your life to keep the same pattern in motion. He wanted to start a-new and whether he deserved it or not was up for debate, but he was going to try. For you. For himself. For your relationship.

“Yes.”

Then it all just stopped. The beat of your heart filled the silence of the world. The flicker of emotions was instant and irregular — shifting from relief and happiness to disbelief and anger. You couldn’t form a single thought, much less say anything. What could one say in such a moment? Realising your first and only love was more than that and had slipped away. The never ending fear and regret of losing the sole good thing in your life washing out to nothing, leaving you empty. It was good and bad. A war broke out in your head, scrambling to come to an understanding, but the tear between the two sides was so grave it was starting to hurt. The relief of finding your soulmate clashed with the idea that he was right beneath your nose this entire time, purposefully avoiding you for who knows how long.

A sting burned behind your eyes followed by a heavy pressure. Your throat closed up and yet you managed to get your question out.

“How… How long have you known?”

Mingi heaved in a breath. The weight of the situation pressed harshly against his chest as he realized the bear trap he set up years ago was beneath his foot.

“A little after the start of our third year in high school… When you were rushed to the hospital.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Someone thought it would be a funny prank to leave an opened peanut-chocolate bar in your locker, completely disregarding the gravity of the situation. That was almost a month after his eighteenth birthday — the day his soulometer was permanently injected into his body. Out of those three years, you dated for one and a half, and the last stretch of your relationship was apparently built on secrets and lies because he knew. 

He knew and didn’t tell you.

You rose from your seat, your expression shifting from disbelief to frustration. Your brows furrowed, and your lips were pressed tightly together in fury. Mingi had never seen you so angry — not even when some older kids were making fun of Hongjoong for his height or liking boys.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me about it? Mingi, we broke up and you didn’t think to tell me we were, are soulmates?!”

Your voice jumped from a whisper to full-out yelling, loud enough for your neighbors above and below to indulge in the dramatics, and Mingi flinched at the sudden rise in volume. A fire spread from his core to the rest of his body, growing hotter and more intense with each passing second. Despite how familiar the sensation was, it wasn’t his. You were angry beyond salvaging and no amount of water could douse the flames. 

Mingi’s chest tightened as the answer to your long-awaited question tumbled out of him. “Because you deserved a better soulmate!” 

Like that, a weight lifted off his shoulders. There was a very long pause where you just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Excuse me?” It was meek, barely above a whisper as you spoke and a sharp, breaking sound echoed in Mingi’s heart, like porcelain shattering. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Mingi hesitated, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. You seized the opportunity to step in front of him. Unshed tears lined your waterline, one blink away from spilling over and kissing your burning cheeks. Mingi wasn’t any better. His eyes were glossed over and throat was dry. His fingers turned an alarming shade of white from gripping the counter, the veins in his hands more defined than ever.

“Why?” 

“You weren’t happy with me…” Mingi’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to continue. “W–with me boxing… and I… I wasn’t ready to give up on that. I thought you d–deserved some happiness before you realized you were stuck with me f–forever.” His words came out choked, his chest heaving as the tears finally spilled over.

The salty tears extinguished the fire that had been brewing in you. What had felt like flames of hell now shrunk to nothing more than a spark, ready to fade. You reached out, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, gently wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“You thought I wouldn’t choose you? Mingi, I was never asking you to give up on what you love. I just couldn’t stand seeing you put yourself in danger, not knowing if you’d come back to me… alive.” Your heart ached as the soulometer inside you throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of how deeply connected you two were. 

Mingi had grown up in a boxing family. His father was a boxer, and his grandfathers on both sides were boxers too. It was only natural for the only child of the Song family to step into his relatives’ shoes and fall in love with the gruesome sport. However, it wasn’t the officiated matches or light sparring during training that had you worrying for Mingi. A little after Mingi turned eighteen, he realized that his talent could not only bring him medals, but money. A great sum of money, actually. 

As the fortune started to come his way, you began to notice the change in him. He wasn’t just fighting for the thrill or the legacy anymore — it had become a business. The sport he had once loved, the sport that had connected him to his family, was now something more — something dangerous, something that had started to consume him. You watched as he took on bigger opponents, harsher training regimens and increasingly dangerous matches, all in pursuit of a prize that was slowly tearing away at the person you once knew. 

You didn’t mean to put him in a tight spot, to choose between his first serious girlfriend and the illegal business that kept him independent. You also didn’t expect him to choose the latter. The decision stung more than you anticipated, the weight of it sinking in as you realized what it said about his priorities. 

You were both young and foolish back then, believing the world was beneath your feet and that one wrong decision could crumble it all. Had you known you were bonded, tied together for all eternity, you would’ve approached him differently and you certainly never would’ve let him go.

“I didn’t know about the soulmate bond. I didn’t know you knew... and you still let me walk away. You were willing to let me go without telling me the truth? How could you think I’d leave you forever, knowing we were meant to be?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I–I swear, I wanted to tell you. So many times. Every time I’d walk past your posters or hear about you from our mutual friends, I’d be one click away from calling you, but…”

The apology hung in the air like a weight, thick with guilt and regret. His voice trembled, each word choked back by the raw emotion clawing at him. The tears streamed down his face, unchecked. He turned his face slightly, the side of his cheek brushing against your palm, as if trying to hide from the pain, but your touch remained steady. You held him there, gently, as his sorrow poured out.

“Don’t hold back, Mingi. I’m not going anywhere, not now, not tomorrow, not ever… So please, talk to me.”

His chest hitched as he struggled to breathe, the weight of the words, the silence and the years of unsaid things crashing over him. Mingi knew he owed you this. An explanation, a reason for his sudden pull back all those years ago. He heaved in a breath and allowed the truth to spill.

“I just… I couldn’t,” he whispered. “Every time, I’d think about it and then–then I’d back out. I thought it was better this way. I thought maybe you’d be better off without knowing… that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d only mess things up. Jongho said you were ha–happy and I didn’t want to ruh–ruin that. ”

“You could never–”

“But I would!” He didn’t mean to shout, but the frustration and sadness, locked up for so long, didn’t hesitate to seize the first opening it saw. “I was still fighting… I never stopped. It only got worse after… after we broke up. The money was good, but the loneliness,” his voice wavered, “the loneliness was unbearable. The only time I ever felt anything was when I saw your face... or when I got beaten to hell.”

Your eyes darted around his face. Jumping from his eyes and lips to his nose and cheeks as if seeking a pressure point that would make all of his suffering evaporate into thin air. Mingi avoided your gaze and you massaged the apple of his cheek to catch his attention again. You never intended for the downfall of your relationship to put its claws in his back and leave a wound so grave it couldn’t heal on its own. In fact, you were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t think to take a moment and wonder how it would affect him. The guilt festered in your bones like a leech refusing to let go. 

“I never realized how much you were carrying… I thought I was the one who was struggling, but maybe we both were. I’m sorry, Mings.”

“No.” 

He shook his head in disagreement and your hand fell from his face. The loss of warmth was close to painful and Mingi, not wanting to be apart from you any more than necessary, grabbed your hand and guided it down to his chest, placing your palm above his beating heart — the organ that pulsed in rhythm to your own. Your fingers twitch to grab his shirt, to claw out his heart and keep it in the safety of your hands. To shield it from hurt and pain and agony. You never wanted him to feel such anguish again and you certainly didn’t want to be the reason behind it either. It tore you from within and the emotion wasn’t even yours to begin with. 

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Mingi–”

“Stop it. You know if I’d just listened to you, if I’d stopped getting involved in stupid shit, none of this would’ve happened. There’s no one to blame but me.” 

Tears still rolled down his cheeks and clung onto his lashes, though his eyes were sharp and firm as if daring you to challenge his words. If there was one thing you’d learned during the few years you dated Mingi, it was that once his mind was made up, nothing could change it. 

“We are both at fault, love.” 

The pinched expression on his face crumbled at the familiar call of endearment. His mouth parted slightly, and a constellation twinkled in his eyes — a sight you had missed incredibly. A twinge of hope flickered to life — hope that you could once be again, despite his careless acts of selflessness. His focus shifted between your eyes and with shaking hands he gently cradled your face, his touch not lighter than a ticklish flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Your own hands found purchase on his waist, fingers looping through the pouch of his hoodie as you instinctively leaned into the gentle pressure of his caress.

Mingi wetted his lips and brows scrunched together in a pleading demeanor. Something was plaguing his mind again and you could feel the train of thought reach out and graze your own, as if wanting you to get a glimpse. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It felt full, crowded.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mings?”

“…You.” He took another breath, steadying himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… May I… I want to kiss you.”

Perhaps you should’ve said no. Perhaps you should’ve ignored him sitting on the steps of your apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have let him back into your life at all. But the thought of telling him no — robbing yourself of the feel of Mingi’s lips against yours — burned like hot acid in your stomach. So you did the one thing you were best at when it came to him, you gave in to your heart's desire.

“Then kiss me.”

Mingi didn’t need to hear you say it twice before he pulled your face up to his, lips smashing together as a flood of emotions erupted with the kiss — the kind of feeling only a romantic gesture like this could bring. You rose onto your toes, your hands gripping his wrists as if to anchor yourself in the moment. A low rumble vibrated from the back of his throat and you pushed harder against him. The kiss was intoxicating, yet liberating at the same time. You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip and he wasted no time parting them for you. The heat between you both deepened and each moment felt like it stretched on forever, the world around you fading into the background. His fingers grazing the side of your face, pulled you impossibly closer, as if there was no space left for anything but this shared intimacy. 

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of his touch. You were caught in the gravity of the moment, caught between the need for air and the undeniable pull to stay, to keep kissing him like nothing else mattered and nothing mattered. Just you and him. 

You felt one of his hands slither down your spine, a trail of firecrackers following the wake of his fingertips and sending shivers down your body. You couldn’t pull away — not yet. Not when everything inside you was screaming for more. Mingi pushed you closer to him, chests touching and hips meeting in a delicious press, that radiated between you both, causing every nerve in your body to hum with anticipation. 

It was the need for oxygen that eventually broke you apart before the heated situation could be taken to the bedroom, with you pushed against the soft sheets and your legs tangling together. Your chests rose and fell in synchrony, trying to steady the breath that had been stolen in the heat of the moment. A crackle of electricity snapped around the room, the atmosphere still charged with the energy of your kiss, but both of you knew you couldn’t rush past this — there was so much more to say, the fact that you were soulmates, for one. 

Mingi rested his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your skin, quick and shallow, mirroring your own racing pulse. His eyes searched yours with a mix of intensity and vulnerability. He whispered your name, as if unsure how to bridge the distance between the desire in his chest and the emotions that were beginning to surface.

“We are soulmates,” you whispered before he could say anything else. It was more of a statement, a wake-up call for you than a fact. Your gaze dropped to the strings of his hoodie, the intensity of his stare made your knees feel weak.

Mingi didn’t reply. He rubbed gentle circles over your blouse on your lower back, a relaxing motion. You didn’t need to hear him say the two worded apology, you felt it in his soft touches.

“It was you… every time my meter went up… it was you fighting.” 

He nodded, a solemn smile gracing his swollen lips. “Yes.” 

“...But it hasn’t… gone up since–”

“Since you found me outside your apartment,” he finished for you. “I stopped shortly after that. I– uh, I realized that I wanted you. Or, well, I always knew, but that… that confirmed it. Mmm, I knew, though, that if I wanted us to be together, I’d have to change– stop! I’d have to stop doing the thing that made me lose you in the first place.”

“So… what does that mean for us?”

“It means… that if you want me to, I’ll peel your oranges for the rest of our lives.”

You wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Even the white bits?”

The corner of his lips curled up in a grin, giving a glimpse of his crooked front teeth, and his eyes lit up like the night sky in the countryside.

“Especially the white bits.”

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[puprdou]

ㅤㅤnsfw alphabetㅤㅤ──ㅤㅤmanjiro sano

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ A──K

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

sometimes he’ll take care of you, other times he just falls straight asleep cuddling. it really depends on which kind of manjiro were talking about here; manila? he’ll take care of you. bare minimum, but he will. bonten? he won’t. he won’t even fall asleep afterwards. final timeline? he’s dead asleep most of the time cuddling without even pulling out—but there are times where he’ll fight the sleep to start a bath, even bathe with you sometimes, and only get ready for bed once you are.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i feel like he wouldn’t typically have a favorite body part. he’s not particularly cocky or anything about his body; but if he had to choose, it’d be his cheeks. he likes how squishy they are, he especially finds it fun whenever you sit on his lap and squish his cheeks cause it makes him all giggly. his favorite body part of yours? definitely your tummy.. but also your thighs! their both his own personal little pillows- whenever he’s playing games or just on his phone, he’ll place his head on your lap between your thighs, or when he gets needy he’ll plant kisses all across the chub of your tummy. he loves the chub!

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

he loves creampies. he finds them both intimate but also just pleasurable. he gets all pouty when you don’t let him cum inside, or when he has to use a condom :(( he prefers cumming inside, he especially loves watching whenever your own cum will create rings around his cock- he thinks it’s all so damn pretty ’nd cute, and he will watch mesmerized as the little spurts of cum dripped out from your cunt after he pulled out! so cute. ♡

D = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

not really a secret, which is obvious from the way his pants get so tight against his erection each damn time—but he can get hard so easily. doing certain things like just wearing an apron ’nd baking, or wearing one of his hoodies with nothing else, even mere stuff like sitting on his lap gets him all bricked up. at times it’s embarrassing, especially at events when you wear these pretty outfits, he’ll get hard ’nd poor baby will have the hardest time hiding it so it makes him pout :((

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he was so bad ’nd so awkward his first time with you, he was all flushed ’nd so confused! even though he’s seen all that stuff in porn mags, doing it with you, someone he truly loves is way different! he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you, he doesn’t want to make mistakes, he wants to be with you for the rest of his life. after years passed, though, he got wayyyy better.. he knows everything to do to make you cum in a matter of minutes, and every single place on your body that has you shaking under him, moaning like a goddamn pornstar.

F = favorite position (self explanatory, their favorite sex position)

definitely cowgirl. he loves being able to see your face contort into pleasure as your hips bounce repeatedly against his, your arms wrapped around his neck.. it’s the perfect angle for him to attack your neck, too! or, he could play with your tits like this too, it’s all so accessible and he barely has to do a thing! seeing you so desperately fucking yourself on him, needing more and more of him despite his cock splitting you open is so cute in his eyes.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he can be both serious and silly. it really depends on the mood—if he’s in a bad mood, he’s more serious ’nd more strict. nothing too bad, like, he won’t cross any boundaries he’s aware of, but he’s less playful than just normal nights. and if he’s in a good mood, trust me, you’ll know. he’s more playful, more teasing, and he also talks a lot during sex. whether it’s dirty talk, him just being his regular needy, or just talking about random things.. he’s really just a mix of both.

H = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

flawlessly hairless. it’s magical. whether or not you like it like that, he always says he doesn’t like being too hairy (we need more men like this irl 💔💔🙏🙏). he’s always saying how it makes him uncomfortable or how he simply just doesn’t like it and avoids giving a reason. either way, you’ll get used to it eventually. and you sort of have to, everytime you two get into it he’s never hairy.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he can be both romantic and very.... unappealing. sometimes he’s just a fucking beast who forgets about your own pleasure at times getting lost in the moment for his own, other times he’s slow, romantic, teasing.. it really depends tbh. if you were the one who was teasing to begin with, he’s definitely more teasing ’nd romantic, but when he’s in a bad mood and your teasing.. oh it’s game over. he’s mean, he’ll say it’s a punishment and he’ll be so mean that you almost start crying! he comforts you after though <3

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not often does he masturbate, solely because he likes it better watching your hands wrapping around his cock, the cute sight of you fitting him into your mouth so perfectly ’nd rubbing whatever didn’t fit was too good for him to pass up on.. but whenever he can’t come home ’nd your sending him scandalous pictures or videos, he’ll find somewhere where nobodies looking to jerk himself off to the sound of your voice, cause he always gives you a call whenever he needs to. truth is? he’s not that good at it, and he’s totally awkward about it lmfao, poor boy..

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

definitely has an exhibitionism ’nd a sensory deprivation kink! he loves putting a blindfold on you, sometimes he’ll even tie something around your mouth, and he’ fuck you and be so mean about it, teasing and going slow when you need him to go faster! god, and whenever somebody looks at you the wrong way or for too long, he’ll tie them up on a chair after beating them up and make them watch. make them watch how good you are for them, make you watch how much of his you are. this especially goes for the bad timelines.

© 2025 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms.

[lucydixon]

Older!Eddie Headcanons

When I say older, I'm talking mid to late 40s. Bitch, I love me an older man and I feel like this fucker would be so fucking hot as a middle aged man. IDK if any of y'all have ever met a retired Metalhead/Rocker, but GODDAMN, they age like fine fucking wine.

Warning: Gets a little spicy towards the end, NSFW

I always picture Older!Eddie, with a biker look and covered in tattoos. Real intimidating, but pretty as sin with his salt and pepper beard and the silver streaks in his unruly mane. He’s probably a mechanic, or maybe a rockstar. 

He’s either divorced or a serial dater, maybe both, but as soon as he meets you, his eyes never wander. You’ll never know loyalty quite like that of Eddie Munson. 

You could meet anywhere. A coffee shop, the post office, maybe a gig, but wherever you are, his eyes are locked on you immediately, and he’s going back and forth on whether or not you’re too young for him. If you’d go for a washed-up metalhead when you could have your pick of all the other people he’d seen staring at you. 

That nagging insecurity from being bullied relentlessly as a child is still there. It always will be. However, his ability to put on a show instead of allowing his thoughts to eat him alive never fades, and he’d saunter over you with enough confidence that you can’t help but swoon.

He’d be very upfront about the fact that he is hitting on you, blatantly flirting with a cocky little smirk and cheesy pickup lines. They should be cheesy, but the way he delivers them, they sound smooth and suave. 

If you truly grab his attention, he won't fuck you the night he meets you. He’ll be a gentleman and walk you to your car or offer to drive you home, holding the door for you and everything, and ask to see you within the next few days. 

This man is thinking about fucking a baby into you from the second he lays eyes on you. He knows it’s wrong and that he shouldn’t be thinking about tying you down in such an extreme way, but he is the opposite of a slow burner. 

He’d try and have you move in with him after only spending one night together, desperate to keep you as close as possible while you’re still in the morning after honeymoon phase. 

I feel like he’d be possessive as fuck. He’s old enough that he doesn’t put up with games or any kind of back-and-forth. Eddie Munson knows what he wants, and he does not share. He’d keep a hand on your waist or resting on the swell of your ass whenever you’re out and about, especially in bars. He likes to make it very clear that you’re with him. 

Would be incredibly protective of you. He’ll protect what's his at any cost, and you can expect him to step in if someone so much as breathes any negativity your way. God forbid someone lays a hand on you, because this man will beat anyone who dares within an inch of their life. 

Side note, The thought of him just beating the shit out of someone on your behalf, cutting into their cheekbones with his heavy rings and drawing blood, is so fucking sexy oml. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, idk. ANYWAYS,

Older!Eddie fucks. Those experienced hands would have you seeing stars every. Single. Night. He’d be manhandling you into positions you didn’t even know existed and fucking you into the mattress so hard that it leaves his back aching in the morning, but then he’d do it again the next night. 

Very generous lover. You never have to worry about not finishing, even if the two of you are having a risky lil quickie in a bar bathroom, he will make you cum at least twice before even thinking about himself. There’s nothing he loves more than watching you fall apart. 

This man would live between your thighs if you let him. Eddie Munson is and always will be a munch. And he knows what tf he’s doing down there. He’ll have you cumming over and over again until you are sobbing and physically pushing him away.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

[emmg]

Quod Manet

The sage (aka @lavenderprose) once said:

I think Emmrich deserves to take a heel turn. The man begs to be morally questionable. I love how good and kind and gentle he is but also. He could shove those things deep deep down inside himself and let his fear of death take over and do some REALY bonkers shit [...] He needs to claw his way out of the morally reprehensible mess he's made of his life, kicking and screaming, and he needs to do it because he's in LOVE.

and so I have written it

All mages, sooner or later, beckon a demon. 

His answers early. He is nineteen and luminous. Hands like peeled almonds, hair the shade of extinguished charcoal. He walks, already, with a scrip of acclaim tucked under one arm, a whisper of ink-smoke prestige trailing behind him. They call him promising; some say brilliant, and in that flattery, that coiling vine of praise, he finds both warmth and nausea. 

Yes, yes, he thinks, cheeks colored faintly with shame. Surely, he must be. It is not that he demands the world, but that the world owes him at least the token by which the rest might be bartered: talent. 

He assists. He observes. He murmurs syllables older than glass. The older members of the Mourn Watch nod, and he nods with them. Nineteen... nineteen is the age of mirrored swagger. Emmrich mirrors well. 

They soothe the dead. They instruct the living.  

Deep in the Vault of the Beloved, where the stone sweats and silence grows in stalactites, there is a spirit that does not whisper or drift or echo. It cries. Continuously. Without crescendo or resolution. A thin, reedy lament, as if sorrow had been distilled to a single, perpetual note. 

When Johanna means to wound him, she calls him sentimental. He never denies it. He wears the word like a smudge on a lens, frustrating but necessary to the viewing. It is not a flaw, he says, rehearsing the defense again and again, winding it through clauses and metaphors. She replies, as ever, by extending her middle finger, and their conversation goes nowhere. 

And yet, this softness, this ache for what trembles and breaks, it is the cradle of his talent. The fuel, he thinks, behind the small, slow fire that makes his work different, better. It is why he volunteers. Why he descends into the damp oubliette of memory and murmur. Why he believes he will rise from it adorned in new praise, gilded in commendation. Well done, they will say, heads nodding in bureaucratic rhythm. Very well done, Volkarin.

But the spell, like all first loves, fails. 

And in the Vault, something begins to wake that has long preferred to weep. 

Within the salt-ring: not the tractable dead, not the docile revenant he meant to cradle across the veil, but a thing. Heaped, convulsing, indecent. A clot of limbs bent against their nature, strung together with ligaments that flex like wet twine. Skin hangs from it in veils, peeling and pink as fresh burns. Teeth bloom from its flanks, nested in gums where no mouth should grow. One eye, yellowed and milk-fogged, rotates endlessly, while others blister open along its spine like boils ready to burst.

It reeks. An odor of old milk curdled in bone, of wet fur and the seared iron tang of childbirth gone wrong. When it breathes, if breath it is, it wheezes through holes punched in cartilage, dragging spit and air in uneven rhythm. The sound is not quite human and not entirely beast; more the groan of something being born unwillingly, backwards. 

It tries to speak, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. What comes is a vibration, a hot murmur from a throat sealed in pus. And from this rot-hymn he hears her: not his mother as she was, but as she ended, the brittle gasp, the splintered ribs shifting under stone, the ragged breath that gurgled red as it fled her. 

The thing remembers. And it wears that memory like a second skin, sodden, stinking, stretched too thin over too much. 

“No, no,” he breathes, and in that hushed repetition is the fullness of his terror: childlike and intimate. He is trembling now; excessively, visibly, the way leaves shake before the storm even touches them. His balance tilts. His foot slips. A fraction of misstep, and the salt, that brittle, sacred line, is scattered. 

The circle opens. 

It begins to crawl. Not move—crawl. A thing that knows it will have you. It drags its bulk across the stone in lurching motions, sloughing viscera in its wake, limbs glistening and warped. Where it passes, the ground seems to sicken.

Sweet one, it croons.

Dear, dear, come here.

A lullaby fractured into thirds: one voice sonorous as water in a cavern, another sharp and bright as a child's shriek, and the third, unbearably, his mother’s. Not quite mimicry, not quite memory, but something worse: recollection chewed and spat back up, still warm.

Dear boy, it sings. Lovely boy.

Its hand, moist and cold, the color of unrendered fat, settles on his ankle. Too many fingers. Far too many joints. They clutch with a strange tenderness, like a lover not yet sure if they’re dreaming. 

Don’t cry over the milk, Emmrich, it purrs, and his stomach turns because that’s how she said it, how she leaned down once, years ago, as he wept over a broken mug.

The thing pulls itself up his shins, its belly dragging wetly behind it, its skin opening and closing in slow, pulsing flaps. Fingers—too many, and not all whole—emerge from beneath its dragging mass. Some are cleanly forked, as if the bone inside had decided to go its own way. Others twitch, trembling with the blind curiosity of subterranean things. Their pads are moist and yielding, unpleasantly soft, like the inside of a child’s mouth, or the underside of a slug. 

And as it clutches him, kneeling like a devotee before a shrine made of meat, Emmrich begins to remember. Not just what is before him, but what was buried. 

There had been a day, quiet, indistinct in its beginning, sharp only in its interruption. He had opened a door. The room smelled of iron and wood. His father had turned too quickly, apron soaked and clinging to him, and in that graceless movement smeared a red thumbprint across Emmrich’s forehead. Not violently, just urgently. An attempt to hide the sight. To shield the child with his own body before shoving him back into the corridor and sealing the memory into silence.

But the mind cheats. 

He remembers what he wasn’t meant to: the cow’s head on the block, one eye slack in its socket, the cranium cleaved open like a cracked melon. The tongue already gone. The cheek—soft, pale, furred on the outside and raw within—looked like a bed of fleshy reeds. 

And now, in the Vault, the thing on him pulses with uncanny familiarity. Not just borrowed from mother, no, though her voice slips from its mouths, but from father too. From blade and block.

For it takes two to make one. 

It is not merely some echo of the woman who stitched lullabies into his marrow, who sang in flour-dusted kitchens and died beneath beams and brick. No, this monstrous concatenation is heir also to the man who carved in silence, who smelled perpetually of lanolin and lye, and who taught him to count to twelve by pointing at ribs, at vertebrae, at the neat white pegs of butchered spine. 

It speaks with her breath. It grips with his hands. And in that synthesis, so vile and tender, Emmrich understands: this thing knows him, because it is him, grown backward from memory like a tumor with teeth.

It is Dread. Not the pantomime specter spoken of in taverns or classroom warnings, not a shadow with claws or a name in old ink, but the true kind, the kind that shifts with the angle of your gaze, always known, never quite seen. For every eye it wears a different mask, and for his, it has chosen one with his mother's voice and his father's silence sewn into the seams. 

At last, he remembers. 

Not a memory of fact, but of function: the syllables, the shape of the thing he must say. His hands shake. His thoughts slip and scatter. But his throat, blessedly, does not close. 

The words come out fractured, but they come. And the thing, with an almost theatrical grace, begins to go. 

It burns, but without flame, consumed instead by something internal, a heat born of its own knowing. The scent it leaves behind is acrid and intimate: the precise stink of milk teeth gone rotten, of bone charred. 

It goes easily. 

Too easily. 

Because it knows that the haunt need not linger in form. The stage is struck, but the echo has been set. And Emmrich, kneeling in the stillness that follows, knows it too. 

He folds, gracelessly, as if his bones have lost their agreement with one another. Bites down on his thumb, hard enough to taste blood. Screams, but into the wet hollow of his own palm, so no one, not even himself, can hear it. 

His free hand slams into the stone. Once, twice, again. Each time less out of rage than an attempt to prove he is still there, still inside this body. Skin splits. That hand, once soft, once used to pen and page, opens red beneath him like a flower learning pain.

And after that—Dread stays. 

****

Emmrich understands—has always understood, in the quiet, coiling parts of himself—that he is very much afraid of dying. Understands it in the way a drowning man fears the water not for its depth, but for its silence. 

His life runs in a circle, the same way his thoughts do: not a tidy ring, but a slow spiral inward, a vortex of fixation. Everything turns back to the body: its fragility, its expiration, its betrayal. His research is not merely academic; it is devotional. Every theorem, every scraped parchment and sleepless translation, bends toward the same sacrament: avoidance. How to cheat the tally. How to slip through the hourglass. How to remain.

He begins, as all do, with sanctioned inquiry—professors who answer readily, books in the light-drenched front of the library that discuss the soul in tasteful metaphor. But Emmrich, meticulous and unsatisfied, presses deeper. Past the polite tomes into the dust-heavy wings where the air is thicker, where the pages are darker not with age but with secrecy. 

There, the guardian spirits start to appear, not stern, but sorrowful, turning him away with that peculiar expression reserved for children too curious to survive. Permission is required, they murmur.

So he obtains it. 

Because he is talented, and talent, properly shaped, opens all locks. His work has been praised. His hands are steady. His eyes are sharp. He speaks the dead tongue without stuttering. And so the permissions come.

Beneath that final layer, in a section with no name, he finds it. 

Lichdom. 

A word that does not sit easily in the mouth. A word that rusts as it is spoken. 

It is not immortality in the poetic sense; no golden apples, no serene elevation to the stars. It is flesh given up. It is the body made irrelevant. Bone sucked clean of meat. A sacrifice grotesque and glorious. A body traded for time.

His mind burns. Yes, it cries. Yes, this is it.

He imagines eternity not as heaven, but as absence: the absence of ending, of wheeze, of rot, of the slow collapse into helplessness. He thinks of his mother, breath fluttering, ribs groaning under their final effort. He remembers the animals brought to his father, bleeding or dazed, often not quite dead, their owners too squeamish, too slow with the blade.

It was always the butcher’s job to finish it. 

And Emmrich had watched. Watched how death stammered before it arrived, how it gurgled and flailed, how it lingered where it wasn’t wanted. 

No. Not for him. 

He will not wheeze. 

He will not beg.

He will not need finishing.

He will simply endure. 

****

At first, Emmrich mistakes his fear for a singular thing: a dread shaped like death, like an abyss he could name. But as years settle over him, as his shadow lengthens and quiet begins to hum louder in empty rooms, he begins to feel the outline of a second fear. One less operatic, more insidious: loneliness. 

At nineteen, twenty, twenty-four, he craved affection in elegant forms. He believed in courtship that resembled sonatas; gloved hands kissed in moonlight, pressed flowers between books, trembling confessions written but never sent. And when they did not stay—those pale-eyed boys and tempestuous girls—he told himself it was timing, youth, the inevitability of motion. 

So he gave more. 

More of himself, peeled gently back. More of what he had: access, knowledge, charm, gifts that glittered. He dressed his yearning in velvet and wit. But still, they left. Some with apologies, some with silence, some simply disappearing like chalk in rain. 

Slowly, his hair began to lose its color. 

There were years when he was not entirely alone—companions, students, half-lovers passing through—but even then, there were nights when the walls pressed in, soft and padded, reminiscent of an asylum's, and he wanted to claw them, not in madness but in protest. Why don’t they stay? he would ask the ceiling. Why do they always leave?

He is no longer the boy in the Watch’s hand-me-down robes, trousers hemmed with mismatched thread, shoes a size too small that made him walk like he was apologizing to the earth. No. That boy has long since been replaced. 

Now he is renowned. Now his name is spoken in the same breath as the great dead. His grave dowry—though he still harbors a childish hope he will never be asked to spend it—is impressive and gleaming. His fingers are heavy with rings, thick with gold so pure it should be too soft for use. It scratches at itself when he folds his hands.

The eternal metal. The unyielding gleam. 

Yet, each evening, when he removes the rings one by one, lays them in their velvet box like relics from a body already gone, his hands look strangely bare, as though they had forgotten how to be simply his. 

They should belong to someone. 

They should be held. 

They should be holding.

They should be known.

At the very least—he thinks this sometimes, never aloud—he should wear one ring that is not his. A simple one would do. A twist of tin, of twine, of whatever lasts just long enough to mean something.

It needn’t be lovely. It need only be given.

But no such ring comes. 

What comes instead is a curious little wisp, a flutter of presence, something half-formed and prematurely loyal. It appears seemingly out of nowhere, trailing him through the Necropolis, skimming along crypt walls, nosing into shadows. It floats just behind him as he walks his rounds, never touching but never gone. 

It begins to appear at his lectures, slipping under the door like a draft. His students laugh when it spins a circle round his head, mist catching on his hair like spider silk. He scolds it once—“Not now.” Another time he ignores it.

And then one day, perhaps more tired than usual, or lonelier, or just resigned, he flicks a hand and says, “Well, go on, then.” 

The wisp shivers, then drops. Condenses. Curves into something denser, more eager. It settles into a fragment of bone, a vertebra perhaps, or a bit of shoulder. From there it begins to build. A skeleton, clumsy at first, ribs like misremembered harp strings, a femur from one drawer, a jaw from another. They sit together—Emmrich and his not-yet-companion—among the bodies left for donation, the unclaimed, the forgotten.

They sort through limbs as though they were organizing a family archive. They find phalanges for the left hand, delicate and mismatched. A rib is slotted into place. The kneecaps are borrowed from two different donors, but they seem to agree with each other. 

Later—days, or maybe weeks—they sit together again, not at a workbench but at a table, turning the fragile pages of a book meant for expecting parents. The irony does not escape him. But the act feels solemn, absurd, necessary. 

And there, amid names scribbled in soft ink—dreamt up by people who imagined lullabies, not resurrection—he stops. 

They both agree. 

And so the little thing becomes him.

And the necromancer, still without a ring not his own, finds, at least, a name that was given, not taken.

****

He can whisper to corpses, yes, but he can also hush them. Still their mouths like pressing a finger to a sleeping child’s lips. The Watch does not need to know everything. Let them catalog his published studies, his sanctioned conjurations. Let them praise what they can cite. Some things, Emmrich has decided, belong to him alone.

Not everything must be peer-reviewed. 

The books run dry. The tomes grow repetitive, self-referential, devouring one another like snakes penned too long in a box. Lichdom, that cold, brilliant grail, eludes him.

The “guardians” whispered of in footnotes and marginalia fail to appear. No spectral gatekeepers. No final keys. He has visited every ossuary with a name, whispered through every hinge in the library’s spine. He is left gnawing at pages. 

And all the while, the clock ticks—not metaphorically, but audibly, somewhere in the base of his skull.

The lines beside his eyes have deepened into small, suspicious shadows. His hair is entirely grey now. 

In the tomb—a narrow, incense-stale chamber lined with plaques and familial smugness—a corpse weeps behind a bronze door. 

“Oh, no need for theatrics,” Emmrich murmurs, kneeling. His voice, once sympathetic, has been sanded down to utility. Whatever empathy once bubbled in him has long since gone flat, evaporated somewhere between the seventeenth and thirty-sixth exhumation. 

It seems, this one will not answer to spells alone.

They’re all the same. The dead. Nobles, paupers, bakers, mages. His mother, the women who bought her bread, the girls who wrote him letters on pressed flower-paper. Stripped of skin and scandal, they always return to the same script: hiss, plead, beg. 

Why? he wants to ask them. What else do you imagine you have left to lose? You have no flesh. Only secrets.

And secrets, like all currency, must eventually circulate.

This one is still fresh. Embalmed scarcely a week ago. The chemicals have not yet muddled the synaptic trails. The memory is warm and pliable. 

He remembers this one—a professor, once. A soft-voiced man with too many cardigans, who pressed a warm hand to Emmrich’s shoulder when his first paper was published, who offered quiet praise instead of thunderous approval, who always left the door open. 

But kindness is no shield. Not here. Not when time is closing its teeth. 

The body lies on the slab. Embalming has not yet erased the last traces of expression; the furrow of the brow remains, the corners of the mouth turned down in what might have been concern or simple refusal to die politely. 

Emmrich does not hesitate. He sets his tools beside the corpse with the same delicacy a midwife might reserve for birth. A little silver rod, hooked at the end. A bone chime. A polished black candle that burns with no scent. 

Whispering to the dead sometimes requires more than whispering.

He begins with the mouth. Always the mouth. 

The tongue is stiff, half-cured by fluid, but he coaxes it loose with whispered syllables. The lips quiver. Teeth chatter. 

“Tell me,” he says, as he slides a gloved finger past the lips, pushing down until the jaw cracks, not quite open, but wide enough. The corpse groans, a low, bubbling exhalation. 

“Tell me,” he repeats, voice low, as he begins the coaxing work of necromantic pressure. One hand on the sternum, the other pressed to the temple. The skull hums. The nails on its left hand curl inward as if gripping pain. 

The secrets don’t come easily. They rarely do. He has to reach for them; through nerves that no longer carry sensation, through sinew knotted by rot and ritual. 

The spine arches. A noise tears from the body, too wet to be a scream, too human to be dismissed. The ribcage gives a shudder, bones straining against ligature. There’s a faint pop, and something dark leaks from the ears, viscous, almost iridescent.

He feels the memory begin to yield like a molar being ripped from the jaw, still warm, still connected by its stubborn root. The corpse jerks, and for a moment, its eyes roll open. milky, directionless, aware.

“You had it,” Emmrich whispers. “In your last months. I know you did. You wrote in cipher. You left diagrams you thought no one would understand. You were afraid.” 

The corpse thrashes, subtly and pitifully. Its throat contracts, forcing out a ragged, breathless noise, a dry bark of a sound that might once have been no or please.

“I am afraid too,” Emmrich says, softly now, desperate not for cruelty but for communion. “Don’t you see? I’m still here. I still have time to lose.” 

“Give it to me,” he demands. He pushes harder. The candle flickers. 

And then something snaps, not physically, but beneath the surface. A vein of thought ruptures. He sees flashes: a hidden page, a sigil burnt into fabric, a phrase repeated until it lost meaning.

The body collapses. A puppet with its strings finally cut—only the strings were tendons, and they tore as they fell. 

Emmrich pulls back, panting, fingers slick with something that should not exist; neither blood nor sap nor spirit, but some fusion of the three. He looks down at his hands. The gold on his rings has been scratched again, scored by the tooth of a jaw that refused to be opened. 

The dead man has told him something. Not enough. But something. 

Emmrich wipes his hands on a linen cloth. His throat is dry. He does not apologize. 

There is no immortality without extraction. 

****

Still, it does not come to him. Not the final piece, not the elegant solution he has clawed toward for decades. Lichdom remains just out of reach, a shimmer at the edge of a fever dream, a name whispered through a keyhole that will not open. 

What comes instead is an invitation, spoken.

It arrives on an otherwise unremarkable afternoon, when the light through his study windows is the color of old paper. She enters without knocking—a girl barely twenty, flanked by an assassin carved from silence and a Warden whose armor bears the faded sigils of a broken order. 

She says his name—Emmrich Volkarin—like it means something mythic. Like it’s already been carved into some monument he hasn’t yet died for. She doesn’t bow. She doesn’t plead. She simply speaks.

The invitation is brief.  

They need him. 

The world is falling apart.

Her hand hovers between them, waiting to be taken. 

His own hand trembles as it rises—not from weakness, though he is fifty-two and no longer young—but from the familiar, coiled pulse of inevitability. 

He decides to take it, to take that outstretched hand of hers. 

He accepts, not out of heroism, not even out of courage, but because he fears what might happen if he refuses to act: 

The gods do not stay buried.

The Blight does not sleep.

If he says no, he knows exactly what will come: a life of waiting. Of watching. Of rotting.

He fears death—yes. Always has. But he fears uselessness more.

So he says yes. 

No cheers greet him. No horns, no accolades. The assassin turns and slips away. The Warden follows, each step heavy. 

The girl remains a moment longer. She watches him with the gaze of someone who has already mourned him in advance. 

Then, just before turning, she smiles. Softly, almost shy. 

And Emmrich, foolish, exhausted, long past the age of foolishness, smiles back. 

There is a warmth in his cheeks he does not recognize. It embarrasses him. 

But he does not look away. 

****

He learns, swiftly and with some small embarrassment, that there is nothing remotely shy about her. 

Rook, she calls herself. There is another name, once offered in a moment of idle conversation. When he tries to use it—tentatively, experimentally, like testing the depth of a cold pool—she grimaces, waves it away with a theatrical shudder, and mutters something profane in a dialect he cannot place. 

He does not try again. 

Rook, then. Rook is good. 

He can say Rook.

He does say it, often. Not aloud, but in the quiet syllabary of the mind. Rook, Rook, Rook, as though repetition might turn her into something tameable.

She flirts with the assassin, Lucanis—probably. Possibly. It is difficult to tell. She teases him with the air of someone who has never once second-guessed their own charm, then punctuates the moment by kicking him sharply in the shin and announcing, “Ta-ta!” before flouncing from the room, giggling like a bell swung too hard.

Lucanis collapses onto a bench with a hiss, pressing his hand to the offended limb. Emmrich helps him up, feigning nonchalance, adjusting his sleeve with too much care. 

“I lost a bet,” the Antivan mutters, teeth bared. He offers no further detail. 

In the morning, Emmrich notices something else. 

Lucanis pours her coffee first. 

Emmrich tries not to feel it. Whatever it is.

Disappointment is too simple a word. What he feels is more complicated; something brittle and childish tucked under the sternum. 

He had, after all, memorized the way she took her coffee: black, but with two sugar cubes, the second always dropped in distractedly, as if pretending she did not have a sweet tooth. He had intended—yes, intended—to fill her cup that morning. To ask, no, not to ask, but to offer, casually, like a man who had simply risen early and happened to be near the pot.

But Lucanis moved first. 

And Rook smiled at him—at him, not Emmrich—and took the cup without comment.

Emmrich, ancient student of death, mutterer of half-forbidden syllables, whose fingers had long ago stopped shaking before bone—felt, absurdly, the sting of being too late. 

****

He has always become fascinated a little too quickly. With things, with people, with the mere suggestion of affection. His mind snags on glances, on gestures half-meant. He loves—no, fixates—with a speed that startles, that repels. He gives gifts too soon, too grand. Poems copied in his own careful hand, obscure sweets from distant markets, relics that should have felt like treasure but only ever felt like pressure. He has ended more beginnings than he has had proper middles, not from cruelty but from this simple, incurable thing:

He is, and has always been, lovesick.

Not occasionally, not romantically, but as a state of being. As others are near-sighted or allergic to pollen. 

It is only the object that changes. 

The face. The scent. The cadence of voice.

The hands he reaches for that always, inevitably, pull away.

So it is with Rook. 

It begins with a smile; one of her careless ones, tossed over her shoulder like a scarf. Then a compliment: “Handsome,” she says, as if it were just another word.  

Then comes the pun. Awful. Delivered with the smugness of someone who knows it is bad and relishes it anyway. She repeats it for three days. Three.

He does not laugh. 

On the third day, he groans. “Enough.”

He rubs his temples with the slow despair of a man approaching migraine. She beams as if he had declared undying love.

He begins to want. Too much. Too fast.

It coils in him, low and quiet at first, then louder, as they share cramped hallways in the Lighthouse. When their doors are close. When he hears her humming through the walls. 

And in the wild, it’s worse. 

In the Arlathan forest, with their fire sputtering under damp wood, they sleep side by side in the dark like offerings placed before a god. He lies awake and watches the gentle swell of her chest, the blanket rising and falling. He sees, in silhouette, the shape of her shoulder, the dip of her waist. 

And in the morning, the sound of the river—splashing, voices, her laughter—pulls at him like a hook. 

Then her voice, sudden, too near. 

“Coming?” she asks, not coquettish, not shy—just asking—as her fingers toy with the laces of her tunic, already half-undone. She does not turn to look at him. She’s already walking, hair braided roughly, bare skin beginning to peek through cloth as she steps toward the water.

He cannot answer at first. 

Then, at last, with a voice he forces to remain level:  “No. I believe I’ll wait for the comforts of the Lighthouse. But… thank you.”

She tosses her head back and grins. “Prude.” 

Then she disappears into the trees, into the river, into light. 

He remains by the fire, utterly still. 

The air is cool. The flame stutters.

And nothing in the world burns quite as slowly as wanting.

****

There is always more to her. That is the great irritation. The quiet delight. The trap. 

More than the foul jokes she delivers with glee, more than the crude jabs, the pantomimed obscenities she flings like spells. Beneath the swagger and the noise—there is something else. Something she never advertises, never names, but which flickers out now and then like a trick of the light: a softness, a sincerity so abrupt it feels like a slap.

They’re in Minrathous again—what’s left of it—where the marble glows with soot and the sky has the sick yellow sheen of bruised parchment. She asks him, offhand, to coax information from a Venatori corpse—one they’d found stuffed in a cistern, a bureaucrat with blood still in his ears. Missing people. A list of names. A hope. 

He obliges, of course. It's what he does. 

The corpse groans. A low, wet syllable, meaningless. He exhales through his nose, already preparing for the descent. 

This is the part he knows too well. The routine. Pressure applied not physically but metaphysically; pushing deeper, threading through the brittle synaptic remnants, prodding until the memory gives way. 

The corpse begins to sob, or as close to sobbing as a dead man can manage. Airless, shuddering gasps. A jaw clicking with strain. 

He tightens the gesture, curling his wrist, an old motion, a habitual cruelty. The spine on the slab bends in reply, vertebrae scraping like teeth. 

Then—her hand. On his shoulder. 

“Stop,” she says, her voice low, unfamiliar in its disapproval. “What are you doing?” 

He glances at her. Her frown is odd. Not performative. Just… disappointed. 

“You’re kinder than this,” she adds, quiet. “I saw you feed the stray cats. You always bring something for them when we come to Minrathous.” 

Leave it to Rook, he thinks, to equate moral virtue with tins of fish.

“Oh, no, darling,” he says lightly, almost laughing, as he sharpens the motion of his wrist, dragging another groan from the corpse. “It is no trouble. He’ll talk. Sooner or later. I do not mind.” 

“Yes, it is trouble,” she insists, now clutching his sleeve, her weight dragging slightly at his arm.

And so—he stops. 

Not because he wants to. Not because the corpse has earned mercy. But because she means it. Because she really, impossibly, believes it.

He wants to tell her that kindness never opened the right doors. That he tried it. Again and again. That it failed him, left him in cold rooms with warm intentions and nothing else. 

He says only this: “Kindness doesn’t get you anywhere.” 

She doesn’t blink. “Kindness feeds cats.” 

The corpse collapses with a sigh, slack and quiet. Its jaw hangs open, as if relieved. 

And for once, Emmrich lets it lie. 

****

He is not proud of himself. 

He, of all people, ought to know better. Ought to know discipline. Mastery. He who can still a spirit with a glance, who speaks to the dead in the grammar of dominion—he should be immune to this.

But he yearns.

And the yearning grows, becomes something grotesquely palpable, like an organ that should not exist: a second heart, smaller and louder. All it takes is a phrase, careless, complimentary, tossed like a bone to a dog, and he practically folds at her feet. 

He could fall in love with her shadow, he realizes, and probably already has. 

If you are sincere, he wants to say—no, to beg, to etch into his skin with a scalpel, one letter at a time—I will have you. I will take you in with the same reverence I have for forbidden tomes and bone-white flame. I will be yours gladly. Gladly.

Instead, he says something quiet. Controlled. The tone even, the phrasing elegant. A line that could pass for a witticism, could pass for courtly banter, unless one were listening too closely. His voice, as she’s said before, is “pretty.” 

She stares. Not at his face, but at his shoulder, as though the words had landed there instead of in the air between them. There’s a pause, brief but thick. Then she grumbles something that might be approval or amusement or simply a startled exhale disguised as speech. 

And he... he yearns harder. 

Because now he knows he’s not dreaming. Because now the possibility, however remote, has roots. 

And he is not proud. 

But he is hers.

In silence. In waiting. In want.

He is not proud of himself. 

Not at night, not when the candle has guttered low and the walls seem to breathe with the heat of his own shame. Not when he lies there, sleepless, aching, clenched with want so taut it hums beneath his skin. He resents the softness of his sheets, the way they whisper around his thighs like a suggestion. 

But the yearning will not go. 

And so he takes himself in hand, efficiently, the way a man might carry out a duty he finds beneath him but cannot refuse. 

He closes his eyes. Tries not to see her. Fails. Of course he sees her. Her face, sun-drenched and scowling. Her hands, ink-stained, calloused. Her mouth, mid-laugh. And—worse still—the imagined press of her warmth, the impossible sweetness of her, the heat he has never known but now cannot un-imagine.

He spills into his palm with a whimper so soft it disgusts him. The sound startles even him; foolish, animal, unsummoned. 

He cleans up with haste. Turns his face into the pillow. Tries not to think. 

In the morning, she notices. Of course she notices. He cannot meet her eyes. His face feels like it’s glowing from the inside. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sing-song, already grinning. “What’s wrooooooong?” 

He shakes his head. He hopes she will drop it. She doesn’t. She never does.

It becomes unbearable, this slow needling, and when the others have gone, when the table is theirs and only theirs, when there is too much silence between his breath and hers—he says it. 

He confesses. 

That he wants her. Very, very much. That he’s sorry, unspeakably sorry. That he should not have said anything but now he cannot not say it.

The words all but tumble out. He looks down at his hands, one of which he cannot help but remember in that other, more private context. 

Rook blinks. 

“Oh,” she says, as if registering a shift in weather. She stares into the middle distance as if someone else had just spoken. 

Then, awkwardly—fumbling, too close—she reaches out and takes his face in both hands. 

And kisses him. 

It is neither romantic nor clean.

The angle is wrong, and she tastes like coffee and sleep. Her breath is warm and faintly sour, her braid coming undone, strands tickling his cheek. 

His mind is burning once more. With shame. With disbelief. With the dangerous flicker of hope. 

Below all that, he begins to want again. 

****

He tells her of his hopes. Of the way he dreams of slipping past the scythe. Of death packed away neatly, like winter clothes. Of lichdom: the cold, glittering answer. 

How he will never have to go. 

He tells her he has not found the key yet, but he will. One day, it will come to him. He will break open every tomb, disassemble every saint, gut every doctrine if he must. He will earn his permanence by force, if not by right. 

She makes a face at this, as if he’d offered her spoiled fruit. Her nose wrinkles. She recoils not in fear, but in distaste. 

“Oh no,” she says. “No, no, no. That wouldn’t suit you at all.” 

She leans forward like she’s whispering a spell. “You’re too kind for that. Liches... things of bone... they don’t feel. Or they do, but only for a while. And then it goes. It must. You’d forget how.”

He laughs and reassures her. If that’s the concern, he says, he’ll craft illusion. He’ll wear his old face, just as she remembers it, even after ritual takes it from him. He’ll keep his voice sweet. His hands gentle. She won’t even notice. 

She shakes her head at him, frustrated, like he’s missed the punchline of something terribly important. 

“That’s not the point,” she mutters, turning away, hands twitching. “You feel... everything.” 

She tries again. “And if you become... eternal... how long do you really think that’ll last? A decade? A century? You’ll stop crying over cats. You’ll stop getting migraines from bad puns. You’ll stop blushing.”

Her voice dips. “I don’t want an Emmrich who’s no longer kind.” 

He almost tells her the truth. 

That he shed that skin long ago; peeled it away like a scab and folded it neatly into the corner of some forgotten year. After Dread first visited. After the rituals. After lovers left without slamming doors. After he learned what kindness purchases: nothing but delay.

After that, he adopted efficiency. Precision. Quiet calculation. 

And yet—she sees it. Somehow. The ghost of it. The residue.

He wants to ask her—desperately—where she sees it.

Where, exactly, in his ruined shape, does that softness still show?

Because he has long since mourned its passing, and he would dig up its grave if she could only point him to it. If it would keep her. 

****

She is all longness. Long limbs, long hair, the color of candlelight through frost, soft like sleep, like something one ought to wake from with guilt. Her eyes are grey, the precise grey of his own hair, as though some shared melancholy binds them at the molecular level. 

She is soft and warm and naked, and he is lost, utterly and without defense.

He kisses her the way a scholar approaches an artifact; tender, awed, reverent to the point of trembling. Her throat first, which releases sighs like drifting smoke. Then the sharp grace of her collarbone. Her breasts, small and eager. Her belly, her hip, her thighs—each a continent on a map he is only just learning to read. 

And then—between them. 

He lowers his mouth to her, and there it is, that impossible heat, that slick ache, that proof that she is real and here and wants. His tongue moves first. She moans, open and shameless, and clutches his hair. When she comes, it is a pulse, a quake. He does not stop. He licks the remains of her pleasure like an oath.

Then he crawls back to her, up the gentle rise of her body, and kisses her as if to say, yes, yes, I am yours, say anything and I will believe it.

“Always so kind,” she says, and the words are shaped in that same tone she uses for jokes—but jokes she always means. 

And that’s what breaks him. 

Suddenly, his body betrays him. His arm gives, his mouth falters, and he collapses into the space between her shoulder and neck, that tender hollow that smells like sweat and skin and safety. He is trembling. Then—crying. 

Not sobbing. Not loudly. But weeping the way a building gives up heat after the fire is out. 

Because her words have landed now. Kind.

Kind, kind, kind. 

And he realizes: that’s the tether. That’s the condition. That’s the price. She will not stay if he isn’t. Not her. Not Rook. And if she leaves, then eternity will be nothing but echo, or, worse still, he won’t find it at all, and life will go on without her, and he is much, much too old to survive another name in his mouth that does not stay.

So for her, for Rook, he tries to remember the man he was before Dread came knocking. 

[4doras]

RULES FOR DATING TRASH ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

you've always hated taesan, but now? now that changed ⊹♡

enemy.taesan x f.reader

genre. fluff

wc. 1.6k

a/n. does anyone else keeping getting that one ad on youtube for the webtoon 💔 i don't even read webtoon but it keeps popping up… anyway i kinda liked the title so i wanted to make a fic with it

RULE ONE: AVOID HIM

you never liked taesan and taesan never liked you, that was something you were sure of. having to talk to him made your blood boil, just seeing him ruined your mood, even the mention of his name made you mad. 

more under the cut!

there wasn’t much reason behind why you hated each other, other than the fact that he had an uncalled hatred for you. 

you hadn’t done anything to him, but he acted as if you had ruined his whole future. he did anything he could just to mess up your day. they were just small things, but big enough to irritate you – hiding stuff you desperately needed, purposely stepping on your shoelaces so they’d untie, walking around with his water bottle unnecessarily full and wide open so it’d spill on you – what did you do to him in your past life for him to treat you like this? 

with that, you made sure to avoid him at all times. 

but recently, taesan had made sure that it was quite literally impossible. it just so happened that everywhere you went, you saw him. and he probably found pleasure from it, knowing that it did nothing but make you mad. 

whatever length you went, he found a way to get under your skin. 

you were sitting at a cafe, complaining about taesan to jaehyun when the boy himself came through the door, ringing the bell attached to the top of the door. 

“hey, taesan’s here.” jaehyun looked at you with a shocked expression. “it’s like you summoned him here.” he chuckled at the coincidence. 

everyone, including jaehyun, knew that you and taesan didn’t like one another, but even knowing that, jaehyun still wanted to invite him to the table. 

“oh please? i’ll be here if he tries to do anything.” he scrambled to justify his actions, but you knew that he likely just enjoyed seeing you two bicker. either way, there was no point in telling him no: taesan was already on the way. 

instead of sitting beside jaehyun, which would’ve been much easier, he decided to slide next to you, sitting on the sofa. 

“ooh, taesan!” jaehyun cooed, grinning from ear to ear at the sight. “do you like y/n?” he covered his face with his hand, giggling like a maniac. “or… are you guys dating?” promptly dropping his hand. 

sometimes it just seemed like jaehyun wanted you and taesan together, he always talked about how you and taesan were secretly in love and were hiding it from the rest. “you’re seriously delusional, jaehyun.” were you not just grumbling about how annoying he is? you picked up your drink and took a big sip, hoping that'd take away from the fact that your biggest enemy was sitting right beside you. 

RULE TWO: DON’T TALK TO HIM 

well… you’ve broken this rule many times, but it was with reason. i mean, you couldn’t just listen as taesan threw snarky remarks at you, could you? of course you’d have to send some his way too. 

except this time. this time it was different. oddly enough, your conversation with each other was civil, the complete opposite of your usual ones that tended to end up with your friends taking you both your own ways before you started throwing punches at the other. 

you were solo-shopping in a mall when taesan spotted you. 

“hey, i saw my friend.” he was hanging out with some old friends he hadn’t met in a while and frankly, he wanted to get away from them, end the hangout early, but they just seemed to tail him wherever he went. 

taesan tapped you on the shoulder, slightly startling you as he did. “oh, hi.” you said in an unsure tone. he never really approached you, and if he did, he’d be with shared friends. 

“this is your friend?” one of the unrecognizable men who stood next to taesan asked. his tone was terribly rude, even if that wasn’t what he was trying to convey. “i mean, she's pretty but she’s clearly got no other friends.” he scoffed, the other unknown friend joining in. “right? It’s a weekend and you’re walking alone in a mall? what a joke.” the two laughed uncontrollably, leaving you standing there, completely humiliated. 

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.” taesan said in a voice that wasn’t angry, wasn’t loud either, just… calm. “stop talking about her as if you know anything.” and with that, he took your wrist and walked away with you. 

“sorry about them, i didn’t know they’d say that.” he softly apologized, still holding your wrist. “i don’t like them, they basically forced me to hang out with them.” 

you couldn’t find the right words to say. too many feelings were flowing in your mind. for one, you were upset. you were upset that taesan walked up to you and his friend immediately started insulting you. but then again, he was the one who defended you. and third, why was he still holding your wrist?

“i’m surprised you didn’t join them.” you resorted to keeping the conversation light. “but thank you, anyway.” 

“you know i wouldn’t say anything like that.” you could feel him getting angrier the more he thought about it. “i’d annoy you, for sure, but not hurt you.” 

for once, there was no bite. from taesan, at least. 

RULE THREE: KEEP YOUR DISTANCE 

you and your friend group, which sadly included taesan, decided to go out on a small glamping trip. and that meant a long drive was coming. 

jaehyun was driving, riwoo called shotgun, and what a coincidence, you were sat next to taesan. the back seats were tightly packed, everyone's shoulders and knees were pressing against one anothers. 

the seven of you had been on the way since five in the morning, and everyone was slowly falling asleep (minus jaehyun of course) 

hours pass. the sun sets. the music turns low, and your eyes slowly flickered shut. 

but when you wake up? your head’s leaning on his shoulder. taesan’s shoulder. and he’s letting it happen. not jerking his shoulder so your head would fall, not trying to push your head off, just letting you rest. 

you lift your head up, trying to sleep without the contact of his shoulder, but he pulls your head back down. 

“it’s fine.” he holds the side of your head, letting your head lay on his shoulder. and to make things worse, he fixed a small piece of your hair. 

it wasn’t right to feel this way, to feel your heart beat this quickly because of taesan. 

RULE FOUR: DON'T START TO CARE 

you’re all watching a movie at sungho’s place, everyone’s enjoying the movie except taesan. you couldn’t help but notice the way he played with the strings of his hoodie and how his eyes weren’t even focused on the tv. 

the others had checked up on him previously, but the way he snapped away too quickly when they said his name? you knew something wasn’t right. he’d dismiss it as tiredness, and maybe it was, but you knew it was the kind of “tired” that went deeper than sleep. 

you quietly got out of your seat to take the one next to taesan. 

it’s only a small thing. unspoken, quiet. you don’t even ask him what's wrong, you just stayed close. 

and the way taesan’s looking at you – he knows what you’re doing, but he’s not saying anything. he’s slightly leaning into you, thanking you without words. 

the both of you stayed in that position for the remainder of the movie, even falling asleep with your heads slumped against each other. 

you knew it was over when you realized how much you enjoyed his presence, even if you weren’t talking to each other. 

RULE FIVE: DO NOT FALL FOR HIM 

you’re frustrated. frustrated, mad, and sad, if you’re being honest. you were supposed to go out on a date with a guy tonight, but it just so happened that he cancelled. you wouldn’t have been mad if he just cancelled, but you found out he went out with someone else, a different girl. 

maybe it was time to take the sign that taesan was the one for you, because why were you telling him everything, and why was he listening? the old taesan wouldn’t have even sat down with you, and now he was listening as you ranted. 

“and now i’m dressed up for nothing.” other than the fact that your date cancelled on you, you were upset that you got ready for nothing. 

but the response was something you didn’t expect. 

“we can go out together, if you want.” your jaw fell. the han taesan was asking you out on a date? the same guy who used to hate you? “y/n?” you hadn’t noticed how you fell completely silent after he asked you out. 

“you want to go out… with me?” saying you were shocked was an understatement. 

taesan’s confidence didn’t falter, he seemed sure of his idea. “mhm. i have time, and you’re already dressed up for it anyway.” there was no hesitation in his eyes, just quiet certainty. “you look pretty, by the way.” he smiled softly, and at this moment, everything felt unreal. 

it was safe to say you liked him. 

the realization tasted a little like relief and a little like panic. you weren’t supposed to like him, but it felt good to finally accept that you did. taesan nudged your shoulder, half‑teasing, half‑checking if you were okay. 

you’d spent so long hating him, but maybe letting yourself feel something other than hate was a better idea than you thought.

boynextdoor taglist: @beomev 

perm taglist: @jellyouse 

[bluerosefox]

Nice to know someone else likes the idea of it being Dick too.

I love the idea of Danny moving to Bludhaven (maybe he moved there instead of Gotham because of the whole 'Batman's no meta's in Gotham' rumors?) and meeting Dick, maybe they meet when Dick was off duty (if we go with cop Dick) and maybe stopped a kidnapper from stealing Ellie or Dan when Danny was busy opening the door to their apartment building and was juggling groceries OR they meet at gymnastics cause Ellie really wanted to learn and Dick was teaching a few lessons. (Dan was most likely a newborn by this time btw)

Point is they meet in a civilian way and start hanging out. Then it turns more into dating a few months later, Dick is charmed by the kids (Ellie is a hoot, and LOVES learning how to do somersaults and cartwheels and gymnastics warm ups with him, and Dan is such a grumpy baby that reminds him of Damian so much he finds it adorable)

Eventually the dating gets serious, maybe they're not married (yet, someone has a ring at the ready), but Ellie see's them as their other dad thus why she calls them Daddy. Dan is baby and follows his sister's example despite not speaking yet.

Thing is, Dick likes what he has. He likes not having to worry about Bruce or anyone else in the family breathing down his neck to check and double check, to triple check to see if the family Dick has grown to love and care for is good/real. Or who they say they are.

They are. Because Danny has told Dick the truth after Vlad showed up trying to take Danny and the kids and Danny had no choice but to Go Ghost. Danny told Dick he just wants to raise his clones turned children as best as he could, how he loves them and wants to give them a childhood and love. How Danny got 'out of the game' of being a hero to give his kids a life outside of it.

I like to think Dick told Danny his truth after that, and Danny most likely figured it out by then. He didn't say he knew because he knows how hard it is to keep such secrets from someone 'normal' and its why he never got upset when Dick would cancel dates.

Also YES. Damian is GREAT with Dan, they both frown and be grumpy at anyone who annoys them. (Damian is a bit hurt that Dick didn't tell him, so he demands bonding time with his niece and nephew btw)

Another DPxDC idea cause I am still brain rotting in this fandom.

AND ONCE AGAIN, its a deaged Dani/Dan idea. And dad!Danny.

.........

Bruce stared for a long moment. Trying to make sure he wasn't going insane or was just very sleep deprived from three days of near no sleep because of a difficult case.

......

Nope he was still seeing them.

Two children, a toddler and a baby in a baby walker were in the Batcave.... One eating Alfred made cookies while the other was finishing up its bottle. The two seemed at home in the cave and were being watched over by Alfred who looked over at him with a raised eyebrow of 'More children sir?'

Bruce could hear nearly all of his children (one was not with them just yet still upstairs, they needed to take a private phone call it seems) who had come down to the cave for their annual weekly reports and updates all asking him when did he get more kids to bring into the family.

The toddler of the two, a little girl with messy black pigtails and blue eyes noticed him and smiled widely at him, eyes sparkling with toddler mischief as she finished her cookie off and then loudly said "Grandpa B!"

Then with the speed only a sugar upped toddler could do she ran over and crashed into his legs, her little arms wrapping around him as best as she could. The baby had finished his milk, and noticed him as well, making grunting sounds and coo's as he did his best to move his baby walker towards him as well.

Bruce blinked, his mind blanking at what he had been called, as he stared down at the toddler that looked up at him with smile.

Bruce could hear his children all freaking out and he questioned which one of them made him a grandfather and never told him about it!

Bruce got his answer when the one still upstairs in the manor came running down yelling out what had to be the children's names

"Ellie! Dan!"

"Hi Daddy!" came the response from the toddler and a tiny grunt from the baby.

[nezuswritingdesk]

A thousand cranes (caleb x fem!reader)

A/n : this one in particular is dedicated to my girlie and husband @sylusonychinus bc they kept asking for a caleb fic soooo here it is! Hope you like it shu .

Tags: caleb x fem!reader, they do that thing in howls moving castle where Sophie and Howl walk in the sky, Caleb calls reader his girl at one point, based on the upcoming wedding banner so ofc ofc theyre gonna be very in love and romantic , NOT PROOFREAD

Wc: 818 words

As a kid, Caleb made a thousand paper cranes.

His grandmother had told him the story of the paper cranes, that if one folded a thousand of them, their heart's greatest wish will come true.

That fueled Caleb's determination to fold a thousand of them, stringing them with beads and string once the 1000th one was made before giving them to his friends, grandma, and you.

The older he got, the quicker and more efficient he became making them. When his hands felt bored, hed grabbed a piece of paper and started making one unconsciously. Another crane for another year.

When you began to date Caleb, he would always give paper cranes as a part of his anniversary gift to you. A thousand, stringed up with twine and beads. When you tried to ask what wish Caleb has been trying to made, he'd give the same boyish grin and shake his head,

"Ain't gonna tell you, honey," He says, "Or else my wish wouldn't come true."

He didnt have to tell you what his wish was because his actions spoke louder— the way he'd care and show up when you needed him, the way he made sure you felt like home in his arms, and in turn, you loved him with so much of yourself.

When Caleb proposed, you tackled him immediately, repeating yes over and over again as you peppered his face with kisses and tears. The months that lead up to the wedding were guided by the paper cranes, guiding your shared wishes to the skies above to hear. Paperwork went by easily due to his Colonel status, you both shopped for the perfect dress and suit, and picked out a pair of silver bands.

When the day came, Caleb brought you to the skies. He held your hand tightly while the other was wrapped around your waist. The white dress you wore made you look like a goddess amidst the sea of a sunset sky. Together, you walked among the clouds, your smiles brighter than the sun. The sky spills a thousand colors for the both of you, making it quite the view to get married in.

You stopped at one point, his gravity evol making sure that neither of you wouldn't fall.

"I made a thousand cranes every year for my wish to come true," Caleb starts, tears starting to pool around his eyes.

"Did it come true?" You ask.

"You're standing right in front of me..." Caleb says softly. You smile, trying your best not to cry like he does.

"I will continue to make a thousand cranes, if it will mean that I get to be by your side for another year." Caleb says.

"And I will continue to keep a thousand more if it will mean that you'll stay." You respond back. Caleb sniffles, going through his pockets before pulling out a pair of silver rings.

"You better not drop it." You tease, "It'll be quite the story to our family one day."

Caleb laughs, "Always thinking far ahead." He takes a deep breath, holds your hand and slips the ring into your finger,

"I, Xia Yizhou, take you, to be my lovely wedded wife. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer till death do us part."

You take the second ring, trying to stop your shaking hands as you slip the ring on his finger, repeating the same words,

"I , y/n l/n, take you, Xia Yizhou, to be my lovely wedded husband. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer till death do us part."

Silence fills the sky as it waits patiently for what comes next, the sun slowly setting down the horizon until Caleb breaks the silence, " May I kiss my bride?"

"Yes, let the setting sun be our witness."

Caleb immediately takes the veil off and kisses you, his hands holding you by the waist as he pulls you close. Both of your eyes closed to savor the moment when love had reached its highlight— the first kiss between husband and wife.

When Caleb finally pulls away, the sun had set and the moon begins to rise over the horizon. You both were catching your breaths before you grabbed him by his belt loops and kissed him. The feeling of your lips uniting with his was what heaven felt like.

Moments later, you pull away, sighing with relief to finally breathe properly. You glance at Caleb, tears steaming down his cheek but a smile bright on his face. A train appears out of nowhere, surprising you as you look to Caleb with curiosity as to how the train got there as well.

"Shall we go, Mrs. Xia?" He offers his hand, "The train only passes once."

You take his hand and smile, "Yes we shall, Mr. Xia."

"Thats my girl."