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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 5 months ago

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"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ��school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

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leriexoxo · 3 days ago

Text

Missing Keycard

Seungmin x Tour Manager Reader

Tags: shy dom seungmin, one bed trope, sleep groping, nipple play, forbidden sex, power imbalance, choking, spanking, riding, oral, braless reader, touch starved reader, unprotected sex, aftercare

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You’re a tour manager for Stray Kids, just trying to survive another city. But when a drunk, keycard-less Seungmin knocks on your hotel door at 2AM, mistaking it for his own room, sleep is the last thing either of you get. What starts as an accident turns into tension that finally snaps — and Seungmin? He’s nothing like you expected.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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The Chicago stop was a blur of chaos.

A venue delay, a last-minute setlist change, a prop that went missing ten minutes before curtain—and somehow, you’d still managed to get everyone on stage, on time, and in one piece.

Barely.

By the time the show ended and the meet-and-greet cleared, you were running on fumes, your phone at 3% battery and your body running mostly on espresso and anger. You’d finalized hotel room keys, triple-checked the luggage manifest, made sure all the boys had post-show meals waiting.

And then—finally—freedom.

You could’ve joined them at the bar. Hell, Chan had even tugged your sleeve and offered you a shot before leaving the lobby with a slurred grin.

But your legs had already carried you into the elevator, eyes closing before the doors even shut.

All you wanted was a bed.

No bra. No briefs. No bullshit.

So you stripped the second your door clicked shut.

Your panties were soft and high-cut, practically invisible beneath the oversized T-shirt you’d planned to sleep in—until you peeled that off too and reached for the one thing lighter, cooler: a thin, cropped camisole you’d worn under your manager’s jacket earlier.

The fabric barely kissed the curve of your chest. No padding, no support, nothing to hide how worn-down and sensitive you felt.

But fuck it, you were on a private floor, not sharing a room with anyone. No one would see you.

You passed out across the bed in seconds, limbs loose, hair stuck to your cheek, one leg tangled in the sheet and the other kicked free.

You didn’t even register the first knock.

But the second—louder, clumsier—jerked you upright.

You blinked, dazed and crusty-eyed. The room was dark, the hallway light seeping in under the door like a spotlight.

Knock knock.

You groaned, grabbing a pillow to your chest and hauling yourself to your feet. You were half-asleep, brain fogged and skin warm from sleep, not thinking at all as you padded barefoot across the floor.

The camisole had ridden up.

Your panties clung high across your hips.

But none of that registered—not until you cracked the door open and saw him.

“Hyung?” Seungmin mumbled, brows furrowed, eyes red and shiny. “Is this your—wait.”

His voice dipped. His gaze dropped.

And then he froze.

“…Oh,” he said, small and stunned.

You blinked at him. “Seungmin?”

He didn’t answer.

Because his brain—tipsy as it was—had just realized two things in rapid succession:

1. This wasn’t Chan’s room.

2. You were very naked.

Not technically. But close enough.

Your bare thighs were on full display, the camisole barely grazing your belly button, your nipples visibly hard through the thin fabric. The hallway light behind him cast your silhouette against the room’s dark interior in dangerous clarity.

He swallowed.

You blinked, still not fully processing.

“Wait—why’re you here?”

“I—” he scratched his head, swaying slightly. “Lost my card. Everyone locked their doors. Thought this was—uh—Chan-hyung’s room. My bad. I’ll just—”

You stepped aside and yanked him inside.

Hard.

His shoulder hit your chest and your hand scrambled to slam the door shut before anyone saw. Your heart pounded.

“Are you insane? What if someone took a picture of you?!”

“I’m sorry!” he whispered, voice strangled. “I didn’t—fuck, I really thought—”

You turned to him, panting slightly from the adrenaline, your blanket long forgotten on the bed.

Only then did you realize.

You looked down.

Oh. Shit.

Full tits. Bare thighs. Tight panties.

Seungmin was right there—eyes wide, frozen like a deer in headlights, clearly trying to keep his gaze anywhere but on your body.

Too late. He’d seen.

And now he was actively malfunctioning.

“I—I didn’t mean to knock on yours,” he stammered. “I thought it was Hyung’s. I swear. You just—you opened and I saw and I—”

You covered your face with both hands.

He was still talking, tipsy and spiraling.

“—and I was gonna leave but then you pulled me in and now I’m here and you’re—you’re dressed like that—”

“Stop talking, Seungmin.”

Silence.

His mouth snapped shut.

You peeked between your fingers.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate.

Which might’ve been cute—if you weren’t acutely aware that your nipples were still hard and your underwear left nothing to the imagination.

You dropped your hands with a sigh and crossed your arms under your chest, trying to ignore how that only pushed them up more.

“Okay,” you said, exhaling shakily. “You lost your card.”

He nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“No one else answered.”

“Correct.”

“And now you’re in my room.”

He nodded again, slower this time.

Your heart was still thumping. His eyes flicked up to yours—then away again. Every few seconds they betrayed him, dropping back down, catching on your thighs, your waist, your chest before he forced them back up again.

His ears were flushed red.

He was trying so hard not to look—and failing.

You didn’t know what possessed you to say it. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or curiosity. Or the way his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, swaying slightly, hands tucked behind his back like a schoolboy caught in the wrong classroom.

You sighed, one hand dragging down your face, the other cradling the pillow against your chest again.

“Well,” you muttered. “You smell like you lost a drinking game.”

“I probably did,” he said, voice rough but quiet.

“Bathroom’s through there,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the door near the dresser. “Freshen up. We’ll figure out the room situation in the morning.”

Seungmin blinked at you, dazed.

“You’re letting me stay?”

“Well that’s a given,” you said. “I’m not about to throw a drunk idol into the hallway at 2AM. God knows what sasaeng would love that headline.”

He made a soft, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat and practically scrambled toward the bathroom. You heard the door click shut behind him, followed by the water running.

Alone again, you exhaled sharply and looked down at yourself.

The camisole still clung to your chest, the fabric wrinkled from sleep. Your panties had shifted during your rush to the door, one hip strap riding higher than the other. The damage was already done—he’d seen you, fully—and suddenly, modesty felt stupid.

You weren’t thinking like a professional anymore. You were thinking like a tired woman who just wanted sleep and had, quite unfortunately, let a very drunk, very awkward, very cute Seungmin into her room.

Not ideal.

You crossed to the bed and slipped under the duvet, this time tugging it up to your neck like a shield, every inch of your body burrowing into the mattress. You didn’t even glance back when you heard the bathroom door open.

The room was small—modest compared to the suite-style ones booked for the boys—and there wasn’t much in the way of extra space. One armchair sat in the corner, low-backed and thin, its tiny matching ottoman clearly not meant for sleeping.

You could hear him hovering.

Fidgeting.

Shifting on his feet like he was trying to make himself disappear.

You kept your face to the wall.

More shuffling. A pause. Then a tiny sigh.

You rolled your eyes, still not turning.

“The bed’s big enough for two.”

Silence.

Then—

“…Are you sure?”

“I legally cannot let you sleep on the cold floor, Seungmin.”

“…Fair.”

The mattress dipped a few moments later. You felt the careful weight of him as he climbed in—slow, hesitant, like the bed might collapse under the guilt of it. He stayed close to the edge, not even rustling the duvet as he pulled it over his legs.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

You could feel the silence settle in like warmth, like tension slipping between your shoulder blades. He smelled cleaner now—soap and mouthwash, the lingering sharpness of whatever cheap vodka the boys had probably downed earlier. But mostly soap.

He didn’t move.

You didn’t either.

Eventually, his voice came, hushed in the dark.

“…Thank you.”

You mumbled something in return, barely audible.

Another pause. Then, quieter—

“I didn’t mean to see. Before. I wasn’t trying to.”

You sighed.

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” you said, and you were surprised to realize you meant it.

Maybe because he wasn’t leering. Maybe because he was clearly still rattled. Maybe because your back was to him and your body had long since relaxed again.

But you were tired. He was tired.

And despite everything, the room felt soft again.

Safe.

You closed your eyes and whispered into the pillow.

“Goodnight, Seungmin.”

He swallowed, voice low and raw behind you.

“…Goodnight.”

And then—finally—stillness.

But neither of you slept just yet.

Because under the sheets, just inches away, your heart was beating too loud.

And Seungmin, with his flushed ears and twitchy fingers, was still trying not to picture what he’d already seen.

⸻

The room had gone colder.

At some point, maybe around 4AM, the air conditioning kicked into overdrive, and the soft hum of it stirred you from sleep.

You shifted under the duvet with a lazy frown, your body instinctively chasing warmth. And then—

You felt it.

Not the chill of the room, but the heat of someone behind you.

A slow, calm breath ghosted over the back of your neck. Warm, steady.

Then the arm.

An arm wrapped around your waist. A hand splayed low, fingers spread wide and firm across your stomach, half tucked beneath the hem of your camisole.

Your breath hitched—eyes fluttering open as your senses slowly caught up to what was happening.

Seungmin.

He was pressed flush against your back now, close in a way that neither of you had planned. Your ass rested snugly against his hips, your legs curved toward your chest in a soft tuck, his body following the shape of yours like he’d been molded to it in sleep.

The realization hit like a slow, hot wave:

Somewhere between drifting off and now, you’d gravitated toward each other. Maybe it had started with a brush of knees. A shared pillow. Maybe he’d pulled you in. Maybe you had backed into him without thinking.

But now?

Now, you were wrapped in him.

And he was touching you.

That hand—broad and warm—shifted slightly, fingers flexing in his sleep. His knuckles grazed higher up your stomach, a slow, unconscious movement that felt more like a caress than a twitch.

Your skin prickled.

Your breath stuttered again.

And that was before you felt the subtle, unmistakable pressure against your ass.

He was hard. Not fully, not completely, but enough that the bulge was there—thick and lazy, tucked against the dip of your curves like it belonged there.

You froze.

Every nerve in your body suddenly wide awake.

It was still innocent enough. He was asleep. Dreaming. He wasn’t doing anything on purpose. But the heat that licked up your spine didn’t care about intentions. It cared about the weight of him behind you, the way his fingertips had curled slightly, like they liked the skin they’d found.

Your thighs pressed tighter.

Seungmin murmured something in his sleep. A sound low in his chest. And then—

His hips shifted.

Just a fraction. But enough.

He pressed into you.

Your lips parted, breath shaky, heart slamming against your ribs as his hips settled again, snug against the curve of your ass like he’d wanted to be closer. Like his sleeping body knew what it wanted, even if his mind hadn’t caught up.

You stayed still, not daring to move. Not even blinking.

His fingers on your stomach moved again. Slow. Dragging higher. The edge of his pinky grazed the underside of your breast, just barely. Not a grab. Not a grope. Just enough to send a thrill zipping through your chest.

You swallowed.

Carefully, silently, you reached down and clutched the duvet a little tighter.

But you didn’t move away.

And neither did he.

You stayed frozen.

Not because you were scared. Not because you didn’t want it. But because the smallest twitch of movement might’ve broken the spell—and right now, with his hands on you, his body warming your back, and his breath soft and steady against your neck… you didn’t want it to stop.

Even if he didn’t mean it.

Even if he wasn’t fully awake.

Even if this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Your body didn’t care about reason. Your body cared about the ache that had been living under your skin for too long. The way your thighs clenched when his fingertips brushed just under the curve of your breast again. The way your stomach fluttered when he pulled you closer, unconsciously grinding that hardening length against the softness of your ass.

A soft sound slipped from his throat—barely a hum, muffled into your hair.

Then his hand moved again.

Slow. Searching. Sliding downward over your stomach, like he was touching something delicate in his dream—fingertips gliding beneath the hem of your camisole, callused pads grazing skin that hadn’t been touched in months.

You held your breath. Every muscle tensed, every inch of you begging for more and terrified of it all at once.

Then the other hand found your hip.

It gripped you there—fingers digging into the flesh, like he was holding on. Like he needed to.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

His hips shifted again. His hard cock pressed tighter against your ass, no longer just a ghost of a touch but a full, heavy presence—throbbing through the fabric of his sweats, thick and real and there.

A soft gasp caught in your throat.

And then—God—his hands started moving.

The one on your stomach caressed upward, grazing the underside of your breast again with just the backs of his fingers. Not a grope. Not rough. But reverent. Careful. A sleeping man worshiping a dream he didn’t know was real.

The other stayed firm on your hip, squeezing lightly, rhythmically, as if guiding himself into the curve of your ass with slow, sleepy rolls of his hips.

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Because your body… it betrayed you.

Your nipples hardened, tight and sensitive beneath the thin fabric of your cami. Your thighs pressed together, desperate, seeking friction. And heat pulsed low in your stomach—building with every moan that slipped from his lips. Tiny, broken little things. Like he didn’t even realize he was making them.

You’d never heard Seungmin make those kinds of sounds before.

And you weren’t even sure he was fully awake.

Your breath shook. Your hand fisted into the duvet. You didn’t move, not an inch—but God, you felt everything. And you wanted more.

You wanted to press back into him.

You wanted his hands higher. Lower.

You wanted—

“…Hnn…”

A little whimper escaped him—almost helpless.

And then—his fingers twitched again.

Dragged higher.

This time brushing—accidentally, devastatingly—over your nipple.

But then didn’t mean to move.

Not really.

Not in a way you could blame on sleep.

But the ache had settled too deep now, thick and warm in your belly, and the feel of his hands on your skin—soft and curious and a little desperate—was unraveling your last thread of willpower.

So you gave in.

Just a little.

A slow, subtle push of your hips back into him—just enough for your ass to press tighter into the hard length straining behind his sweats. Your breath caught in your throat, chest tightening as the hand on your stomach twitched in response… and then slid up.

His palm cupped your breast.

Full, warm, heavy in his hand.

You gasped—a soft, broken little sigh—because the pad of his thumb grazed your nipple again through your top, and it was too much, too sensitive, too good. Your back arched into it instinctively, the quietest sound escaping your lips, and you felt him—

Stilling.

Breathing.

Then freezing.

Seungmin’s body went stiff behind you.

Like a man pulled straight out of a dream and dropped into a nightmare.

His hand stopped moving. His hips locked. His breath caught like he’d choked on it—and then dragged in sharp and tight, like he couldn’t even remember how to breathe anymore.

“…fuck.”

The word was barely audible. Choked. Wrecked. He jerked his hand away from your breast like he’d been burned, stumbling backward out of the bed in a tangle of limbs and blankets, his body trembling with confusion and guilt and raw panic.

He stood there beside the bed in nothing but a loose tee and sweats, hair messy, eyes wide, lips parted, and face pale in the blue light bleeding through the hotel curtains.

“I—I didn’t—I thought—” he stammered, hands raised like he’d accidentally committed a crime.

“I was dreaming,” he said, voice hoarse. “I didn’t know—fuck, I didn’t know it was you—”

You sat up slowly, duvet still pulled tight to your chest, your body flushed and your heart hammering so hard you thought it might burst through your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin said, breathless, eyes darting everywhere but your face. “Shit, I touched you, I—God, I’m so sorry.”

He backed away, visibly shaking. “I swear I wasn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

You should’ve said something. Anything.

But you were still reeling—body buzzing, skin on fire, the ghost of his touch still etched into your chest.

And for a moment, neither of you moved.

Until he did—

You didn’t mean to stop him. Didn’t plan it.

Didn’t think it through.

But the second he took a step back—panic all over his face, like he was ready to disappear and pretend this never happened—your voice came out, small and raw, right before you could even breathe it back.

“…Seungmin.”

He froze.

Turned slowly. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

You just looked at him—bare shoulders rising and falling beneath the duvet, hair tousled from sleep, lips parted, heart thudding behind your ribs like it wanted to escape.

“I…” you started, the words thick in your throat. “It’s okay.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“I didn’t stop you,” you said softly, eyes searching his. “Maybe… I didn’t want to.”

The room went silent.

And Seungmin—sweet, shy, brilliant Seungmin—stood there like the air had been punched from his lungs.

“You—” He blinked hard, swallowing, jaw clenched like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “You didn’t want me to stop?”

“I should have,” you said, honestly. “But I didn’t.”

You sat up a little, the duvet sliding down with the motion—revealing the thin strap of your camisole slipping off your shoulder, and just the barest peek of soft skin beneath it. The hem had already ridden up, underboob visible, your thighs spread slightly beneath the covers, body warm and flushed and so real in the low light.

Seungmin’s breath hitched.

You caught the way his eyes flicked down—just for a second—before he snapped them away, fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his lean body tense.

“I’m your tour manager,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “If I hadn’t been so tired, I could’ve sorted your room. I should’ve gone to the reception or called someone. I should’ve helped you.”

You looked down at your lap, voice quieter now. “Instead, you walked into my room. I was basically naked. And I let you into my bed.”

Seungmin stayed quiet. Still trembling. Still hard. You could see it—his sweats doing nothing to hide the thick, straining outline pressing forward. He wasn’t even drunk anymore. Just dazed. Wrecked. Fighting something inside him that was so clearly losing.

“And I didn’t stop you,” you finished, eyes lifting to meet his again. “Even when I should have. I let it happen. So…”

You took a breath.

“…you don’t have to go.”

His eyes locked onto yours.

And fuck, the look in them—like every wall he’d carefully built was cracking, like he was fighting to be good, to be professional, but his body was screaming something else entirely. Something raw. Something needy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said hoarsely.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me.”

The duvet slipped lower when you shifted—bare thighs now visible. And Seungmin’s gaze flicked downward again. Just for a second. Just long enough to see how your cami clung to the swell of your chest, how it had ridden so high your round underboobs were visible, soft and tempting and so close.

You tilted your head, slow. Careful. Still quiet.

“…What if I do?”

That was it.

That was the moment.

Because Seungmin’s lips parted—eyes flicking back to yours, mouth pink and breath shallow, his cock visibly throbbing behind his sweats. The hunger was there now. He wasn’t just hard—he was wrecked by the sight of you, sprawled out like a dream he hadn’t meant to touch, and couldn’t resist anymore.

You were still his tour manager.

Still the professional. Still the one with authority.

But in that moment, with your hair a mess and your thighs spread and your lips barely parted in invitation—God, you looked so soft. So warm. So fucking beautiful it hurt.

And he had such a crush on you. Always had.

Maybe now he didn’t want to pretend otherwise.

Seungmin didn’t move at first. He just stood there, staring—like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him. You, almost bare-chested and flushed, thighs pressed tight beneath you, nipples peaked and your chest rising with every slow breath. His eyes dropped to your breasts, and he swore under his breath, the tension in his throat thick enough to choke on.

When you didn’t move to cover yourself, he dragged his gaze back up to yours.

Like he was waiting for the world to stop him.

Like he was seconds away from burning.

You didn’t say anything. Just held his stare and reached for his hand, curling your fingers around his and guiding it to your face—pressing his palm to your cheek.

That’s when he cracked.

His hand tightened. His jaw flexed. And then he moved—fast and quiet, crawling onto the bed over you with one knee on either side, not touching you yet, just looking down like he still couldn’t believe it was real.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream,” he said hoarsely, voice thick. “Please.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Because your body did—arching subtly, thighs parting slightly beneath him in silent invitation.

He bent down, mouth finding the slope of your neck like he’d been aching for it for years. You gasped, head tipping back, the heat of his breath dragging over your collarbone. Then his hands—those long, trembling fingers—finally reached your breasts. He cupped them like they were something sacred, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, reverent circles.

“God,” he whispered against your skin. “You feel…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t have to.

His tongue found your nipple and you gasped, back arching under him. He was breathing harder now, grinding against your thigh through his sweatpants, restraint unraveling one touch at a time. His lips moved from one breast to the other, mouth open, hot and wet, tongue lapping and sucking until your thighs started to tremble beneath him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said against your skin, voice guttural.

You looked up at him, wrecked already, pupils blown wide. “Then show me.”

Something in his expression darkened.

And just like that, he sat back, pulled the duvet the rest of the way down, and let his eyes roam over every inch of you. His chest heaved once. Twice.

Then he dragged your panties down your legs, slow, savoring it, watching the fabric slide off your body like it was the last thing tethering you to decency.

He swore under his breath again.

You shifted, but he stopped you with a firm hand on your hip.

“Don’t move.”

He stripped his sweatpants in one motion, cock heavy and flushed and hard as it slapped against his stomach. You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. He was beautiful, yes, but there was something feral now in his silence—something hungry and barely restrained.

You reached for him, and he let you. Let you wrap your fingers around him, let you guide him down to your mouth.

But just as you leaned in, he caught your wrist.

His voice dropped an octave.

“You do that and I’m not going to last.”

Your smirk faltered.

“You think I care?”

And before he could stop you again, you leaned down and took him into your mouth—hot, slow, tongue dragging along the underside as your lips slid down inch by inch. He let out a strangled sound, fists curling in the sheets on either side of him, chest rising fast.

“Shit—don’t stop—fuck—”

You didn’t. You moaned around him, letting the vibrations buzz through his cock. Your fingers curled at the base, your pace teasing at first, and then faster—your lips slick, jaw flexing as you swallowed him deeper.

He groaned, head falling back, hair sticking to his forehead.

“Fucking hell—how are you—” He choked, hips twitching. “You’re gonna make me—”

You pulled off with a gasp, a line of spit catching on your lip as you looked up at him, flushed and ruined.

Seungmin reached for you in a blur.

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, dragging you up until your lips crashed into his. He kissed you like he wanted to memorize you, like he wanted to devour you—and as he pushed you back against the mattress, the last trace of hesitation fell away from him.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” he murmured against your mouth. “But I’m not stopping.”

And then he pressed the head of his cock against your soaked entrance, dragging it slow, teasing, watching your body react—watching your legs fall wider, your breath hitch.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, voice low and ruined. “Say it.”

“Yes, I want it.”

His cock nudged at your entrance—thick, hot, pulsing. You whimpered just from the feel of it pressing against you. Seungmin’s eyes locked on yours, blown wide, hair damp, jaw clenched so tight it ticked beneath his flushed skin.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “But if I move right now, I’m gonna come.”

You bit your lip, your hips already rocking forward the slightest bit, aching for him.

“Please do it,” you whispered. “Slow. I want to feel every inch.”

He groaned like he was in pain and slid in—just the tip.

Then deeper.

And deeper.

You cried out when he bottomed out inside you, your walls stretching to take him, fluttering from the fullness. His head dropped to your shoulder as he trembled above you, trying so fucking hard to stay still.

“Fuck—” he rasped, breath hot on your neck. “You’re—Jesus, you’re tight. Warm. You feel so—fuck—I can’t—”

His hips rocked once, slow, thick drag of cock that pulled a breathless moan from your throat. He kissed your collarbone, hands gripping your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for him as he started fucking you in slow, careful thrusts.

Each one sent shocks through your spine—steady, deep, possessive. He groaned every time he sank back in, voice rough with disbelief, hips shuddering as he fought not to lose it.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, “how long I’ve thought about this.”

“You’re not what I expected,” you breathed, already gasping as he set a slow rhythm, grinding in circles that had your toes curling. “You’re so—”

You didn’t finish the sentence.

Just moaned, softly, “Oh Baby…”

The effect was instant.

Seungmin froze mid-thrust.

His eyes met yours—dark, blown wide, almost dangerous.

“Say that again,” he said, low, like a growl from deep in his chest.

You blinked up at him, surprised, breathless. “…Baby.”

He snapped.

His mouth was on yours, desperate, tongue tasting every sound you made. Then he grabbed your hips and started fucking you with rougher, sharper thrusts—still deep, but now filled with urgency.

“You feel that?” he panted, hips snapping forward again. “That’s mine. You understand?”

You whimpered, clinging to him, head rolling back as he fucked you like he was trying to brand you.

“God, you’re so good,” he moaned, voice cracking. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this. Can’t believe I’m inside you like this.”

You barely heard him—you were too busy writhing, body twitching under him, orgasm crawling up your spine like wildfire.

But you wanted more. You wanted to see him break.

You pushed at his chest, flipping him over and straddling him in one breathless motion. He let you, watching you like he was starved, lips parted as you lined him back up and sank down on him, slow and tight and trembling.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, gripping the sheets. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You started riding him, steady at first—hips rolling, eyes locked on his, both of you completely lost in the sight of your bodies moving together.

But when you leaned forward, whispering “You like this?” into his ear—

—he moved.

Fast.

One hand grabbed your throat, not choking, just holding—just owning. His other arm locked around your waist, and suddenly he was fucking up into you, lifting you off the bed with every brutal, delicious thrust.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled. “Wanted to ride me, make me lose my fucking mind?”

You gasped, fingers flying to his wrist, not to stop him—just to feel him. His cock hit deeper like this, angled right against your sweet spot, and your thighs started to tremble from the sheer power of his pace.

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe.

“Look at me.”

You did—and his face. God, his face. Eyes locked on yours like he was watching you fall apart just for him.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna take it. All of it.”

Your orgasm was still crashing through your body when Seungmin moved again.

Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach, strong hands manhandling you like you weighed nothing. You gasped into the sheets, dizzy from the sudden shift—but the moment your cheek hit the pillow, you felt him behind you again, kneeling between your thighs, gripping your hips like he was about to lose himself.

“Fucking perfect,” he growled, voice low and wrecked as he stared at the arch of your back, your ass up high, your cunt slick and pulsing from how hard you’d just come. “You look like this and expect me to hold back?”

You whined into the sheets, pressing your hips up for him—begging without words.

He lined up.

And slammed into you.

You screamed.

It wasn’t pain—it was bliss. He was fucking deeper than before, harder, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly you could hear the wet slap echo in the room. You clawed the sheets. Your voice was a broken string of moans and gasps.

Every time he drove in, your ass bounced back against him, the sting of skin on skin turning into pure heat.

Then—smack.

His hand landed hard on your ass.

You cried out, back arching like a bow.

“Oh my god—Seungmin—!”

He did it again. And again. Spanked you until the skin burned and the sounds were too filthy to be real, and he was groaning behind you like a man possessed.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he gasped, watching the jiggle of your ass as he fucked you. “Touching you. Being inside you. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

His hand slid forward, fingers pinching one of your nipples, twisting it, tugging until you choked on a sob.

“Please—please—” you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore.

He leaned over your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Begging already?”

You were shaking. Crying out for more. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet and wild, and his rhythm got even more brutal—like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else.

“You want me to break you?” he whispered, thrusting deep and hard enough to push you forward.

“Yes—Seungmin—please—”

He pulled out suddenly and flipped you again, your body pliant and trembling as he pushed your knees up and apart, exposing you completely. He hovered over you, eyes wild, jaw slack, body covered in a sheen of sweat.

“You’re mine right now,” he said, voice trembling from restraint, “and I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

Then he sank back into you and started pounding again—deep, rough, so good you couldn’t breathe. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, and Seungmin’s hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, tweaking your nipples, palming your throat just enough to make your head spin.

“Say it,” he growled, eyes locked on yours. “Say I’m the only one who’s ever made you feel like this.”

“You are—fuck—you are—” you cried, losing yourself completely as another orgasm tore through you, clenching so tight around him that he finally let go.

He groaned—loud, raw—head thrown back as he spilled inside you, hips still moving like he couldn’t stop. Like he didn’t want to.

Even as he came, he kept fucking you.

Slow now. Deep. Letting it ride out as long as possible.

His voice cracked when he said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

And honestly? You didn’t want him to.

⸻

The room was quiet now, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the sound of your shaky breathing. Your body was limp beneath him, boneless, skin slick with sweat and heat and everything he’d just poured into you. He was still inside, still twitching a little, as if even his cock didn’t want to leave your warmth.

But then Seungmin exhaled—shaky and slow—and pulled out of you with a soft hiss. He moved so carefully, hands trembling a bit as he reached for the discarded duvet to cover your body, his eyes wide and stunned, his lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You watched him sit back on his heels, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, lashes low. The confidence—the filth—the devastating way he just fucked you… it was gone.

Now he looked shy.

Almost embarrassed.

“…Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly, reaching for the tissues from the nightstand. His voice was soft again—barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to be that rough. I just— I kind of lost it.”

You smiled, dazed and aching but full of warmth, watching as he carefully cleaned you up. He was so gentle, even shaking a little, his thumb brushing your inner thigh like he didn’t know if he had the right.

You pushed yourself up slightly and cupped his jaw. “Seungmin.”

His eyes flicked up to yours.

“I’m fine. Better than fine.” You leaned in and kissed him—slow and deep, tasting the way his breath hitched in surprise. “You don’t have to be so scared. I wanted it. All of it.”

He let out a sigh, the kind that sounded more like relief than anything else.

When you broke the kiss, he hesitated, then bent to grab the shirt he’d worn earlier that night from the edge of the bed. “Here,” he murmured, helping you slip it over your head. It was soft and warm, and it smelled like him—clean laundry and sweat and the tiniest hint of cologne. He smoothed the hem over your hips gently, reverently, then looked up at you with those sweet, wrecked eyes.

“…I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed softly and dragged him into the bed beside you. He climbed in, curling behind you like it was the most natural thing in the world, pulling you into his chest, holding you so tight it was almost like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

And for a few minutes, it was just quiet. Breathing. His nose buried in your hair. Your fingers lightly tracing the lines of his knuckles where they rested over your stomach.

Then you whispered, “No one has to know, right?”

He stiffened slightly. “Right.”

“But…” you tilted your head back, meeting his eyes, “I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

Seungmin blinked. His voice cracked when he said, “You mean that?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “There’s no going back to pretending we’re just coworkers. Not after this.”

His arms tightened around you.

“Good,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder. “Because I don’t think I could look at you like that again. I want this. You. As much as you’ll let me have.”

And then he kissed your neck—so softly, so sweet—and whispered, “I’m yours if you want me.”

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

Authors note: The way Seungmin has been creeping up on me and wrecking me these days???? Then that cute abs reveal? Safe to say he’s stuck in my head and Ive been thinking about this scenario for a VERY long time🥹

Also, we’re almost at 2k guys! 😭😭😭😭 you guys are the best fr!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar @shxdowofdarkness @aeyla @annyeongffs @beppybeesnuggets @iamwritteninyourstars @crisle19 @stxysakura @ocean-glacierblue

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cyberlsk · 4 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ pathetic ⋆ ˚｡⋆ᡣ𐭩˚⋆ ˚

LEON KENNEDY / FEM!READER smut

-> leon's pathetic when it comes to his cute, younger neighbor. simply put, he'll come up with any excuse to see you.

a/n: i love pathetic old man Leon who’s ridden with guilt at his crush on his younger neighbor…btw reader is in her 20s and leon is 38 (set after death island). based on this post i made a while back.

content warnings: dom!leon, daddy kink, ooc-ish (he's obsessed), unprotected sex, you’re both tipsy when the smut occurs.

If it was wrong, then why was he knocking on your door?

If it was wrong, why did he offer a meek, apologetic smile, unbefitting of a man his age? If it was wrong, why did he spit out a lie, shove his hands in his jean pockets to calm himself down?

God, he felt like a dirty, old man. Was one. He was downright depraved, he decided. Seventeen years fighting unimaginable evil, and a pretty girl made his morals go down the drain. He was better than that.

In his defense, he hadn’t been lying. He could use some technical support. His computer wouldn’t connect to the WiFi, though if he was honest to himself, he couldn’t remember the last time he stayed at this place long enough to bother installing it. When he wasn’t working, he hung out at your place–enough to consider you a friend. That’s right, a nice, albeit gorgeous, and intelligent,

…and sweet friend, but a friend nonetheless.

Now was his downseason. Each mission came with cruel amounts of paperwork, and over the past few weeks, he was finishing up the last of his reports. For now. He groans in anticipation of the work ahead.

“Leon?” Sweet eyes peering into his, sweet smile too. God, you were going to be the death of him. “Everything alright?”

He nods, pinching his nose between the bridge of his spectacles. “Yeah," he bites out after a long pause, "you could say that.” Fuck, was he losing his speaking abilities? Must’ve been the T-virus. Yeah…that. Not the fact that his heart whined seeing you in that little gingham dress with the lace decolletage, or the pendant draped on your collarbones, or the cheap DSO watch he’d won at a work party. His watch. On your wrist.

Leon squints through his square spectacles as you’re rebooting his laptop. “It’s okay, princess, I’ll look at it later. You want a drink?” he offers in an attempt to quell his nerves.

“Princess?” you question. “That’s a new one.” You wrinkle your nose, clicking through the various settings on his computer, and he swears he’s never seen anything cuter. Put simply, he felt pathetic.

To make matters worse, your free hand was resting on one of his forearms, slowly tracing along the veins on it. He held his breath, trying not to feel the heat radiating off of your body.

And then–and then you look back and flash him a brilliant smile. His heart whines in his chest.

"Do you want a drink?" In an attempt to assuage his own guilt (or rather, drown it), he hustles over to the cabinet, rummaging for some liquor. Drinking on a Thursday night, yeah...well. You were fresh out of college. Behind several bottles of whiskey, a dusty bottle of champagne sat untouched. Great. Way to go, Leon.

“I don’t have many options,” he laments. “They don’t exactly have grocery shops in the secret combat zones I work in.”

You laugh, and his chest puffs up in pride. “That’s fine. You got another mission coming up?”

“Nope,” he says emphatically. “Seems like bioterrorists take a vacation once in a while, too.” His confidence swells as you react positively to his one-liners, then plummets once you turn to face him, arms outstretched.

“C’mere. Can I give you a hug?”

Leon freezes, fist clenching around a half-open bottle, then nods. Too eagerly. Is he shaking? He can’t tell if it’s the abysmally cold temperature in his apartment or just you, but he has to close his eyes for a moment to stabilize himself once your arms wrap around his waist. Stabilize himself. God, Claire would’ve laughed her head off. Leon Kennedy, renowned flirt, falling to his knees because a friend asked to hug him.

He drinks in the sensation of your skin greedily. Soft hands pressed against his back, chest flush to his. When he doesn’t say anything, leaving his hands loosely on your hips, you frown. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He’s a bad man, he’s sure of it. He’s a creep, he’s weird, and he’s just a bad friend in general, because the second you pull away, he’s pushing a lock of hair from your face and basking in your worry. Yes, basking. Not that he enjoyed seeing you upset, but you–you were worried. Because of him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s hardly sure if he’s breathing at this point. He thinks he must be dreaming, because you’re looking at him like he’s the most endearing thing in the world, art coming to life, a face that could be adored. He chides himself. It’s in his head. “You, uhh…you figure out what’s wrong with my computer?”

When you place a hand on his cheek, he’s a goner. “Of course, silly. Did you even install a router?”

“Yeah,” he says again, stupidly. “Uh, it’s in my room. In the closet. I’ll go get it.” Before you can say another word, he darts away, clambering to his room and shutting the door. Leon takes a deep breath.

“Fuck,” he swears to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, and he should send you on your merry way. Back to your apartment, away from weird old men like him who perceive every gesture of kindness as an advance.

Does he do that?

No.

Instead, he preens his hair in the mirror across from his bed, straightens his suit lapels, and steps back into civilization. Where normal people had normal thoughts and feelings about their friends, especially their significantly younger ones.

When he returns, you’re sitting at the kitchen table (yes, he wasn’t a total imbecile–he did have furniture). You're sipping a glass of whiskey as delicately as one can, given the acrid taste, and absently shaking your leg. And, since you were sitting, your dress rode up your thighs. What had been a hint of legs became almost the whole expanse of skin, soft and supple and so tempting to him. Tempting? What a creep.

“Hope you don’t mind that I started without you.” He nods tersely, pouring himself his own glass and avoiding eye contact.

As the whiskey hits his throat, he finds himself slowly unwinding. His moral reservations from before begin to loosen, then slip from his grasp entirely. He was just a guy with a crush. He was hurting no one. Slowly, his confidence comes back to him.

Leon yawns, stretching so that his V-lines peeks from under his shirt. "Muscle cramp," he lies, running his fingers through his hair and making flirtatious comments that you returned, perhaps innocently, but returned nonetheless.

“Leon?”

He realizes that he'd gone quiet for a moment.

“Sweetheart, can you help me out with something else instead?”

If it was wrong, why did your breath hitch when he placed a hand under your jaw? If it was wrong, why did your fingers snake behind his neck? If it was wrong, why did your eyes fan shut as he kissed you ravenously? Pulling you onto his lap, hoisting you into the air and leading you to the living room couch?

Usually, when men try to initiate sex, they’re crass, aggressive. But Leon–he’s just desperate. When he throws you down on the sofa, he groans. He never stops talking between kisses, fuck, baby, you’re so pretty, can’t believe I got so lucky, drags his hands along any and every part of you that he can. It makes your heart soar, the fact that this big, esteemed government agent was falling apart because of you, and you’d hardly done anything yet.

“Leon…,” you gasp, and he short-circuits. You’re under him, hair and dress splayed prettily to your sides, silently begging him for more, legs wrapping around the back of his thighs. Pawing at his back as he kneels over you, wanting, needing more. Closer. More.

Leon complies with your wish, leaning back in for a kiss. This one’s slow, deep, makes your insides burn up. He tries to learn every inch of your lips, the crevice of your mouth, the underside of your tongue. Is it gross? A little. He knows that it’s way too wet, but with the way you invite him in, the way you claw at his back and beg for more, he can’t help himself.

If he’s a dirty old man that has fantasies of his younger neighbor, so be it. Just for tonight.

“Where’s your router?” you tease, running your fingers along his stubble.

“Fuck, uh,” he swears. “I don’t have one.” You laugh, pulling him back in for a kiss.

“Knew it. You always use my network when you’re home.”

“Can I make a ridiculous comment about our connection?” Before he can continue, you yank him by the collar, teeth colliding with the impact of it. His blazer hits the floor, then his shirt (way too many buttons, you grumble), then your dress, but before you can unlatch his belt buckle, he has you pinned with one hand while the other runs down your chest. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Leon swears he’s losing his sanity. He latches onto your chest, swirling his tongue around the buds and sucking sharply. Moaning almost as loud as you. Bathing your chest in kisses, dragging his mouth along the undersides, nipping lightly at the skin and leaving a trail of pretty purple marks.

When he reaches your pussy, he’s noisy with it. Messy. He flattens his tongue inside of you, groaning and lapping up every inch he can get. His nose nuzzles against your clit repeatedly, roughly, and when he tilts his head up to suck on the sensitive nub, the entire area is coated in your slick. It would’ve been embarrassing had he not been moaning louder than you.

“You like when this old man takes care of you?” he practically purrs, diving back in with a punctuated suck on your clit. When you moan out in response, he presses slow, heated kisses along your labia, then drags the expanse of his tongue up your slit. “Oh, you like that? You like it when I take care of your princess parts?” Then flicks the tip of his tongue along your clit, alternating between kitten licks and long swirls.

“Yes, yes,” you pant, mewling so loudly that you have to bite the back of your hand. Leon won’t have any of that.

“Oh, baby,” he purrs, replacing the hand on your mouth with his. “Can’t take a little attention? Your cunt is that desperate?”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip. On a whim, you maneuver it so it rests in your mouth. Leon could’ve cum in his pants at the sight.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” You give his thumb a light suck at his words, and he retaliates by giving you a smothering kiss on your cunt. “So pretty. So pretty just like this, yeah? Need me to take care of you, not any of those younger guys who don’t know how to treat you right?” Leon finishes his rambles by replacing his tongue with his fingers, crawling forward to give you a searing kiss. His lips were wet with your arousal, and when you moved your head away, mumbled something about how his face was soaked, he laughed.

“Look at you, baby. So fuckin’ wet that you made my face all drippy. You want this old man’s cock that bad?” You nod desperately. “Clean it up, then. I can’t take care of my girl if my face is drenched because of her. Wanna be clean for my pretty girl, right? Not dirty.”

You nod your head, making quick work. All dignity thrown to the wind, you lap at his cheeks, then his nose, and finally, his mouth, eating away all the arousal you’d left on him. “That’s my girl,” he says throughout all of it. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

You palm at his slacks, still stubbornly on, and he damn near whines. Talking about how he’ll get a desk job, transfer departments, hell, quit his fuckin’ job at the DSO, just so he can come home and take care of you every single night. Fuck, only for his pretty princess. Only for you.

“You’d do that for me?” You bat your eyes at him, mascara running down your cheeks from how good this feels.

“Anything, princess.” Finally, he undoes his belt, making quick work of the rest of his clothes. When he finally frees himself from his boxers, your eyes water.

“You want it?” he taunts, swiping a hand over the angry red tip. The same veins that travel up his arms are on his dick, pretty and pink and twitching.

“Yes, daddy,” you say, half-joking, half-serious. He smiles sweetly.

“Aw, you want daddy’s cock?” he coos. “I bet you do.” Leon kisses down your chest, then your stomach. You feel like you’ll burst if he doesn’t just fuck you then and there. Looking up at you, big blue eyes, before he gives your pussy another experimental lick, but it’s enough to leave you keening. He’s insatiable. He sucks on your clit so hard that you see stars, swirls his tongue around inside you, groans the whole fucking time about how pretty you are. Kisses all over your thighs, sucks marks into them. You prop yourself on your shoulders and notice that he’s humping the bed while eating you out, eyes narrowed but refusing to shut—to see you coming undone by him. He looks pathetic, but how can he help himself when it’s you?

And finally, finally pulls away, face glistening with your arousal, as he guides his tip toward your entrance.

With how wet you were, he could’ve sheathed himself fully in one thrust. Instead, he prolonged this as much as he could. You knew he was fucking with you because he could. Because he liked to see you cry pretty tears for him, so what? You were just so pretty, and seeing you want him that bad made him want you even more, if that was possible.

“More, more,” you beg. Leon just laughs.

“There’s one thing that younger men get wrong. They think that faster means better. Once she cums, you’ve finished the job. But when you’re my age, you want to fuck a girl so good that she doesn’t stop cumming. So I’m gonna take my time with you. I’ve waited thirty-eight years to fuck a girl like you.”

His eyes nearly roll into his head. You’re bouncing back on his cock, sharp whimpers leaving your mouth. And your cute little pussy just keeps sucking him up, a little creamy ring dripping onto his balls. His tip nudges your walls and you pulse around him. “Pretty girl. That’s it, sucking me in so pretty.” You babble incoherently, as he pulls your back to his chest, one hand kneading your tits while the other bounces you up and down on his cock.

“Look at that,” he purrs. Your eyes flick toward him in the mirror, his stern gaze splitting you open as if his cock wasn’t doing that already. You hadn’t even noticed that was there. “So pretty. Look at yourself, pretty girl. Wanted you for so long. And look at you now–pathetic.” A pit in your tummy warms, making you clench tighter and him thrust harder. You look like a mess–your head is barely upright, bobbing with each slam of his hips, your chest is practically purple, and the sound of him fucking you is so wet it should’ve embarrased you. But you couldn’t be, not when he waw fucking you this good and he looked so pretty, big blue eyes devouring you whole, stubble nuzzling against your shoulder as he craned his neck, showering it with kisses.

“Mmm, Leon,” you whine. “Gonna cum. Please, please, can I cum?”

Leon groans at the desperation in your tone. Normally, he would’ve corrected you, taken you over his knee until you knew who was fucking you (daddy, not Leon. Leon was for outside the bedroom only). But you were so cute, and he’d dreamed about this moment for so long that he couldn’t say no to you. “Go ahead, princess. Cum for daddy.” With that, your vision went white, pussy spasming around his dick. Leon couldn’t hold back much longer, either. Swearing under his breath, he tenses up, gripping the flesh of your sides tightly before he cums–

–so much. When he finally finishes, he cums lots and lots. There’s so much coming out of him that he feels drained, your release and his wetting the sheets. A strangled noise comes from the back of his throat, one he didn’t think was possible. You clench at how hot he looks coming undone like this–and he just keeps going. He fucks you past your orgasm and his until you’re making a mess everywhere and you’re both shaking and whimpering from the overstimulation.

“ ‘S too much daddy, please,” you cry, hot tears pricking your waterline. Leon feels his heart melt, instantly coming to a stop.

“You okay, baby?” he asks gently, stroking your hair. You nod.

If there was anything that was understated, it was the fact that older men weren’t just better at sex. They were unreal with aftercare. Leon pampered you, showering you with kisses, cleaning up your fluids with a wet wipe and even carrying you to the bath after. While you scrubbed your hair, Leon hummed away in the kitchen, a towel hanging loose around his lower half.

When you finally re-emerged, wearing one of his old RPD shirts, Leon tosses you a lopsided grin so handsome that your heart skips a beat. “Hungry?”

You gape at him. “Leon, I can’t. You’re too kind.”

Leon plates the food. “I figured you might be hungry.”

As the two of you dine, exchanging light conversation, you frown. “How’d you know I like this dish?”

Leon rubs the back of neck sheepishly. “Well, every time you ordered delivery, I noticed that you got this.”

“Weirdooo,” you groan, playfully jabbing your fork in his direction. Leon chuckles, a red hue coating his cheeks.

Soon enough, he’s washing the dishes, refusing any help because "he’s the one who caused you the inconvenience of helping him." You give him a hesitant smile, glancing at the door.

Leon catches your eye and feels his heart sink ever-so-slightly.

“Sooo, wanna get dinner sometime?” he asks before he can help himself. “It’s not usually my style to fuck a girl before I’ve taken her out first.”

“Of course, Leon.” His jaw hurt by how much he was smiling, but you weren't any better. Leon was pathetic when it came to you, but were you any better?

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you smut #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader fluff #leon s kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader

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stardust-swan · 5 months ago

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What Type of Charisma are You Manifesting? ✨

Left to right: 1, 2, 3

Pile 1

You're manifesting vibrant charisma. You are radiating magnetism that draws people in - the type that makes you best friends with everyone in the room even if you only met them five minutes ago. The type that everyone has a little crush on. The type that can make a small gathering feel like a lively extravaganza. You are full of cheer and high-spirited, brimming with fun and excitement.

You're experimenting with your identity, which makes you come across as raw and authentic. You have a lot of power but you have not yet learned how to wield it. You are confident and ambitious, and people sense your potential. Some people might find it intimidating, but others are drawn in by your exuberance and honesty. You are full of passion and energy and are going places quickly, which other people sense as a vibe of spontaneity and excitement. You live for fun, and if things are no longer fun, you don't want to play anymore.

Imagery I associate with your kind of charisma:

Scent: Citrus - sweet, bright, and bold, but it doesn't linger.

Flower: Sunflower or a zinnia.

Animal: Toucan

Artist: Matisse, full of high contrasts and vibrant colours.

Colour: Clear, bright colours, like turquoise, dandelion yellow, Kelly green, sky blue, and tomato red.

Archetype: The Cheerleader or Prom Queen, who rather than being the stereotypical mean girl, is actually very friendly and genuinely beloved by all - the type who is invited to every party and who makes sure to chat with the new kid in the class to make them feel less alone.

Pile 2

You are manifesting regal charisma. This type of charisma exudes poise, confidence, and elegance. People feel like they're hanging out with royalty around you, even if you're wearing jeans and a t-shirt and cracking jokes. But no matter how casual and relaxed you are, you radiate dignity and grace. People are drawn in by your competence, talent, and skill - you're someone that commands respect, a natural leader like a Queen at her throne. Your peers respect you, and people younger than you look up to you.

Sometimes you come across as more reserved than you are. You're afraid of overwhelming people, so you hold yourself back a little. But people can still sense the fire underneath - the big goals, the worldliness, the growth coming full circle. This makes you come across as confident, wise, and a bit mysterious. You have a wicked sense of humour, which softens a demeanour some may otherwise find cold.

Imagery I associate with your kind of charisma:

Scent: Rose - fresh, clean, and feminine.

Flower: Carnation or white camellia.

Animal: Swan

Artist: Diego Velázquez - realistic, dramatic, highly detailed, and technically impressive.

Colour: Jewel tones, like emerald green, garnet, aubergine, and royal blue.

Archetype: The High Queen. Dressed majestically, you sit at your throne, inspiring awe in others. You are kind, regal, and benevolent, beloved by all the land. You bless and reward those who respect you generously.

Pile 3

You are manifesting laid-back charisma. You are very grounded, which puts people at ease. You like to help people grow. You won't do the work for someone else, but you'll support and encourage them as much as you can as long as they do their share (your pet peeve is people refusing to do their share of the work or improve themselves). You carry an air of vulnerability (in a good way) and openness, which gives you a soulful quality. People relate to you easily, and feel comfortable sharing things with you. They perceive you as resilient, someone who can not only emphatise with their struggles, but who has overcome their own struggles and gotten stronger because of them. You are someone who is actively seeking growth, unafraid of getting a bit messy to do so. You have a healing effect on people and will help anyone that needs a hand. You are supportive of your local community, whether that's through participating in the neighborhood cleanup or donating to a local food bank.

Imagery I associate with your type of charisma:

Scent: Sandalwood - soft, woody, and rich.

Flower: Hydrangea

Animal: Dove

Artist: Maxfield Parrish - vibrant, gently blended, and whimsical.

Colour: Gentle, warm colours, like copper, rosewood, cream, moss green, charcoal and lavender.

Archetype: The Earth Mother. You are someone who is wise, nourishing, and gently firm. You have a creative soul, and you find beauty in the ordinary. Like an ancient goddess who has come to Earth to bless us with her presence and love.

#tarotblr #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #witchblr

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dreamwritesimagines · 7 months ago

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Sunshine 12 - Wildfire

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: It's important to have boundaries after a break up.

Word Count: 4340

CW: Explicit language, toxic!Logan, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

As your friends kept telling you, most of the time getting over a relationship required going out with other people.

And you were trying, you really were.

Didn’t mean it was easy though.

On paper, Hayes was perfect. In fact, you were pretty sure that if you hadn’t met Logan, you would’ve been head over heels for Hayes but Logan's presence seemed to have carved itself into your heart way too deep to let anyone else be there as well. Hayes seemed to understand that even if you didn’t give him any details, so this past month you had been taking things extra slow and getting to know each other, becoming friends before becoming anything else.

“You want to go to a horror movie,” you stated, staring at Hayes before you filled his coffee then leaned on the counter. He had made it his habit to drop by the diner whenever he could before his morning shifts and you were beginning to get used to it.

“Thanks,” he said and sipped his coffee. “And technically, it’s a thriller.”

“It’s a horror movie.”

“It got awards.”

“They make awards for horror movies?”

He nodded his head and you huhed.

“And you don’t see enough blood at work so you have to see it on screen as well?”

“I mean I’m not responsible for people fake dying on the screen,” he pointed out. “And to repeat, it got awards.”

“What is it about?”

“Well it’s this protagonist who starts out with a totally normal life but then descends into chaos and madness.”

You tapped your pen on your lips, deep in thought.

“Say yes,” Hayes teased you and you heaved a dramatic sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“If I get too scared, we’re getting out of that movie theatre.”

“Deal,” he said with a bright smile, making you giggle. He checked his wristwatch then bit into his toast.

“So you’re meeting Jamie after work?”

“Yep,” you said. “I’ll drop by the hospital to give him Theo’s newest drawing. He drew it specifically for him, so you know, I’m playing the messenger.”

“That’s sweet.”

“But it won’t be long, he and Nik has their date night tonight.”

“I mean you could drop by where I work as well?” he offered. “I’m two floors down so you’d see me on your way out.”

You tilted your head.

“Sure,” you said. “If you’re sure it won’t be weird.”

“Why would it be weird?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you shrugged your shoulders again.

“Um—” you said, biting at your fingernail. “You know, going to your workplace.”

“I am in your workplace right now?”

“Yeah but it’s a diner,” you said. “That’s a hospital.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to intrude or anything,” you murmured. “Or…make your colleagues think something you don’t want them to.”

“Friends can’t visit each other at work?” Hayes asked and you let out a small laugh.

“They can.”

“Then?”

You nibbled on your lip, then took a deep breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Does this bother you?”

He looked confused for a moment. “Does what bother me?”

“This,” you said, motioning between you two. “Taking things extra extra slow.”

Hayes thought for a moment, furrowing his brows before he sipped his coffee and shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said. “If anything, it makes me feel nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?”

“Yeah like I’m in high school again.”

You repressed a mischievous grin. “I mean I don’t know what to tell you, I got laid in high school.”

“I will tell you something that will surprise you,” he said. “Being the president of Sherlock Holmes club didn’t really lead me to meet many girls for some reason.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you told him with a smile. “Sounds like a fun club.”

He stared at you, then heaved a sigh. “Okay, I should go.”

“Why?”

“Because the more I talk to you the more I feel like I want to be more than your friend,” he said. “And I’m not gonna ask you out on a date until you’re ready so…”

You could feel your cheeks burning and you pressed your lips together to keep yourself from smiling.

“I appreciate that,” you managed to say and he downed his coffee, then got up from the stool.

“I’ll see you around then?”

“See you around,” you told him and he smiled at you, then walked out of the diner. Stacey came closer to you to bump your shoulder with hers.

“He’s cute.”

“He’s a friend,” you said and she hummed.

“So we’re still not over that other guy?”

“No no, I am,” you said, trying to ignore the small spark of pain shooting through the scar on your arm. “I barely think about him anymore.”

Stacey squeezed at your shoulder.

“Good,” she said. “I mean he was hot but he also looked like trouble, you know? Bad boy vibes all around.”

“Right.”

“But this one looks actually nice!” she said, making you force a smile on your face.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I know. And that’s exactly what I need. Nice.”

You’d had fun with Jamie when you dropped by the hospital, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to see Hayes, seeing that he was very busy. You had just left him a message, then left the hospital to go home and take a quick nap.

That quick nap had turned into a two-hour nap and when you woke up, your teeth were chattering because of how cold it was. You frowned to yourself and went to turn on the light, but it wasn’t working. A quick check in your phone had told you that the power would be off until tomorrow, and you threw your head back, irritation taking over your whole mind. Your phone—that you had plugged in to charge before your nap—was dying and you let out a groan, trying to think what to do.

It was Nik and Jamie’s date night, so you really couldn’t crash it. Julie was out of town visiting her parents which made it impossible for you to go to her place, and the diner was closed, so it wasn’t like you could just go there to warm up. You bit at your nails, maybe you could go warm up in a coffee shop and charge your phone and then come back to—

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your phone started vibrating in your hand and you let out a breath, then plastered a smile on your face as you answered.

“Hi bean!” you said, trying your hardest to sound cheerful. “Sorry I can’t stay for long, my phone is dying and the power went out. What’s up?”

“Power went out?” Theo asked and you hummed.

“Yeah but no worries, I’ll—”

“Mommy no, it’s very cold outside!”

“I know that, but I’m—” you started, then pulled your brows together as you heard his footsteps along with his fast breathing on the other line. “Bean? What are you doing?”

“Mr Logan!” Theo’s voice was almost hysterical, making your eyes widen. “My mom doesn’t have power and her phone is dying so she’s gonna have to hang up soon and then she’s gonna die alone in the cold!”

“What?!” you exclaimed, your heart dropping to your stomach. “Bean—no no, that’s not what’s happening and I’m totally fine, I’m not dying so please don’t worry and don’t—”

“Your power went out?” Logan’s voice reached you and you squeezed your eyes shut before taking a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm.

“Yeah but it’s fine, I’m handling it. Can you please put Theo on the phone?”

“Pack a bag, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“What? No—” you started but before you could say anything, you heard the shuffling on the phone and Theo’s voice reached you.

“Oh you’re coming here then mommy! See, I solved it!”

You felt like your teeth were going to break from how hard you were clenching them but you cleared your throat, then managed to smile again.

“Right,” you said as you sat down on the floor. “Thanks bean.”

“I’ll see you when you get here, love you!” he said and hung up, and you grabbed the pillow, then buried your face into it to let out a frustrated scream, kicking your legs at the floor. You took a deep breath, then put the pillow back and massaged your temples, forcing yourself to focus.

This was just embarrassing at this point.

The urge to leave your apartment and not be here when he got here was strong, you couldn’t lie, but you knew you couldn’t. Now that Theo thought you were going there, you had to actually go there to make sure he wouldn’t worry about you. You could feel the tears of frustration burning at your eyes but you pursed your lips together and wiped at your eyes furiously, pushing yourself off the floor. You made your way to your backpack to grab it, then started shoving the things you would need tonight into it.

When Logan knocked on your door, you were sprinkling Cheeto and Popcorn’s food into the bowl. You dragged your fingertips over the bowl as a way to tell them goodnight, then went to the door to open it.

You were beginning to think your heart would never be calm in his presence, no matter how much time passed after your break up.

“Hi,” he said after a beat and you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore just how uncomfortable you were feeling to have him here when you were quite frankly a mess.

“I don’t need your help,” you managed to say and he raised his brows, then nodded fervently.

“I know.”

“I was taking care of it.”

“Of course,” he said, holding out his hand to take your backpack from you. You shifted your weight, then gave the backpack to him before grabbing your coat to put it on.

“The only reason I’m coming there is because I don’t want Theo to worry,” you said through your teeth as you slammed the door with an unnecessary force before you locked it, then made your way downstairs with Logan following you. “That’s it.”

“Yeah.”

“And stop with that!” you told him, glaring up at him and he had the audacity to look confused.

“You don’t want me to agree with you?”

“No because coming from you, it just sounds sarcastic.”

“I’m not being sarcastic,” he told you as you both stepped out of the building and you let out a breath when the cold air hit your face.

Jesus, it was freezing tonight.

You made your way to the truck, Logan opening the door for you before you got in, and you slipped a little in the seat, rubbing your hands together to get them warm. Logan got in the truck as well and started the engine, turning the heater up so that you could get warm.

After a couple of minutes of complete silence, he stole a look at you.

“You okay?”

“We really don’t need to talk.”

Your name left his lips in an exhausted whisper, making your heart skip a beat and you frowned to yourself, crossing your arms and fixing your gaze outside the window.

“I know you’re doing this for Theo, okay?” he said. “And I know you don’t like this, but—”

“Don’t like this?” you repeated with a scoff. “I don’t know why you think that. Being in a position where my ex-boyfriend who dumped me out of nowhere had to rush to save me yet again is actually a hobby of mine.”

“That’s not—”

“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if I can even call you an ex-boyfriend,” you mused, cutting him off and he pulled his brows together, taking his eyes off the road to give you a look of disbelief.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Eyes on the road, Logan!” you snapped. “Not everyone in this truck has superpowers, in case you forgot.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means whatever you think it means,” you said, slipping a little in the seat and resting your knees against the dashboard and Logan shook his head slightly.

“Am I missing something here?” he asked. “Where is this coming from? We were together—”

“Were we?”

He looked like he was at the end of his patience. “What did you think we were doing?”

“Wouldn’t know, we never talked about it.”

“And we needed to talk about it for you to know we were together?”

“No,” you said, sarcasm laced in your tone. “You cleared up any potential misunderstandings pretty well I would say.”

His jaw clenched before he exhaled through his nose.

“It was to keep you safe.”

You hummed, biting at your nail. “Sure.”

“It was,” he insisted. “You know that.”

You repressed the bitter laugh threatening to spill from your lips, keeping your gaze on the trees whizzing by.

“You do know that?” he asked after a beat and you rolled your eyes, nibbling at your lip.

“I do,” you muttered. “Doesn’t make any difference.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him swallowing thickly and you hugged yourself, resting your head against the window.

When you got to the mansion, Theo was already waiting for you. After assuring him that you were alright, you went with him to read him his bedtime story but unlike before he didn’t fall asleep right away.

“Mommy?” he muttered as you put your phone on the bedside table, and looked down at him.

“Yes bean?”

“Do you think Sir Bartholomeow would get along well with Cheeto and Popcorn?”

You hummed, stroking his hair.

“Cats aren’t exactly known to be friends with fish, bean.”

“Maybe it’ll be different with Sir Bartholomeow if I introduce them to him.”

You repressed a smile.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll tell them about him before I introduce him to them, that way they won’t get scared.”

“Good plan,” you said. “Where is Sir Bartholomeow anyway?”

“He likes walking around the school but he comes here at midnight most of the time,” Theo said with a yawn. “I think he thinks he is my personal bodyguard.”

“Really?”

“He hisses at anyone who’s not me,” he said. “Even Mr. Logan.”

You tilted your head. “Is that right?”

“Yeah because-he wanted to take him from me so that I could catch my class but Sir Bartholomeow just hissed and jumped from my lap.”

The mental image of a tiny grumpy cat hissing at Logan was way too funny so you bit back your smile, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, Sir Bartholomeow probably feels very protective of you,” you said, making him giggle.

“But he’s a cat,” he said. “And I have powers. I can protect him better than he can protect me. I can protect everyone! You too, mommy!”

You awwed, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Yes you can, but that’s not how it works,” you said. “Mommies protect their babies, not the other way around.”

“But I’m not a baby!”

“You’re my little bean, and you’ll always be my little bean no matter how old you are.”

“I’ll be a sprout when I grow up,” he said, looking up at you with a proud smile, making you let out a laugh.

“Mm, that’s true. A bean sprout.”

“You can still call me bean when everyone else calls me by my superhero name,” he said. “But only in secret. Because people need to take me seriously when I’m a superhero.”

You smiled to yourself.

“Noted,” you said. “Now come on, go to sleep. You have classes tomorrow.”

He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, hugging you tighter on the bed and you stroked his hair, humming him a lullaby from when he was a baby until he fell asleep. You looked down at him, then carefully got off the bed and kissed his forehead, then pulled the covers over him and grabbed your backpack, then left the room. When you entered the kitchen, Logan was the only one who was there considering how late it was at night and you offered him a small, forced smile and grabbed a glass to fill it with water.

“So uh—you can sleep in my room if you’d like.”

You turned to him with a frown pinching your brows together. “Huh?”

“Not that I’m—not that I’m gonna be there,” Logan added in a rush. “I’m not.”

“I’m sure I can find another room, I’d hate to impose—”

“You’re not,” he cut you off. “I have a mission early in the morning and I’m not sleepy so I’m just gonna be in the Danger Room anyway.”

Your frown deepened.

“Danger Room?” you repeated. “What’s that, a night club?”

He repressed a chuckle.

“It’s a training room,” he said. “For us to…well, train. For the missions.”

“Right,” you said after a beat. “Are you sure?”

Logan nodded fervently.

“I mean it’s gonna be empty anyway.”

Even if you wanted to ask him whether his mission would be dangerous, you knew you couldn’t so you downed your water, then put your glass on the counter.

“Well I should go then,” you murmured. “Good night Logan.”

“Good night,” he said, his burning gaze following you as you walked out of the kitchen. You could feel the warmth blooming under your skin but you managed not to look back, then forced yourself to walk down the hallway to make your way to Logan’s room.

You had been here before, and it did nothing to ease the ache in your heart.

You shook your head, then slipped your backpack off your shoulder to pull your clothes out of it, then tossed the bag on the ground. After changing out of clothes into an oversized shirt, you dragged your fingertips on the bed, your heartbeat getting faster. The lump in your throat felt like it was getting bigger but you ran a hand over your face, then got in the bed. The pleasant scent of him surrounded you as soon as you put your head on the pillow and pulled the covers over you, the happy memory of you two on the bed flashing in your mind before you shook your head, then forced yourself to close your eyes, sleep pulling you into its warmth in minutes.

Contrary to last two months, you woke up incredibly well rested for some reason. When you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you frowned slightly and buried your face deeper into his pillow before you pursed your lips, rolling over to your back.

Even two months after your breakup, even if you were still furious with him, even if he had ripped your heart out, somehow his mere presence that lingered in the room calmed you down in your sleep.

You shook your head at yourself and pushed yourself off the bed to grab your toothbrush from your backpack, then made your way to the bathroom. After washing your face and fixing your hair as much as you could, you opened the small mirror cabinet to look for some toothpaste, his cologne catching your eye as you did. You quickly brushed your teeth and looked over your shoulder as if Logan could materialize out of thin air before reaching out to uncap it, then inhaled the pleasant scent.

Okay.

You were officially pathetic.

You bit inside your cheek and put the cologne back to its place, closed the cabinet and heaved a sigh at your reflection. Rubbing at your eyes, you let out another yawn and when you stepped out of the bathroom into the room, someone knocked on the door. You paused for a moment before rushing to open it but as soon as you did, your heartbeat sped up.

Fuck.

Okay, this was how Logan looked in his superhero suit then.

“Hey,” he said, giving you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I just…forgot my wallet here. You mind?”

You were never going to get used to just how hot he was, that was for sure, but this was a whole different level. You tried to peel your eyes off his muscular figure in the suit, and blinked a couple of times.

“Sure,” you said, stepping aside for him to enter the room and closed the door when he did, crossing your arms over your chest. Logan made his way to pull open a drawer, then grabbed his wallet.

“A mission then?” you asked, nibbling on your lip and he turned around, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

“A dangerous one?”

He pulled his brows together as if he was surprised by your question and shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really.”

“Is—” Your phone vibrating on the nightstand cut you off and you grabbed it to check the caller ID, your stomach doing a painful flip.

Hayes.

You declined the call and looked up at Logan but he seemed to have noticed the change in your body language so he nodded at the phone.

“The date?”

You gawked at him, then scoffed a laugh.

“Don’t.”

“Just a question.”

“Is it?” you asked and Logan shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m guessing you’ve at least talked to him whether you’re a thing or not?” he asked back and you narrowed your eyes.

“I’d have to see whether he will break up with me out of nowhere first,” you said. “People tend to do that.”

“It was to protect you—”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked. “I will just go find my fainting couch now I guess, after being protected by some guy who thinks he can make my decisions for me.”

“That’s not what—”

“Should I drop a curtsy on my way out?”

“I don’t know why you’re being like this, it’s obvious that you moved on,” he pointed out. “Pretty fast too. So what’s the problem here?”

Your jaw dropped and a dry laugh climbed up your throat.

“Well it’s the 21st century Logan, I’m allowed to move on two months after you broke up with me. I could’ve moved on two days after that to be honest with you, because to repeat; you’re the one who broke up with me—”

“I was saving your life!”

“Did I ask you to do that, dickhead?” you snapped back and let out a furious breath. “And for your information, yes. That was the date.”

Logan’s burning gaze was almost too intense on you but you refused to let it get to you.

“And he’s very sweet,” you continued, blind to the fire flashing in his eyes upon your compliment to Hayes. “And so polite, and patient and he doesn’t look like the type to just wake up one day and decide to—”

All your angry rambling came to a halt when he reached out to hold your chin between two fingers, tilting his head as he looked down at you.

“Is he now?” he asked, his voice a rumble in his chest and you could feel your eyes fluttering close for a moment before you forced yourself to open them to blink up at him.

It was almost funny, how a mere, innocent touch of his had this effect on you. The fire you had been trying to hard to breathe into life when you were with Hayes roared through you, warming your insides, making your head spin.

“Yes,” you managed to say even if your voice came out as a whisper. “He is.”

“And you’re happy with him?”

“Yes.”

You were lying, and you knew he knew you were lying.

Logan tilted your head up a little, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, making your heart skip a beat. You could practically hear Julie’s voice in your head screaming at you to ‘stand up!’ but it felt so, so hard not to lose yourself in this haze.

“And you don’t miss me at all.”

You swallowed thickly. “…No.”

A cocky smile twitched the corners of his mouth and he leaned in a little, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Not even a little?” he asked, making you let out a breath before desire took over you and you stood on your tiptoes to pull him down into a kiss. His arm sneaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his body, his other hand cradling the back of your head, and you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into the feeling, the fire surrounding you—

“Logan, come on!” Scott’s voice reached into the room as he slammed his hand on the door, making you pull back as if Logan burned you. “We can’t be late!”

And just like that, you were pulled out of the haze.

You took a step back as Logan looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned to you, still breathing hard. You could feel the lump in your throat along with the stinging in your nose as you covered your mouth with your hands, the warmth inside you turning into ice. Logan swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath.

“Can we—”

“I think you should go now,” you managed to say, still covering your mouth, your gaze fixed on the floor and Logan lingered there for a moment as if he wanted to refuse, but then he let out a breath and walked out of the room.

You had no idea how long you stood there completely frozen, but after a couple of minutes you felt yourself sliding down to sit on the floor, your hands slipping from your mouth. The trembling breath that spilled from your lips turned into a sob, tears rushing into your eyes and making you sniffle. You bit inside your cheek hard enough to hurt, then shook your head at yourself.

“I’m an idiot,” your voice came out as a whisper and you wiped at your eyes as another sob shook your body, taking your breath away. “Oh God, I’m such an idiot.”

13 - Clouds

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett #logan xmen #wolverine logan

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krys4h · 8 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 ☆

summary◞﹒୧ After growing up together and dating as teenagers, you and Sae meet again three years after your breakup at your art exhibition. Why is he there? Incomprehension and painful romantic memories will arise, buried since he broke your heart.

contents◞﹒୧ 16.6k words, pov second person, fem!reader, aged up characters, forced proximity, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, reader is a painter, no use of y/n (use ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚) second chance, happens in madrid, madrid trip, chigiri's sister is our bestie, we are close with rin, rin is a softie, itoshi brothers angst, meanie sae, sae has problems with feelings, tried to do the best characterization possible, smut, fingering, oral sex, slight choking, riding, missionary, vaginal sex, porn with feelings, english isn't my first language, alcohol, slow burnish, wedding, parties, art gallery, happy ending, minors dni.

────୨ৎ────

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

The sun high in the sky and the blue sky announced a promising day. The light breeze of fresh air accompanied by the warm weather made you hope for a good number of visitors to your exhibition. It was with this positive mindset that you left your studio to go to your art gallery which hosted your project.

With a lot of preparations in advance, you had managed to make the room welcoming and warm, making sure to respect your artistic direction. Pale blue flowers, almost icy silver for the winter collection aisle, and bright and vibrant flowers in the spring and summer aisle. Since your entire exhibition had the seasons as a theme, it was important for you to follow your artistic ideas.

The opening was in less than an hour, you still had time to check a few small technical things. Your hand gently caressed the soft fabric on the tables serving as a mini buffet. The caterer in charge of bringing drinks and pastries had arrived early despite the traffic jams and you smelled the sweet and vanilla scent that escaped from the small pastries. Luck seemed to be smiling to you today.

You were eyeing the mini pink cupcakes when a female voice broke the soothing silence of the empty event room.

"It's so pretty!" exclaimed your best friend, contemplating the room with stars in her eyes, spinning around to observe the room in its entirety. You giggled softly, amused and touched by her enthusiasm. Her pink hair cascaded down her back and her smile lit up her face, her beauty striking you in the most innocuous moments.

"Wait, you haven't seen the rest of the show yet," you teased her, taking a small black remote control out of your pocket. In a few seconds and quick manipulations, the room was plunged into a subdued atmosphere, the brightness reduced. The only bright spots of light were small round spotlights of different colors that danced on the parquet floor. A purple glow passed over your face as you smiled at her.

“You really put your best foot forward, I’m sure a lot of people will come,” she declared with conviction as she sat down on one of the few chairs. Aside from your ex-boyfriend, your best friend was the only one in your circle who supported you so much. You had always been labeled as the eccentric of the family, and you spent too much time painting to socialize at school. She was a pillar, and you were grateful for all the encouragement she showed you.

“I even wanted to bring my brother, but I guess he’s too busy with soccer, he didn’t even answer me.” her thoughtfulness touches you a little, and you dismissed her idea with a smile.

“I doubt Chigiri would be interested in my amateur art exhibition...” you chuckled, arranging a few paintings around you.

“You don’t know, my brother is an intellectual, I’m sure he knows a lot of your references!” she looked convinced, so you believed her. “He’s the only athlete I see walking around here naturally, anyway. The others don’t seem to have the soul of an artist.”

Your hands on the wood of the frame froze. You knew someone who didn't need to know anything about art to always admire your creations, and even compliment them. He was pretty much ignorant about anything that didn't involve soccer, but when it came to you, he was attentive. Until he wasn't.

"Maybe..." You answered her in a less cheerful voice than before, suddenly pensive.

You had met Chigiri's older sister at a bar, shortly after you broke up with Sae. It was so surreal and ironic to meet the sister of another popular soccer player after having left one that you had quickly become great friends, the anecdote still making you laugh today. It was now three years ago.

Three years was more than enough time to recover from a breakup, so you shook your head, quickly repressing painful memories that would ruin such a beautiful day that had started. Last you heard, Sae was in Spain busy chasing his dreams, you couldn’t be the idiot who preferred to play nostalgic instead of doing the same thing as him.

As if to taunt you, your eyes land on the painting to your right, in the winter section. Your heart tightened at the sight of it. You wished you could throw it away, or at least not be able to exhibit it, but the beauty of this creation had not been matched since. It would have been a waste. It’s as if the pain Sae had caused you had sublimated your art in the most vicious way possible, and now he’s forcing you to show your pain to the whole world. You vividly remember when and how you painted this canvas, and what you felt at that moment. You were sure that if you looked at it for a little too long, it would suck you into a whirlwind of feelings that you had tried to ignore for three years.

You snapped out of your thoughts when your friend called you to sweep the floor one last time before the inauguration. You took a deep breath and turn away from the cursed painting. Today was the culmination of several months and over a year of work. Sae wasn’t going to ruin your day.

𖥸

Your exhibition was going well. The city of Tokyo was enjoying pleasant temperatures in the middle of July, so many people were out to enjoy the beautiful days. The aisles of the art gallery were populated with locals and tourists, you had chosen your day well. Seriously, everything was so perfect that you had a hard time believing it.

Seeing so many interested and admiring faces in front of your art healed something deep inside you. Sae was the only one who had the words to give you the courage to start posting some photos of your creations on the net, and he was the first to legitimize your passion. You came from a pragmatic family for whom art was only a diversion and not a vocation to make a career out of it, your dreams were ridiculed and never taken seriously by them. Your only safe place during childhood was to paint in the grass, not far from the soccer field where Sae practiced. The sounds of nature around you, the breeze of the wind and the exclamations of his opponents put you in a kind of creative bubble. His positive comments on your paintings gave even more meaning to everything you did.

You were young at that time and ignored all about the heartbreaks.

"The goal was to be able to represent each season without using the elements that characterize them." You explained in a clear and confident voice, showing with your hand one of the paintings from the spring collection to a small group of tourists, very interested in your creations. Pale green and pink lights hovered around you, lighting up your faces from time to time.

The painting you were pointing to was painted in an abstract style. No real object or element that we knew in our lifetime could be identified, but the technique, shapes and colors used gave the illusion of a field of flowers in full bloom. All the paintings were designated this way: to succeed in conveying the atmosphere of a season without explicitly drawing an element that would betray the special effect. The exhibition played on the use of all the senses, and the room was even filled with special diffusers according to the season's collection.

You obviously didn't have the money for a project of this magnitude. You were the proud winner of a competition that allowed you to exhibit your art for a week in one of the most sumptuous art galleries in Tokyo, all expenses paid. An opportunity like this was never going to come again for you, so you racked your brains to make the most of this offer and make a name for yourself in art. You were on the right track given the number of people present for just the first day of your project.

That's why it was so important to you, all those impressed faces in front of your art. You had already lost a competition three years ago, this was your revenge. That lost contest had taken away your self-confidence, and had even led you to want to stop painting forever. That contest had even been the trigger for your breakup with Sae. A painful time from which you recovered, and now you are a twenty-one year old young woman who is brilliantly starting her artistic career. You had recovered from that difficult time and had been able to bounce back, burying Sae and your failure in the past. Everything was going well now.

That's what you told yourself before your eyes caught sight of the ghost of your heart in the crowd, red locks escaping from his black cap that couldn't fool you.

You almost faltered, your explanation about the symbolism of spring and flowers interrupted. You blinked several times, thinking you were hallucinating but your nightmare was very real. Sae walked along the aisle of the winter collection, his hands in his pockets and his famous face hidden by his cap.

You tried to continue expressing yourself with a polite smile, putting aside the sudden tension that invaded your body. His vision had the effect of a slap. His presence filled the entire room at once, altering all your confidence in this day. It took you a superhuman effort to maintain eye contact with your interlocutors, your body waiting for one thing: to turn around and observe the iceman who inspired all your winter paintings.

He went unnoticed in the crowd with his cap and his neutral-toned clothes, but never for you. Maybe after three years without contact, after telling you that you had gotten over him, your brain wanted to taunt you, play with you. Show you that you were lying to yourself. What the hell was he doing here? He was a Real Madrid player. He had no business being in an art gallery in the middle of summer in Tokyo. Even less in your exhibition.

Despite your best efforts to keep your conversation going with the small group of tourists in front of you, your eyes and heart kept turning to the same person who had been monopolizing your attention since you were kids.

“Are you thinking of selling your painting? If so, how much do you value a single painting and an entire collection?” The young man in the group who seemed the most knowledgeable about art pulled out a notepad and pen, ready to write down any information you had to give him. The problem was that your heart was already struggling to beat at a normal speed, so all you could do was scan the room to try to find your best friend.

You couldn’t believe that someone was already interested in buying something and your heart was beating fast now for two reasons: Sae and excitement. Someone wanted to buy your paintings!! But the timing was so unlucky that the anxiety related to your ex-boyfriend took over everything.

You hadn't spoken to each other since your violent argument. He had no business being here. He was preventing you from concentrating and carrying out your project.

For a second, you stupidly thought that he was here especially for you, and that he had something to say about your breakup, but your stupidity quickly dissipated. You haven't forgotten who he is and why you broke up. He couldn’t be here for you, not after the horrors he said to you before disappearing from your life. The lights that illuminate small round spots on the floor span around you and made you dizzy.

"Miss?" You jumped. You came back to reality and turned your head towards the potential buyer who was interested in your creations. You wiped your hands that have become sweaty on your pants, and tried to regain some consistency.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Your voice betrayed you, it faltered.

"The winter collection. The estimate." He readjusted his glasses, still intended to know the estimate of your collection. In a part of your heart not yet conquered by Sae, it touched you. It felt strange to have artistic value for someone after having wandered for years looking for an audience that admire you. There was a time when your audience was only made up of him.

"We're not at that stage yet, she's just started, but I can give you this so we can get back to you in the future!" A cheerful voice that you know well let you breathe a sigh of relief, a small part of your bodily tension vanishing. She held out one of her business cards, with all your contact information on it with a kind expression. You’d swear she’d be all the rage in the marketing industry.

A flicker of disappointment crossed the young man’s face but it quickly faded and he took the card your best friend handed him. As the group of tourists moved away from the two of you, you grabbed your only support here by the shoulders.

“He’s here.”

Her usually always smiling, sweet face frowned.

"Who?"

You give her an almost desperate expression, not wanting her to force you to spell his name. A flash of understanding crossed her, and she turned quickly to scan the crowd with her eyes, looking worried. You wiped your sweaty hands again on your jeans, he really managed to break any ounce of confidence in you today. You didn't know exactly what it was that made you anxious about him, but the mere sight of him made you falter.

Seeing him among the faces admiring your art caused something in your heart that you had trouble identifying, but disturbing enough to hate the feeling. You couldn't let yourself feel anything when it concerned him. It's been months, years now that you've tried not to think about him and everything he represents. Efforts shattered.

"He's with his agent..." She whispered in a breath, almost confused.

You were too obsessed with him to notice that. Your friend put her arm around your shoulders, holding you tight against her as she made you walk, hurrying as if she wanted to prevent something. "We have lots of visitors, we're not going to let that get us down anyway!" Her smile redecorated her face but it's a little forced this time and she tried to distract you but it's useless. Whether you refocused on your mission or not, your ex-boyfriend was still a few meters away from you.

And you understood what she prevented from happening when a voice behind you makes you stop all movement.

"Well, it was starting to get boring hanging around in the aisles."

That tone of voice. Low in the octaves, too monotonous to indicate any emotion and lacerated with nonchalance. A voice that made you melt every time he addressed words only to you, and spat insults at others. You and Rin were the few people who had been able to see Sae in another expression before his trip to Spain changed him completely. You had missed this voice horribly, and you want to hit yourself at the realization that yes, you wanted to hear it again and again.

"Mr. Itoshi, you can't talk to someone like that, come on..."

Your eyes met the second you turned around and you swallowed hard. It's not discomfort, nor anger that pierced you but pain. His intense teal pupils stared at you in his familiar coldness, a coldness that used to be synonymous with home for you. But today, you felt like you're facing a stranger. He seemed much more adult than the last time you saw him.

The man next to him was shorter than him, and all nervous. He scrutinized you with his big round glasses, you remembered he was his assistant. He was always afraid of being late, and always had to confront Sae's stubborn nature. He was probably only used for paperwork because when it came to decisions and advice, your ex-boyfriend only did what he wanted.

“Miss ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚, allow me to introduce myself more politely.” His assistant mumbled as he approached you, breaking the eye contact between you and Sae. You frowned, while Sae’s agent shook your hand. Your usually sociable best friend was silent, sensing your tension. “Me and Mr. Itoshi want to…”

“What are you doing here?”

You cut the little bespectacled man off in a sharp tone, addressing your ex-boyfriend directly. Your voice was too tense for the vulnerability to be heard in it. You were not used to being rude, and his agent surely didn’t deserve this treatment, but you urgently needed an answer to this question. Otherwise, your inner torment would never subside and you didn’t want to burst into pathetic tears in front of everyone, especially him.

Sae's face remained imperturbable, he had no reaction to your question, or even to seeing you again after so long. He sighed as if annoyed at having to explain his presence. Your body tensed, you hated how he seemed taller than you, richer and his smug air. As if he were just someone superior to you and you hadn't spoken as equals since childhood. Deep down, it hurt you. The hands in his pockets sank a little more, accentuating his bored look.

"That," he tilted his head with his usual phlegm towards the paintings to your right, the winter collection. "And pretty much everything else in the gallery, I want them all."

You nearly choked on your saliva, his announcement sending a shock wave through your body. You wondered if you misheard or if your hearing was playing tricks on you. The firm tone of his voice that accepted no argument to what he just said made you clench your fists.

“What the…”

“If you think someone will make a better offer than me,” he interrupted you, looking up at you with an annoyed look, “you’re still as stupid as before, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚.”

Your body was torn between weakening at the way your name rolled off his tongue and tensing at his insult. This was what it feels like to have dated an Itoshi, you wouldn’t recommend him to anyone. Your friend frowned, wanting to intervene but you made a subtle gesture to stop her.

“It’s not about the money,” you mumble, uncomfortably, “you’re the last person I want to sell my creations to. And where does this urge come from anyway? You disappear for three years to want to buy my paintings now?” As much as you hate to admit it, there was pain in your voice. All of this hurt you. Seeing him again was the worst thing that could have happened to you today. He made you so vulnerable with just a few words.

The discussion took a more intimate and personal turn in your tone, and your best friend understood by herself that she should leave the two of you alone. With her biggest smile of a pro in sociability, she grabbed Sae's assistant by the elbow who has a panicked look while she dragged him away against his will, to give him a tour of the exhibition while you had to confront the ice prince.

His height towered over you, and without anyone around you, you were quickly helpless and more vulnerable. You wanted to cry, that's it. You didn’t understand why he wanted to inflict this on you. Forcing you to see him again when he left you with a broken heart years before, and coming back with his nonchalant air as if nothing had happened. Well, yes, you could understand. Sae has never shone for his empathy. And maybe it's even intentional, his way of acting. He knew the effect he had on you.

His eyes lingered for a few seconds on the necklace around your neck. A gold-plated chain enhanced by a butterfly pendant that sparkled with amethysts encrusted inside. You had worn it since middle school. He was there when you showed it to him, so proud of your parents' gift. You weaken as you remember it. You hated everything he reminds you of and just wanted him to disappear.

"Three fucking years Sae, and you show up like that without explaining yourself and you allow yourself to impose something like this on me?"

There was vulnerability and pain in your voice that you tried to hide with bitterness but he knew you all too well. He looked up at you.

"I don't have time to talk about this, I want you to work for me for a while" he said quietly, ignoring what you just said, as if it wasn't the craziest sentence he's ever said. No questions, no dialogue, just an "I want".

"What's wrong with you?" You frowned, your voice trembling, speechless at his audacity, starting to lose patience. You didn't understand what he was doing here, or why he was talking to you after so long, why he wanted your paintings so much.

He was always very abrupt in his manners, his compliments on your art were never to please you, but completely sincere and because he felt the need to say. That's why his approval always had a special value for you because you knew you could count on his honesty. But here, we went beyond the simple compliment. He wanted to buy all your collections for a reason you didn’t know.

He tilted his head to the other side, as if he wasn't interested in what you were saying and ignored what you just said, his gaze turned towards one of your paintings. You swore you could slap him. You clenched your fists.

“I didn't come to ask your opinion.”

What the hell was he doing here then? You're starting to get fed up.

“You can't impose what you want on me, these are my paintings, I don't even understand what's going on! You're no one to...”

Getting angry, you had moved closer to him without realizing it, and when he lowered his head towards you while adjusting his cap, your words died on your tongue. A few inches from his face, his perfume enveloped you.

“I need an artist for a charity ball to buy the paintings from. You’ve always been the most talented person for that.” He leaned his head even closer, the proximity far too close for exes. Your breath hitched. A charity ball?

“Do I fucking look like I like charity balls?” He mumbled, his expression hardening and you swallowed. “No,” he spits sharply, “So don’t waste my time.” He pulled away from you, a red lock falling in his eyes. Your brain was a mess with this pile of unanswered questions, but you felt incapable of facing him anymore so you don’t ask. Everything he says hurt and confused you, you just wanted him to go away.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh, as if being with you was torture, before plunging his hands back into his pockets. Without even looking at you, he turned around and walked away without a word, leaving you in a state of incomprehension.

He walked on the earth as if he possessed all the riches in the world and was indifferent to them at the same time. You felt like you could breathe again when he walked away. Sae having a charity ball? That's the funniest announcement you've ever heard in your entire life. There must have been other elements that had to force him to participate for him to take the request seriously. But even thinking about it, you had a hard time imagining Sae forcing himself to do something he wasn't interested in. There had to be some other purpose that benefited him in all of this.

His whole person arose an unprecedented irritation in you, but the anger quickly subsided and the aftereffect of having spoken to him again overwhelmed you. You missed him. Arms hanging, you stared at his now blurred silhouette. A pain split your chest, and you scanned the room for your best friend.

────୨ৎ────

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

After talking with Sae, you had 2 questions: what was this story about a charity ball, and why had Sae specifically come to talk to you about it. You knew him, he wasn't the type to do something that bored him or travel for others. He could have sent you a letter with the description of his request, or let his agent take care of it.

But no, he was present in the crowd of admirers of your art and it left a strange bitter taste in your mouth when you thought about it.

Three weeks had passed since the incident, and you tried to pretend that you weren't still troubled by what had happened.

In the middle of August, you were at your parents' house, far away in the Tokyo countryside. Walking in the fields helping your parents, you distracted yourself by turning potatoes in the dirt, wiping your sweaty forehead. You weren’t particularly fond of gardening, but it was a habit of coming to help them since they moved there a few years ago.

“Aren’t you doing anything tonight?” your mother asked you, crouching down next to you with a straw hat that protected her head from the sun’s rays.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled, a little tired by the incessant sound of crickets in the grass around you and the sun beating down on your back when you bent down.

Your mother looked up at you, her eyes narrowed by the sun.

“I’d rather you go out with your friends than stay inside and paint.”

You sighed, already tired of the argument that would start if you reacted so you let it go. Your mother always had little comments like that to always remind you that she hated your passion. It was less violent than your father, whom he used to put you down all day long, saying that you were wasting your life, though.

“You should work instead and-”

“You forgot some weeds,” you cut her off, not wanting to get into a debate where you fought for her to recognize your art as work and not just a teenage lobby.

She was hurtful, and you didn’t need her causing more tension in your body.

Sae was the complete opposite when you thought about it. He was on the verge of calling you lazy if you didn’t pick up a paintbrush for more than three days, treating art like another sport that deserved daily practice. He was kind of right, but it made you chuckle that he behaved like that.

A sad expression flashed across your face before you caught yourself and silently cursed him as you turned over the remaining potatoes.

“By the way, you have mail,” your mother pointed out nonchalantly as you opened your eyes wide.

Only Naho knew that you were at your parents' this summer, the person who had sent this must have been well informed and that was worrying.

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

She nods and doesn't say more, busy with her potatoes. It was only when you got home that you hurried into the living room, running to the limit towards the pile of mail, looking for yours. You opened the envelope hastily, eager to know.

Inside, there was an invitation book and an explanatory letter. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read the letter. Sae was indeed invited to a charity ball, but it was an event that brought together dozens of famous high-level athletes, there was even Aiku Oliver as a guest. The letter explained that each guest had to bring an artist with them, and Sae had chosen you. You were invited to the ball at the end of August, and you could bring your paintings. The ball was in Madrid, in a famous event hall. It was a golden opportunity for your career, but knowing that it was given to you by Sae left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I can’t stay this summer, I’m invited to a charity ball,” you grumbled, your mother nearby. She stopped in the living room, hands on her hips, looking surprised.

“For what reason?”

“…”

You shifted, uncomfortably.

“Sae m…”

“SAE?!”

You tensed up at her excitement, she adored Sae, and it seemed like the breakup had hurt her too. It was something you struggled to understand, since Sae had a career far removed from your parents’ demands, but maybe it was normal for a mother to appreciate her daughter dating a millionaire footballer.

“There’s nothing between us anymore, it’s just for work,” you breathed, turning around.

Her eyes shining with excitement made you feel sick.

“This will be a chance to make up.”

“Mom.”

“Young people these days can’t handle the ups and downs of being in a relationship, seriously,” she mumbled, wiping her hands on her thighs as she headed to the kitchen. “You can tell him hello for me.”

You didn't even have time to tell her that it was for your art that all this was organized, but you held back because she would never have understood, and would never understand your passion. You didn't need her bitterness about your life choices to ruin an opportunity like this.

𖥸

"Wow," Naho whispered, her glass close to her lips. "He could have explained everything to you on the spot instead of insulting you," she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," I stared at my cocktail, my gaze empty.

A few weeks had passed since you received the letter, and you found yourself in a bar with Naho to debrief. She was happy for you because it was an opportunity, but criticized the form.

"Diplomacy is not his strong point."

You chuckled.

“We’re talking about Sae,” you smiled, playing with your drink.

You looked around, watching people enter the luxurious bar. It was a beautiful summer evening, the atmosphere was soft. The dim lights of the bar gave an intimate atmosphere to the place. You couldn’t afford a place like this, but Naho liked to take advantage of her fiancé’s money, a rich banker. It made you laugh every time she took out her credit card and invited you to go shopping with her.

“It’s coming soon,” you pointed at her engagement rings with a sincere smile. “Ready?”

She smiled wide, bringing her hand in front of her, her diamond sparkling in the glow of the bar lights.

“I can’t wait, everything’s ready!”

Just like she helped you prepare for your exhibition, you helped her prepare for her wedding. She was your best friend and you wanted to support her at all costs for the most important day of her life.

“I still don’t have my hairstyle for the big day,” you grimaced, still undecided.

You were thinking about making a sophisticated bun by slicking your hair back or going to the hairdresser to ask for a completely different cut. Luckily, your dress was already ready as were those of the other ladies in waiting.

“No matter what you choose, you’ll look stunning.”

You giggled.

“Says the bride herself. You’ll be the star of the evening.”

She gave a small knowing smile while taking a sip of her cocktail. Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out, apologized to your friend and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a familiar deep voice rang out on the other end of the line.

“Rin?” your eyes widened, surprised to hear him. You lowered your head, swirling the spoon in your drink. “Do you need anything?”

Rin and you weren’t best friends, but close enough nonetheless. The three of you had always been close throughout your childhood, even after the breakup, you had kept in touch. Your relationship was the perfect balance between brother and sister and close friends. He could confide in you, just as you could confide in him.

“…”

You sensed from the silence on the other end of the line that this was going to be important, and nodded to Naho, getting up from your seat. With an apologetic look, you left the soft warmth of the bar to lean against a wall outside, the cool evening air enveloping your neck.

“I’m all alone, you can talk to me.”

He hesitated, his voice uncertain and lacking the confidence he usually had.

“I heard you were going to Sae’s ball.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, not too thrilled. “He kind of forced it on me,” you laughed bitterly into the phone.

“Really?”

“He really showed up at my exhibition unannounced and ordered my paintings.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Sae was in Tokyo?” his voice was hurried, impatient.

“Yeah. I still don’t know why he came to see me directly instead of sending me an email through his agent or something.”

You could hear him scratching his head on the other end of the line.

“Maybe he just wanted to see you.”

“Have you been drinking?”

He let out a small chuckle.

“You’re the only one he came to see anyway,” he said in a cold voice. “Understand what you want.”

“Why did you call me Rin?”

He paused for a moment, silence on the phone. Rin was a mysterious boy who was hard to figure out, but he didn’t fool you. You knew when something touched him through his fake coldness, or when something was bothering him. You considered him a bit like your little brother to a certain extent, you had grown up with him and had seen Sae raise him to become the man he is today. He had no secrets from you.

“You…” he began, his voice hesitant. A silence again. He swallowed hard and launched into it. “You can tell him to call me when you see, please. I’ve been trying to reach him for years.”

You soften.

“Why do you want to talk to him Rin, you know he…”

“Just ask him to call me,” he interrupted you in a firm voice. “You know we both have stuff to work out.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I know,” he sighed.

You looked at the trees around you before answering in a soft voice.

“I will, don’t worry Rin.”

“Thank you,” he said in an almost shy voice.

You continued your call by asking how he was doing. Rin was the star of the Japanese team, which didn’t surprise you given all the sacrifices he had made to get there. What worried you more, however, was still the fervor with which he clung to his desire to beat his brother. He wasn’t living his life for himself yet but for his brother, and it hurt your heart to notice it again after years.

You ended the call with a smile, happy to have heard from Rin. You cared a lot about him. You watched the wind that made the leaves of the trees swirl around you, walking back to the bar. You breathed deeply. You needed strength for the days to come, because your departure for Madrid was tomorrow morning.

────୨ৎ────

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

“You’re talented, there’s no point in going to school,” he says honestly, his eyes fixed on your paintings scattered on the grass. You chuckled, touched by the compliment, continuing to varnish your works.

“My parents still want me to study. I don’t know, I’ll probably take a science major...”

He tightened his ball in his hands, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“It’s no use to you,” he repeated, stubborn. “Just do an exhibition. Even art school is useless, I don’t know what else you’ll learn.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t know anything about art, Sae. I could draw a dog turd, if the shadows look a little complicated, you’ll be impressed. »

He threw his soccer ball right at your stomach and, unbalanced, you fell back into the grass, laughing out loud. He wasn’t laughing, though.

“You have to be really stupid to waste your time like that,” he swung, looking at you with a bored look. You raised yourself slightly on your elbows. Your gazes challenged each other.

“I’m not free like you,” you answered with a sigh, brushing the dirt off your shorts. He made a small insolent noise.

“I’m not free, I’m just determined. I’m going to Spain at the end of the summer, to play for the team. You think that’s freedom? You’re the one with free artistic spirit or whatever you call your shit.”

You tilted your head, observing his pink hair that was shining in the sun. You had tried to fix his bad haircut, but Sae seemed to like his disastrous haircut. It was quite stylish.

“Spain?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, sitting down across from you. Just that. He felt like it was even logical and normal this meteoric rise. He was a prodigal after all.

“You’re going to become even more stupid and ignorant if you stop school at 13,” you chuckled.

He gave you an emotionless look, kicking you, finding your joke anything but funny. He wasn’t going to stop school completely, but it was true that he didn’t really care about his homework and preferred to practice for his matches.

“And you’ll become useless if you let your parents choose everything for you. I’ll be the best striker Japan will ever see, and you’ll still be doing everything to please them, without having accomplished anything. Luckwarm.”

The surety in his voice hurt your heart.

“I won’t be a failure.”

“You already are.”

“Sae,” you tensed. The harsh truth behind his voice squeezed your heart even more. You didn’t want to end up like those artists, forced to work repetitive jobs devoid of creativity. You were still young and could still dream, but you already knew that your parents would put obstacles in your way. The carefree childhood was already starting to evaporate. He sighed, as if he were the one who was disturbed.

“I’ll stop saying that when you actually do something with your paintings. It’s not like I care anyway.” If you like being useless,” he said nonchalantly, laying down on the grass with his arms behind his head and his eyes closed.

You moved closer so that you could rest his head on your thighs, playing with his pink locks.

“Liar.”

He didn't answer, but he let you brush your fingers over his skin, his cheeks and his hair. The peaceful look on his face contrasted with the harshness of the words that could come out of his mouth, and the strength of determination that animated him.

"If... If one day I hold my exhibition like I dream of doing one, you promise me that you will come see it?" you whispered, your hands following the shape of his eyebrows. He slowly opened his eyes, looking at you without saying anything for a moment.

"I'll be too busy traveling the world for my matches, no time for that," he answered arrogantly. You rolled your eyes, pulling him closer to you. He let you do it without saying anything.

"You will be my guest of honor."

He chuckled.

"Promise. Even if we will talk less when you are in Spain. Just promise me."

His gaze darkened.

“You still care too much about my approval, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚.”

It was true. No one had your back. His support was a breath of fresh air, a lifeline. You held him a little tighter, tense.

“It’s just...”

“Of course I’ll come, but you’re not doing it for me, are you?”

You avoided his gaze, looking instead at your painting to your right. He pulled you closer to him, tugging at the collar of your t-shirt, his breath fanning over your face.

“Right?”

His voice was firmer, colder. You swallowed hard, forced to look into his green gaze. Sometimes his eyes reminded you of an ocean, but not in the metaphorical beauty, in the anguish of a density that you were unable to match.

“...”

A breeze of wind passed between the two of you.

“Yes,” you forced yourself to answer, even if you lacked conviction. “I will do it without thinking about you, or hoping that you will come. Just for… Me.”

He released your collar. It was the first time in your life that your stomach had twisted in a pleasant way.

“Good.” He let you go. He was completely unaware of the heat that invaded your body.

𖥸

You woke up from your nap on the plane with a knot in your stomach. You had just dreamed of a distant memory, dating back to a few years ago. An old promise, which he – with surprise – had kept. He had really come to your exhibition. Was that why he had moved on purpose? It wasn’t like him to take children’s promises to heart like that, even though he was the type to follow through on his goals. In fact, it was very like him after all, and you didn’t know how you should feel about that.

You were collecting your luggage in the airport, your mind in thought. Your dream had awakened painful memories, and you were distracted by your thoughts instead of enjoying the warm air of Spain. Your eyes roamed your surroundings, admiring the sophisticated architecture of the airport and the world that swarmed there. As you stepped out, you took a deep breath as you observed the city in front of you, populated with people.

It was sunny, and very hot. You took off your cardigan, walking towards your Uber while rolling your suitcase. Your skin glowed in the sun, and you already knew that for the time you were going to be in Spain, you were going to get a tan. The lack of moisture in the air intensified the already high temperature.

As you sat down in your Uber, you received a call from an unknown number. Curious, you answered it while putting on your seatbelt.

“Are you here yet?”

Your hairs stood on end at the sound of Sae's voice, and you frowned. Several questions clashed in your mind. From 1) why did he still have your number? 2) how the hell did he know what time you were arriving in Madrid? 3) what did he want from you?

"Sae?" you mumbled, your voice nervous. The driver started driving, looking at you from time to time in the rearview mirror, curious.

"Whoever you want it to be, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?"

You tensed up.

"No, I mean..." you hesitated for a few seconds. "What do you want, well why are you calling me, how did you get my number?"

"We were a couple as far as I know," he remarked casually and your tension increased in your body. “I still have your number.”

“I thought I had you blocked.”

“I guess you didn’t.”

You hated his smug tone, it was already getting on your nerves. You stayed silent for a moment, glancing at the scenery passing before your eyes.

"First, you send me a letter when I'm at my parents', and now you know exactly when my plane lands. You're creepy."

He huffed.

"You always go to your parents' in the summer, I just have a good memory."

"That doesn't answer my second question."

"There were no questions in your sentence."

"Are you being so annoying on purpose?" you grumbled, annoyed. "Answer, damn it."

The driver smirked, amused by the conversation but he remained discreet.

"Your paintings arrived in the event room as planned," he changed the subject. "They're intact, and ready for the exhibition."

The new subject piqued your interest although the way he ignored you annoyed you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you mumbled impatiently, playing with the zipper of your vest in your hands.

"Just like that, I thought you would have wanted to know that they were safe."

His attention made your heart race for a moment but you quickly recovered and cleared your throat.

"Is that all you had to tell me?" you lowered your head, fiddling with your vest.

"Do you want to visit Madrid with me?"

You nearly swallowed your saliva the wrong way.

"W-What?"

He sighed on the other end of the line, as if you were exhausting him just by talking.

"I'll meet you at 2pm at the San Miguel market."

And he suddenly hung up like that, without another word. Dumbfounded, you stared at your phone in your hands for a few seconds without saying anything. Not only had he ignored your questions, but he allowed himself to hang up on you and make decisions without your consent. And what was this about showing you around Madrid? Had he forgotten that he had rejected you like an old sock when you needed him the most? Why was he acting like you were on good terms.

Your mind full of questions, you rested your head against the car window and watched the streets go by, pensive.

𖥸

You arrived at your hotel around noon, which was the last bit of time you had before seeing your ex-boyfriend. Because yes, you were of course going to come to his suspicious meeting. You had nothing else to do anyway, and you really wanted to have answers to your questions today.

You rushed to the shower once you got to your room, getting rid of your filth. You stood still in the shower, feeling the water trickle down your body, taking the opportunity to cool off. You took your time to lotion yourself, choosing a vanilla-scented body lotion. You perfumed yourself, and put on your jewelry. You put on simple jeans and a tank top that was a little low-cut to survive the heat of Spain. You applied treatments to your hair, taking more time than usual and you didn't want to think about what that meant. Yes, you were getting dolled up to go see your ex, let's be honest. You put on white sneakers, and grabbed your handbag.

You were going to unpack your things later, you wanted to have time to figure out how to navigate the Spanish metro and walk around a bit before meeting Sae where he had told you.

If you had been told that Sae was going to play tour guide for you two months ago you would have burst out laughing but now this was your reality.

𖥸

You arrived on time at the San Miguel market. The market was bustling with people, and you had taken the time to stroll through the streets before coming. The sunny streets were filled with trees, it was nice to hang out there. The San Miguel market was a long avenue filled with different food stalls. Some sold takeaways, others spices, others olives. A pleasant spicy smell enveloped the market and guided you inside.

It didn't take long for you to spot red locks that you knew well under a cap. Your breath caught when your eyes met. He wore a white shirt with the top two buttons open, and simple jeans. A luxury watch on his wrist, he smelled of money. Hands in his pockets, he stood nonchalantly against a wall near the market.

His gaze roamed your body for a long time before they went back up to your eyes, and he nodded to you.

You swallowed, and took a few steps to join him.

"You have to stop deciding everything like that without even asking my opinion," you mumbled, reaching his height.

"Is that a Japanese way of saying hello?" He sighed, pushing his hands further into his pockets. You noticed that he sighed very often when he spoke to you and it annoyed you.

"You forget that you're Japanese too."

He rolled his eyes.

"Come on," he walked towards the inside of the market without even waiting for you. You followed suit, already grumpy.

"What did I just tell you? Stop ignoring me and choose for..."

"I don't remember if you like olives or not," he interrupted you, pointing at an olive stand. You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply. This was going to be a long day.

"Sae."

"Or you can try the meat skewers. Or chili."

With a wave of his hand, he pointed to the different stands as you walked side by side. You glared at him.

"You're doing it on purpose, huh?"

"Maybe," a smirk crossed his lips and left you speechless. Was he teasing you? Like it was nothing? You rubbed your arms, feeling weird.

"We're not a couple anymore, why are you acting like..."

"Skewers or olives?"

You groaned, fed up with his behavior.

"Sae!"

He moved faster without waiting for you, and you almost lost him in the crowd. You zigzagged through the mass of people to join him. He had stopped at a meat stand that sold the skewers he was talking about, and you joined him, out of breath from having to follow him. It was going to be a long day.

𖥸

"I can't believe we're having a drink together."

"Life is full of surprises."

"No, seriously, what's wrong with you Sae?"

He sighed - for the thousandth time that day -, he still had that don't-care look he wore as if everything took energy from him, and that expression was starting to get on your nerves.

"And stop looking so bored, it's unpleasant."

"It's natural."

You rolled your eyes.

You had been sitting on a terrace for about fifteen minutes, and you struggled to find answers to your many questions. Sae acted as if nothing was wrong, not seeing the absurdity of the situation. And the worst part was that you weren't having a bad time. He had taken you to his favorite places in Madrid, showed you parks, and you were amazed by the beauty of the Spanish city. Sometimes, Sae's eyes lingered on his, as if to check that you were enjoying the moment, and in those moments you turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I really don't understand what's going on," you grumbled as you sipped your cocktail. "We're not friends Sae."

"Really?"

Your eyes widened at his casual tone and how he looked at you smugly.

"Well yeah, should I remind you how we broke up or what? I'm not your friend, you're an idiot to even think otherwise," you had your cocktail in one quick gulp, choking a little as you coughed. Sae stared at you choking without saying anything, and you cursed him inwardly.

“I just thought you might want to visit the city,” he stated nonchalantly, his eyes falling back on his expensive watch. “I’ll leave you, I’ve arranged a taxi that will take you back to your hotel.”

“You’re stalking me, how do you know the address of my hotel?” your eyebrows furrowed, your face wary before you remembered your main question. “And for the letter to my parents…”

“See you tomorrow at the charity gala,” he adjusted his cap on his head and stood up without a goodbye, his hands in his pockets. He took a hand out of his pocket to place a large bill on the table before leaving without a word. You watched him walk away, speechless.

He was annoying, unbearable and so rude. But deep down, your heart tightened as you thought back to that day that you had enjoyed. You had enjoyed visiting the city, discovering Madrid, and Sae's favorite places. In a way, you had enjoyed his company, although it took a superhuman effort to admit it to yourself. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized that you missed him terribly. Even his flaws. Even his smug and nonchalant air. Everything that made him a person, ultimately.

You were silent during your taxi ride. Sae made your heart confused. Nothing forced him to spend the day with you, yet he had done so. You were also not blind to his many insistent glances, eyes hidden under his red locks in front of his face. At someone else's, it would have been cute to show his favorite spots to someone who doesn't know the city, but this action for Sae gave rise to incomprehension and immense unease. It was none of his business, and you struggled to understand his real intentions. He had even gone so far as to prepare a taxi for you so that you could return home safely, seriously what was he thinking? Your stupid side whispered to your heart that he was surely trying to make up for it, and it would have been plausible if we weren't talking about the ice prince, Sae Itoshi.

With a confused heart and a knot in your stomach, you rested your head against the window, admiring the landscapes of the favorite city of the boy you had once been madly in love with.

────୨ৎ────

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 – 𝟐𝟏 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

You sprayed yourself for the thousandth time with your favorite perfume, taking care to put it everywhere, and on your long dress. Dressed in a sophisticated way, you wore a long black dress with a backless and bare shoulders, with many golden jewels like you love them. You always loved jewelry, and especially painting them. Playing with shades of yellow and orange was your hobby when you were younger. Sae often lent you his golden medals so that you could paint them, because he knew that you loved it.

Speaking of Sae, you had made a mental note to finally have answers to your questions today, and not to let yourself be distracted by his actions. Today, you decided to have the power in your relationship, if we could still say that you had one.

You were choosing which bag to wear when your phone vibrated.

"Naho, I missed you," you exclaimed on the phone when you saw who called. Your enthusiasm was followed by a chuckle on the other end of the line.

“So, how’s the future star of the evening?”

“Don’t start, I’m pretty stressed,” you sighed, walking nervously around your apartment while talking to your best friend. “I have a black dress, should I take a small red bag or a small silver bag?”

“Red. The silver one won’t go with your jewelry,” your girlfriend answered confidently. You nodded and slung your small red leather bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll never guess what happened yesterday?”

“Did you fall under the spell of a Spanish guy?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Worse than that.”

You began to explain everything that happened yesterday with Sae. She listened attentively without interrupting you, before leaving a long silence.

“That’s weird,” she only said and you could only nod.

“Yeah, I don’t know what to think?”

“You know he didn’t date anyone after you broke up? I was kind of mad at him when he left you, so I kind of followed everything he did to curse him in secret,” she admitted with a laugh, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

It felt good to have a friend like her by your side, always there to make you laugh and support you.

“I’m not surprised, I’m the only one who was stupid enough to keep up with his bullshit.”

“Or does it just mean he’s still in love with you?”

You freeze.

“What the fuck?” you stared at the ground, frowning.

“I mean… If we’re being objective, he does a lot of thoughtful things. Picking you for the bal, introducing you to the city, spending time with you, arranging a taxi to take you home…”

“We’re talking about Sae, Naho,” you interrupted her, your voice a little dry, as if you were on the defensive.

“I know, I know. But think about it. You know him well, he wouldn’t do that to just anyone.”

“He probably wants something in return, I don’t see any other explanation.”

“I think he wants to come back to you, but he just doesn’t know how to do it.”

You started laughing again, finding her idea absurd.

"I have time to die four times before Sae regrets his choices and tries something with me again, Naho," you shook your head with a sigh. "Let's stop talking about him, it's giving me a headache."

"Whatever you want, but just think about it."

𖥸

The event hall was packed. From a distance, you could tell it was a wedding given the rich decorations, the numerous bouquets of flowers, and the sophisticated outfits of the guests. You recognized several celebrities just by arriving, and you were starting to feel out of place. Everyone invited here had some kind of notoriety, you were just a nobody.

"Can I get you something?" A waiter offered you champagne, but you politely declined, fixing your dress with your hands.

Your paintings blended perfectly with the decor, and you couldn't help but feel a little pride in displaying them for others to see. You walked over to one of the paintings, touching them delicately, feeling the relief of the brushstrokes under your hand. It was a golden opportunity to have your collection here, you were grateful to have had this opportunity, but knowing that you had gotten it thanks to Sae left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes wandered over the crowd of people, looking for Sae. You quickly found him, he was surrounded by journalists and had a bored expression. He was dressed simply, but sophisticatedly. A white shirt, black suit pants, and loafers. He wasn't wearing his usual glasses and cap, his face was on display for everyone to see. He bent down to sign an autograph for a child, and straightened up, signaling to the journalists to leave him alone. He was about to pick up his glass from the buffet before looking up and meeting your gaze.

As every time he looked at you, your body was riddled with electricity and you fought internally against the urge to turn your head, unable to hold his gaze. His eyes wandered along your silhouette, impassive. They lingered on your curves, and you hated the heat that was released in your stomach at his eye contact. Your body felt hot under his gaze on you, every part of your body felt the weight of it. His eyes said things that you didn't want to know, but that your body demanded to hear.

You lifted your dress a little and began to walk towards him, maintaining his gaze. The world around you didn't matter anymore, you had two goals today: to solve the mystery of Sae's behavior, and to get noticed by someone important with your art. And now, you were walking towards your first objective.

He leaned against a wall, his hands in the pockets of his classy pants, his eyes fixed on you. You concentrated on not tripping because his eyes were destabilizing. When you reached his height, you were enveloped by the addictive scent of his cologne.

"This is the first time I've seen you dressed like this," he brought his glass back to his lips, his eyes lingering on the curve of your hip molded by the fabric of your dress. Your heart was pounding under his gaze.

"I didn't have a chance before, when we were together" you leaned against the wall next to him, crossing your fingers on your stomach.

“It suits you.” He looked away and sipped his drink.

You nearly choked at his compliment, it was so out of character for him to say something like that.

“Are you drunk?”

He scoffed and shook his head. His red locks waved at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not into that.”

You nearly laughed at his response, he seemed personally outraged that you would think he was intoxicated.

“Relax, I didn’t call you an alcoholic,” you chuckled, wrinkling your dress before freezing.

Were you seriously joking with him? Since you had spent the day with him in Madrid, your long-built barriers were becoming weaker and weaker and if you didn’t look closely enough at what you were doing, you fell back into a comfortable intimacy with him that you had when you were a couple. It wasn’t normal, nor what you wanted, you had to pull yourself together, you had questions to ask him.

Prove it by 21 Savage and Summer Walker was playing in the big speakers of the event room, it was a soft and a bit romantic sound, absolutely everything you didn’t need right now. You took a deep breath before launching yourself.

“Sae, we have to talk.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“So there’s an us again, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and his green gaze landed on you and you swallowed.

“You know exactly what I mean, don’t play with my words.” To manage your nervousness, you played with one of the bouquets of roses next to you and lost your gaze in the crowd in front of you. “You’re the one who acts like there’s always been a ‘us’.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued to sip his drink.

You rolled your eyes.

“Answer my questions in order first. Why did you come to see my exhibition?”

He stirred his glass, and said nothing for a few seconds.

“Wasn’t that what we agreed on?” he finally said in a nonchalant tone, as if he hadn’t just confirmed that he cared about you, and your promise.

“Are you talking about our promise before you went to Spain?” you asked to be sure, your heart pounding.

“You finally decided to stop being a failure, I had to see what you had achieved.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’re happy and proud that I didn’t get discouraged after losing my first contest?”

“Yeah.” His voice was low, like a whisper.

A breeze of wind passed between you, and you didn’t know what to do with the frantic beating of your heart. He was transforming your nervousness into a feeling that you had forbidden yourself to feel for someone again.

“Second question: How did you know I was at my parents’ to send the letter?”

He leaned against the wall, and glanced at you, his face impassive.

“You always go to your parents’ in the summer. There was no point in sending it to you if you were going to receive it later.”

Your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Why did it make you so happy that he remembered that?

“Third question: Why did you spend the day with me last time?”

“I need a reason for that?”

“Of course, Sae. Don’t tell me you just wanted to see me and spend time with me?”

“What if I told you that was the case?”

Another missed heartbeat.

“You must be drunk, this can’t be…” You shook your head.

You swore you saw the hint of a half-smile on his lips for a second before his impassive mask regained control of his expression.

“I’m lost, Sae.”

“That’s because you’re stupid.”

He was so… How can I say it? Annoying? Exhausting? Funny?

“Thank you for those lovely words, but I’m serious. I’m lost. One moment you act like an asshole, the next you…”

You looked at him, daring the words that stayed shyly in your mouth.

“You act like you want me back in your life.”

He paused, staying still for a moment before slowly turning his head towards you. For a few seconds, you said nothing and stared at each other. You didn’t pay attention to the noise of the crowd of people, and the music, completely focused on his green eyes.

“And what if that was the case?”

That’s it, those were the words he shouldn’t say. Especially not, because your heart couldn’t take it. Not now, not like this. Not after all the hurt he had done to you. It didn’t make sense.

“Don’t...”

“Excuse me, are you the painter of these paintings?”

A small, plump woman with a fancy bun interrupted you, and Sae looked away. You desperately wanted to tell this woman that you were busy, but she seemed very interested in your work. You glanced at Sae, who had his eyes glued to her phone now, then managed to smile at the woman in front of you.

“It’s me, can I help you?”

What followed was a conversation you had dreamed of having your entire life. The woman was the director of a luxury interior design company, and was looking for partners. She was a fan of your work, and wanted you to work for her. She showered you with compliments and seemed enthusiastic about the idea of collaborating with you. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, but there was a problem.

"I would be very happy to work with you, but I don't live in Spain, I'm from Tokyo," you apologized with a polite and sorry smile.

"It's not a problem, we can collaborate very well remotely. It's rare to find talents like yours, I wouldn't like to miss this golden opportunity!"

Her compliments warmed your heart and a heat rose to your cheeks. You didn't know how to react to someone who was such an admirer of your work, you weren't used to it. She explained to you how to proceed, and asked for your contacts to send you all the information about the collaboration. She handed you her business card, and your hands were about to shake. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. It was going to take off your career, and it was all thanks to Sae. As she left, you turned your head to get ready to talk to him but he had disappeared.

𖥸

Your mind was dizzy.

You were drunk from all the glasses of champagne you had drunk, and you had trouble standing. The charity ball was over, but the night continued in a luxurious bar, like an after party. You hadn't found Sae all night, and your head was going to explode with all the questions you had.

You were so drunk that you hadn't noticed it when you had collapsed on the first couch you had found. Tired, you had rubbed yourself against what you thought was the leather, ready to fall asleep. It was only when you opened your eyes slightly, yawning, that you met his piercing green irises above you. The air in your lungs emptied immediately. You had just understood where the disturbing but pleasant softness underneath you was coming from.

You could get up but you blinked several times, incredulous, unable to move.

"Sae, what are you.."

You had so many things to ask him.

Your brain was too flat to grasp the situation, you swallowed with difficulty, still motionless. Your body weighed a ton, the slightest movement cost you considerable energy.

His hands went along your waist to pass under your hips, lifting you slightly so that he could get up from the couch, and released you roughly - literally turning you over on the couch. The image of his back made your eyes widen.

"Did you just..."

He moved forward with his hands in his pockets. You got up with difficulty, your body numb, swearing under your breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Wait,” you struggled to articulate, the first step off the couch nearly spraining your ankle.

His figure seemed to flee from you, sinking ever further away. The further he went, the more your eyes blurred. You wanted to talk to him. Ask him some questions.

Your feet continued to walk, following him at an almost desperate pace. You just wanted to ask him what he meant by 'maybe it was', if he really meant it. Why was he acting so cold with you now when he seemed different a few hours ago. Why was he was being hot and cold?

"Wait, please, I just want to..."

He didn't slow down, maybe he was speeding up, hands digging deeper into his pockets. You didn't even pay attention to the music and the people around you, your legs focused on his, ready to follow him wherever he went. As usual.

He walked through a door, not bothering to close it, as if he was waiting for you to follow. You rushed into the room, not even caring where you were. It was immediately quieter, as if you were in a private room, away from the cacophony of the party.

“Sae, I…”

He turned around, his usual impassive face.

You stood awkwardly against the wall, not even knowing what to say anymore. The swirl of emotions inside your heart and the alcohol in your blood was a dangerous cocktail that was never going to lead to a healthy and cordial conversation, especially not with Sae.

“You want me back in your life? I don’t understand, you’re the one who left me,” you pointed out in a low and hesitant voice.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at you silently for a few seconds without saying anything before he tilted his head to one side.

“You don’t want to talk about this in my hotel room? I don’t want to be disturbed here.”

You swallowed, considering the idea. You hated how desperate you were acting, but alcohol and Sae didn't mix well on you. As much as it hurt you to admit it, you were still in love with him. Just his gaze had an effect on you, it was dishonest not to realize that. He made you relive feelings and emotions that had been buried for a long time.

You nodded slowly with reluctance, ready to finally answer your questions, and perhaps unravel the mysteries of his heart.

────୨ৎ────

𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 - 𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐣𝐢

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

𝐒𝐀𝐄’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

The drive to his hotel was silent, Sae staring out the window as she stared at her hands, which she was playing with nervously. Sae glanced at her from time to time to admire her. She had never been so pretty and dressed up, he thought. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, and the neckline highlighted her chest and shoulders. He was unable to look anywhere else when she was near him, a bit like before. Artists have muses, Sae was an unconditional fan of hers. Always, and even after their breakup.

Speaking of breakups, Sae didn't know how he was going to handle this situation. He wasn't good at talking about his feelings, or his emotions. For the first time in his life, he was off guard. How was he going to explain to her what he felt? He would have liked her to be able to read him and guess on her own, but it was impossible. He was too impassive and neutral for her to decipher his silences. Sae was an enigma, and for the first time in his life, he wished he were someone else, someone who could say everything with a look.

The driver stopped in front of the hotel. Sae got out first and came to his ex-girlfriend's door and opened it. She looked at him puzzled, probably surprised that he would make such a gallant gesture, but he had to put all the chances on his side if he wanted to get her back tonight. She got out of the car, lifting her dress a little. Sae waved goodbye to the driver and began to walk towards the hotel entrance, her hands in her pockets. She followed him slowly, and looked around. They were in a luxurious area of Madrid. There were chic restaurants next to the hotel.

The silence was heavy. She followed him into the lobby and into the elevator. Once in the elevator, she stared at her feet, nervous. Sae didn't take his eyes off her, it had been three years since he had been deprived of her beauty, he wanted to mentally record the curves of her body and the details of her beautiful face so he would never forget, although she had an unforgettable beauty.

He used his pass to enter his hotel room, but let you go in first. His room was simple and luxurious, everything was tidy and clean. She turned to him and looked at him hesitantly.

"So..."

"Yeah?"

Sae took off her watch and placed it on his wooden dresser.

"My head is spinning," she sat on the sofa, massaging her temples. "I'm sorry if I'm not making sense."

"No problem, do you want some water?" »

She nodded slowly, still puzzled by how nice he was to her.

He handed her a bottle of cold water, and she thanked him. She took a few sips in silence, and looked around the room. There was a large king-sized bed, lots of plants in fancy and classy pots. They were in the "living room" area, where there was a leather couch and a giant television. It smelled like money.

"You know, Rin would like you to answer his messages and talk to him," she started the conversation cautiously.

Sae scoffed and sat on the couch with you, your thighs touching.

« Unlike you, my fool brother is still a failure, I have nothing to say to him. »

She frowned.

“You’re mean. He’s very important to the Japanese team, he’s not a failure at all.”

“He plays soccer to challenge me, not for himself. That’s what I call being a failure,” he leaned his back against the backrest of the couch, and turned his head to her. “You stopped putting me at the center of your passion, that’s why I came to your exhibition. I wanted to see what you were capable of when you stopped thinking about being validated by others.”

He didn’t know when the atmosphere had shifted between them, where they had gone from annoyed and irritated looks to being able to talk openly and calmly. Maybe it was since their day in Madrid or during the charity ball. He saw in her eyes that she was starting too and lowering the barriers she had put around her heart to protect herself from him, and to be vulnerable.

She lowered her head, looking at her water bottle.

"So, if I understand correctly, you want me back in your life because I have evolved and stopped being insecure? You throw me away when I am not to your liking and when it suits you, you want me back?" She spat, her hands clenched.

Maybe he had spoken too quickly. Maybe there were still barriers around her heart and irritation. He rested his head on the backrest, and looked at the ceiling.

"It's not like that," His voice was lower, softer.

"It is like that, Sae. I am not the only one who has been discouraged in his life. Do you want me to remind you of what happened in Spain? It's human to get discouraged sometimes, the most important thing is to be able to bounce back."

Her whole body tensed up when she talked about when he left Japan at a young age to go play in Spain.

"Don't compare yourself to me, we have nothing in common."

His voice was hard, he crossed his hands on his chest.

"Oh yes we are alike Sae. You know, I think you left me because you saw yourself in me. You saw a person losing to others, and ready to give up everything, and it reminded you of yourself."

"You're talking nonsense." Sae closed his eyes, his head still facing the ceiling.

She didn't take her eyes off him and he swore he felt her staring at him even with his eyes closed. She could read him, he knew it.

“You left me when I needed you the most, and now that I’ve moved on, you come back into my life to take me back without apology.” Her eyes burnt him. “Don’t you see the problem?”

He stays silent for a few seconds, and opened his eyes.

“It wasn’t healthy between us,” he tilted his head at her. “You did everything for me, you had no self-confidence anymore. I refuse to be your motivation. You have to fight alone.”

“You blame me for losing confidence in myself while you changed your dream because of the others’ performance in Spain. We are the same, Sae. Two idiots who lost confidence in themselves, and we should have been there for each other.”

He shook his head gently.

“It pushed me to be better somewhere else and work without giving up, while you wanted to stop art completely after losing your contest. We aren’t the same.”

He had a point. Sae hadn’t given up and had worked even harder to achieve his goals while she had given up and was completely paralyzed in her creation.

“It doesn’t change that you had to be there for me instead of abandoning me.” Her voice was a little shaky, Sae saw the vulnerability in her eyes, and he sighed. He leaned against her, closer to her.

“It was necessary. You needed to be alone to be able to regain your self-confidence. I wasn’t…”

His face was inches from hers.

“I wasn’t okay in my head at that time, I needed you too but you were too devastated by your competition. I had to leave. It was what was best for us at that moment.”

She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and her eyes were starting to tear up.

“I didn’t… I never thought you would need me at that moment. I was too… I’m sorry, Sae.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and Sae lifted a finger to wipe the tear away.

“I know, I don’t blame you for that. I just...”

His eyes fell to her lips. His breath caressed her face.

“I just think, now, it’s the right time for us.”

𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

You didn’t remember how you ended up on his bed, you just remembered the soft touch of his lips against yours. It had happened so slowly. He had bent down cautiously, questioning your eyes if he had the right to. You nodded, your heart racing. You weren’t in your normal state, the alcohol and the vulnerability of the conversation were making you lose your mind. But you knew that you craved his touch. Right now in his hotel room, you wanted to feel him against you, and don’t think about something else. All the desire buried for years resurfaced in a lightning wave in your body.

He captured your bottom lip between his lips, his tongue sliding over it. He pressed his forehead against yours, and you let out a soft sigh.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you murmured against his lips, “I’m drunk.”

“I think this is a really good idea,” he wrapped his arms around your butt, and lifted you, “the best idea I’ve had.”

He carried you to his king size bed, and placed you delicately on it. You sat, arms back. He leaned down, and pressed soft kisses against your neck, kissing the goosebumps.

“You know, I don’t forgive you for the horrors you said to me that night,” you moved your head to let him more space.

“I know,” he bit your skin, grabbing the flesh between his teeth. You flinched, and your heart raced.

“I still think you were asshole that day.”

“I know,” his lips found yours and they glided over each others, his mouth was hesitant, testing the waters. But he gained confidence and his tongue traced your teeth as he leaned more against you, his body flushing against yours. He kissed you with gentle motions, his tongue teasing and curious. You leaned back, on your elbows.

He dreamed of this. Having you in his arms, tasting your lips. He had missed all that. He loved you, more than you could think.

“At least forgive me tonight,” he whispered against your lips.

“Sex can’t resolve us,” you closed your eyes, kissing him back with the same slowness.

“I can resolve us,” he unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt, “let me resolve us.”

His nose nuzzled yours, and the motion looked like an Eskimo kiss, and you couldn't help but smile against his lips.

“Idiot.”

“That’s my line,” He finished unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt, and his muscular torso was free. You opened your eyes, and glanced down at his abs.

“You’re more muscular than before,” you whispered while your hands wandered on his abdomen.

“I would be damned if that wasn’t the case. It’s been three years.”

You chuckled softly and continued to caress his torso. You didn’t know why but the tension you felt in his presence had dissipated. Everything was calm and tender between you two. He pressed his forehead again against yours.

“Will you let me resolve us?”

His voice was so soft, you couldn’t remember a time you heard it like that.

“I can repair everything. I can give you what you need now. I won’t let you down like before.”

He lifted his head and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m proud of you for your art exhibition, by the way. It’s amazing.”

Your eyes watered, and you sniffled, your body tense.

“Don’t do that to me, Sae.”

“Do what?”

He gently laid you down on the bed, his figure hovering over you.

“Saying everything I wanted to hear,” you let him take off your dress as you tried to dry your tears but they continue to flow down your cheeks. He kissed every tears, his mouth wet.

“I’m glad I’m doing the good thing, then,” his lips traced your collar bones, “I've already messed up enough.”

The cold air hit your skin as he undressed you while kissing down your body. His lips traced every lines of your rib cage, his breath caressing your skin. Your skin tingled with shivers every time his mouth landed on you. You dipped your hands in his soft hair, stroking it.

“You were so pretty today,” his tongue flicked around your navel, “I feel blessed to be allowed to look at you.”

Heat came in your face and you were flustered by his words. Your nails grazed at the back of his neck and he let out a soft sigh at the sensation. He trailed kisses down your belly and your hip and he lifted your legs to place your thigh against his cheek and your knuckles on his shoulders. Your heart raced with anticipation as your hands tensed on his hair. A sigh escaped you when he kissed your inner thigh and worked toward your intimate parts. He raised his head, his eyes lingered on yours.

“You didn’t respond.”

“At what?”

“Resolve us. Repair us. Rebuild us,” his fingered slid into you, and you let out a low moan at his motions. His index and middle finger traced circles on your sweet spot, and his eyes were full of desire as he looked at you being riled up.

“I can do better, give you more than you could think,” he thrust his two fingers in you, and he bent down to kiss you and swallowed all of your moans. “I can buy you all the flowers you missed all these years,” he breathed against your lips.

His thumb rubbed against your clit as his fingers moved in and out of you, he closed his eyes while kissing you.

“I can give you everything you want now, I promise.”

You were flustered and didn’t know what to respond at what he was saying. You said everything you wanted to say to him, but you were full of doubts. Could you really forgive him and restart a relationship with him? Will he be there for you when you needed it, there when you would be the most vulnerable?

“I can’t say yes now, Sae,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “it’s fast for me, but…”

You leaned down, your lips near his ears.

“I can let you resolve us for today,” you whispered, your soft breath brushing his neck.

It was the signal he wanted, needed. He nodded, and began to unbutton his jeans, your slick on his hands. His eyes roamed over your body, and he admired you, lying there, all ready for him. There was a burning desire in his gaze that made you shiver. After taking off his pants, he put his knees on the ground, his face at the level of your crotch, your stomach clenched at the sight. He was so pretty with his eyes shining and his hair undone because of you.

With his callous hands, he grabbed your thighs and spread them in front of him, heat came in your face as you shyly opened your legs for him. It’s been years since you saw him between your thighs. You still remember when you did your first time together, teenagers awkward and hesitant. Now, you were full grow adults, and there was no more awkwardness to your moves.

He began slowly, his fingers parting your folds, his mouth careful and teasing as he licked your arousal. You clenched your thighs and dipped again your hands in his hair. You pushed his head to your cunt, and moaned softly as the tip of tongue wiggled through you. He lifted his eyes, his gaze never leaving you as he slowly buried his nose and mouth deep into your wet folds.

His nose rubbed against your clit as he thrust his tongue in you, and exploring every inch of your twitching hole. You were in heaven, he wasn’t shy with it, but deep in it, his eyes closed, savoring your taste. He was a real eater, he took pleasure seeing you riled up as he fucked you with his tongue.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, lifting your hips in the air, rocking your lower body against him, your hands tugging desperately at his hair.

He plunged his head deeper in you, your slick dripping his chin, and continued his exploration with his tongue. He ate you like you were the best meal in his life, he was so eager. His hands gripped your thighs tightly to keep you from moving too much. You threw your head back in the mattress as you moaned, it’s been fucking three years since you had sex. You were in need, and you grind your cunt into his mouth without embarrassment, you needed it so much. Sae was the only man you fucked with, and it’s stayed that way when you broke up for two reason. One, you didn't believe in love after Sae, and two, nobody could fuck you better than him. He knew everything about you, from where to press his tongue, where to lick, how to suck your clit. He knew everything about you, and was an expert at pleasing you.

When your pussy clenched around his mouth, he knew your orgasm approached. He stopped using his tongue and focused only on your clit which he sucked vigorously, making your legs shake against his head. He made lewd sounds, you were dripping with arousal. As you were seeing stars and your orgasm traveled your body and left you without energy, he stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look beautiful like this, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚,” he took off his boxer and placed a knuckle on the bed, “sit on me.”

“Sit on you?”

“Yeah,” he sat on the bed and looked at you intently.

You stood up on your elbows, and tilted your head.

“You want me to ride you?”

He nodded, and grabbed your arms to pull you onto his lap. You looked down, he was already hard, his cock brushed your entrance as you were sat on his lap. He pulled a condom out of his bedside table and passed it to you to put on. As you wrapped the condom around his cock, you remembered how the cowgirl was his favorite position, and obviously still the case.

“Why do you love this position so much?” you chuckled as you lifted you ass and sank into him while closing your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you closer, “I love looking at you.”

“Liar, you’re just lazy,” you teased him and rocked your hips against him.

He scoffed and grabbed your hips.

“Shut up,” he pushed down on your hips, making you take fully his length and you placed your head on his shoulders, sighing softly.

“No,” he lifted one hand to wrap it around your throat, “look at me.”

You were forced to look at him, and you got lost in his gaze. Your eyes were telling everything you couldn’t say, they were convey your feelings. They were telling all the doubts you had in your heart, your fear about the future, and the love you had for him, even though it was buried deep in you for three years. It was so intimate. He caressed your neck as he gently gripped at it, his eyes never leaving you. You loved being handled by him, leaving the control to him, letting him take the lead even though you were the one on top of him.

Like a slow dance, you rode him, undulating your hips on him, your left hand on the one that was on your neck, the right on shoulders. He didn't take his eyes off you as you rocked your hips against him, you were the most beautiful thing in his life. His gaze on you electrified your senses, you loved how his eyes were feverish, craving you. You felt sexy in his eyes, and it’s been a while since you felt that way.

You bounced your ass up and down, and he released your throat to lean back on his elbows, his hands on your hips. He thrust into you, plunging in and out, and you lost balance.

“Hey,” you fell on his torso, but he didn’t stop his motions, and lifted his hips to fuck you more intensely. You placed your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but it was in vain, anyone who passed by the room would hear your shaky voice and understand what was happening.

He grabbed your ass and pulled you even more closer to him, sinking his cock in you. It felt so good, your nails scratched his bare torso as you whimpered every time his cock brushed your cervix. He was so focused on fucking that he made no noise. You tilted your head, looking at him.

“You know I love when you make noise, don’t stay silent.”

“You want me to say “you’re so pretty” ten million times tonight like an idiot?”

You chuckled.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “I would like that.”

“Pfff,” he rolled his eyes, but he captured your hips in his hands and turned you over so you were on your back.

“You’re so pretty,” he said the first time as he plunged his cock into you, and his breath hitched. You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist but he shook his head and grabbed your thighs to put them on his shoulders. The new angle made his thrusts deeper and more intense and you gasped his name.

“You’re so pretty,” he panted out the second time as he rutted into you, his cock stretching you to his size. Your hands gripped the pillow behind you, and you moaned uncontrollably, completely oblivious to the possibility of anyone hearing you. You felt his breath on your face as he panted softly in your ears.

“You’re so pretty” he whispered a third time, against you lips as he kissed you while fucking you slowly. He pushed in his cock back in you with a measured rhythm, focusing on the sensation rather than jackhammering you. He pressed his forehead against yours, looking at you with a tender gaze.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you inhaled, gasping for breath. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes.

“Me too,” his voice was soft, like a whisper. And in that moment, you felt that the whisper came from his heart.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

────୨ৎ────

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 – 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

It had been three weeks since your night with Sae and you were back in Tokyo for your best friend Naho's wedding. You hadn't spoken to Sae since because you had asked him for time to think about it all.

Standing in the line of bridemaids, you stood straight and smiling, your heart softened by the sight of your best friend in her wedding dress, while her father guided her to her husband who had the same big smile as you when he saw his future wife.

It was a sunny day, the sky was blue and the weather was perfect for this ceremony. You had spent hours getting ready, it was as much an important day for you as it was for your best friend. You had been through so much together, you wished her nothing but happiness with her future husband. She was a pillar in your life, you would never have missed such an important day for her.

Everyone had respected the dress code: white and pink. All the bridemaids wore long pink strapless dresses with a slit, and a high sophisticated bun. Even the men had played along, and the garden of the castle where the wedding was held was filled with white and pink roses. You had of course participated in the decoration, just as Naho had helped you with your art exhibition.

You constantly had a smile on your face, your mind at ease. Everyone was in a good mood, there were only smiles and laughter while you ate, and tears of joy when they said "yes" to each other.

You wondered what it felt like to be married. To love someone so much that you would bear their name, and you chose to be bound together forever. What it felt like to wear the ring that symbolized your love, what it felt like to walk up to the priest, bouquet of flowers in hand, eyes fixed on you.

When she threw her bouquet of flowers behind her, you were the one to pick it up. And at that precise moment, your hands holding the bride's bouquet of flowers, you noticed that Sae was walking towards you.

You blinked several times, thinking you were dreaming, forgetting the world around you. But it was real. Dressed in a pink suit and a white shirt, he was walking towards you, his eyes fixed on you. His agent was following behind him.

Whispers rose in the garden, no one expected a celebrity to be present at the wedding. You looked for Naho, then when your eyes met, she winked at you, and that's when you understood. She had planned everything for you, even on her wedding day, she was thinking of you.

Sae stopped in front of you, and you couldn't help but admire how handsome he was with his hair moving because of the wind, his tie a little loose and his bright green eyes. He looked like a prince, and for once, he didn't have that ice prince look anymore. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers in his hand, the roses were your favorite color.

You swallowed, nervous to see him. You took a few steps forward, a few inches away from him.

“Sae?” you whispered, still feeling like you were in a dream, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” he handed you his bouquet of flowers, “though I’m not here for the bride.”

You took his bouquet, hands shaking. You didn’t know what to think. You had dodged his messages after your passionate night, needing to think. But now, he was in front of you, and you couldn’t dodge anymore.

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” He held out his elbow to you.

Everyone was looking at you, whispering speculations in your ear.

“Of course,” you took his elbow, intertwining your arms together.

You walked towards the castle, your heart racing. You didn’t know what to say to him, or what to discuss. You wanted to tell him that he was handsome, smelled good, and left you speechless, but nothing came out of your mouth.

"So..."

"Yeah, so..." you cleared your throat.

“How’s it going with the interior designer?” he started with a light topic of discussion.

You smiled.

“Good, I’m going back to see her in two weeks in Madrid,” you answered him proudly.

“Good,” he nodded.

You stopped near the castle, and he let go of your elbow to stand in front of you.

"I have a gift for you," he pulled a small box out of his pocket.

Your heartbeat quickened.

"A gift?"

"Yes, hold out your hand."

You held out your hand to him, your body tense because of your nervousness. He opened the box, and took out a thin ring with small diamonds all around it. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting that.

"It's a promise ring," he gently took your hand in his to slip the ring on your finger. “If I can’t propose to you now, I promise to never hurt you like I did before.”

Your eyes stung and watered, you were speechless. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on it.

“Have you thought about it? I mean, both of us.”

“Yes, I have,” you nodded softly and wiped away the few tears that fell with your other hand, “damn it, my makeup.”

He came closer to you, and leaned down to kiss your cheeks, where the tears fell, intercepting them. His touch was so soft, so sweet and so pleasant, you closed your eyes for a moment.

“And…?”

“I…”

His lips were placing kisses all over your face, and moving up to your forehead.

“I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“But…”

You looked up at him, and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m ready to trust you again.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured against your forehead.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and looked at you with a tender gaze.

“I feel like I’m turning into a marshmallow because of you.”

You chuckled softly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” your smile grew, and you ran your hands through his hair.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“So there is an us?”

You nodded, still smiling.

"You better draw a summer solstice, we're not in the winter solstice anymore."

You tilted your head, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

He tightened his embrace around you. "Your 'winter solstice' painting that you made during our breakup. I refuse to let it be your last creation about us. Things have changed between us. I have changed."

Your heart was filled with indescribable emotions, and you felt your eyes moisten again.

"No more dull colors, no more sinister winters. Only sunny days, happy faces and bright colors. A summer solstice."

You closed your eyes, and you imagined yourself walking with your wedding dress, bouquet of flowers in hand, towards Sae, and it felt good, right. You still needed to talk to him about so many things, to talk about the future and the past, but you had all the time in the world.

And on this sunny day, it was now your turn to tell him your "yes".

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

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