#but i feel like my love for this series continues to grow overtime

[heyitsthatweirdo]

You know what's funny? For someone who's often said in-universe to be simple, Hibiki is surprisingly compelling to watch. She's kind. She likes to help others, but she has just enough other character attributes that make her fun to watch, but she also makes her mental emotional physical struggles worth watching. Like, throughout GX, we see her how upset and frustrated about how her fists can only really solve "simple" problems, but never the " complicated" ones in the world, or in the S1, where she realizes, with Ogawa's help, that while she can't replace Kanade, she wishes to still carry on her words.

Also, her relationship with Miku is super sweet and incredibly gay.

[starzblvd]

Somethin’ Stupid | pt.2

Ellie wasn’t one to do sports but she sure as hell was when you started cheering for a certain blonde soccer captain

AN; To preface, next part will be the last one! This was supposed to come out earlier really sorry for the delay, I got really sick recently and I had no energy, I don’t really have an idea how soccer teams work so bear with me if it’s slightly off</3 + thank you to all 200 followers!! Sending love to everyone of you 💕 I noticed my series don’t do as well so I’ll definitely try harder for plots, autumn hc’s coming soon because I love fall and I’m tired of summer🍂 jealous!ellie and Abby trying to stir shit

This early in the morning Ellie didn’t take your sleep into consideration, not when she was knocking on your door dozens of times. After a minute of you groaning into your pillow refusing to get up she picked up the amount of strength she put into each knock at the door, that coupled with the let me in’s Ellie yelled into the gap of the doorframe.

She’d usually give a notice before coming over, initially you thought you’d slept through the notifications from any calls or messages of giving a prior notice, but there were none from Ellie. Had she even seen the messages you left two days ago? Ellie went off the grid for those two days, you were hesitant on continually calling to check if she was okay. Each time you contacted her in any form the voicemail she forgot to setup would play over again.

Finally allowing Ellie to come in, she beelined straight to the unmade bed right on top of the disheveled blanket.

“You weren’t replying yesterday so I decided to check on you, to make sure you weren’t hurt or anything.”

“I’m so sorry El’s I was just,” Some part of you felt guilty for hanging out with Abby, despite Ellie knowing, what Ellie didn’t know was how much you truly enjoyed hanging out with Abby.

“just what?” Ellie was deliberately interrogating, making it known with that authoritative tone you’ve only heard her use a bit speckled overtime, almost like she knew just exactly how you were smiling and laughing along with Abby’s stories. Ellie was just waiting on your retelling of what Dina let her in on, the girl you meet in a cafe yesterday, and the girl that even walked you back to your room.

“Was just meeting up with Abby, it was whatever.”

Had it been truly whatever you wouldn’t have set another day to see her again, playing for the team Abby was so boastful about. She gleamed when you agreed to attending her game and taking the offer to see her win in the front row. No matter where’d you could’ve taken a seat Abby would notice you regardless.

“must’ve not been whatever if she took all your attention all night in that stupid cafe.” Ellie’s eyebrows met closer and closer, the lack of insight of the evening you shared with Abby was making her disgruntled. More so when you refrained from giving any form of details.

“how’d you know we were there?” The situation was not descuaslating, the air was choking out any possible leeway to ease the tension.

“Just…Just thought you’d be there.”

Ellie looks around the room, growing conscious to how heavy this conversation was growing into. She didn’t mean to come to you solely to shame the lack of attention you spared Ellie into spilling the entire evening to her, she wanted to see you. In a way to make sure that the single outing didn’t take any more of your special attention that only Ellie seemed to hold.

“I really am sorry-“

“It’s fine you know, going out with Abby. It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you think.” Her eyebrows settled back into their natural position, truly it did bother her and knowing that felt sweet. Maybe too sweet, the feeling was clawing your insides with plenty of guilt even further so.

“I’ll make sure to keep my phone off silent next time.” The familiar smile shining onto Ellie took some weight off her back, her head fell towards the floor laughing at the situation and herself for the reactions she was strongly conveying to you in your pjs, the sleep in your eyes begging to let your eyelids shut again.

Catching the new pace of the conversation she was ready to surprise you with the news she was preparing the previous two days to be able to say aloud.

“You know that game next week? I’m that games goalie now.”

Ellie went into a small proud gloat, the story as to how she made her way into the team was that the previous goalie conveniently failed a drug test recently, an urgency for a fill in, and a small white lie of previous experience.

“When’s the last time you actually tried in sports? You’ve got to be lying.”

“it wasn’t that hard to get in, have some faith in me.”

Her gloat transferred right into her smirk, she knew exactly what this eluded too. How could you cheer for a girl you met just recently over the girl you’ve harbored a friendship for more than a year with? Ellie was cutting right into any of Abby’s plan of having your eyes only follow her on the field.

“Maybe if you cheer hard enough for me I’ll let you keep my jersey.” A toothy smile sprung right onto her face.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

“This isn’t right, how the fuck did she get a position?” Abby was pacing rounds into the carpet of her dorm. She was more than furious about the new temporary fill in to the teams setup.

“Look, she is credited to be not half bad compared to the rest of the contenders, and you can’t have an empty spot when a game is so close.”

“I’ll personally find someone else, literally anyone else than Williams.”

A migraine was pounding straight into her skull, Abby was up and ready to kick Ellie to the curb from her team if she physically could. Angry at not being involved with the discussion of choosing a new member for a team she captained for.

Abby knew exactly why Ellie made her way into a team and sport she never prior had interest in. The only interest she could’ve really had was you, she had not doubt that was the reason. This was evidently pilling more wood to the flame that was feeding Abby’s temper.

It was Abby’s turn to set her mind on a plan to keep you away from the competition, to the extent of making all her intents and further actions to getting back at whatever Ellie was pulling off. Abby was sure to make it hell for Ellie as the teams new goalie.

“You know what, don’t bother.”

In her mind she was already conjuring just the plan she needed. Hanging up she immediately ran to find your contact, sending out rings from your phone when she did. Seeing you again would set her at ease enough to get through her sudden stress being flung at her.

“Hey it’s Abby, you know I just noticed I had some free time and since you have no plans today I thought we could meet up again.”

Meeting with you was a small tactic to consume more of your time and thoughts, or enough to keep you distracted enough so you’d choose her and not Ellie’s company.

Your voice isn’t what Abby’s invite would receive, on the other line it was replaced with an annoyed reply from Ellie, “She’s busy.”

Abby swore the prolonged beep of the hang up was going to make her ears pop then go insane.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

“who was that?”

Since Ellie’s stay was lasting longer than initially expected you were working something up for her to eat. Especially knowing Ellie practically made her journey to you immediately after waking up.

Ellie’s hunger was clouded by the immense amount of cockiness she was emitting, couldn’t help the smirk that was tattooing itself on her face.

“Just some telemarketer, don’t worry about it.” Didn’t take much work to remove any slight evidence that indicated Abby tried contacting you. To Ellie this included the complete eraser-sure of Abby’s contact information in general, had she sent any more messages she would’ve gone all out to block her number.

”ugh they’re so annoying I swear, it’s embarrassing when my phone rings when I’m somewhere quiet.”

“yeah they’re really annoying.” Ellie watched the grip of your hand holding the pan still for you to properly scramble her eggs. Moments just like this made it so it would feel like this was a moment taken from a regular day of a couple that’s shared years of days just like this one.

The gaze of her eyes could’ve scorched you red if you’d see the exact way it’d linger on you. A gaze that always remained reserved just for you. Unknowing to the face that Ellie never focused on other people as intently as she currently did, fixated on you prepping her breakfast.

Ellie walked over to find a spot right beside you, having her shoulder press against to yours. You couldn’t differentiate if you were warming up from the portable cookers flames or the blooming pink that appeared on your face following Ellie’s slight touch.

You could’ve happily stayed stuck as is in this spot with Ellie, but the toast had already jumped up and the eggs were done. Unwilling you left the cozy standing point to finish Ellie’s meal, it wouldn’t matter as she followed you around like a lost puppy, here and everywhere else you’d go together for that matter.

With an urgency to continue spending more time with Ellie it occurred to invite her along to a mundane much needed shopping trip.

“Hey do you want to tag along with me to the store I need to pickup some stuff,”

“yeah, I’m down.” Right as you finished placing Ellie’s warm plate down she laid her head onto your back. You could feel the small breathes escaping her nose in slow intervals, turning over you to face her you could closely inspect the smallest details of Ellie’s face.

The deepness of the scar left on her eyebrow, every wrinkle on her lips, every single sprinkled on freckle she had, the gentle way Ellie’s eyelashes beautifully accompanied her eyes and the messy hair you’ll always love. For a singular moment you were compelled to come into closer proximity and cut the distance to her face to plant a small kiss on the lips you’ve yearned for, and maybe in that moment it it would’ve all been natural.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

Walking with Ellie on campus compared to the walk back with Abby contrasted heavily. With Ellie, laugh after laugh escaped from the both of you, talking about anything with her was entertaining enough for you.

Walking over to a grocery store wasn’t a big issue because of how close they were to the campus. Because of the shortcut Ellie suggested on taking you’d have to pass by the regular location soccer practice took place. It was the weekend so Abby and her team wouldn’t be there, they weren’t supposed to be. So when Abby was practicing with only a few other players it caught you off guard. Radiating under the sun with the built up of sweat glazing her arms and face.

“Your shoes untied.” Ellie hitched you out of the shocked state after seeing the people a few yards away from you in your peripheral vision.

“Oh yeah,”

with Ellie right next to you didn’t help soothe the nagging paranoia that was eating away at you. After Abby laid on the question if Ellie was your girlfriend it felt counteractive to be parading around Ellie so fondly publicly the next day. In the few seconds you were hurdled over your shoe quickly looping the laces together, praying Abby would fail to notice you and Ellie. Attempting to ignore the feeling of a stare digging into your skin, but you wouldn’t have to worry as the stare wasn’t fully directed towards you.

A loud kick shot out from their direction then another loud thud was sent next to to you, plunging straight into Ellie’s face. By how strong of a kick it was the impact left a painful sting and it was burying down into her skin, Ellie grunting flashing whoever sent the ball her way a sharp scowl. It just had to be Abby.

[junosmindpalace]

I honestly can’t remember if i asked this recently so feel free to ignore if i have… but what if there was an alternate ending to the dr. stone hanahaki disease where senku reciprocates y/n’s feelings?

thank you for your request and patience! brandon mcinnis kept popping up in other animes i was watching and inspired me to actually start writing my requests. Thanks brandon. The series continues…

--- ! warnings: brief mentions of death

The Hanahaki disease was a mysterious and controversial illness learned about through the 100 tales. A woman, whose romantic feelings for a loved one were unrequited, had died from the disease that involved choking to death on flowers. The ailment was so obscure to Ishigami Village that you hardly believed in it growing up. 

That was until you coughed up petals of your own. You had been reflecting on your relationship with your friend Senku, a strange man from the past who brought an extraordinary amount of knowledge to the village, when scarce known symptoms of the illness first arose. You admired him greatly and overtime realized you had developed romantic feelings for him. 

But you knew how Senku felt about romance. It was completely off the table, and the thought of your feelings being unrequited accepted immediately as fact, despite not knowing for certain, sent you into a panic and triggered the beginning stages of the Hanahaki disease.

After you started coughing up more petals more frequently, you would disappear in order to sort yourself out without having to worry about a villager’s watchful gaze. As time went on, you knew that your unexplainable and sudden absences would start to become more prominent, even worse that a pattern would start to take form in them, but you thought you did a decent job excusing yourself from the start. 

And you were right. Most of the villagers, even if initially confused or suspicious, bought off any and all excuses you offered, not thinking it anymore than a reaction to the weather or the intensive labor. You managed to convince most of the village, except for the leader himself.

Senku’s eye and mind were especially sharp after becoming chief of Ishigami Village. He had a lot of people to manage, and every contribution mattered to the projects they were attempting to pull off. The scientist took notice of your random absences around him, and though he thought they were suspicious, they also affected Senku in ways he didn’t expect. Somehow, they made the time the two of you spent together more valuable in Senku’s subconscious, as you seemed to always be preoccupied with something else.

Upon taking notice of the eagerness he felt when he was around you, Senku was forced to reflect. Working on science projects absolutely made Senku excited, but there was something that made the experience all the more thrilling when you were beside him helping. Whether it was a helpful hand or a listening ear, his love of working with you differed a little to how he felt about working with the others. And he realized through the lengthy periods of time that you were away from him and or the group that he missed your presence. That his thoughts would wander almost anxiously off to think about who you may be spending your time with, realizing that he preferred it if you spent it with him. And through these realizations he came to a startling conclusion- that he had developed feelings for you. 

But obviously you didn’t know this, and obviously one of Senku’s first attempts at trying to get rid of these feelings was ignoring you a little more than usual like you had been doing, and during this period your Hanahaki only got worse, as it fueled your thought of Senku not returning your feelings. 

The distance Senku attempted to put between the two of you didn’t work out like he wished it would’ve, and he slowly went back to being himself around you, something that both of you silently preferred. Your feelings for each other grew with each passing day, and it was killing you both, in your case literally. The ironic thing was that neither of you knew it.

At some point, Senku got sick of not saying anything. You kept leaving the group unexpectedly and he had no idea where, and for a while he thought maybe you had found out about his feelings and started avoiding him. The whole situation was a mess that somehow nobody caught on to, not even the two people involved in the situation. 

So Senku confronted you the evening after first reconnecting with Taiju and Yuzuriha and gaining Nikki as an ally. It was the first time in a while the two of you were working together comfortably, and to Senku’s embarrassment, the victories he obtained along with a feeling of peace encouraged him to speak up about his feelings, because he really wanted more moments like those. 

But at the same time, he was scared his feelings would just scare you off even more. Still, Senku felt the need to clear the air. He didn’t want anything coming in between your work, and he certainly didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

So as everyone settled down for the night, he pulled you into the lab and asked if the two of you could talk. 

Both of you were unbelievably nervous, and the situation is almost hilarious. You were worried that Senku had found out about the disease and about your feelings for him, and Senku was worried that you’d be disgusted with him and that his feelings will get in the way of any work the two of you needed to do together. He started off with some small talk, confused as you watched him pace around nervously and avoid eye contact with you. 

A brief moment of tense silence fell over the two of you before Senku spoke up and confessed. You were stunned. You almost didn’t believe him. No, not almost; you didn’t believe him at all. But even you know that there was no reason for him to lie about it, because Senku was always sincere when it came to you, and you swore you felt the heaviness of your lungs lift from your chest and the scratchiness of your throat clear away. It was incredible how light you felt after Senku’s confession.

You put a hand to your throat, which confused Senku. Were you seriously so disgusted with him that you felt physically ill? But then you quickly looked up at him, catching him off guard, and hurriedly sputtered out a confession of your own. 

You and Senku didn’t immediately label yourselves, nor did you share your confession with anyone but Gen, who was more than happy (and more than taken aback) that your feelings for Senku were mutual and that you weren’t both burdened with the Hanahaki disease.

It wasn’t until a little while later that the two of you actually talked about the disease. Even though you were cured, you still felt horribly for letting your feelings become so strong that they manifested in the form of an illness. Senku gazed at you with a grim look as you told him the timeline of your experience with the disease, from his celebration party, to Gen connecting the dots and helping cover for you, to the immediate lightness you felt when you realized Senku reciprocated your feelings. All the while you couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“That was a close one you know. You could’ve left me feeling responsible for your death.” And you held your breath, enormous guilt overwhelming you because that’s exactly what you didn’t want. But then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your head. “Ow!”

Senku leaned over with his hand in the air. “But you didn’t, so stop looking so gloomy.” 

“I could say the same for you!” 

To think that a misunderstanding could’ve been the reasoning for your death.

Senku chuckled. Yeah, things could’ve turned out a whole lot differently were it not for his confession. But you were here, you were safe, and you liked him back. And for once, Senku decided to focus on the present and be thankful to have you by his side instead of hyper fixating on the ‘what ifs’ of the past and future. 

[noddytheornithopod]

The Fireside Girl Whose Flames Grew so Large She Burned Herself, and the One She Loves

So I just realised something about Act Your Age and a certain aspect of it that always bugged me and was a major factor in my frustration with the episode.

"Boo!!!!!! Shut up!!!!!!! You've talked about this episode to death already!!!!!!"

I don't disagree. I'm pretty tired of it, myself. To the point where I see "AYA sucks" takes these days I just roll my eyes and move on, even if I agree. But what I am posting about is a new insight that just occurred to me. As much as I hate to admit it, Act Your Age might be a train wreck, but it's a train wreck I can't take my eyes off of. It's a disaster, but it continues to fascinate me with the implications it has, even if they drive me up the wall.

So basically, one of the big things that bothered me is that Isabella and Phineas' relationship regressed, but in the main series, they seemed to be getting closer as the seasons progressed. Pretty weird to have the main show suggest one thing, only for Act Your Age to go "actually Isabella gave up once high school came around and basically kept her distance from Phineas as much as she could" and Phineas being depressed and thinking he's not good enough for Isabella (which I'd argue was made worse by Isabella's actions I just referred to, but that's a story for another time).

I could go on about how this was a barely thought out way to throw in some cheap angst that is immediately swept under the rug despite opening huge cans of worms, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm here because I think I might finally understand how this seeming contradiction now works.

Isabella grew distant from Phineas in high school BECAUSE they got closer.

This is all pure conjecture. The show could prove me wrong some day, and other people might have completely different ideas, but this is what I'm thinking.

As I mentioned, with the show, Phineas and Isabella seem to be getting closer overtime. Isabella might be running into bigger challenges to confess her love (still not over how it took a literal zombie apocalypse to stop her when she decided to just straight up confess), but Phineas also grows more comfortable around Isabella, something she obviously loves, I mean he even seems to care about her in a unique way (again, Pharmacists, the moment he realised she wasn't with him, he grew OBSESSED with finding her, risking his and everyone else's safety just because he feels that guilty and worried about their separation).

I don't know what the revival will do with Phineas and Isabella, but I expect more of the same. Mostly the occasional gag, maybe a sweet moment here and there, Isabella maybe tries something here or there even if it can't be a full confession. But for the purposes of this theory, I'm assuming that would happen, and they would continue to really like each other.

So yes, they're closer friends than ever. The spark has lit a fire. There's a line I like in Star Wars Jedi: Survivor where the character Merrin talks about how fire will warm you and keep you company, but left unchecked it will burn everything, leaving only ash. I'm paraphrasing, but in the context of the game, it's referring to protagonist Cal Kestis' struggle of growing more obsessed and passionate over fighting the Empire. This obsession indeed grows and consumes him to a point where he ends up in a very dark place by the end of the game.

So basically, what I'm saying is, Phineas and Isabella might grow closer, but that closeness will bring out their feelings more. Phineas ultimately realises how he feels by high school, of course. That is one part of the fire that has grown. But Isabella? She's probably getting more and more mixed messaging. Despite Phineas' growing love and affection towards her, she still can't just spell out how she really feels, which is what Phineas needs to understand. She might have her courage growing, but we've seen the Mysterious Force in Phineas and Ferb - Phineas remaining oblivious to Isabella's true feelings for him is part of the show's status quo. She's literally doomed to fail. Also, if she's even closer, she's going to feel even more afraid to ruin what they have. As brave as she is, this one anxiety is her Achilles' heel, and she's even more afraid of failing. It's too much pressure.

The Fireside Girl is burning.

She can't handle all of this. So what does she do? Give up. Phineas is her best friend? Doesn't matter, it hurts too much to even be around him. Is it contradictory that she's afraid of destroying what they have, but she does this out of hurt anyway? You bet, humans are messy like that. Always thinking she just might be there only to find he has something else distracting him, or anytime she makes progress, cosmic forces set her back. This fire is raging, affecting not just her, but Phineas, too. Her choice to grow distant makes him miss her. Worst part, he doesn't even understand why it's like this.

In the end, there is only ash. The relationship they had burned to a sliver of what it used to be. The saddest part is, I can't help but think Phineas would try to amend what was wrong, but that clearly fails too, leading to how he probably just thinks Isabella is above him and he doesn't deserve her love (oh hey, that part actually became relevant after all). He too enters a despair over their relationship, just accepting that she's not around anymore despite having stronger feelings than ever for her. He even seems to have a harder time inventing. The last of the fire goes out.

Lucky for them, a phoenix rises from those ashes. In Act Your Age, they finally talk (albeit briefly and in a very rushed scene that sweeps so much under the rug), and they can truly be open with each other again. A new fire is born, one that they can hopefully keep under control.

So what can we gleam from this? I feel like Phineas and Isabella actually could've had a real chance to get together earlier, but as things grew stronger between them, that made things more delicate, too. Not only did the circumstances of their ruthless status quo, but their own flaws ruined thins. Phineas' struggle to understand complex, hard to define emotions like love and his singular focus on what to do, not realising his love language is incomprehensible to Isabella... maybe his own love being incomprehensible to himself (see "I know cute when I see it on my cute tracker" lol). But more importantly, Isabella growing closer but still misreading what Phineas does, her own personal expectations AND fears being heightened by their closer bond, and expecting him to just get what she does. If they DID become closer, more time where he doesn't focus on her probably hurts even more.

In the end, Act Your Age had ideas, but they were afraid to commit to them. They somehow did both too much and too little. I actually think if they had a stronger vision, this episode could've been great, but it would also risk being too serious for Phineas and Ferb, and then people would be mad for DIFFERENT reasons. They didn't think it through, but well, some of us fans are just obsessive enough to pick up the pieces and try and make sense of it all. Because of our own burning fires of passion for this show, and for some of us, this relationship.

[husbandohunter]

Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

[scarecrowmilkfog]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[jenojaemssss]

shii-take mushrooms! - k.dy

⇢ pairing: doyoung x fem!reader

⇢ word count: 1.6k

⇢ genre: fluff?

⇢ warnings/a.n: children. and cussing. i like children, i really do. they just scare me.

⇢ in which doyoung says a not-so-nice word in front of his daughter, and you try playing it off. as part of the "previously on" series.

➢

Doyoung glares at the figure standing behind his door with slanted eyes. He looks mildly disgusted, and you’re not sure if it’s because his daughter is covered from hair to shoes in strawberry jam, or because you’re standing in front of him with eyebags deeper than the sea.

“Please, Doyoung, I have a really important work meeting today, and I need you to watch her for like, 3 hours tops!” you beg him, eyes pleading the man in front of you.

He sighs and takes in your polished attire. Wherever it was you were going to must be top priority, seeing that you were decked out in the most business looking outfit he’s ever seen you in.

“I lost track of time prepping for the presentation that I somehow forgot it was today, so I didn’t call your mom beforehand and now she’s busy and-”

“-and now you’re here because my mom told you I had today off,” he cuts you off before looking at the little girl.

She’s looking at you with a glimmer in her eyes; the same glimmer that her dad used to have when he looked at you. She’s everything like him: from the way she talks, to her sassy attitude, to the way she pokes fun at her uncles.

You smile back down at her and look up to Doyoung with a small, apologetic smile on your face. His stone face turns soft when he sees her turn and smile up at him, lips smeared with the sticky red substance.

“In all seriousness, I really need this promotion, Doyoung. If I get this job, I won’t have to send her to your mom’s all the time anymore.” His face softens further. He knows how hard it was on you, working until late hours of the night to provide a nice environment for you two’s daughter, but you’ve been working a little too hard lately.

His mom has been on his ass for weeks about helping you find a more stable job; one that doesn’t require you to stay in for overtime almost every work day until almost midnight. She didn’t want you overworking yourself, which to her despair is exactly what you’ve been doing.

If you get this promotion, you can finally start working from home with more set hours. You’ll be able to spend more time with your daughter.

Doyoung looks at the girl lovingly and sighs, melting at her jam covered face once again. It really doesn’t matter that he and you ended things; she was still his little girl and he would do everything in his power to see her gummy smile.

So, he nods and bends down, picking up his daughter into his arms. He uses his thumb to swipe some of the jam off her mouth and you gratefully hand him a wet wipe that was already speckled with pink.

“Hi sweetie,” he grins at your daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She giggles and throws her arms around his neck, choking him in a bear hug.

“I missed you, daddy!” she squeals and he chuckles in agreement.

“Me too sweet girl,” he squeezes her carefully, afraid that he might fracture her tiny bones.

You smile at the sight in front of you, knowing well that your daughter has been missing her dad for the past few weeks. He's been busy with work, similar to you, so he hasn’t been able to spend much time with his daughter either.

You notice his frail figure and an intense guilt washes over you. Today was probably his only day off for probably the next 2 months.

“Thank you Doyoung, I appreciate it,” you interrupt the conversing father-daughter duo. He looks at you warmly and nods again, holding the door open for you to come in and drop off your daughter’s belongings.

You trudge her things into the studio apartment, neatly decorated with many items you recognize from your old shared apartment. You haven’t stopped by in a while, but compared to the last time you’ve been here, the place seems chillier.

Your daughter and her backpack are softly placed on the couch, and the first thing she reaches for is her tablet. You send her a look and she puts it away with a frown. The little girl turns to her dad with puppy eyes; a special trick she learned from her uncle Haechan.

“Honey, you shouldn’t be looking at screens too often,” Doyoung says, petting her hair. He sits down next to her and begins helping her dig through the backpack in search for other things to occupy her with.

“Or else you’d end up like mommy and daddy with terrible vision,” you add. It’s your turn to pat her head and Doyoung chuckles at your comment, nodding along. He pulls out a coloring book and holds it in front of the two of them, fake-gasping at the newfound activity.

“I’m gonna go get us some crayons and colored pencils for this, okay?” he looks at his daughter, who’s filled with joy. She eagerly nods and he gets up, going into his kitchen for the supplies. Your little girl gets up and runs after her dad, poking her head around whatever he was looking into.

You check your watch and decide it’s your time to leave for your meeting. Another 10 minutes here and you might arrive exactly on time, which is something you’re praying doesn’t happen.

“Baby,” you call out to your daughter.

“Yeah?” you hear two voices call back. You turn to see both heads raised to face you, but the bigger (and dumber) one ducks down. Doyoung is blushing furiously at his old habit and tries to distract himself from embarrassment by intensely scurrying for the damned art supplies.

You’re just as shocked, but do a better job at covering up your embarrassment. “Babygirl, mommy has to get going,” you specify.

Your daughter runs back to give you a hug and bids you goodbye. She raises up a fist and you bump it, followed by a “blah la lah.” It’s something she picked up from Big Hero 6, a movie the three of you used to watch together.

While this takes place, a loud ‘bonk’ comes from Doyoung’s general directions.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, but the curse is loud enough to reach your daughter’s innocent ears.

“What does-” your daughter begins, but something louder cuts her off.

“-TAKE MUSHROOMS!” you exclaim, clapping your hands in front of her. “We’ll have hotpot with shiitake mushrooms when mommy gets back later, isn’t that right daddy?” you glare in Doyoung’s general direction.

He stumbles over his response a couple times, but lets out a muffled “yeah” after a long moment.

In the meanwhile, your daughter bursts with excitement at the mention of hotpot. She begins telling you about what she wants in the soup and what broth she prefers. Your lips can’t help but form a smile at your daughter’s happiness when food is mentioned.

Speaking of food, your stomach exerts a low grumble, but it’s loud enough for your ears only, which you thank the heavens for.

Doyoung eventually gets back from the kitchen with the coloring utensils, his face still as red as the crayon he was holding. To your rescue, he approaches with a granola bar hiding in his pocket.

“I dropped the box on my head, but I wanted to get you something to eat,” he awkwardly shrugs and it’s your turn to blush.

Doyoung remembers your terrible habit of being a worrywart and not consuming any food before an important event, so he caught the feeling that you’re probably starving.

Doyoung notices the pink tint on your cheek and feels satisfied with his doing. He wishes you good luck and your daughter copies, jumping up and down in the process.

As you thank the two of them, your focus returns to Doyoung and you send him a slightly warning look. “Let’s make sure we keep our mouths clean today, okay?”

The widest smile plasters on your face when Doyoung flinches, and you finally exit the premises, leaving Doyoung and your daughter to their coloring.

As the door shuts behind you, Doyoung lets out a small sigh and turns to his daughter who’s now facing him. Though to you, she is everything like him, Doyoung sees no resemblance. Instead, he sees you in the little girl: from her smile to her nose, her voice and her hair. He sees her as a mini Y/N, and he loves it.

As he and his daughter sit down to begin their coloring ordeals, he can’t help but think about the meal plan you’d set. He wonders if you were serious, but before more thoughts begin to consume him, a small voice interrupts.

“What do you want in your hot pot, daddy?” his daughter looks up at him with wide eyes.

This is going to be hard to ignore. Maybe having a nice family dinner wouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll take anything in it,” he begins.

“Except cucumbers,” the two finish in unison. An eruption of giggles burst out of the little girl at the synchronized speech, and Doyoung can’t help but melt at the bundle of joy. He smiles wide and watches her continue marking the page with colorful strokes of pencil and crayon.

Doyoung mentally begins preparing a grocery list for the night, adding everything needed for a steaming hotpot onto the growing list. He ends it with the addition of the previously mentioned shiitake mushrooms and grins, excited to share a meal with you and his daughter tonight.

“C’mon sweetie, let’s get ready to go shopping,” he holds out a hand and lifts his daughter up, putting on her jacket.

[starsstruck]

strange phenomena; part two.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. forgotten letters, painful memories, and heart stopping reunions.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, a lot of crying, sexual content words: 15.8k

series masterlist

an: hello. thank you for being patient with me <3 i am excited (and slightly nervous) to share the second part of my little story with you <3 i hope everyone enjoys, happy reading and please do share and let me know what you think ! it truly means the world to me. happy reading <3

You couldn’t remember the walk away from Harry’s.

Stumbling through the snow, not caring as the cold air nipped at your ears and left your lips chapped. All you could think about was the look on Harry’s face when you’d told him that you were leaving, the way his shoulders dropped and his brow furrowed.

You could still feel the imprint of his mouth on yours, the way it fit so smoothly over your own and was always inviting you in for more. You could feel the weight of his hands over your waist, fingertips that gripped into your skin even through the thickness of your sweater.

Even the light tickling of his hair that had brushed over your forehead could still be felt.

Just living in the same space as him for barely an entire day, you felt full of him. His smell lingered on your clothes, the weight of his hold around you when you slept, and most glaringly the locket resting against your chest felt like it was burning your skin.

And the worst part of it all was that it made you miss him. It made you ache for him in a way that you hadn’t let yourself ache.

You hadn’t let yourself feel this much since the initial break up, and now you were fighting back tears as you stormed down the hill so quickly, you felt like you were falling instead of walking.

Tears, that you apparently were not doing that good a job at holding back because soon your vision was blurring and you realized that a trail of tears were in fact freely falling from your eyes. Wiping the back of your hand over your cheeks, you bowed your head down as you walked.

You heard your name softly murmured from behind the closed door.

Rolling your head on the pillow, you felt a small pool of tears fall from your eyes and onto the fabric.

You were crying without even realizing it now.

Hearing your name called again, a bit louder this time followed by the little rattle of knuckles over the wooden door.

Sighing quietly, you threw the heavy comforter off your body and it seemed to take all your strength, but you lifted yourself from the mattress and stood to your feet.

Wiping at your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, you hoped that your distress wasn’t physically apparent, although you were sure that there was no way of properly hiding it.

“Morning,” your friend, and temporary roommate, greeted you with a tentative smile. You tried your best to return her cheeriness, but doubted that you even managed to lift the corners of your mouth. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Perfect,” you’d attempted a lightness to your voice, but instead it sounded hoarse, like you’d been crying all night.

Following Molly out to her kitchen, you took a seat over one of the creaky chairs and silently watched her pour you a cup, letting you add what you wanted to it for your liking. She poured herself a cup as well, turning to face you with a quiet pause. “Did you want something to eat?”

You smiled at her from over the rim of your mug. “I’m okay.”

“Okay…” she murmured quietly, taking a seat next to you. A small silence filled the air once more – you could practically hear her thinking about what to ask you.

“How are you feeling?”

Her voice came out quietly, a calmness as she watched you stare at the steam rise from your mug. You didn’t know how to answer her without crying.

“I’m doing fine,” you managed to get out, voice a tad stronger now that your throat was no longer dry.

Molly sighed your name softly, knowing you well enough to know you were lying through your teeth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It. The breakup. Your breakup. You were single again – you had lost your partner, your lover, your other half. It had been nearly thirty-six hours, and you felt as if you hadn’t spent a single minute of that time without crying.

Tears were pricking at your dry eyes. Letting out a shaky sigh, you tried your best to hold off the tears when you spoke. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

Your voice was wavering by the end of your sentence. Your eyes were sure to be bloodshot, and with the way Molly was looking at you, you didn’t try to hold it off any longer.

Her voice was so kind, so soft, like she was talking to a wounded animal, which perhaps she was. “What happened?”

“I – I broke up with him,” your voice rasped, looking over at your caring friend with watery eyes. Your mouth gapped open, like you were about to say something else but didn’t know what to say. You didn’t really know anything, it seemed.

“I didn’t know,” you could tell Molly was searching for the best things to say to you, but was coming up short as you didn’t give her much to work with. She moved her chair closer to yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I didn’t realize that things weren’t working out.”

“They were,” your voice shook, taking in a heavy breath as your tears started to fall when you spoke. “They were working.”

You fell into your friend’s arms, letting sobs shake through your body. She was quiet as you kept speaking, “There was this thing – a rough patch, I don’t know,” your voice sounded unlike your own. “We were talking, and then suddenly I was telling him we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

Molly’s hand squeezed your shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

You shook in her grasp, trying your best to even out your breathing as suddenly you were completely sobbing once again. “No – it was just – I thought we were maybe going to take some time apart, not like this.”

“But he just let me break up with him.”

Turning your head, you blinked rapidly while wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. Opening your mouth to speak once more, you needed to take a deep breath before being able to do so.

Your friend murmured your name quietly, smoothing her hand over your arm in soothing motions.

“I know I hurt him,” you continued quietly, unable to wipe the look on Harry’s face out of your mind. “And I can’t stop thinking that maybe he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

The tears were back, quiet this time. Not breath-halting sobs but instead a silent stream down your cheeks. “And I don’t know what to do –”

You fell back into the embrace of your friend, quietly crying into the sleeve of her shirt as she hugged you. “I – I’m in love with him,” you muttered, voice sounding so unbelievably broken. “I’m in love with him and I don’t know how to stop.”

She held you close, soft circles of her hand over your shoulder while you cried. You’d never thought of yourself as someone who wouldn’t be able to live without someone else, as someone who needed and depended on anyone other than themselves.

But now you found yourself unable to say three words without completely breaking down in your sorrow.

You sat in that café, simply staring out the window.

Everything was spread out in front of you, just as it had been the other day.

Though you barely picked up your pen, and instead watched the thin flakes fall to cover the ground with a fresh layer of snow. It was calming, compared to the nonstop flurry of thoughts that hadn’t left your head.

You couldn’t even drink the coffee you had ordered, it was making you nauseous.

Everything was making you nauseous.

Everything was coming back, and you felt like you couldn’t even speak. As if when you’d open your mouth, you’d throw up all your pain. Or would break down in hideous sobs. Neither sounded great.

You kept replaying everything that had happened in your head – everything Harry had said to you and everything you had not said.

He’d told you everything you wanted to hear all those months ago, he was fighting for you, which was all you’d wanted in the first place.

But you didn’t know why it made you sad.

Everything was coming back up, everything you tried your best to forget.

Everything that you’d managed to distract yourself into forgetting. You were good at that, and just a month ago you felt okay, you felt like maybe everything was going to be okay. But all of that was forgotten now.

And the worst of it all was that you felt guilty. You felt bad for being the one to pull away first, for being the one to utter the words “maybe we shouldn’t be together”, to be the one to reject him twenty-four hours ago.

You were still at work, as far as Harry knew. He had no doubt it was the case, your overtime hours seeming to grow longer and longer with every passing day.

He felt like he was angrier about if than you were – hating to see the way you were treated and taken advantage at your office, and the way you seemed to be unable to say no to every single thing that was demanded of you.

He knew you were stubborn, he admired your tenacity although he could see it taking a toll on you.

And he felt like he was going crazy. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could feel you slipping away from right between his fingers.

There had been times like this – every relationship had them. Especially with the two of you, both with busy schedules and long periods apart.

Ever since coming back to reality, ever since you’d both returned from your extended vacation in the little French town, you were suddenly pulling away. Throwing yourself back into work, catching up on missed time.

And he knew he wasn’t blameless, the stress of trying to complete his album catching right back up to him. He knew that a partnership took work, the work of both people involved. He also knew he always threw way more of himself into relationships than his partners, but he needed you. He needed you to meet him halfway.

But a strange thing happened, a subconscious reaction to the overwhelming stress that seemed to wrap around the two of you. He was pulling away just as much – there were missed calls and unanswered texts on both ends.

He hadn’t meant to, and he knew, he hoped, that you hadn’t either. You two were serious, honest discussions of spending the rest of your lives together weren’t conversations either of you feared anymore.

Though that stress manifested into fear, and that fear took over both your systems.

Harry’s little rented apartment felt empty.

Now that you had occupied it, now that you’d touched it, eaten in it, slept in it – he could see you everywhere.

There was a dull pain in his chest, in his whole body actually but it seemed to be coming straight from his heart. Dragging his feet along the floor, he ignored the still hot coffee on the counter and fell back into bed.

Bed, where you had been lying not an hour ago. That still smelt faintly of you – where you had spent the night close against his body.

He needed to clean the sheets.

The feeling of your mouth was burned into his skin, your quiet breaths of his name going through his head like a melody he couldn’t forget.

He did what he always seemed to do when he was so incredibly upset over you. He found the flurry of words written about you, page after page of love letters and notes that he’d always thought that maybe one day, he’d send to you.

But he of course never did.

He checked the time for the thirtieth time that minute. He watched the numbers on his phone change. 9:53.

You said that you were going to be at his around ten. And he knew you well enough to know that you were going to be slightly late, just as you always were to things you were nervous about. Still, he checked the time again. 9:54.

The odd ten-something minutes that past were excruciating, but soon he heard the small rattle of a knock at his door. You’d obviously known how to get your way through the security, but the fact that you had to knock when not a over a week ago you were easily letting yourself into his place, into your place – your home – that fact made him unbelievably sad.

He jumped to the door.

Your eyes were wide when he opened the door, your lips slightly parted as if you were about to speak but you never did.

You had spent far too long deciding what to wear, knowing you needed to look good without trying too hard but also, that Harry knew you well enough to know when you were trying too hard.

The hoodie you had on suddenly felt like a bad idea, the same hoodie that was soft and warm and that he would frequently borrow.

“Hi,” he sounded breathless. He thought you looked as beautiful as always, his heart might as well have skipped a beat when he saw you.

You avoided his gaze, watching his feet step aside so that you could walk past him and into the home. You returned his greeting in a quiet “hello”, and you waited anxiously by the door while Harry shut it behind you.

This was it. This was the moment. This could possibly either be the last time you’d see him or the moment that you may reconcile.

“Everything’s where you left it…” Harry started, unsure of how to begin the conversation. He wanted to pull you into his arms, it felt unnatural to stand so far apart, to stand so frigidly with the other. He wanted to kiss you and tell you he loved you, that he didn’t want to be without you. But he didn’t know how when you’d told him that the two of you should break up barely a week ago.

“Okay,” you were nearly whispering. You were afraid you’d start to cry if you spoke too much – if you looked at him a moment too long.

He watched you turn your back to him, following the all too familiar path through the home and up to your room. To his room.

It was bound to be uncomfortable, to be messy. A breakup after over two years of being together, of living together. But he watched, he watched quietly as you rifled through your things and grabbed what was yours. He watched as you took moments too long staring at worn teeshirts – likely trying to remember who they originally belonged to.

The two of you remained fairly quiet through the entire process, quiet murmuring of asking where things had gone or of needs for help.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to scream at Harry and tell him to take you back, tell him that you never wanted this and that you couldn’t stand to be without him.

You wanted to scream at yourself for even getting yourself into this situation in the first place.

But instead, you stood on opposite sides of a room you once shared.

Harry couldn’t stand it. He hadn’t even realized that he was speaking aloud, but suddenly he was talking to you from across the room saying, “I’ve really missed you.”

You froze. You had nearly not heard him. Turning in your spot, you met his gaze with a shaky breath, and an attempt at a lightness to your tone. “Hasn’t been that long.”

“Feels long,” he murmured, mindlessly fiddling with a shirt lying on the bed.

He hated himself for the way he quieted, instead of shouting a declaration of love before he lost the opportunity.

“I know,” you were just as quiet. “It feels…” you trailed off, and Harry thought you were never going to finish the thought before your whispered to the ground. “Doesn’t feel right.”

You sighed, taking a seat on the bed as you hugged your knees to your chest. A small throbbing of a headache was starting to form, the stress of the day easily getting to you. Packing was already one of you least desired things to do, and packing up your things from your ex’s place? A place which you once shared? You were sure the headache would only grow.

You had been at his for a couple hours by this point, and this was now the most you’ve spoken.

You felt the mattress sink next to you, and when you peeked a glance you saw Harry sitting just a few inches away. His pose was tentative, as if he wanted to touch you, to wrap is arms around you but realized he couldn’t do that anymore.

The tears were inevitable. As soon as you even thought about not crying, it felt as if the prickling over your eyes grew and you needed to bow your head further, resting your forehead over your knees.

This time Harry didn’t hesitate.

Extending his arm out, he wrapped it around your shoulders and pulled himself closer to you until your sides were pressed together. You didn’t protest, rather welcomed his touch and leant into his body.

He was just as warm, smelt just the same – as if those things would change in a mere seven days.

“It doesn’t feel right without you,” Harry slowly bore his heart, voice shaking with a deep breath.

His words sent a new shudder down your spine. “I know,” you choked out a sob, refusing to look up at him, “I don’t know what to do –”

You were going through one of the many planed speeches you’d made, about telling him that this could be written up as a simple little break and nothing more, but it was coming out all wrong.

“I’m here,” was all he said, voice earnest.

You dared to raise your head, to look up at him. You felt the messy wet patches against your cheeks, the spill of tears making themselves known as your glossy eyes met his. He nearly shared your expression, as you noticed his bloodshot eyes and wet eyelashes.

Neither of you spoke.

After a moment, Harry raised his hand that wasn’t holding you close to lightly cup over your cheek, to wipe away the tears that graced your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Again, you leant into his touch and in fact fell into his embrace.

It felt good to hold each other again.

You swore you didn’t do it on purpose, but when you spoke again you hadn’t realized you were leaning in closer to him until his breath brushed over the top of your lip.

“This past week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” your voice was at a whisper, cracking lightly in your emotional state.

Harry’s words whispered across your skin. “I’m here. You always have me.”

You were closing the gap between your lips, mouth brushing his when you voiced a plain and simple: “Love you.”

Lips touched, a hard kiss that felt like it would bruise your mouths, built up in the sheer intensity of the moment. You breathed each other in, relaxing against the others touch while the tears got wiped away in your close embrace. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop either.”

He returned your affection, whispering that he “can’t imagine not loving you” and the two of you held onto the quiet hope that maybe things weren’t over.

But it was a quiet hope – one that was never really brought out from your hearts and into the air.

What you thought could be a kiss to start something new, a beginning, turned out to be a goodbye kiss.

You sat like that for a while, not speaking, holding onto each other.

After a while, you didn’t know how long but your feet were starting to numb from the way you were sitting, and you both stood and quietly brought your things out to your car.

Neither said a single word about the kiss, or the shared feelings of love.

You left with an awkward wave, wanting to hug him and hold him but when he took a step away from you at the door you found yourself doing the same.

You left thinking, hoping, that maybe this wasn’t the end. Hoping that he must know you well enough to know what your quiet confessions meant.

But he never reached out. And neither did you. You both avoided any social situation in which you might see the other, you both buried yourself in work and distracted yourselves with anything you could.

Harry didn’t want to be in his space alone, a space that once you shared with him. A space that you had just left for what he’d soon learn to be the last time for a long while.

He felt as if he was floating through the space, watching himself from a distant plane as he wandered back into his room.

There was still the indent in the duvet from where you had sat, still the small piles of clothes splayed out that you had left untouched. He felt as if he shouldn’t even sleep in this room tonight.

His eyes fell to the nightstand, where a little gold ring sat. It was yours; it was sitting out in plain sight – there was no way you had missed it.

You’d never admit it, at least not for the time being but you did it on purpose. The small things you left behind, you wanted Harry to have them. Whether he’d stare at them ever night, or throw them into a fire or shove them under his bed, you didn’t care. You needed pieces of you to remain with him.

He picked up the ring, lightly examining it before trying it on a few of his fingers. It fit perfectly over his ring finger – he didn’t dwell of the irony of that fact.

He didn’t even realize he had pulled out his notebook until his pens was messily scribbling over the paper. Tearing out a page, he started over, and over, as if he needed to refine the perfect letter for you.

Words of love, of anger, repeating over and over again.

“I wish I could tell you this. I miss you dearly.”

Months went by and the stack of half-written letters only grew.

He’d slip them inside of his notebooks, carrying them around with him. He’d put them with certain memories of you, days where he wrote about nothing but his love for you.

Those slips of worn paper even found themselves back in France with him, when he on a whim decided that he should return. Harry knew it was a desperate attempt to feel closer to you, and as luck, or fate, or whoever would have it, he found you there too.

Harry wondered if you’d left Annecy by now. You’d never said how long you were here for, and he couldn’t imagine you sticking along for long after the other day.

He himself considered packing everything up and leaving, a fresh start for his fresh start.

Even reconsidering it once more, he was checking the schedule for the trains that left the city when a noise broke his train of thought.

A quiet knock sounded from the door.

Harry thought he had maybe imagined it – maybe it was coming from outside, it was such a soft noise he wasn’t all that sure that there really anyone at the door.

But then he heard it again.

Louder this time, maybe even frantic.

He grew nervous, slow steps towards the door. It had to be someone else who lived in the building, because there were few people who knew where he was and even fewer who were in this very town with him.

His heart leapt in his throat when he opened the door.

You stood on the other side, wide eyes gazing up to meet his as the wooden door swung open. You had on the same thick black coat as you did the other day, same peach toned embroidered patterns running up the front and up to the collar.

He watched your mouth part open, no words coming out. One of your hands was hanging by your side, the other grabbing onto the straps of your tote back that seemed heavy over your shoulder. You had on thin brown gloves.

“What are you doing here?” Harry nearly choked out the words, gripping tightly on the frame of the door as he stared you down.

“I – I don’t know,” you responded, voice wavering slightly.

He sighed, watching as your eyes flicked down to the floor for a moment before meeting his once more when you heard his soft exhale. “I was heading to the café again – and I don’t know – I kept walking. Ended up here.”

You fell silent once more. He so desperately wanted to fill the quiet gap, but held his tongue. He didn’t need embarrass himself with any more desperate pleas.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” you suddenly said, voice louder this time as you tired to recall any of the script you had thought over on the walk up. You held his gaze, eyes steady on each other. “About everything that happened with us.

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“And I just…wanted to see you again.”

His heart leapt again, feeling like it was growing wings and trying to fly out of his chest. He parted the door open wider in his grasp, leaving a gap in the doorway. “Did you want to come in?”

You hesitated in your steps. You really did want to accept his invitation, but you also knew how easily you could get wrapped up in him if you were so much as standing in the same room.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you started, watching his face fall slightly. You quickly spoke again. “But maybe we could get dinner?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” the corners of your lips perked slightly, softening your expression. “Like a date.”

He mirrored your smile, watching as you shifted your weight on your feet. You were making no effort to hide your nerves, something he appreciated. “Tonight?”

You nodded. “If that works for you.”

“It does, yeah,” he didn’t need to think about it.

“Okay,” you nodded once more, biting at your bottom lip. “Can I maybe get your number? I think I only have your old one.”

He nodded, of course you could have his number. He didn’t dare let his thoughts entertain how you knew the number you had was no longer his, the thought of you calling him only to be met with nothing was a little too heartbreaking to think about at the moment.

After he added himself to your phone once again and sent himself a text so he’d have yours again (he’d deleted it one night on an impulse, one night after a few too many drinks that he immediately regretted the next day).

“I’ll let you know the details for tonight,” you told him, after sliding your phone back into your pocket and readjusted the bag over your shoulder.

“I look forward to it,” he smiled at you, a newfound giddiness in his nerves. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You were off as quickly as you hard arrived, walking back out onto the street and down the newly plowed sidewalk to sit in the café once more and hopefully get some work done before you were to see Harry later that day.

All while Harry was restless all day, mind unable to turn off as he felt excited to see you again. He tried not to get overly optimistic, but it was hard not to.

You had texted him not much more than an hour after seeing him, telling him to meet you at the restaurant at seven o’clock.

The day had past for to slowly. He tried to busy himself, but nothing really seemed to work so all he could really do was wait until he was time for him to head out and meet you.

When the time finally came, he was practically sprinting down the street, happy to see the restaurant you had chosen was well within walking distance from his place. He got there early, but didn’t care. He knew that when you were nervous, you would show up just a bit late, so it was no surprised when you joined him at the table a little past seven.

He sat up straighter as you settled in the chair across from him, shrugging off the same thick black coat to hang off the back of your chair.

Immediately he noticed the locket that he’d gifted you, sitting against your skin directly between your collarbones. Your blouse looked silky, easily sitting around your shoulders with ruched sleeves that led to a form fitting front. The pale green seeming like it was glowing in the dim light of the restaurant.

“Hi,” your blush-swept cheeks rounded as you smiled up at him.

“Ordered us some wine,” he motioned to the bottle that was now sitting on the side of the table. “Hope that’s okay.”

“More than,” you smiled again, hand reaching over to grab your wine glass that had already been filled by the waiter a few minutes ago.

Small talk seemed insignificant at the moment, something that shouldn’t have to be endured by the two of you. But jumping right into an emotionally intense conversation didn’t sound like a good idea either.

“Bonne soirée mademoiselle,” the waiter interrupted the silence, greeting you before asking the both of you if you knew what you’d like to eat.

In slightly broken French you told him you both needed a minute before ordering. Both able to distract yourself as you glanced over what to order, only words shared about what looked good on the menu. But after sending off the waiter with your orders, the same silence settled once more.

“So,” Harry broke the silence, “if this is a date, are we not friends anymore?”

You smirked, a light expression that you easily hid behind your wine glass. “I don’t know,” you hummed, after swallowing the dark red liquid. “What do you think?”

“Not friends,” he affirmed. “Maybe something a bit more.”

It was incredible how easily you’d settled into this little teasing back and forth, how effortlessly seductive you could be.

You bit your lip once more, holding in whatever you were about to say. He watched you take another sip of wine, lips folding together when you swallowed the alcohol, a stray drop of red liquid staining your lips. Releasing your lips, your tongue made a quick swipe to collect any wine before you looked back up at your ex, and he had to tear his eyes away from your mouth.

Harry let out a quiet exhale. “You can’t keep me guessing,” he said, voice softer this time. “You have to give me something.”

You paused in your movement then, placing the glass back down on the table. You were glad for the wine as it helped settle the nerves that were building back up. “I was thinking a lot, about the other day. About everything really.”

He nodded, silently urging you to continue.

“Uhm well,” you blinked a few times, breaking his gaze, “– I never really let myself think about everything, you know?”

You suddenly seemed to forget everything you were planning on telling him.

“Do you remember that day – the last time we saw each other? When I picked up my things.”

Harry nodded again, eyebrows furrowing a bit as he tried to see what you were going to say.

You nearly wanted to laugh, not out of humour, at the memory of that day. You took a deep breath, forcing the confession from your mouth. “I wanted us to get back together that day,” you said, watching Harry’s expression closely. “To tell you it was all a mistake.”

Harry’s eyes widened, watching you very closely but he still didn’t utter a single word.

“And I hoped – maybe we would.” Your head was spinning at the memory, of the painful day that only led to more heartbreak.

“I thought that maybe –” Harry started, recalling that day just as well. “But I never saw you again.”

A quietness surrounded your table, even in the louder chatter of the space around you. Harry spoke again, voice wistful as his eyes held yours. “I should have kissed you longer.”

You needed to break his gaze to stare at the table, not wanting to cry. “I was hurt, I didn’t know how to handle it. After that day, I just needed to push it all away.”

“And I did – I managed for months.”

Harry felt his heart sink, fearing this conversation was going somewhere he hadn’t wanted to think about.

As timing had it, the food arrived at that moment and Harry suddenly thought he was going to be sick, the thought of eating anything the last thing on his mind at the moment.

You both offered tight lipped smiles at the waiter, quiet merci’s, and you didn’t say anything else until he was out of ear shot.

“I managed,” you repeated, voice pulling Harry out of a slightly spiraling train of thought. “But then seeing you here after all this time, and you telling me…”

You felt as if tears could break out at any second. “You telling me you want us to try again – all that pain came right back. Everything I had ignored.”

He murmured your name quietly, before you kept speaking. “But what you said, wanting to give us another shot…”

You looked back at him, wide eyes meeting his straight on. “I never wanted…”

Struggling to find your words once more, you watched as Harry took a big sip of his water.

“I didn’t think we’d actually end up like this,” you murmured quietly, watching Harry pause.

He placed his glass back down, pondering your words for a moment before looking up at you again. “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” you pushed some food around on your plate, the bravery you felt a few moments ago vanishing. “That we would actually split up. Thought it was just a rough patch or something…”

Maybe this wasn’t the conversation to be had in a public place. You felt like you could cry.

Harry’s voice was quiet when he spoke, he didn’t want to sound accusatory. “You were the one to suggest the split.”

As hard as he tried not to sound to pointed, you still flinched slightly at his words. You looked down this time, not looking back at as you trailed your finger over the condensation on your glass of water.

“It was –” you cut yourself off. It was mutual, you were going to say. It wasn’t, though. It never was. The only thing that was mutual was that neither of you really wanted to breakup with to begin with.

“I know,” you said instead after a moment. “I thought – I never thought we’d end up like this though. I thought –” you had to cut yourself off again.

This really wasn’t the conversation to be having in a restaurant where everyone else was happily eating and drinking around you. You looked up at him, willing your voice not to shake.

“I thought you’d fight for me.”

He knew you didn’t intend for your words to hit him with a sharp stab. He knew it very well, but he still felt the jab of pain through his chest.

“I didn’t know…” he breathed lightly, running his hand over his forehead, bringing it over his face before scratching at his jaw. He didn’t know you had felt that way. Maybe communication really had been your downfall. “Fighting for you now, aren’t I?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you let your shoulders relax. “Yeah, you are.”

Harry dared to ask. “Is this, I mean what we’re doing now, do you want us to try again?”

Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, a mindless habit as you thought over his words. You hadn’t thought of it so formally, more like you were just spending time with your ex.

When you were quiet, and he momentarily started to panic once more as he feared he had misread the situation.

“I do,” you said softly, gazing up at him. He couldn’t help the leap of his heart. “I want to give us a shot.”

You both stared at each other for a moment, quiet unspoken words shared. His next words were low, as he watched every flicker of your eyes. “How about we treat this like a date then.”

When your lips curved upwards, and you glanced away playfully, he let out a relieved breath once again. “Yeah, how about we do.”

You needed to take a few quiet breaths through your nose, not a few minutes ago on the verge of tears as you thought about the prospects of starting anew with Harry. You’d talk more after.

“What do you say to desert?”

You leant forward over the newly cleared table with a forearm on the wood, only a spot of wine left in your glass that you swirled in one hand.

The remainder of the evening after your little talk had been nothing but lovely.

It was like it was back to being you, back to the dynamic you’d always had together.

Discussing everything and anything that happened in your time apart, anecdotes as minor as catching Harry up on the gossip from your now old workplace.

The wine had very likely contributed to the increasingly flirty glances, and touches. It felt good to touch each other again.

Hand falling over his on the table, his knee bumping yours under the table. It was all innocent, all completely crumbling whatever idea you’d might’ve had over the idea of ever being over Harry.

You were both completely enthralled with each other.

Harry couldn’t for a second take his eyes off of you, even following your every move until you disappeared around the corner when you headed to the toilet.

You seemed to glow the more the evening went on, a happy sheen taking over your eyes and it only warmed his heart further.

Not only that, but every lingering stare and teasing touch was only adding to the growing desire he had for you. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you, to feel your body pressed against his.

Memories of the two of you didn’t help, memories that he apparently would never forget, especially as your teeth bit down into your bottom lip and your leg extended under the table to firmly press against his own.

“And what do you suggest as desert?”

“Anything you want,” he spoke lowly, eyes flirting with yours. “Back at mine?”

You bit your bottom lip down, the offer not surprising you but still sent a familiar tingle down your spine. “Desert to go, then?”

“If your up for it.”

He turned in his chair, signaling for the check which he swiftly paid without giving you a single moment to object. You tried your hardest to bite down your smile, lips sucked in against your teeth as you watched the man in front of you push his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

You did the same, holding his eyes in a silent agreement to his offer. You were promptly walking out into the cool air outside. Harry’s hand grabbed yours,

Fingers interlocked, he kept you close to him as the both of you walked. You were glad you hadn’t put your gloves back on, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

Walking side by side along the familiar sidewalks, through the old town while crowds were dwindling down in the later hours of the evening. Harry’s pace slowed at one point, hand squeezing yours as you walked past the arrays of ice cream shops that would have lines through the street if it were summer.

“You want one?” Harry swung your locked hands forward, pointing to one of the still open parlors.

You turned to look at him, his cheeks reddened by the cold. “You were serious about the desert?”

He bumped his hip to yours, arm moving to instead wrap around your shoulders with your hand still holding him, his forearm against your chest to hold you close. His lips pressed over the side of your head, feeling the heat of his breath over your skin. “’Course – what did you think I meant?”

You chose not to answer his teasing words, instead just squeezing his hand in your grasp. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

His lips moved from the back of your head, mouth lingering by your ear. “I have some of those chocolates you love so much – since you seem so eager to get back to mine.”

“You’re impossible,” you laughed, sinking back into his side as you continued your walk through the town and up the hill.

It wasn’t long until you were back in the warmth of his rented apartment, shaking the cold from your fingertips and snow from your jackets.

Harry had been true to his word, pulling out a little white box of chocolates with the familiar stamp over it. They were just as delicious as you’d remembered, indulging in the treat sitting next to Harry, each with a fresh glass of wine.

You borrowed his sweater that was hanging off the chair, and Harry couldn’t have imagined a more natural sight.

Sitting in his warm clothes, sharing sweet treats and dark red glasses of wine. Laughing together, talking, sitting pressed against each other with warmed skin and blissed smiles.

The intention to stay the night with him was an unspoken one, so when the night seemed to slow and you excused yourself to the washroom, Harry felt nearly nervous.

After a few moments, you found Harry with his back turned to you in the kitchen. You paused in your steps, watching him for a moment. He was tinkering around with something, placing mugs back in the cupboards and moving dishes around. He seemed to be only distracting himself, as if waiting for you while you were in the washroom.

He heard you coming up from behind him, but he still jumped slightly when your hand was placed over his back with a light touch. He turned to look at you, neither of you speaking for a moment as your hand slid up over his shoulder.

You looked soft in the warm lighting. Your makeup had been washed off, still in his sweater that hung around your hips. You looked just as beautiful, just as inviting as you lightly bit your lips together, watching him quietly. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you.

Harry cleared his throat. “Ready to go to bed?”

His voice came out low, scratchy, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

You didn’t say anything, holding back a smile. Your hip bumped his, sliding yourself closer to him as your hand joined the other around his shoulders.

He easily brought you in closer to him, hands finding their rightful place around the small of your back and his gaze teased over yours, a slow and obvious glance as you instinctively wet your lips. There hadn’t been a single kiss shared since the other morning, and you both deserved one, didn’t you?

A small soundless laugh left your parting mouth, you suppose it was a nervous reaction – nerves that were nearly unfamiliar to you even if this situation was anything but.

His lips found your own, after a nudge of his nose over yours and a tilt of your jaw to meet him halfway.

Although it was just the other day you had felt his mouth against yours, this was all the more different. This wasn’t an impulse decision based on confused feelings and desire, this was rather clear feelings and still a good dose of desire.

Lips soft over yours at first, he placed only a light lingering kiss over your mouth before silently pulling away. Your eyes parted open, watching him through your eyelashes as he held your silent gaze, leaning back in to press a light kiss over the corner of your mouth. He repeated the same move, leaning back and then forward once more to kiss over the other side, just at the crest of your lips.

It was with soft, tantalizing moves – of quiet brushes of lips around your face before his mouth met yours.

One of his hands raised from your hip, cupping the side of your face to hold you closer. You fully leant into his every touch, melting into his warm skin as his mouth enveloped yours. It was with slow touches at first, of breathing each other in before your tongue pushed against his and you opened up further to the other.

He tasted like the chocolate you had shared, like sweet red wine and like Harry. Your Harry. The one who you got the pleasure of calling your partner for nearly two years, the one who’d made you feel loved like never before. He tasted like home.

You were perfectly slotted between his body and the counter, your behind pushing up against the countertop as Harry pushed himself closer to you.

With your chests pressed closely, you were all wandering hands and breathy sighs as you indulged in a kiss filled with nothing but desire.

Harry’s hands skimmed over your sides, brushing over the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. “You’re gorgeous,”

His lips found their way over your chin, silently urging you to tilt your jaw up so that he could press soft sucks over your neck. “Smell so fucking good.”

Murmuring a quiet, “shit,” over your skin, you could feel his lips turn up to a smile. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

Your smoothed a hand from his cheek up to his hair, light scratches over his scalp in a silent urge to feel his mouth on yours again. His words were making your head spin, a rapid beating of your heart paired with the slow burn of butterflies in your stomach.

Capturing his mouth with your own, you breathed him in with soft touches of lips that were quickly growing faster, heavier. Messy clashes of teeth, of muffled sighs and quiet calls of each others names.

His hips were pushing against yours – and although at this point you truly knew all his moves, you still had a small hitch of your breath at the feeling of his centre lightly rutting over yours. You sighed his name into his mouth, as he swallowed your quiet breaths as if to keep them at the back of his mind forever.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he breathed, lips smeared over your jaw. “Take it as slow as you want.”

You were smiling at the ceiling, hands gripping into the smooth fabric of his shirt, excitement growing at his words. You knew very well what you wanted.

“And what do you want?” You countered, feeling his lips smile on your skin.

He pulled away from you just enough so that your gazes could meet, staring you down with gleaming eyes and swollen lips. “You – it’s always you.”

The words were kissed over your mouth. “God, what’re you doing to me,” he breathed a quiet laugh. “Driving me crazy, angel.”

It was your turn to smile into the kiss, squeezing his shoulder in quiet response. “I want this. I want you.”

Harry didn’t answer, and instead just captured your mouth in another breathless kiss. It didn’t take long before he was pulling you out of the kitchen, flicking off the overhead light as you both followed the glow that came from the bedroom.

His hand clasped with yours, a quiet excitement around the both of you. As you followed closely behind him you couldn’t help the small turn in your lips, the rapid beating of your heart along with the growing desire for the man leading you to his bed.

You were both quiet, the grip of your hands breaking as Harry turned off one of the lights, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room. You tugged off the thick yellow sweater, placing it on the dresser across from the bed, and you were back in only your silky blouse.

When you turned around, you saw Harry sitting on the mattress, his legs off the side of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. His eyes met yours, a soft smile gracing his features as you stood an arms length away.

“Come here,” his voice was low, the simple phrase sending shivers down your spine.

You placed a palm in his extended hand, making the few steps needed to get to standing in front of him. His other hand raised, cupping your cheek while his legs spread for you to stand between them.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, you both held each other for a moment as you took the other in. You were the first to break the silent staring contest, leaning down until your forehead pressed against his and it only took a few seconds before your lips were together.

The feeling of his thumb brushing under your bottom lip was a soothing one, as he pressed one, two three sweet pecks against your mouth before pulling you in closer.

You nearly stumbled on your feet, still standing as you leant down to meet the mouth of your lover. Harry raised your interlocked fingers, placing your hand around the back of his neck to meet your other, before he placed his own hand firmly over the soft fabric covering the curve of your hip.

A soft exhale came from your nose as his lips parted with yours, licking into your mouth as the kissed deepened. Your breath mixed, the grip of your fingers tightening around him as your kiss grew a little more purposeful. His hand that rested over your cheek brushed lower, gripping your chin between his thumb and index to tilt your face even closer to his.

You were so pliable under his touch, following every motion that he lead you to. It was like getting to know each other all over again, the quiet excitement of feeling the others body, paired with the intimate familiarity of the man in front of you.

Your lips broke apart so that Harry could sponge his mouth down your jaw, breathing hotly against you with a trail of wet kisses on the sensitive skin. His hand squeezed your hip, muttering over your neck. “C’mere-“

The words were a deep rumble from his chest, moving back and slightly breaking his touch with you as he slid back further on the mattress. You easily followed him, knees dipping into the duvet as you found your place over his lap.

“Sorry – !” Your voice rose above a whisper when your chin bumped his nose as you lowered over him to press a kiss over his cheek, just as he was seeking your mouth. You felt his chest shake with a laugh, hands smoothing on either of your hips to pull you onto his lap.

“Stay –” his voice was muffled with his mouth sliding over your chin, “– right here.”

His hands held you tightly, thumbs pushing up under your shirt to rub over the bare skin that protruded over the tight waistband of your pants.  

A kiss was pressed on the corner of your lip, Harry moving back to meet your gaze for a flicker of a moment, before leaning in to press a linger kiss to your cupid’s bow. You both easily found your rhythm once more, mouths finding each other with a newfound need for the other.

Your stomach was warmed as his hands splayed over your skin, feeling the small tugs on the light fabric of your shirt when Harry pinched the material in his fingers. Your lips left his in a subtle pant, feeling his light stubble over your cheek when you titled your head to plant your mouth over his jaw.

Your name left his mouth paired with a low moan, all while you puckered your lips over his skin, sucking softly and left a trail of wet marks down the column of his neck. Your fingers were woven through his hair, light pulls over the strands as he let out shaky breaths above you.

His hands were venturing higher under your blouse, fingertips playing with the lace detail of your bra. You melted under his touch; his hands were warm and you couldn’t help but whimper lightly over his neck when he palmed over your breast.

Harry let his head hang low, tips of his hair tickling your shoulder as he mumbled quietly. “You look beautiful tonight,” he breathed you in. “Have I told you that?”

You only hummed over his skin, thighs squeezing his a little tighter when he tugged at your bra. “Let’s get this off you,” he murmured.

Pulling back from him, you met his gaze with heavy eyes and parted lips. His own lips were swollen, kissed darker and looked oh so inviting for more. You hoped you looked just as enticing. You glanced down at the miniscule gap between the both of you, as his hands raised under your blouse to pull it over your head.

Tossing it somewhere on the floor, his touch was back on your bare skin within seconds as he tugged your bra straps down your shoulders, and attached his lips on your collarbone. His mouth was soft, lips wet from swiping his tongue over them before planting them to your skin once more. He was holding you so tightly, hands smoothing flatly over your bare middle in soft circles.

Placing your hands over his chest, you blindly sought out the buttons that lined his blue shirt with fast attempts to pull them open. The skin of his chest was warm, the thin buttons slipping under your slightly shaking fingers.

Eventually successful with your task, you greedily pushed the fabric off of his skin as far as you could as he refused to take his hands off of you to help fully remove the item of clothing. His hands were spreading lower over your thighs, sliding over the soft fabric of your trousers until they held your bum with a firm grip. Kneading his fingers into the swell of skin, you keened into his touch and leant your body closer to his with a soft push of your hips.

You found yourself clenching around nothing, no doubt already making a small mess in your underwear as you felt his hardening cock pushing against your thigh. A moan made its way through his mouth, calling your name with a certain breathlessness.

Your bra straps were falling down your shoulders, sitting nearly uncomfortably as your breasts spilled out but you didn’t care, not with Harry’s mouth searching for more and more of your skin until it was circling around one of your nipples. One of his hands had found its way back over your breast, feeling the soft weight in his palm as both his mouth and hand gave your chest attention. With a rush of warmth through your stomach, you tilted your head into the crook of his neck with a sigh over his shoulder.

“This good?” He muttered over your skin, a quiet groan following his words as you arched your back into his touch.

It was the perfect mix of the quiet familiarity along with the excitement of a first time.

You answered him with a breathy “yes”, telling him that it was “so good” and that he definitely should not stop.

You could feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin, pulling away with a small nip of his teeth. The skin where he had left a wet impression of his mouth was cool when he pulled away. He raised his head with sly smile gracing his features as both your breaths were heavy and chests rose and fell in quick puffs.

You felt Harry’s other hand glide over your hips, a small dig of his fingers into your covered skin. A quiet yelp escaped your lips that same hand graced your behind with a small smack, quick motion before he was kneading his fingertips back over your bum. You fell closer against him, holding him tightly as he muttered one more “come here,” and fell back over the mattress until his head hit the pillows.

Your chest followed his as you leant down with him, your weight over him which was something he very much welcomed.

Planting your elbows into the mattress, you supported yourself up as your mouth found his once more. Kissing slowly, enjoying each other for a moment while his hands slid up your bare back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra until it was set loose and you could easily throw it to the floor.

His palms circled from your back to your front, gripping the weight of your breasts in his palms as he felt them rest over his own chest. Tugging at your hardened nipples, you whined into his mouth as rutted your hips over his, the hardness of his cock felt through his pants.

Lifting your mouth from his, he felt his neck crane as he searched to keep your mouths connected for a moment longer. You pressed a light kiss over his cupids bow, fingertips brushing over his cheeks as you watched his eyelids open with soft flutter.

His pupils were blown, quiet smile gracing his lips as his hands petted over your bare back. You returned his smile, tracing the line of his cheek down to his jaw. You mouth following the path that your fingers had drawn, small open-mouthed kisses over the sharpness of his jaw and down to his neck.

Your hands moved down to quickly push at the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to slide it off his shoulders as you urged him to move his arms up with quiet pants over his neck. You felt your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“Hey,” Harry spoke quietly, one hand grabbing hold of your wrist. He raised your hand, placing a light kiss on the inside of your wrist. “We’re in no rush-“

You smiled down at the man underneath of you, feeling three more kisses pressed over the skin of your wrist before Harry was moving his arms from around you to tug the shirt off of his frame. Leveraging on the mattress, he pushed himself up and in a quick move as your own fingers gripped tightly into his shoulders.

“Easy,” he groaned into your skin moving to ease you over so that your back hit the mattress and he was laid half over you, face hovering by yours. “Just like that.”

With a moment of shuffling limbs, he slotted himself between your parted legs as he held himself with an arm on either side of you. All in a haze, he shot you a lopsided grin before he leant back down, open mouth against yours with a lick over your lips.

A slow, languid kiss as you scraped your nails over his shoulder blades, hugging him close to you as your mouths moved together. Touch growing sloppier, something neither of you minded that much as his wet lips trailed down your chin and down your jaw.

You could feel one of his hands smoothing down your side, holding your frame tightly as if he feared you would disappear at any moment. Although he was the on to tell you to slow down, to relax, you could feel the slight shake in his hands and the breathless pants that never ceased from his lips.

His open mouth pressed hot kisses down your sternum, making his way over with a trail of wet spots left behind before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. A choked whimper got caught in his throat, the hum vibrating around you as you arched your back into his touch.

He licked over the sensitive nub, gaging your every reaction as a bout of pride wrapped around him when you sighed his name into the air and trailed your fingers over the nape of his neck to grab a firm hold in his hair.

“You like that?” He mumbled over your skin, one hand kneading the soft skin of your breast that he was so enamoured by.

“You know I do,” your voice was a whine, cracking mid sentence.

“I know –” you could hear his smirk, “just making sure.”

One of his hands was smoothing down your side, thumbing at the waistband of your trousers while his thighs pushed tightly against your centre. You couldn’t help the slow moves of your back, arching it up into his touch.

Desperate under his slow touches, you ran your hands down his bare back with your nails gliding over his skin. You could feel his groan over your breast, as he felt your hands move around his hips. Soft fingers brushing over his lower stomach in a way that had his muscles clenching.

“Let me touch you,” you whimpered over his hair. Harry slowly rose his head, glistening lips moving to a smile when you quietly repeated, “I want to make you feel good.”

He lifted his torso up a bit, slowly moving off of your body. He was easily giving in to what you wanted, hoisting himself up higher over you until he was sat on his knees. You easily followed, crossing your legs as you sat across from your lover.  

Never going that long without touching you, one of his hands lightly cupped your cheek to lean forward and press a lustful kiss to your mouth. “Please,” his voice was raw, “please, touch me.”

Your hands quickly found the button of his pants when he pulled back, while he watched and leant forward on his knees. You head hung low and you made quick work to pop the button and tug the zipper down, fingers brushing over the skin above the waistband as you pulled on the fabric.

“Go on,” he spoke lowly, helping you as he moved over the bed so that you could bring the fabric over his hips. Your fingers hooked under the band of his briefs as well, sliding them down along with his trousers. “Gonna get me out?”

You didn’t offer him an answer, instead gave up on fully removing his pants and instead only pulled them to the middle of his thighs. You placed a hand over his bare leg, eyes falling down to his cock, thick and hotly aching to feel your touch.

A low inhale could be heard from Harry’s parted lips, as you trailed your fingertips over the familiar outline of the tattoo on his thigh. You brought your hand up over the crest of his leg, and brushed a light touch over the underside of his cock. A shakier inhale was heard, as Harry silently watched you lazily move your fingertips over him.

You bowed your head lower, tucking your legs under your bum as you easily recalled every little move that made Harry shudder above you.

He had one hand planted on the mattress behind him, leaning back slightly in a way that exposed more of his skin to you. You easily took the invitation, leaning forward to place a flurry of kisses over his lower stomach following the little trail of hair. Soft suction of your mouth over the skin leading to his pelvis, you felt one of Harry’s hands raise to lay lightly over the back of your head.

His fingers lightly scratched over your scalp, a light and comforting action as a murmur of your name was heard from above. Your mouth was slowly making its way to where he was begging. The muscles in his stomach jumped when you licked a slow strip over the underside of his cock, lips lingering over him for a beat before circling around his tip with a light suck. Keeping your grip at his base, you dragged your tongue over his tip as you let the saliva from your mouth fall over him.

“Good – that’s good –” Harry moaned from above you, hand trailing down to your jaw. He watched as you took him into your mouth, not as much as he knew you could and just enough to get him wet – wet and wanting more as you tightened your lips around him. Sliding your hand over the wetness you had created, moving over his balls with light touches, so light he couldn’t help but groan with a buck of his hips.

You felt Harry’s thumb brush lovingly over your cheek as he seemed lost of what to say.

Your glossy eyes met his glazed ones, feeling the utter desire in his look while he watched you. Briefly pulling off of him, you murmured a quiet, “feels good?”

Harry shuddered above you, needing to ground himself as you were working him up far too quickly. You were back on him within seconds, as he choked out a broken “feels like heaven.”

Tightening your lips around him, you dipped your head lower with a slow exhale through your nose, dragging your tongue over more of him.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, “jus’ like that, just like that,” he was rambling, unable to form a coherent thought, as quiet whines broke through his words, “good girl.”

You moaned around him, soft vibrations only adding to the pleasure that was raging hot inside of him. He nearly lost it when you bowed your head, eyes looking up through your lashes to meet his heavy gaze.

If you didn’t stop soon he was going to meet his release down your throat.

Sliding his fingers under your jaw, he muttered quietly as your movements eased over him. “Y’gonna make me cum,” he spoke breathlessly.

“Lie down, yeah? Let me feel you.”’

His fingers under your jaw were gently easing you off of his cock. Your mouth left him with a heavy breath, lips still parted as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Straightening out your spine until you were more at level with him, watery eyes peering into his. Harry easily regained his grip over your cheek, kissing you slowly, lazily, while pushing you to lie down on your back once again.

Once your head hit a pillow and he was hovering over you, Harry kicked off his pants the rest of the way before smoothing his hands over the skin of your tummy. He was pulling off your belt and pulling your trousers fall down yours legs within seconds, leaving you in only a thin little pair of underwear.

He brushed a hand over your inner thigh, as you watched his every move with hungry eyes. “Can I feel you,” he kissed your cheek. “D’you want that?”

Your grip over his shoulder tightened. “Yes,” you moaned into the air, jolting lightly when his thumb brushed over your covered core. “I’m –”

You couldn’t help the way you squeezed your legs together, the soft pulsing of your core driving you crazy. He placed a light kiss over your lips, pulling back with a slow smile.

“You’re what, angel?”

You bit your lip down hard at the use of the pet name, holding back a moan. “I want you – I’m wet. I … Harry!”

You couldn’t help but cry out when his hand pushed between your thighs, slipping under the elastic of your underwear so he could brush over your folds. “You’re wet,” he repeated it like it was a prayer, two fingers sliding over you. “So wet.”

“You’ve got to open your pretty legs for me,” he watched your eyes screw shut. “Just like that – good,” he praised as your legs opened for him.

Hooking a finger under the thin band that sat around your hip, he pulled the flimsy fabric down to the middle of your thighs as his other hand held your legs down, keeping them parted for him. You turned your head on the pillow, eyes catching Harry’s as his face hovered next to yours and he watched you with lust filled eyes.

You wrapped the arm closest to him around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while his fingers moved up to your clit. You were getting him sticky with your wetness, as he drew slow patterns over the sensitive bit of nerves. You were moaning into his mouth, teeth hitting his chin as you panted over each other.

“How’re you feeling?” He kissed the words over your skin, nose brushing your cheek as he pressed his chest over your side.

“Good,” whimpering over his skin, you ached to feel just something more. “You’re always good – always know what I want.”

You could feel his lips curve to a smile over your cheek, fingers venturing lower before he had two pushing inside of you. You gasped a breath, the slight stretch something you welcomed – something you had missed.

You were just as warm and wet as he remembered – as he tried not to think about late at night when he was missing you and was lonelier than usual. Your hips bucked into his hand, biting your lips down when he pushed his fingers against that perfect spongey spot inside of you.

The hold of your teeth over your lips didn’t last long, lips parting when Harry muttered a low “let me hear you,” and you were moaning his name. With a slow and steady rhythm inside of you, he moved his thumb up over your clit again.

His hand was getting covered in your arousal, the two fingers pumping with intent inside of you. His lips were pressing a flurry of kisses along your skin, from capturing your lips to sucking and biting into the crook of your neck. Other hand was smoothing over your skin, leaving a hot path in its wake, so hot like you could combust at any second.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, keeping his lips closed to your skin as you blindly pulled at his messy strands of hair. Clenching around him, he sucked into your skin harsher at the way you felt, at the way your fingers scratched over his skin.

Harry watched your face twist in pleasure – your eyes shut tight with your lips either harshly bit between your teeth or parting to let out the most beautiful moans.

You were both thrown right back into it, right back into the familiar touches and sounds and moves. You’d both thought about it countless times, but reliving it and making it a reality once more like this was indescribable.

Small incomprehensible words were heard from your mouth, mutterings of how much you missed him and how incredible he was making you feel. He knew every move that made your moan, ever little word to mutter into your ear – always paired with a heart fluttering pet name.

He was working you up so well, every move his ins fingers over you and inside of you making you breath a little heavier, made that warm coil in the pit of your stomach grow just that much hotter.

Your hand not around his back gripped his bicep, squeezing the skin tightly as you tried to think clearly. “Wait,” your voice was hoarse, spent. “Not yet.”

He craned his neck, raising his head from the crook of your neck, and placed a light kiss over your lips. Opening your fluttering eyelids, you saw him watching you with heavy, dark eyes as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing. Slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, he slid them over your folds, skin slick and wet under his touch as he drew languid circles over your clit.

“Want to feel me?” He whispered, breath felt over your cheek. He trailed his hand away from between your legs, light brushes of his wet fingers over your thighs.

You simply nodded, unable to properly think and he left another smattering of kisses over your chin and over your lips. Catching his mouth with yours, your tongue slowly licked over his bottom lip as he pulled away with a groan, hoisting himself higher over you to sit back on his knees next to you.

It was all familiar, but all felt brand new at the same time. The way his hands grabbed your hips, the low raspy tone in his words when he whispered, “how d’you want me?”

Legs parting wider from either side of him, hooking your ankles around his hips as you attempted to tug him towards him. Peering up at Harry from where you laid, you took a heavy breath before asking him, “like this?”

He paused, only for a brief split-second before swallowing a dry breath and nodded his head. “However you want,” he muttered, hands back on you within seconds. Spreading his palm over your hips, he leant down over you a pressed a kiss to your sternum, “whatever you want.”

He leant down with his knees dipping into the soft mattress, while his chest hovered over yours and his hands rubbed over your sides. He raised his head, lips nearing yours with a soft mutter. “Condom?”

You hadn’t considered the need to protection until then. Thinking it over for split-second, you shook your head as you met his eyes. “No I – I haven’t,” you paused mid breath. Haven’t been with anyone since you.

He seemed to understand your silent words. “Me neither,” he murmured lightly, pressing himself closer to you. You could feel his cock right there at the crest of your thigh, an arch in your back deepening as you grew desperate to feel him.

Repositioning himself on his knees, he raised his chest and kept and firm grip over your hip while his other hand gripped the base of his cock. You pushed back against him, not really caring how eager you were for him as he cursed breathlessly.

“Relax,” his words were clipped, the head of his cock entering you in a slow thrust. “Fuck – there we go – it’s just me.”

Letting out a deep breath as he eased himself in, the stretch familiar but still caused a shiver down your spine as it was something you hadn’t felt in nearly a year. Pushing back against him, feeling more of him slip inside of you as a sputter of words left Harry lips.

“You feel too good – fuck -,” you shifted your legs around him, the rest of him pushing inside of you as his pelvis hit yours His hands smoothed over your hips. “Please tell me it’s okay, please.”

He was everywhere, the best possible way. You sank into the mattress, thighs squeezing his hips as you ground your hips up into his.

A broken, “please baby,” escaped your lips.

Harry started with slow movements, needing a second to compose himself as feeling you in the most intimate way he could was already driving him close to the edge.

“Please what?” He muttered, a shallow thrust inside of you that had both of you biting back moans.

“More,” you whined lowly. He was holding you so tightly you were sure to be bruises, and one of his hands moved down to smooth over your thigh, a sharp smack sounding through the air paired with the light sting as you moaned into your arm. You let out a dreamy breath, feeling him pump deeper thrusts inside of you.

And God he was deep. You felt a burn deep inside your stomach, the repeating motions of his hips pushing into yours was felt so deliciously inside of you. Harry was already panting from above you, sharp breaths as he leant his weight back over yours to drag his mouth over your neck.

One of his hands sneaked around your legs, palm smoothing over your lower stomach with a slow and soothing pattern, a sharp contrast to the way he was deeply pushing into you.

“Oh…!” You moaned lowly when the hand over your belly sneaked down lower, two fingers circling over your clit right above where you were connected. “Harry –”

“Tell me it’s good,” he breathed, fingers rubbing over the sensitive bit of nerves.

“Always,” you called, voice wavering unattractively. Your own moan cut you off, voice tapering away as it seemed to get caught in your throat when his fingers moved on your clit with purpose. “You feel so good.”

Harry was watching your every reaction to him, attentive to the way you reacted – he was happy to feel as though nothing had changed after all this time, he was happy to see that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.  

He found himself holding back his tongue as confessions of love were about to spill from his lips.

Whine laced breaths were caught on Harry’s mouth when he pressed it against your own in a heavy kiss. His hips were pumping into yours with a steady pace, as if each move was so perfectly calculated when really the simple truth was that you both worked perfectly well together.

Your core was clenching around him, not even realizing that you were doing so as the euphoria in your body was building right back up. You were quietly whining his name, barely aware of the way your nails dug into his back.

Your first orgasm of the night came suddenly. It was as if something quickly snapped inside of you, a sharp break as you were quickly pushing your hips into his with an arch in your back, calling for the heavens and Harry.

His lips hovered by your ear, murmuring a string of praises while your core spasmed around him in the aftershocks of your release. It wasn’t the most mindblowing orgasm of your life, but after a long time of not being properly taken care of, it was just what you needed.

Harry barely slowed as you came around him, chest heaving into yours at the sharp pleasure of feeling you come. Though that steady pace faltered when the burning pit in his stomach seemed to grow hotter. He knew he needed to take a moment otherwise he’d be coming far too soon and he really didn’t want your first time back together again wasn’t the best he could give you.

After a short shallow thrust, the feeling of being full was suddenly lost to you as Harry slipped out of you. “Oh,” he muttered, leaning back from above you. He let out a breathless laugh, small shake in his hands. “Fuck – baby you feel incredible.”

But when he didn’t push back inside of you, you looked up at him with glossy eyes with a quiet whine of “what are you doing?”

His chest shook with a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself to calm down. “Just, give me a sec’,” he focused all his attention on the slow movement of your hand brushing down his back.

He opened his eyes as a soft giggle escaped your lips, meeting your shinning eyes as he took in every inch of your face. Your fluttering eyelids, blissed out smile that graced your swollen lips, and rounded cheeks that followed your grin.

Raising one hand to cup over your jaw, he traced every line and curve of your face with his thumb as his lips lightly followed its path. After a quiet whimper of his name, he let his mouth fall over yours and kissed you deeply. A hand slid up over the side of your face, fingers petting over your hair in repetitive motions.

“How’re you feeling?” His lips moved over your mouth as they formed the words.

“Good,” you swallowed a dry breath. “really good.”

“We always were really good at this – take care of each other,” you could hear his smirk as his hips rutted over yours, cock sliding over the crest of your thigh. “Made for each other.”

Moaning a breathless yeah, he kissed you deeply once more before you were whining his name into his mouth.

“Please – want you to come,” you kissed over his jaw. “Fuck me – please.”

Harry sucked in a breath with a hiss, your words eliciting a twitch of his length against you. He pushed his hips with your once more, telling you a cheeky “anything for you.”

Lining himself with you once more, pushing in as he kissed over your jaw. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he would be met with his release, and with the way you were clenching around him he hoped you would as well.

You were pushing your hips up to meet his thrust, back arching over the mattress as your fingertips scratched over his back, never letting go. He was still just as deep, still hitting every spot that made you clench around him and call his name into the air as you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Grabbing under one of your thighs, he urged you to hook your legs around his waist. “Right over here,” he begged, as you easily complied, feeling him fit so snug with you. “Good girl,” he kissed the words over your lips. “Keep me here.”

He was easily working you right back up. The sex was always good with him, and you didn’t know if it was because of the recent reunion, the desperateness of the act, but this seemed especially good.

Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on every feeling of his skin against yours. You felt Harry’s lips press gently over your closed lids.

His mouth was all over you – his hands were all over you. He was everywhere. And you welcomed every bit of it.

“Wanna,” he muttered. “Want to see you,” a kiss was pressed to your shoulder, “open your eyes for me?”

A broken praise of a low “good girl” was mumbled from his lips, as you parted your heavy lids and gazed up at him. His cheek brushed yours, seeming to kiss over every inch of your face. He bowed his head, watching the way your bodies connected – the way he sunk so deeply into you.

His pace was unrelenting, fingers gripping tightly into your skin. One of his hands slid down your arm, unwrapping it from around his back to slot your fingers together and push you into the mattress. You squeezed his hand tightly in your grip, whimpering lowly from beneath him.

He moved your connected hands up over your head, driving down inside of you in deep moves. His lips latched to your neck, muttering near nonsense over your skin. “You make me feel so good,” he groaned, “heavenly.”

Choking over a gasp when Harry’s free hand smoothed over your thigh, kneading into the swell of your bum only to give a small smack over the skin. Involuntarily clenching around him, his hips bucked as his pace grew a little more desperate.

He was nearly shaking from above you. “I’m close –”

You moaned his name over his cheek.

He grunted with a sharp thrust. “Say my name like that, shit, talk to me.”

“Harry…” your voice was low, a whisper over your skin. “Come for me, please I want to feel you.”

He screwed his eyes shut, feeling it near impossible to hold off any longer. The muscles in his stomach were clenched tight, hand holding onto yours for dear life as his mouth slide over your skin.

“I’m – fuck,” his lips brushed yours as he spoke, chest heaving against yours. “Sorry fuck…I’m coming,” he groaned your name, hips hitting one, two times hard into yours as he came inside of you. He stilled for a moment, feeling his cock twitch with his release. You squeezed his hips with your thighs, feeling his weight fall completely on you with his clammy skin sticking to yours.

Repeating your name over and over against your mouth, eyelids completely shut as your hand soothed through his hair. You could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, a few more sloppy thrusts as he came down from his high.

Seeming like it took all his strength, he pushed himself up on his forearms so that his upper body could rise over yours, he opened his eyes with a few quick blinks.

His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and you immediately noticed the small wet patch of skin under his eyes. You were unable to help the curve in your lips, moving your hand up from the back of his head to rest against his cheek. Wiping away the little trail of tears that graced his cheekbones, you craned your neck to plant a small peck over his lips. “You okay?”

You brushed a thumb over his cheek as he spoke.

“More than,” you could feel his smile over your mouth. “Just overwhelmed – missed your body, missed feeling you.”

“God,” his chest shook with a laugh this time, a small breathless laugh with a shake of his head. “It was fast… wanted to give you more.”

He kissed you once more, tongue moving with yours in slow languid moves. Slowly withdrawing from you, you were both still sensitive and he felt nearly cold without being inside of you. He remained close on top of you, kissing over your neck and down your chest.

His lips gently sucked over your collarbone, moving lower and lower with every breath. He still held himself up with one of his arms, the other falling over your naked frame to grab at wherever he pleased. Hand smoothing down your waist, down to massaged at the sensitive skin of your thighs before moving back up again.

Raising his head, you watched through strands of his hanging hair as his swollen lips circled around your nipple. You felt sensitive all over, every nerve in your body on extremely high alert due to the man hovering over you that was making your head spin.

“What are you –” your voice was quiet once again, a subtle whine laced with the words when Harry sucked darkened marks into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“Let me give you one more,” his voice came out hot, mouth now kissing down your stomach. He rested his cheek on your skin, peering up at your through his eyelashes. “Please? I want to give you one more.”

You moaned breathlessly; the subtle throbbing of your core still apparent ever since he’d withdrawn from you. Murmuring his name into the air, you let your shoulders relax back into the plush mattress as his hands felt up the warm skin of your sides is slow soothing motions. “Give me one more.”

“G’na have to open those legs for me again,” his hands fell to your hips, readjusting himself so that he could lie his body on the mattress. You easily did as he’d said, allowing your knees to fall open and hit the bed. They didn’t stay there for very long, Harry grabbing a light hold of your ankle to place on his shoulder before kissing up your thigh.

Quiet curse was heard in the room when he caught sight of your swollen folds, a mix of both your arousals leaking down your skin.

He quickly caught the salty mix with his mouth, the sudden feeling of his tongue making you gasp with a small jolt. His hands were back on you, holding at your hips as he muttered to keep your thighs close around his head.

His tongue darted over your skin, tasting both of your releases with tantalizingly slow licks. He moved over your hole, a light push inside the warmth before withdrawing just as fast. He held your hips tightly, fingertips digging into the skin to no doubt leave little crescent moon shaped marks of his nails. Barely brushing over your clit, you’re hips were twitching up in search for more of him as the sensitivity seemed to be heightened.

He was working you up the way you knew he would.

Instead of diving right in, he gave you light, barely there touches of teasing licks and hot breaths to work you right up. The tip of his tongue brushed over your clit, circling it over the little bit of nerves in a way that had you calling his name in a breathless pant.

You hadn’t even noticed that one of your hands had found its way to pull at his hair, tugging at the thick strands at ever little touch of his tongue.

And just as you knew him to, he didn’t give you much warning before wrapping his lips around your clit and gave it a harsh suck. Your hips bucked in his touch, the pleasure of his touch coursing up to your head and down to your toes. Your heel dug into his shoulder, not at all caring that much at how tightly you were holding him.

It wouldn’t be long until your second orgasm.

His fingers dragged around your thighs, pushing through your wet folds as he pulled back to watch your slickness coat is fingers.

Lips back on the fleshiest parts of your thighs, he was kissing and sucking until the skin had been completely covered by his touch.

His fingers finally pushed inside of you, two of them maneuvering with skill into the perfect spots that hade you gripping onto him for dear life. Lips back over the bundle of nerves, he licked a slow strip with an obscene sound, before offering your clit all of his attention.

Your orgasm was definitely not far off from the way he moaned over you.

Your hand locked with his again, as you sought it out from where it was holding your thigh down. You caught Harry’s gaze, as he peered up at your through heavy eyelids with blown pupils and red cheeks.

He gave your hand a tight squeeze from where it rested on your leg, doubling his efforts with harsh sucks that had your hips bucking over his mouth.

His fingers were keeping a steady pace, curling up as he wanted nothing more than to have you unravel for him. You cried out his name, knowing how much he loved to hear you moan for him.

“Want you – gonna come for me, right?” He muttered, pulling away for a slight moment as he watched his fingers disappear inside of you. He couldn’t decide where to hold his gaze – from his wet fingers, to your heaving chest, to your completely blissed out face.

“Yeah,” you moaned dreamily, clenching tightly around his fingers as your orgasm was seconds away. “Harry, oh …!”

The heat in your stomach was unbearable, and suddenly you were floating from the mattress as your orgasm took over your body.

Harry’s eyes snapped to yours, watching them fall over him with heart shaped pupils before you were squeezing them shut in pure pleasure. He watched every move of your body, fingers keeping their motions inside of you until your shoulders relaxed back down onto the mattress.

“Shit,” he breathed against your skin, meeting the heavy breaths that were puffing from your chest. “That was…”

He sucked in fingers into his mouth, catching every last taste of you with one last lick over your swollen core that had you whimper in your sensitivity. Another loud kiss right over your hip, he was quickly crawling back up your body until he laying right by your side.

You rolled your head on the mattress, facing him. “That was what?” You quietly asked, smile easily gracing your features.

“Hot,” he breathed with a quiet laugh, “you’re so – beautiful, gorgeous, sexy –”

You pushed yourself to rest completely on your side, hand slide around his shoulder so that you could lean forward and connect your swollen lips.

He was holding you close against his body, a loving and intimate touch that only Harry could give you.

Exhausted seemed to settle into every muscle of your body but a nice kind of tired, like after a long day in the sun. Simply holding each other in a soft embrace, you stayed like that for a while. You couldn’t believe you had just had sex with your ex, with your ex who you were now apparently seeing again.

A little smile grew on your lips.

You couldn’t believe how much you still loved him.

Harry was tracing the line of your shoulder, a mindless action as he enjoyed the feeling of you next to him. He could tell that you were thinking about something, but he didn’t push it. He saw a little roundness to your cheeks, a little smile pulling at your mouth and it warmed his still rapidly beating heart.

After a moment you reluctantly lifted yourself away from Harry to stand from the bed. Limbs slipping from his, you went from feeling every inch of his skin to none at all.

“Where are you going,” he called with a groan, although followed your motions until his feet were planted over the floor.

“Washroom,” you called behind you, settling down on shaky legs as you made the short walk. You peered over your shoulder and where Harry was still sitting on the bed. “Can I borrow some clothes again?”

Harry smiled. “What’s mine is yours.”

You only laughed with a little shake to your head, taking a moment for yourself as you got yourself cleaned up. Moments later harry was by your side, pulling a warm hoodie over your head.

He was unable to keep his hands off of you.

Whether it was as you did your nightly routine and he was pressing his side against your, or when he hugged you from behind to kiss over the side of your face, or when his hand gripped yours to pull you back to bed.

The best was always lying close next to him, feeling his heartbeat steady with yours as sleep easily took over your tired bodies. His lips smoothed over the top of your head, telling you a quiet “goodnight, m’love.”

It was the best sleep the both of you had in months.

more to come .. thank you for reading and please let me know what you think <3

[calpops]

losing love | c.h.

two: hollowed hearts

series masterlist | my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

✦ ✦ ✦

Morning comes with the shadows of dreams lingering in Calum’s mind. A demure silhouette slinks through his waning memory of the night. Sunlight pools in from the open curtains and cuts across the wooden floor in turrets of gold. He’s bleary. Mind working in overtime to put all of the scattered pieces of the previous night back together. There’s only one thing that invades him and that he’s certain of. Everest.

He remembers it in rewind, all of the flashes of her playing backwards in hazy pictures. He remembers her doorstep, the ivy that climbed the stones and the halos of light that pooled in her dark eyes. Headlights blur past his vision, the beams cutting from his car as they sat on the hood and ate fast food, drank milkshakes and she wore his jacket over her shoulders. The party comes back to him, only in the sense of leaving with her. The downcast and forlorn gazes she gave him across the room, the broken syllables she uttered and the pain she tried to hide.

Calum groans, turns himself to his side and wards off the want to bury his head under his pillow and let himself succumb to the feeling crawling across his chest. If he had the heart to do so, he would’ve cursed her, himself, the situation, the fact that he couldn’t forget. The fact that she was his best friend’s date and somehow they had ended the night with each other.

He only pulls himself from the warm comfort of his bed when a knock on the front door jars him. He’s padding down the hallway when he hears the unceremonious squeak of the hinges and feels his heart pick up. Only one person has a key.

Ashton’s taken up a home in the kitchen, hands placed on the marble countertop and eyes patient as they find Calum breaking around the corner. Calum stops suddenly, just the sight of his best friend bringing to stir too many thoughts through his tired mind.

“I saw you leaving with Everest last night,” Ashton says, the words a whip that crack through the air and bring a pain behind Calum’s eyes. He stays quiet save for the painful thud of his racing heart. “She made it home okay?”

Calum nods, wary of where the situation is headed. Nothing happened, he reminds himself. He kept her warm, got her food, brought her home and made sure she made it inside okay. Nothing happened.

The only problem is, he wished something had.

“Yeah, walked her to the door and made sure she got in okay,” Calum says in a rush and finally finishes his way into the kitchen to drop himself onto a barstool.

“Thanks, mate,” Ashton says, the sincerity a little too much to take in at such an early morning hour. “I was hoping you’d swoop in and save me somehow.”

Calum furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side, unaware that Ashton would have wanted him to be the hero.

“I just… did what I could.”

Calum feels a burn in the back of his throat and bites the tip of his tongue.

Ashton lets out a small breath and shakes his head, curls bouncing and dropping into his eyes with the motion.

“I thought I wanted you to get me away but I’m glad you took care of Everest. I think I really needed the closure, and so did she. Horrible timing, but a good outcome?” The hope in Ashton’s voice is palpable, his gaze skirts to the countertop where he drums his fingers in a nervous habit coming to life. “Did Everest seem upset? I tried calling this morning but she hasn’t answered.”

Calum feels a coil of tension wrap through him. He shakes his head uncertainly, trying hard to remember her demeanor about Ashton when they first left. It’s all replaced with moonlit eyes and the smell of honey coming off her hair.

“Maybe a little,” he offers with a small shrug.

Calum’s arms cross over his chest where heat pools on his skin, simmers under the surface and aches with a burning echo from his chest to the pit of his stomach. Ashton nods and blows out a bigger, deeper breath.

“I know it didn’t look good,” Ashton begins and runs a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have let it go on so long. But it made me realize how ready I am to move on, with Everest. I think she’s good for me.”

Calum swallows past a lump in his throat and lets Ashton continue on his spiel of self discovery, of all the things he’s learned about himself since his breakup and meeting Everest. He goes deep and pulls back, dives further and relents. He ends it with the hope that she’ll give him a second chance to prove himself.

“She’s pretty fond of chances,” Calum mumbles and brushes off the confused look Ashton gives him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. She seems nice, understanding.”

“She is,” Ashton says enthusiastically, heart on his sleeve and hope in his eyes. He rambles about her and the possibilities of what a second chance might mean.

“Maybe you should take it slow,” Calum warns before he can think through the foreboding words. He flinches at his own stupidity, face scrunching up as he wishes he could take it back. “It’s just—you’re just coming out of a relationship, she’s just gotten into the city. You’ve only been on what, four dates?”

“Three,” Ashton says around a growing frown. “Slow and steady is better for the long term, right?”

“Sure.” Calum gives a noncommittal shrug.

He’s the last person to be giving Ashton love advice. All of his relationships ended in flames and destruction. And now there is a heat that lives under his skin for the woman he speaks of.

“I think I’ll text her, see if she’s okay, see where she stands with me. No pressure.”

Calum nods. Curls his hands into fists and bids Ashton goodbye as he darts for the door with renewed hope but realistic expectations. Calum follows him to the door and runs his hands over the oak as it closes. He sucks in a deep breath and wills his hands to stop shaking and heart to stop racing. Guilt coils so thoroughly through him he has to remind himself he’s done nothing wrong. It’s only fleeting feelings encouraged by a lurid night that meant nothing to her, and should mean nothing to him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there processing it all; sifting through the moments and trying to forget them, trying to convince himself that all he needs is a little distance from her. All she needs is a little time with Ashton. Then everything will fall back into place. He pushes away from the door and barely makes it to the kitchen counter before he’s called back.

A slight tap sounds from the other side of the door, Calum nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. It’s soft and rhythmic; taptaptap, taptaptap. He spins himself around on his heel, braces himself for just a moment with his hand on the cool doorknob. He’s not expecting anyone but Ashton’s already made an appearance and disturbed his morning. He slowly opens the door and feels as if he’s taken away with the breeze that sweeps across his skin, feels that the fire comes back to life and wavers in the wind.

Everest stands on his porch, his leather jacket folded across her arms with her gaze cut down to the wooden beams of the floor. She’s poised, stood with grace and her toes turned into each other. She looks up as Calum lets out a breath and grabs a hold of the doorframe to keep himself steady against the wind and the fire warring within him.

“I forgot to give this back last night,” she says with a tiny smile.

She offers over the jacket and Calum is sad to see it leave her grip as he takes it back. But the scent of honey comes in a collision to his senses, spins his world off kilter and ripples guilt all over him. For a moment he realizes that Ashton’s not too far gone; he could be here for her in only a few minutes. He contemplates telling her that he already stopped by and asked about her, worried over the prospect of her getting home safe, confided in him about getting closure and finding happiness and something good with her.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asks instead, the words hot and narrow, closing off the possibility that he might find some distance from her. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” she says, scrunches up her nose and then smiles. “But I’d still like to come in.”

Calum laughs, just a little, at the fake out and moves aside to let her in. She sweeps past him in a lurid and quick movement. She’s sure and confident as she enters his world. It’s all too easy to imagine what might have been, what could be, if there wasn’t a ten ton weight of guilt and pressure crushing his chest.

Calum darts his gaze up the hallway, pictures of Everest moving down the narrow space and towards his bedroom infiltrating his thoughts. He clears his throat, hangs his jacket up and takes a big breath in, thankful for the sweetness in his lungs.

“Can I get you anything else?” he questions as he turns and lists off a few of the things he thinks might be within his means. Water. Juice. Hot chocolate. Stale bread, expired muffins. She laughs and tosses her soft hair behind her shoulder.

“I’m alright,” she answers, gaze following him as he rounds the island and comes to make a perch on the side towards the kitchen.

He gestures for her to sit on the stool opposite him then plants his elbows on the marble countertop. She bids his offer and takes a seat, midnight eyes glimmering with curiosity as she peers at him. It’s silent for a beat. Cheeks warm and thoughts waver. Calum purses his lips and taps his fingers on the counter.

“I also wanted to say something to you.” She shifts on the stool, brings her hands up and folds her fingers together. Her gaze doesn’t waver and Calum finds that he doesn’t mind the way she keeps him with her, and finds that he quite likes the feeling of being kept by her so fully. “Thank you.”

Calum tilts his head to the side, unable to understand the gratitude. “For?” he asks, shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows.

“Last night. Bringing me home,” she says and shrugs then shakes her head and back peddles, “for cheering me up and then bringing me home.” She stresses cheering me up with such sincerity in her voice and eyes it nearly knocks Calum off balance. She has a sway in her voice, a way of intoning anything and everything that’s important to her.

“It was nothing.”

Yet, it meant more than it should have to him.

“No, it meant a lot to me.”

Calum’s heart races wildly at the admission. He feels a little faint, cuts his gaze down to the swirling marble and sees that it’s moving through his vision. He’s trying to swim and keep afloat in her honesty but he feels more as if he’s sinking. Sinking and drowning as he looks back up and gets lost in the dark.

“I just did what I could,” Calum says for the second time that morning. He remembers Ashton’s gratitude and the explanation for why it was even needed in the first place. Heat cuts through him. He sighs. “I knew Ashton wouldn’t want you to be upset. He’d want you home safe, too.”

Everest nods, even and unflinching at the mention of Ashton. She doesn’t say anything for a moment. No emotion crosses her face. She’s stoic and calm, eyes as clear as a midnight summer sky.

“He’s a good guy.” She abandons her stool and stands, leans a bit over the counter and puts a hand on top of Calum’s. “But I don’t want to be his rebound.”

Calum’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He chokes it down and fights the urge to envelop her hand in his. He stays still, scared that the moment is so fragile it might shatter if he dares to move. Scared that it might become something even more.

“He said he got closure last night. It made him realize he wants you.”

He doesn’t know where the unbridled honesty is coming from, not when all of the thoughts in his mind are shouting into the emptiness of reckless abandon. He wants to leave Ashton’s name to the wind. To take her hand and close the distance between them. To find out if she tastes like honey too.

Everest pulls her hand away and shakes her head just a bit. “I didn’t know he was so unsure all this time. I didn’t know I was just an option until last night.”

Cold kisses Calum’s skin where her touch abandoned him.

“You’re the one he chose,” Calum reminds and wants to hit himself, bite his tongue, somehow stop the words from pouring out of him.

His loyalty runs deep, his need to defend his best friend heightens with each passing moment but he feels as if all of the stone walls he’s put up at the battlements are starting to crumble. Everest is able to strike through them, to create gaps in the stones and peer through to the other side. She sees the things that Calum would rather keep hidden.

“I don’t want to be a choice. I just want to be… the one, with the right one. I don’t know if that’s Ashton,” she says, voice cracking and gaze finally dropping from his. For all of the cool and calm she once possessed she begins to break, hand trembling and lip jutting out in thought. “I’m sorry, we probably shouldn’t even be talking about this. You’re his best friend. I can’t put this on you.”

“It’s okay,” Calum quickly reassures and wants to reach out to her but keeps his hands strictly to himself. He lets out a breath that makes his chest ache. “You deserve to be the one. But maybe Ashton also deserves a second chance to prove that you are. You’ll never know unless you give him another chance..”

Pain strikes hot and white through Calum, like a crack of lightning lashing against his darkened being. He shuts his eyes for a split second, feeling the sway of the world rocking around him. He brings his hands to his chest without thinking, rubs at his ribs and tries to convince himself the ache he feels is nothing.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Everest mumbles. She nods to herself for a moment, quiet and thoughtful, Calum eternally grateful that he has a moment to recollect himself. “He called me this morning. I should probably call him back. Hear him out.”

“If you want to,” Calum says and realizes how scattered he is with her.

He defends Ashton, pushes her towards forgiving him, then relents and reels her back just a bit. He can’t shake it, he can’t ward off the words that roll from his tongue before his mind can process them. He needs air, he needs that distance he decided on this morning. He needs honey to drift away in the wind and midnight eyes to vanish into the day.

He gets his wish as she leaves him, takes all of the sweetness from his lungs and the darkness from his gaze. Bids him goodbye with another chaste and aching kiss to his cheek. She leaves only the lingering curiosity of what the phone call might entail and the ache he still rubs at in his chest.  He tries to catch his breath as he shuts the door and glides to the window to watch her walk away. His hand grips the leather jacket she gave back to him as she dips down into her car. All he can see is her in the passenger seat with the leather draped over her shoulders. All he can feel is the brush of her lips igniting sparks against his cheek. Guilt swallowing him whole. Emotions stifled. Two hallowed hearts ignored.

✦ ✦ ✦

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[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Midnight Magic

A/N: Wrote a smutty part 2 to accompany you lovely folks! 🥰🥰

MASTERLIST

Henry Cavill x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1855k 

Warnings: MUCH PROMISED FLUFF, dirty talk, implied smut, foreplay, kissing, language, teasing

***********************************************

Y/N wasn’t someone to demand attention but tonight was a different story entirely. Whether it be the holiday magic in the air or the sheer happiness exuding from her beaming smile, they’d never know for sure.  She glazed into the fireplace awaiting the arrival of her midnight kiss to show up. The embers flickered uncontrollably creating a spellbinding illusion of comfort. The cerulean blue hue of her dress was majestically magnificent, custom designed to perfection leaving little to the imagination. Paired with a sexy high slit revealed the majority of her right leg; just enough access.

This New Year’s Eve Henry had the peculiar notion to get dressed up as if they were enjoying the evening out. Y/N almost died of happiness then and there seeing the childish reflection in her husband’s hypnotic orbs. 2020 was one helluva year and though it brought them closer than ever as a couple, Y/N wasn’t blind to the hardships occurring throughout the world.  

His loins stirred excitedly as lust glazed over his features growing semi-hard. The only barrier holding them from going at it like teenagers. He licked his lips in anticipation eager to have his wife all to himself. No lavish parties or parades of people to entertain this year, just the lot of them, alone and horny. He continued admiring her from afar pouring two flutes of champagne for the pair.

“You look positively scrumptious this evening, Mrs. Cavill.”

Henry silently crept from behind sneaking up unsuspectingly slow. Goosebumps riddled her gorgeous skin rippling in masses. His breath ticked the tiny, delicate hair adorning her neck shooting a pleasurable surge to her limbs. Both endlessly love drunk on one another. His sensational touch alone kicked every sense into overdrive, heightened every emotion he emitted. Y/N reached back entangling her fingers with his newly deemed ‘quarantine curls’ she’d loved to tug on. Small bites traced down her neck leaving small marks in his wake of destruction.

“May I add how delectable you are in a tuxedo, Hen? My god, my poor ovaries must be working overtime.”

A salacious smirk broke out on his lips eyeing her lustfully.

“You haven’t the finest clue what I want to do to you right now, my love.”

Her hips grinded back on their on accord knocking the air from his lungs. All his remaining blood rushed to the tip of his cock as his belly stirred in playful chaos. They swayed back and forth to the melody playing in the background both reflecting on their last year together.

Henry lined himself up with the shell of her ear wrapping his bulky arm firmly around her waist drawing her as close as possible.

“I’m truly astounded this is our 12th year celebrating as a couple.”

Y/N smiled thinking back when they first met. The year was 2008, Henry was a newly promoted regular to a Showtime series called The Tudors. Y/N was a brilliant writer, the brains behind the complex operation. Henry considered her the beauty and brains; Y/N hated when he talked down about himself saying she’d never once doubted the man who became a wonderful husband and even better daddy.

One unparticular day he’d spotted her struggling to balance a pretty hefty pile of scripts and tumbled right into him. Luckily, his super-size and strength kicked in just in time catching the eye of the attractive stranger. In that moment, Henry knew there was something about this woman he craved to figure out. He was just the lucky bastard on the reciprocating end.

“And thank god your parents volunteered to take the kiddos for the evening. Some private adult time is just what the doctor ordered. We owe them BIG time.”

Y/N winked leading him to decipher the meaning behind her blanket statements. She stepped from his grasp breaking his hold on her. He whined at the loss causing Y/N to eye him curiously.

Oh, you little tease.

Henry’s frisky nature broke through lighting the atmosphere around them. Due to the ongoing pandemic and what not, Henry and Y/N found themselves in wintry London at their main hub of a home. Henry’s roots were deep-rooted and his plea so passionate as she agreed to move across the world with him. Their lives halted for the better allowing the family to spend more time than usual as a unit. Though initially hectic and overwhelming, they were secretly thankful for these little moments with their four children. It was a time they so dearly valued at their imaginative ages.

“Oh, I bet my pops could sense the sexual tension oozing off you, darling. You smell mouthwatering.”

“Hush! Besides it is completely natural to pursue a sexual relationship with my husband outside of our children. Gotta keep you coming back for more…”

“Oh sweets, you have no earthly idea how bad I want to fuck you every day of my existence. You are absolutely divine and somehow all mine.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Nobody’s ever made me cum the way you managed to figure out. You play me like a damn instrument.”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh, you’re insatiable.”

“Oh, come on. Your sex drive is just as insane as mine. Admit it!”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip collecting her thoughts. Henry pried and teased her ribs forcing her to his whims.

“Fine, fine, you win! I’m a ravenous feign when it comes to you. You’d think having kids would cool my jets but then I see these gorgeous faces I birthed and it’s like I reset. Poof, just like that.”

“Well you’re a phenomenal Mum and quite the MILF too.”

Henry inhaled her perfumed scent taking a long sip of bubbly; anything to keep him from combusting.

“Let’s toast, love. We must.”

“My my, how time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her manicured fingers reached for the chilled glass looking up at Henry and his three-month-old beard. She rose her glass slightly higher in preparation for his speech. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she admired her husband.

“Thank you for loving me, Henry. Seriously, you changed my life in so many profound ways.”

The sap in him was beginning to show as his eyes watered with unshed tears; “My love, it is I who should be thanking for you the unending shower of love and affection. You are the beautiful mother of our four wonderous kids who are the absolute lights of my life because of you. You’re a woman worthy of many praises than my silly ramblings. Cheers to you and for another adventure of a year!”

She swatted his chest immediately shutting him up; “Don’t say that! I am just as equally lucky to have found someone who gets me for …me. It’s a wonderful feeling to have you by my side even if I did have to kiss a few frogs.”

“No doubt I the best possible selection.”

Y/N played along jesting back; “I wouldn’t go that far, maybe the easiest?”

Gob smacked Henry’s wit was rapid fire; “If memory serves, you were there too. And just as ravenous.”

“I was about to get nailed by an insanely hot British man. Can you blame me?”

“One look from you and I was a bloody puddle. I had to recite rugby players to keep from losing my shit.”

No matter life’s challenges the past years of their lives, their resolution to stay equals and lovers was stronger than ever. A sinful glow overcame Y/N as she stared directly up at him; “Cheers to you fucking me stupid then?”

“As you wish.”

She refused to glance away maintaining his smoldering gaze; her Y/C eyes screamed sex. His pupils dilated just as his heart speed up voraciously. Both subconsciously tilted their heads oppositely neither daring to move first, unwilling to yield. Y/N challenged his masculinity testing him. Many words could be used to describe Y/N but priss wasn’t one of them.  

“Oi, you are a true keeper.”  

Y/N checked the matching wrist watch completing her outfit; “T-minus 15 seconds until 2021 is here.”

Still unbreaking of her gaze, Henry stayed silent taking in the beauty of his wife. He could stare at her for the rest of his god given days and die a spectacularly happy man.

10,9,8

“Oh Hen, another marvelous journey with you. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.”

7,6

She stared down at his inviting pout unable to look away nor did she truly want to.

“Maybe thinking about another baby?”

Her eyes bulged from her skull as shock illuminated from her pores.

“You’re joshing me?”

His lack of response was more than confirmation enough.

5,4

“There’s something so ridiculously sexy about you being pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids but with you, oh with you I want to have as many as humanly possible. Our very own football team.”

Confusion stamped her features at his terminology. Sometimes Henry forgot they were from different countries.

“Football as in soccer. You know the game with the checkered ba—”

Y/N cut him off; “Jeez baby, save your mansplaining. I’ve been on this side of the pond long enough to understand your oh so clever references.”

3,2

The pros and cons bounced around in her head, doubt never far behind but the mischievous joy coming off him was tantalizing; “Let’s do it.”

2,1

Cheers rang ecstatically from the television as fireworks commanded their attention but they only had eyes for one another. Henry closed the gap kissing her feverishly. He was forever seared into her brain ruined for all other men. Lost in the moment, Y/N barely had time to set her glass down untrusting of her own balance anymore. Henry followed shortly behind. Now with her newfound freedom, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck locking him in place. His questioning tone was almost cause for concern before his façade shattered.

“Really? I do so enjoy seeing you round with my babe. So, fucking irresistible.”

Henry’s jacket was long removed strewn over the couch. That left him standing only in his tight button up and trousers. Y/N merely leaned back his direction bringing his attention towards the zipper aligning her spine. Henry chuckled undoing her dress too easily watching the zipper flair apart. He couldn’t resist admiring the flex of her muscles and how striking she was. Tugging the material over the curvy hips, Y/N noticed Henry was far too overdressed.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

“You bossin me round, babe?”

His muscular tush ignited in minimal pain as her hand connected with his ass whipping rather harshly. A small red welt appeared instantly. Henry stood shocked as Y/N’s smug smile decorated her face.

“You really shouldn’t push me. I don’t like my authority questioned.”

Henry’s mood shifted at her use of roleplay knowing he was in for a well and good night. Henry stripped removing his boxer briefs last. Y/N strutted towards her bedside dresser pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs. Dangling them in front of him, she grinned bashfully; “You’re going to sit your ass on that bed and I’m going to tie you up now. Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14@bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @cap-barnes​ @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos​  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie  @nalathefirefly​ @vikingsbifrost​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @moderapoppins​ @cooldiva1234​ @icedcoffeeismythang​ @titty-teetee​ @summersong69​ @kaatelyyynn​ @missursulacalmet​ @michelehansel​ @iloveyouyen​ @shyshu​ @star017​ @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83​ @starrynite7114​  @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @i-love-scott-mccall​  @darkbooksarwin​ @ellieseymour70​ @designerwriterchic​ @studywithrosie01​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @lebguardians​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @hen-cavill​  @cavill-sass​ @oh-for-fic-sake​ @icedbottles​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @brexrif​ @gryffindorwriter​ @laketaj24​ @foxyjwls007​ @lawsofthejungle​ @henrycavillfanpage​ @kaboogie21​ @fangirl199812​ @gothicninibalor​ @qualitynightkoala​ @strictlybuckybarnes​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​@hersilencescreams-blog​ @viking-raider​ @sesamepancakes​  @madbaddic7ed​ @fuckoffbard​ @funfickgirl22​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @hoeforhenry​ @henrycavills-babe​ @abschaffer2​ @loving-this​ @one-of-those-fanfiction-blogs​ @lovelycavills​

[idealistic-imaginings]

#BuryTheScarfMikasa #BurnTheScarfMikasa

*contains talk about chapter 139, so do not read if you do not want to be spoiled. Heavily anti er*mika. Also, I'll be using Aaron/Ellen, just in case*

Hi Hi !! fellow Mikasa and Rivamika fans, and anyone else who stumbles across this who was gravely disappointed in Mikasa's ending. I've been somewhat of a lurker, and I've enjoyed seeing the fanart, reading the fics, and all the theories and analyses, so thank you to everyone who has shared their content. I don't usually share my thoughts so publicly ('cause I'm always nervous I won't communicate all my emotions properly), but I have this idea and I'd love to share it, and might as well take the opportunity to criticize 139.

My Thoughts On Mikasa's Ending and Her Scarf

After chapter 139, I was thinking about Mikasa's scarf and whether I wanted to continue imagining her in it anymore, e.g. when reading fics or fucking fantasizing lmao. See, the scarf used to be her indicator; it was very much part of her person. And, in the beginning, it represented warmth and comfort. After the traumatic experience of seeing her parents brutally murdered, we can't deny that, in the beginning, that's exactly what Aaron represented for her (warmth, safety, security, and comfort). But, overtime, we've seen how the scarf has come to represent Mikasa's over attachment to Aaron.

Over the series, we see Aaron Yoghurt and Mikasa grow apart, and the infamous line: "I've always hated you, Mikasa" is the final nail in the coffin. In this arc, we see Mikasa's crafted image of Aaron begin to crumble ('cause he's a fucking mass murderer now), and we finally see her take off that scarf. Thus, separating herself from Aaron. And when she finally put it back on to behead Aaron, I had hoped it was one final 'hurrah!'; one last moment to tie to the scarf before burying it. And how fitting would that have been for the very thing that once tied them together to free them both?

But, no. As we all witnessed in the last chapter, the scarf is still wrapped around Mikasa even three years later. We have Ellen Dove's pathetic lines: "Even after I die... I want to be at the front of her mind for a while! Ten years, at least!!!", paired with the final lines: "Thank you for wrapping this scarf around me Ellen."

Now, what the hell does that say to a reader? I get everyone's defensiveness about how it's okay for Mikasa to grieve. But the main issue is Yams' storytelling and how that portrays and reduces Mikasa as a character.

There was this blatant contrast of every single person moving on, doing something with their lives. Then, there is Mikasa, crying at the graveyard of a dead mass murderer. The scarf clings onto her like shackles, not allowing her to be free and live life. Not to mention the fact that in the same chapter, Mikasa was shown to have 'freed' Ymir from her abusive relationship, only to revert to the same behaviour a few panels later.

I'm not gonna go much deeper into it, but we all were able to draw parallels between Ymir-Fritz and Ere*ika, right? It's disturbing, it's alarming, and so very harmful that Yams wasn't even careful with word choice in displaying an abusive relationship. Instead, he painted it in a good light. So, you can see how in her final goodbye just how badly this has framed Mikasa's character. Reducing her to a mourning widow of, once again, a mass murderer.

SO, HERE'S MY IDEA: A PROJECT/MOVEMENT/PROTEST

We, as a collective fandom (rivamikas and anyone who loves Mikasa and was hurt/offended/disgusted by her ending), could stop putting Mikasa in a scarf NOW. As we've all said, that crusty, rusty, musty, dusty, germ-infested, disease-bringing shit needs to die and stay dead. It's time we all say goodbye to it.

A movement of fanarts/fics/any other content of Mikasa burning the scarf, burying it, or simply showing her without the scarf and any other creative thing your mind comes up with. THIS IS A PROTEST of what that thing now represents. Being shackled to a pathetic mass murderer, clinging to a toxic love, living in the past, living for a man and not yourself, and not moving on or being happy. I think it could kind of be a way to allow ourselves and Mikasa to move on from chapter 139; a kind of CATHARSIS. We still stand with Mikasa and everything that is good about her, and will not allow that to be her ending.

And, sure, include Levi (preferably, holding her neck as he kisses the living daylights out of her, kissing her bare neck, and perhaps even a little conversation about the scarf). BUT, REMEMBER, THIS IS MAINLY FOR MIKASA, AND ALL THE WOMEN SHE REPRESENTS.

If you feel as passionately about this as I do, then include the hashtag #BuryTheScarfMikasa or #BurnTheScarfMikasa to all your future posts of Mikasa without her scarf. (I'd like to think 'Bury' is more gentle, while 'Burn' indicates rage lol)

(also, to note: I'm looking at post war and cottage core fanarts and a lot of you guys are already doing this! Guess I might be late to the party. If so, then I'd like to ask any of the artists and anyone in general: how much were you considering Mikasa's scarf when drawing/writing her? And what will you do now after reading 139 and this? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also I'd also like to ask that you please reblog this to spread the word. Thank you for reading :)

[scxrlettwxtches]

urgent romance intervention | kim seungmin

genre: slight angst, fluff, humor

warnings: none!

prompt: everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends--oh wait--

word count: ~3.2k

a/n: first of all, im so sorry for literally dropping off the face of the earth after opening requests. i’ve been in a deep writing slump and i just managed to somewhat pull myself out of it with this fic. >.< to the lovely anon who sent this, im so so sorry if this isnt as good as you wanted it! i’ve just been having a very hard time writing. i hope this isn’t too far off from what you expected! as always, im so so grateful to everyone who has supported this blog, it means so much to me! love you all! <3

“We are not dating!”

This was absolutely ridiculous. Of all the crazy things you had imagined yourself doing once you got to college, you never thought you'd be having to deny dating allegations (from some pretty close friends, no less). What made this situation even more bizarre, was the fact that the topic of these allegations, your supposed “boyfriend,” was none other than your best friend, Kim Seungmin.

“There's no need to be so private, Y/N. We aren't prudes here,” Jisung looked far too smug sitting across from you as you worked on your project together at a random campus cafe with your other group member, Minho.

You couldn't help but scoff at his words, writing in your notebook with a little more ferocity than usual. A little was an understatement, actually; your pencil was practically cutting into three pages at this point, “I'm not being private, I'm being honest. I'm not dating Seungmin.”

“Are you sure?” Jisung continued to press for details, leaning forward with wide eyes. 

“I think I'd be aware if I was dating my best friend,” you rolled your eyes, taking another big bite of your croissant, holding it with your left hand as you continued to take notes with your right. 

Minho coughed and muttered the words similar to, “You'd be surprised,” under his breath, but you were too sick of this conversation to care.

You had a total of five minutes of pleasant peace and quiet when Jisung spoke up once more, “I think you two are cute, for what it’s worth,” he said, nibbling at his cheesecake.

“I very much appreciate it, but I’d appreciate it much more if you actually worked on our project,” you smiled pleasantly, gripping your mechanical pencil so hard you were sure it would snap. Jisung huffed, blowing the hair out of his face when your phone buzzed on the table.

“Oh, it’s your boyfriend,” Minho interjected with a smug smile. 

You scowled. You definitely didn’t get enough sleep to be in the mood to deal with this, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone.

“Are you sure? I bet you it’s him.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s in class right now, and you know Seungmin hates to text--” your voice died right in your throat as you stared at the notification. What the hell was going on? Since when did Seungmin ever text anyone during his classes? But phones don’t lie, and the alert was definitely about the two unread messages from your best friend.

seungmo

wanna get dinner tonight?

i got a reservation at the hotel restaurant you like 

me

how in the world did you get that?! i try to get it for special occasions and i always have to book like three months in advance

seungmo

just some connections

wanna go?

me

hell yeah. see ya soon :)

“So, who’s the lucky texter?” Jisung put his elbows on the table, smiling at you with a devious smirk.

You gave both him and Minho a wary glare as you slipped your phone back into your bag, flipping around your textbook again and continuing to work on the project as you muttered, “Seungmin.”

“Ah, see? I knew he cared about you more than school,” Minho sighed dreamily, which honestly made you want to hurl, “That’s true love, isn’t it, Sungie?”

Jisung nodded fervently and you finally snapped, throwing your pen down, “Why the fuck does everyone think we’re dating?! We’re not!”

“Oh yeah? So what did he text you about?” Jisung asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You pursed your lips, snapping once more, “Just about--” you faltered slightly, processing Seungmin’s messages as your expression morphed from indignant to almost confused.

“About what, Y/N?” Jisung tried again, a smile already quirking his lips upward as he studied your expression. Damn him. Damn Minho. Damn this whole fucking thing.

“About going out for dinner,” you answered under your breath, resting your chin on your arms as you muttered defensively, “It’s not even that big of a deal. We eat dinner together all the time.” 

Minho snorted, “Of course. I bet he even said he made reservations at some fancy ass restaurant,” When the only answer to his accusation was silence, he couldn’t help but scoff, “For someone as bright as you, you’re pretty oblivious about flirting, aren’t you?”

“Watch it,” There was an undertone of a growl as you bared your teeth at him, “I’m the only reason you’re all getting A’s on this project. Don’t test me.”

Jisung shrugged, “If it means finally getting you laid, I’m willing to take an L,” he said simply, twirling his pen as your cheeks grew flush, and with an angry huff, taking your notebook and smacking his arm with it. 

“My sexual life is none of your business,” you snapped, steam practically shooting out of your head as you glared at the two boys. How you three ended up being friends was always going to be something you’d never understand.

“It was none of our business because there was nothing to talk about. Things are different now, sweetie,” Minho snickered, giggling with Jisung like a pair of gossipy school girls as he whispered to you , “Trust me, I got this information first hand. Did you know Seungmin actually has a monster--”

“That’s it. You’re doing this project on your own.”

“W-wait--Y/N!”

.

“Of course you can skip overtime today! It’s not like you’re ever obligated to stay,” your boss at the local bookstore said happily as you hesitantly asked her if it would be alright if you didn’t close up for the day.

Still, despite her reassurances, you bit your lip, “A-are you sure? I could tell my friend to just go with someone else,” you trailed off just as the woman took your hands in hers, shaking her head fervently.

“No, no, no, don’t do that. Of course, you can leave at six. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if you left at five since you already do so much for me,” she chuckled, smiling at you, “Where are you going? Party? Club?”

“No,” you said with a sheepish smile to compliment her wolfish grin. You both knew that alcohol was definitely not your thing “Just a fancy dinner at a fancy place, apparently.” 

"Oh! With a boyfriend?" She asked as the two of you walk around sorting the newly arrived books into different categories. 

Your face burned with embarrassment, "No, it's just Seungmin," you muttered in response, carrying a stack of books over to a large pile of nonfiction novels. 

"So, a boyfriend," she said simply, not even bothering to look at you. 

Unlike with Minho and Jisung, you couldn't blow up at her or snap. Not just because she was your boss, but because Mrs. Kim was probably the sweetest woman alive, and you could never bear saying anything remotely rude towards her. 

"Seungmin isn't my boyfriend, Mrs. Kim," you replied politely as you checked a book for rips or printing errors before putting it into the newly growing pile. 

"He's not? But he's always looking after you, dear!" Mrs. Kim looked almost offended by your denial, which was exactly what you were trying to avoid. 

You shuffled uncomfortably,  "Well, we've been best friends for years, and his mom would kill him if he didn't take care of me,” you quickly fumbled for an excuse and smiled like you were being forced to take a yearbook photo or pose with the sun hitting your eyes. 

"I've never seen a best friend spend his whole paycheck getting their friend a limited edition of a book series they were dying to get," Mrs. Kim pointed out rather dryly. Where was this sass coming from? Was this really the same woman that fed you homemade pastries on your first day of work? It certainly didn't feel like it. 

"He only bought it because I was practically nagging him for months,” your excuses became more relaxed as you let them spill off your lips more. After all, they've lived in your head for the last seven years. It was just like dusting off an old notebook. 

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Mrs. Kim threw her hands up in utter exasperation as she barked, "Hyunjin!" 

The poor boy almost dropped the pile of books he was carrying as his head whipped up to look at Mrs. Kim with a panicked expression. He never really got over the trauma of spilling tea all over Mrs. Kim's favorite book even though she forgave him after a day of sulking. 

"Yes?" he squeaked, his eyes wide as he was probably preparing himself to die at the hands of your boss. It would be almost funny how afraid Hyunjin was of a sixty year old woman if you weren't just as terrified of her when she barked your name. 

"Who's Y/N dating?" she asked. 

Hyunjin's panicked expression all but vanished as he realized that he wasn't the one in trouble, and he answered matter-of-factly as he glanced over at you, "Seungmin. Why?" 

You sputtered in indignation. First Jisung, then Minho, and now Hyunjin, too? 

"We're not dating!" You exclaimed for what was probably the twentieth time in the last two hours alone. 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "Please, you're not fooling anybody here." 

You gawked at Hyunjin, unsure whether you wanted to sock him in the face or rat him out to Changbin for replacing the rapper's shampoo with pink dye, "What in the world gave you the idea that we're together?" 

"Y/N, you two literally hold hands unironically," Hyunjin pointed out. 

"Friends do that all the time!" 

"He ditches us in an instant whenever you call him to hang out." 

"That's because you guys see each other every day, and I only get to see him on the weekends." 

"He was literally draped around you during movie night last weekend." 

"Maybe he's just touchy." 

Hyunjin glanced at you with a skeptical eyebrow, immediately calling out your bullshit, "You didn't seriously call Kim Seungmin a touchy person, did you?" 

You looked away scowling, because Hyunjin always had an uncanny knack for seeing through people's masks. Especially with you;  you knew he always suspected your hidden feelings for your best friend, even when the rest of his friends were happily oblivious. 

Mrs. Kim raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you so against the idea of dating him? Because let me tell you, as a girl that hooked up with boys left and right during my prime time-" 

"Oh my god, Mrs. Kim, I really didn't need to hear that," you groaned in mortification, covering your flushed face with a book. 

"He's one of the good ones," Mrs. Kim finished before glancing at you with a bemused smile, "If it's not because you don't want him, then what's the problem, dear?" 

You felt cornered. It wasn't fair. Hyunjin and Mrs. Kim were looking at you like they knew everything when they didn't. They didn’t know how much you’ve pined over this man, how much carefully crafted effort and time you’ve spent trying desperately to get over him. 

"I don't want to think that I'm special and then have to wake up to the cruel realization that I'm not," you said flatly,  although from the shift in Hyunjin's expression, he could hear the pained inflection hidden in your voice. 

He opened his mouth to say something probably reassuring when Mrs. Kim interrupted, “So it's fear. What are you afraid is going to happen?”

This was definitely the wrong time to be having a conversation like this, during working hours when you were supposed to probably be helping customers. But there was no one in the store and no one outside about to come in either, so you couldn't help but be a little revealing.

“We don't go to the same school anymore,” you explained uncomfortably, “If he hasn't already, he'll probably meet someone kinder, gentler, softer than I could ever be. I don't even have the advantage of time on my side now.” 

“Okay, first off,” Hyunjin interrupted, glancing at Mrs. Kim and then back at you, “Seungmin has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. He's totally hung up on you, just like he was back in high school." 

"You don't know that," you muttered, fumbling with your fingers. 

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me what I know and don't know. I literally see him checking his messages for your replies at least twice every ten minutes." 

“Stop it,” you snapped, looking at him, eyes blazing, “Stop making this sound obvious. You don’t have any right to act like a fucking love expert when all everyone does is fawn over you--”

“Okay, both of you need to cool off. We’re still in a bookstore here,” Mrs. Kim glared at Hyunjin who immediately lost his high horse attitude and ducked away to keep working.

"Darling," Mrs. Kim took your hands in hers, the anger on her face softening into an expression akin to sympathy, "I don't know what you've gone through to think that you're not worthy, but take it from the words of an old woman. If a boy is waiting for you to get off of work with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, chances are that he thinks of you as more than a friend." 

You blinked at her in confusion before following her line of sight, and your heart did a weird backflip as you saw none other than Kim Seungmin, standing outside of the bookstore with a sheepish smile and bouquet of roses in his hands. 

.

This was definitely the strangest day of your life, you thought as you sat directly across from Seungmin, absently admiring the rose petals. It was one thing for Seungmin to take you out for dinner (he always liked spending his big fat paycheck from interning at that fancy tech company), but the flowers threw you off. 

Weren’t roses meant for dates? Was this a date? You looked around at the lavish restaurant, the candlelit atmosphere and the plethora of couples eating around you.

No, definitely not a date.

"Are you alright?" Seungmin asked with the gentle smile he only showed you. Funny, was it Hyunjin corrupting your mind, or did Seungmin's eyes sparkle when you looked at him? 

You nodded, carefully putting down the flowers on the ground underneath your chair to make sure no one accidentally steps on them, "Yeah, I just had a weird day." 

"Weird how?" Seungmin reached for your hand that was resting on the table, causing your stomach to do a somersault. Damn those stupid boys who just don't know when to keep their mouths shut! You just can't stop overthinking things anymore! 

Wait. Now that you think about it, no thanks to those little shits, Seungmin has been abnormally affectionate the last few times you've hung out, holding your hand, letting you rest your head on his shoulder when you got tired, even full on cuddling with you when Jisung hosted a group movie night at his apartment. You'd reasoned it all in your head that he was probably just going through his more clingy phases, but now thinking back, Seungmin never liked to cuddle, even in his most clingy moments. And yet, he'd wordlessly pulled you to his chest that movie night as if he'd wanted you to cuddle with him all his life, even when his friends were around.

“Y/N?” He prompted gently, his eyes now filled with a hint of concern as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

The rational part of you wanted to just forget this whole thing. The boys say dumb shit all the time; how can this be any different? It would be so simple, so easy for you to just do as you’ve always done when it came to your feelings and run away. 

But your heart, your lonely heart that has known nothing but secret glances and unrequited love was aching to take a chance. Minho, Jisung, and Hyunjin were idiots, but they weren’t cruel. They wouldn’t give you this false hope for nothing.

And for the first time, your heart won over, and you decided to be honest.

“Well, the boys keep saying that we’re dating,” you chuckled sheepishly, trying not to focus on Seungmin’s hand wrapped around yours.

To your surprise, Seungmin’s eyes grow wide as saucers as he all but squeaked, “They what now?” 

You blinked, trying to be too taken aback by his reactions, “Minho and Jisung just yabbering on about us, and Hyunjin didn’t bat an eye when my boss asked him who I was dating,” you glanced at him, throwing caution to the wind as you asked hesitantly, “You don’t happen to know about this, right?”

Seungmin might as well have held up a giant flashing sign that said he absolutely knew about it. His ears grew bright red, redder than you’ve ever seen them turn, and he stammered for a moment, trying to find his words, “I-I--um--I told them not to use that plan.”

The carefully crafted excuse to get both of you out of this awkward situation that you held on the tip of your tongue immediately disintegrated, “W-what plan?” you stuttered out in disbelief. 

Seungmin looked almost crushed as he pulled his hand out of yours, putting his head in his hands as he rested his arms on the table, “This stupid plan they made for me to ask you out,” he muttered, and if your hearing was ever so slightly worse, you would’ve missed those words completely.

“Why would you need a plan to ask me out?” you asked, and your heart could almost leap out of your chest at this point. It felt horrid waiting, waiting for the confession or the rejection. You’d almost regretted opening this can of worms when Seungmin suddenly looked up at you, his expression distraught.

“Why?” he repeated, smiling bitterly, “Was I really so out of your league that you didn’t notice how in love with you I’ve been this entire time?”

Your mind went blank and it felt as if someone had yanked the ground out from under you. This whole image of unrequited affection, this whole idea that you were never good enough for Seungmin to even look your way, it was all a farce, a con that was now being torn apart by his simple question.

“S-seungminnie,” your voice refused to work the way you wanted it to, and you stumbled over your words, “I didn’t know--I’m so sorry--I had no idea…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Seungmin immediately sounded concerned as he watched you fall apart in front of him, “You didn’t do anything wrong, you have nothing to be sorry for--”

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you!” You blurted out, looking into his warm, brown eyes as the shame bubbled out of your chest and you lowered your head, “I thought...I thought you would find someone better than me at your new university, at your new job.”

Seungmin sighed, and he reached over, resting to fingers under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him as he smiled, “There’s no one else I want except you,” he whispered, and you could’ve sworn your heart combusted right there.

And when Seungmin took you to the Christmas lights after dinner, the bouquet of roses still in your arms as he pressed his soft lips against yours, you couldn’t wait to go up to your friends the next day and proudly declare that yes, you were absolutely dating Kim Seungmin.

(and maybe give them a Starburst for making it happen.)

.

a/n: im sorry im rereading this and it’s trash plsdontkillme

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: choco pies Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu  Genre: major angst train ahead, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Synopsis: its been eight years since you first met Miya Atsumu, six years since you broke it off.  Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion. Notes: I am super happy by the positive response sIKE thank u so much, i hope yall stay safe in this pandemic!

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“...L/N-san, why aren’t you going to the banquet tonight?”

“I’m busy.” you simply replied to your co-worker, not even looking up from the sheets of finance papers in your hands, your brows furrowing in deep thought as you encircled some mistakes on the paper.

“It's the weekend tomorrow!” Aiko exclaims, shaking you lightly, “You can take your work home and finish it there! This is only held once a year and it's your first year in the company! You can’t miss it!”

You finally turned to your over-enthusiastic office mate and narrowed your eyes, “I can’t miss the grocery sale tonight.” You deadpan. Aiko blinks once then twice and suddenly she bursts out into a boisterous laugh, “Y-You got me there, Y/N.” she says, clutching her stomach.

Your expression remains the same though and it slowly dawned upon your raven-haired office mate that you weren’t joking at all, “Oh, you were serious.” Aiko stops laughing, realizing how stupid she must’ve looked. You return to your work but she continues to stare at you, ever since you entered the company six months ago, you refused to attend any work-related parties or do a lot of overtimes (this wasn’t a surprise, you always managed to finish your work before deadline)

No one really knew you at the office, you had a mysterious air around you and a rather intimidating aura that scared about half of the people in the finance department, oddly enough, Aiko was one of the few who approached you and made conversation. It was more one-sided in Aiko’s part though since your replies were usually curt and to the point.

The only thing scary about you was how blank your expression was ninety percent of the time.

“Can’t you go to the grocery tomorrow?”

“Can’t.” Your voice seemed a bit assertive now, “Those limited choco pie editions are coming out and they sold out pretty quick.”

“Choco pie?” Aiko blinked, “Aren’t you diabetic?”

“It’s for my kids.”

Kids.

Kids.

Kids?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” she cursed, her eyes as wide as an owl, “My kids? You have kids?”

You hummed a reply, continuing your work, clearly not surprised by her reaction since you were used to these types of things, “Twins actually, they’re in the first grade.” you corrected, remaining indifferent.

“You.” she paused, “You, the Y/N L/N, have kids. Like blood-related kids? With a husband and all that?”

“Yes, although the dad moved on.” You stopped encircling the file, a brief memory of the blonde slowly crossed your mind, “He’s in a better place now.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, per say, your ex was technically in a better place now. He’s a famous pro-volleyball player who represented Japan two years ago in the Olympics and was currently part of the top national teams in the country. 

You just didn’t bother correcting them when they thought he’s dead.

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hm.” You simply hummed a response, “I don’t like leaving them alone a lot.”

“I-I understand,” Aiko sighs, comforting you but it's deaf on your ears as usual, “Have you never considered dating again?”

“Waste of time.”

“Like ever?”

“I’ve got two growing boys, they’re enough for me already.”

Aiko shuts her mouth when she notices that your tone is sharp as if you’re telling her to drop the topic because it’s not in your best interest as of the moment, “May I see what they look like, L/N-san?” she asks in pure curiosity, changing the subject instead.

You simply open your phone next to you and there sits the lockscreen of two wide-grinning and identical-looking boys with raven-colored hair, “They don’t look like you.” she loudly observes but you’re not at all hurt by it.

“They got the best parts from their otosan, I guess.” 

The only thing the boys got from you was your eye color, it seemed like they were their father through and through in terms of looks, over-enthusiastic attitude, and love for the sport. In fact, only recently, the youngest twin had expressed his excitement to learn volleyball, the oldest, being the competitive one too, decided to join in and expressed that he had started to truly like it after a class.

Thankfully, your officemate doesn’t pry more about your life. You ended up resuming your work without much disturbance. You try to finish quickly, you have a sale to catch after all.

People often found it odd when you pointed out that you were the mother of Youta and Yuuto, for one, they looked and acted nothing like you. If you had to describe them, it would be balls of sunshine while you were just the gloomy rain clouds looming over them. It was definitely an amusing sight for many when they got to know your dynamic and many wondered how you made it work.

You watched the pair rush down the grocery lane in a hurry as you push the cart filled with essentials needed for this month, Youta was annoying his twin once again as they paced down the snack lane and tried to find the choco pie they’ve been raving about these past two weeks, “Slow down, you’ll fall.” You scolded lightly.

“Hai!” They called out in unison as they went behind one of the shelves, you stopped to take a biscuit off the shelf and read the nutritional facts, keeping an eye out on your boys from time to time. You suddenly felt a presence on your side, were they done taking the choco pie already? Sighing under your breath, you’re getting ready to be fake scared because they loved sneaking up on you but when you feel no tug on your leg, you’re immediately surprised for real by the familiar face in front of you.

“Miya-san?” 

You regain your composure almost immediately, not wanting him to notice how tense and scared you were, amongst everyone you had to run into, it had to be the twin brother of your ex, “ Well this is a surprise.” he greets, you could feel the distant tone on his voice and you weren’t phased by it the slightest, after what you did to his other half, you’re surprised he even approached you, “Me and ‘tsumu wondered where the hell you ended up after disappearing on him randomly and breaking up over the phone after a week.”

It wasn’t exactly the best plan but it was the fastest way out.

“I apologize.” You bowed down, you were sincerely sorry about what happened but if you could’ve done it again, you’d do it for the sake of your kids and his career, “Whenever I look back, I knew I could’ve done something better than treat him like that.”

Osamu’s brow quirks up, you were still as calm, cool, and collected as you were six years ago. It was scary how Atsumu fell for you when you were this unphased and cold. What the hell was he on when he fell in love with you?

“Well, thanks to you, he worked himself to the bone.” He shrugs, “He’s got a better life now.”

“I know.”

It may not look like it but from time to time, you’d check up and see how he was doing. Even more so during these days since your boys were getting into volleyball. Youta’s favorite was Hinata since he was one of the small guys in the league and he played very, very well. Ironically, Yuuto’s favorite setter was not his own father but a guy named Kageyama Tobio from the adlers who could set the ball at any place and had the greatest timing ever.

“He’s got a girl too.”

“That’s goo-”

“ ‘Kaasan!” A loud yell bursts out, cutting out the younger Miya twin. Osamu looks around, wondering who the boy was calling but when he realizes it was you, he’s in shock and he doesn’t even hide it. The cold facade he was waving in front of you immediately diminished when two identical looking boys ran to you at a fast speed, one clung onto your leg while the other was tattle-taling.

“Oh, is that Miya Atsumu, ‘kaasan? You didn’t tell me you knew him!” Yuuto points out, staring at the large man in complete awe. Youta who seems to finally notice who the guy was, immediately lets go of your leg and joins in with his twin, completely forgetting about the little spat they have.

“I’m his twin.” he corrects, Osamu wasn’t very good with talking to kids yet they didn’t seem to mind at all, they were still as excited when they realized that he used to play too and was the one who spiked his brothers sets back then.

“Woah,” Yuuto exclaims, “How are you not in volleyball? I betcha as good as him! Mom would comment how good he plays when we watch him on TV and mom hates sports!”

Osamu doesn’t know what to say next, he’s just surprised that you even watched and kept track of his twin brother after all those harsh words you said on the phone, what’s even more surprising was that you were a mom (and someone's wife probably)  and you seem to have a good life judging by these kids energetic upkeep. 

“...wish we could watch it live though! I heard the adlers and the jackal’s have another game soon!” Yuuto frowns, crossing his arms, “ ‘kaasan’s always busy.”

“How about yer otosan?” Osamu wanted to let that out for a while, he’s very curious to see who you settled down with, according to one of the many stories about you from his twin,  you weren’t a big fan of marriage and settling down permanently. 

“Oh,” Youta blinks, “Kaasan says otosan’s in a better place now. Do you know what that means, Mister?”

Osamu feels his throat constrict at how casual and nonchalant the boy is, he probably got that characteristic from you. These set of twins dealt with the idea of death way too casually towards a stranger.

“Baby, I think you should give him a rest now. Why don’t you both grab the wafers over there.” You try to calmly take them away in front of the grey-haired man, you didn’t want Osamu to keep interacting with them. There would be breadcrumbs left if the boys kept divulging about their lives towards him, Osamu had always been quick-witted despite his quiet nature.

The boys seemed downcasted right after but they listened quickly and wobbled towards the wafer shelf at the front.

“I thought ya didn’t want to get married.” 

“We didn’t,” you blinked, “He was gone before the boys were born, I wasn’t able to tell him.”

Osamu’s eyes narrowed, “You love him or something?” 

“I do,” you replied coolly, “Very much so until today.”

“I see,” the grey-haired man was still looking at you, trying to gouge any reaction but you remained the same, “I wish you did the same to my brother.”

“He seems happy and successful now.” was all you could reply to his bitter phrase, “As sorry as I am, I can’t take back what I did. I can only atone and keep moving forward.”

Miya Osamu wants to yell at you because you didn’t see the state his brother was in after you left but he couldn’t bring himself to, after all, it seemed like you were unappalled by him and that his words would mean absolutely nothing.

“Then I hope I don’t see you again, L/N-san.” he spat, putting as much hatred in his words as possible.

“Have a good night, Miya-san.” You simply replied, bowing down. 

“I wish you did the same to my brother.”

“Kaasan says otosan is in a better place now.”

“Kaasan, do you think otosan would be proud if I became the super best volleyball player?”

“Stupid, it should be the both of us who’re the best!”

“Yeah! If we became the super best volleyball players, maybe he’d come back from that better place when he sees us on tv!”

You suddenly dropped the plate you were holding, a loud sound resonated in the small kitchen. Shakily, as you picked up the broken shards of the plate, you felt something trickling down your cheeks, “Ah…” you breathed out, wiping out the stray tear.

When was the last time you cried?

“Kaasan?” a small voice called out, you hurriedly wipe out the tears and pick up the broken shards of the plates before turning to the two boys in transformer pajamas.

“Hey.” you tried to reply steadily but the little lump on your throat prevented you from doing so, “Have you brushed your teeth?”

The boys gave each other a quick glance and the only thing they replied with was opening their arms to you, you blink for a moment,surprised by their quietness and their open arms, “When we have a bad day, you’d always do this to us.” Youta mutters, seemingly shy by this, they were never one for big hugs and kisses, saying they were big boys now.

“Did that miya atsumu-fake make you cry, kaasan? Should we get’im?” Yuuto grumbles, their attitude seems to contrast their exciting ones a while ago.

You bend down to their level and just encompassed them in a hug, “Kaasan’s just tired,” you hummed as you buried yourself between them, seeping in the warmth of their hugs and comfort, “I’m all better now, I’ve got you two anyways.”

You placed the small encounter you had with Miya Osamu at the back of your head, not wanting it to be a distraction or a hindrance. You couldn’t cry in front of your kids anymore than that night, you shouldn’t. You were a single parent, the only rock and permanent companion your kids would have for the rest of their lives, you couldn’t let them down.

“L/N-san have you heard?” 

Thankfully it was your day-off today and you could pick up the boys earlier than usual. The mom next to you looked more excited and elated, you were betting that this had something to do with gossip around their circles.

“I’m sure she hasn’t, she’s a rather busy mom, akiko-san.” another gushed.

“Ah yes!” she giggled, “Sorry I can’t contain my excitement but Sugawara-sensei is very good friends with a member of the black jackals, apparently he was his kohai back in high school.”

You feel your shoulders tense, it couldn’t be right? The amount of coincidences seemed to hit you like a truck, first osamu, now your kids teacher?

“Ninja Shoyou was it? Yes, well, they’ve decided to host a mini training camp this weekend! All the members would be there! Ah, I hope my boy gets noticed!” Riya grins, “Your boys would be very pumped, right? I personally heard Sensei telling them how natural they seemed to be. They even had their own jerseys made for the class!”

You could only nervously nod along and excuse yourself, you wanted to hurry home and deny your boys to go to this training camp. As much as you supported their love for the sport, you weren’t ready for them to meet him. They loved to blab and if Atsumu were to get wind of them, what would he say?

You didn’t want him to deny them right at their faces.

At the same time, somewhere at an upstate part of the city. Miya Atsumu lays on his bed with a naked woman sprawled next to him. His head’s fuzzy from the alcohol he drank last night and how early he and his partner had finished.

“What the fuck, put some clothes on, ya freak.” He hears his brother curse as soon as he goes out of his bedroom. Osamu would randomly make an appearance in Tokyo to fix up his plans for the franchising of his store.

“Thought you had your own place to crash?” Atsumu ignores his brother’s statement as he grabs a short that had been thrown to the side last night.

“I’m going back later, thought I’d swing by before I went home.”

“How nice of you.” the blonde deadpanned, “You should leave though, Riku’s still here.”

“You don’t say...you lot like to go at it like animals in heat.” he mutters, a look of disgust crossed his features, “I’m just here to drop by some food, I can’t leave you dying.”

“Could’ve left it in the ref and dashed off when you saw the panty on the couch.”

“Again,” Osamu crinkles his nose, “Disgusting. Kita-san would throw some disinfectant at you.”

The blonde rolled his eyes in reply as he grabbed some water by the refrigerator, Osamu watched his brother for a bit, wondering if he should tell him. They’ve never talked about Y/N after that phone call six years ago, he had to walk on eggshells around his brother for a year because of that, taking in a quick breather, he confessed, “I saw Y/N.” 

The room turned silent, Osamu waits for a reaction, a curse or anything similar to that yet he’s surprised by the lazy smirk adorning his brother's features, “Hn, it looks like you’re the one who she called and broke up with on the phone.” he laughs.

Osamu is wary but he doesn’t push it, “I was just surprised that’s all, you weren’t exactly in a good place after she left.”

“That was ages ago, ‘samu!” he exclaims, shaking it off, “I betcha she still doesn’t give two shits about me and what happened because that’s how she is but i don’t care because i’m living the life now! I’ve even got a nicer and prettier girl now! Who, mind you, is better than her in many emotional levels. Y/N’s history.”

Osamu didn’t want to tell him about the kids or the ‘man’ you met after Atsumu who you claim to love very dearly so he kept his mouth shut and just went with the flow of the conversation. Not pointing out how his twin just changed the topic right after as if he didn’t want to dwell on it and open anymore wounds.

tag list (closed)

@fortheloveofiwaizumi @svtbitch @ryaaaax @kiyoomile @lovedanii @juno-multifandom​ @gyubit17​

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

       ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

       ❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist  This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

[notchesandbullets]

Gifts From the Heart (Soft!Ojiro x Wolf!Reader)

Art credit: Pixiv ID 4177162

Requested by anon: Saw the word Ojiro, came running. Can I request fluffy, wholesome Ojiro x Fem!Reader where Ojiro makes the reader a gift?

A/N: This is a chapter from my unpublished Ojiro x reader book that will be uploaded all at once very soon xD. Stay tuned!! there needs to be more ojiro content out there, this boy is so underrated

[anon, i got so carried away the full fanfic is at 50k words and its climbing im so sorry it took me so long to post what you requested, it spurred on my creativity and now i have a fanfic sitting in my docs waiting to be shown to the world lol]

✨Edit: this is part 10 of Ojiro’s fanfic series titled “Saving Her”. Masterlist for it found here!! ✨

Words: 3.8k

It was a lazy Sunday and everyone was lounging around the Heights Alliance dormitory. Aoyama was sitting at one of the tables with Midoriya, Iida and Uraraka, serving hors d’oeuvres.

It made a great accompaniment to Yaoyorozu’s herbal tea. 

Ojiro gathered what he would need in order to make you your gift. It was almost done, but it was missing a few key finishing touches.

Throughout the time you had spent with them, he had found himself growing more and more attached to you and given your past, he wanted to show you just how much you were welcome here.

Alright, maybe it was a little bit more than that. Maybe it was more along the lines of wanting to confess to you badly, but if he went in with that idea, he was sure he would get rejected. Not to mention, he lacked the courage.

He had roped in the assistance of Yaoyorozu and Hagakure. They were the only ones who knew of his feelings and his plan for your gift, but they roped in the rest of the girls to keep you distracted while he put his plan into motion.

He had been surprised when Hagakure suggested it to him, since he wasn’t able to get you anything from that day at the mall when you all went. You didn’t want anything but what once was bewildering gave him an idea for your next present.

He was the only one who hadn’t gotten you anything, desperately wanting it to be perfect before he gave it to you. 

His lack of creativity was soon solved by one simple thing as his eyes fell on what you had discarded on his bed the day before.

While you were distracted by the girls upstairs, he got to work. Pushing up his sleeves alongside Sato and Koda, he started to prepare what he needed.

Meanwhile, you were having a blast.

Yaoyorozu was teaching you how to braid your own hair so it wouldn’t get in the way and so that your fluffy ears would be shown off and not hidden. You and Asui were talking about the upcoming week where they were going to get trained for the provisional licensing exam. Since you were so new, you wouldn’t be able to take it at the same time as everyone else but that didn’t deter you.

If anything, you were even more pumped to catch up to them.

Things had been rough. You had narrowly escaped a bad situation only for Ojiro to save you. Since then, things had started to snowball one after another, but in the best way possible. Aizawa had arranged a temporary agreement with Principal Nezu concerning your enrollment into UA which also enabled you to stay at the dorms. 

But what once was supposed to be temporary solidified into a permanent situation as Aizawa adopted you and now you were hoping that they would let you stay.

Overtime, you had grown close to all of them. The paperwork had all been filled out but you were nervous if they would all really be okay with letting you join their ranks. You just had to ask your fellow classmates if they would accept you. 

Orjio had been particularly nice to you, taking you under his wing and letting you explore your new surroundings with a safety net that he provided.

You gulped. Just thinking about him made your heart flutter and tail wag. 

“Oooo, Y/N’s thinking about him again.” Ashido teased, sidling over to you from her closet to where you were sitting on the floor by the window. 

“Huh?” You blinked, your fluffy ears twitching. “Who?”

Uraraka swatted your arm playfully, mischief gleaming in her eyes. “Oh come on!! You don’t expect us to fall for that again after all this time!! Who do you take us for?!”

You flushed, gaze dropping into your lap where your hands were folded neatly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Trailing off with a nervous mumble, you fiddled with your tail as Yaoyorozu shot you an empathetic smile. 

“It’s alright, Y/N-chan,” She reassured kindly. “You don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“But Yao-Momo!!” Ashido pouted. “She was about to admit her feelings for him!!”

“No I wasn’t!!” You protested, then clapped a hand over your mouth but it was too late.

The damage had been done.

Squeals burst out all around you and you had the sudden urge to take refuge in your room, no longer wanting to be a part of this humiliating conversation. 

“How long?!” Ashido shrieked in your ear, tugging on your arm, wanting to know the exact time it started.

“I don’t know!!” You cried out, burying your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed.

Uraraka and Hagakure let out a gasp at your indirect confession but squealed excitedly as realization finally hit them.

“You guys would be so cute together!!” Hagakure gushed.

Uraraka’s eyes crinkled up joyously. “Aww!! I can already picture them out on their first date!!”

“Guys, give her space to breathe.” Jirou said, rolling her eyes at her overexcited friends as she freed you from their grasp.

Yaoyorozu seconded that, even though she was equally as excited as her friends at this new information. 

“I didn’t know you had feelings for Ojiro-san.” She lightly teased with a soft smile on her face, patting your back like an older sister would.

“I don’t!!” You denied but winced at the collective glare that was thrown your way. “... Maybe…”

Ashido sprang up to her feet. “She’s totally crushing on him!!”

You grabbed onto her arm to prevent her from leaving the room, finding Ojiro and outing your secret. “No I’m not!!”

“Are too!!”

“Am not!!”

“ARE TOO!!!!!”

“NO!!!!”

The both of you fell back on top of the bed, bouncing a couple of times on the mattress as the other girls forced the two of you to sit down. 

Even Asui seemed on board. 

“I think you would be able to make him very happy, kero.” She relayed, a finger resting on her chin. “He already thinks very highly of you.”

You couldn’t help but blush at that, wiggling around uncomfortably as your heartbeat echoed loudly in your ears. 

“W-What…?”

Hagakure shoved your shoulder and you nearly toppled over, not expecting her to do that.

“Y/N!!” She chastised, wagging a finger at you. “You can’t be serious!! Haven’t you noticed it?!”

You were lost. “Noticed what??”

“Oh dear.” Yaoyorozu commented, gazing at you sympathetically.

“Someone tell her or else I’m going to explode!!!” Ashido shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

You opened your mouth to ask just what was going on when the door suddenly opened and everybody fell silent. 

Todoroki didn’t do or say anything. He simply inclined his head to the side and the girls who were so docile for a few seconds burst into action. 

You weren’t sure exactly what happened but within the next minute, you were being shoved outside and hastily instructed to go downstairs in exactly five minutes while they all raced out, Ashido dragging a reluctant Todoroki along with them.

Since you left your phone back in Ojiro’s room and you didn’t want to be rude and barge in just to get it, you stayed outside in the hallway, counting the seconds that passed until five minutes had passed.

You lagged behind, not really sure what to expect. They had never acted like this around you before. 

Maybe Aizawa had told them of your permanent stay at Heights Alliance and they were all against it. 

But that didn’t make much sense since they went to such lengths to be so friendly and open with. 

Shaking your head to clear the muddled thoughts, you continued on down the staircase until you reached the first floor.

When you arrived, it was dark. All the lights were turned off, which was strange because you vividly recalled Iida saying something about how important it was to keep the lights on 24/7 so that none of the students tripped or anything. 

Mostly for your benefit since you tended to trip over air.

Claws sliding out, you narrowed your eyes, baring your canines threatening as you scanned for any signs of movement. 

Putting into the play the training Aizawa had taught you, you crouched low to the ground, slinking along the abandoned corridor. 

Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you crept around the corner, coming to halt just before the common room. 

Here goes nothing. 

You stepped out.

Then, several things happened at once. 

You were blinded as the lights suddenly flashed on and you shrieked, jumping on the nearest person out of instinct. 

“What the fuck, dumbass!!!” Bakugou raged as he caught you when you tunneled into him. 

You squeaked frightfully, backpedaling until you were a sufficient distance away from the group of twenty now standing in front of you, clearly seeing them for the first time.

“I told you she would get scared!!” Jirou chastised, smacking the sheepish-looking pikachu on the head.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would be fine!!” Kaminari argued back, gripping his head in pain. “Ow!! That hurts!!”

“Serves you right!!” She snapped back.

You retracted your claws, reverting back to the adorable wolf that they all knew and loved now that you realized there wasn’t any threat. Your ears perked up and your lips curled into a smile of disbelief.

Beaming happily as Ashido smothered you in a hug, you blinked back tears as your eyes fell on the banner that said, “Welcome Home!!!”, in bright lettering above the entire class of 1-A.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. “You guys did all of this for me?”

Uraraka gestured to the pile of presents behind Shoji and Tokoyami. 

“It was Ojiro-kun’s idea for the presents and Hagakure’s for a party.” She told you cheekily, pointing to the embarrassed boy hiding behind the counter to make himself appear smaller. “We just all pitched in to help.”

“You didn’t have to do all of this for me…” You said softly, in awe and vastly overwhelmed.

“You’re staying with us from now on.” Todoroki quipped plainly from the back row. “This was in order.”

Hagakure rushed over to you. “Do you like it?! Are you surprised?!”

You nodded and squeezed her tightly, thanking her before making your way over to Ojiro, who had yet to acknowledge you. At least, with words. 

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, completely under your spell as you padded over to him. 

Blushing, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, then cursed yourself for doing something so embarrassing in front of your long-time crush. 

“Mashirao?” You said curiously, noticing his arms were hidden behind his back.

Man, he was never going to get tired of hearing your sweet voice saying his name in such an intimate way.

Winding his tail around your waist, he tugged you closer until you fell into his chest. You shivered as you felt one of his arms snake around you, as if shielding you from the people who were crowding around you.

Your face burned and you were thankful it was hidden from all of your classmates as they ‘awwed’ at the two of you. Vaguely, you heard someone slyly note how cute the two of you were and you swore, feeling more self-conscious than ever. 

You didn’t get a chance to wiggle out of his hold to smack Ashido on the head for her comment since Ojiro decided to give you what was behind his back.

It was a small, carefully wrapped gift box, not impressive on the outside by any means, but your eyes sparkled and your heart skipped a beat. 

Seeing the expression on your face, his shoulders shook with laughter. Your eyes were shining in excitement at seeing his present as opposed to all the other ones that were much larger than his. 

He strangely felt touched by it. 

You placed it on the kitchen island, running your fingers over the velvet bow and pretty gift wrap. You almost didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Oh come on,” Ashido squealed in frustration the longer you prolonged it and everyone else crowded around you. “Open it already!!”

You shot her a playful glare, taking your time despite the many groans that sounded around you as you carefully unwrapped the neatly decorated box. By the time you finally finished taking off all the wrapping paper, everyone, even Bakugou, was leaning forward in anticipation. 

Taking off the lid so that it covered whatever was in the box from their prying eyes, even though there were several loud protests, your eyes widened as you saw what was nestled inside several layers of crinkled paper.

Reaching in eagerly, you pulled it out and held it up. 

It was a lion plushie. A beautifully crafted, complete with whiskers and a fluffy mane, stuffed lion. And you already adored it. 

There were some disappointed complaints that his present didn’t live up to the hype they were expected to believe, but Ojiro didn’t hear them, only having eyes for you. As they started to disperse throughout the living room, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the cute lion.

“I seem to recall someone getting ahold of the giraffe in my room.” Ojiro teased with a knowing smile. “You seemed to like to have something to hold onto at night, so I figured another stuffed animal couldn’t hurt, right?”

Your ears swiveled happily as you heard him say that and you couldn’t refrain from bouncing in place, tail swishing behind you. 

“It was so long ago, I would’ve thought you had forgotten by now.” You beamed, smiling from ear to ear as you tested out its squishiness. “Where in the world did you get this?! It’s so plushy!!”

When he didn’t answer you right away, you paused your shower of adoration over the beloved lion, tilting your head curiously at Ojiro, who was now bright red and mumbling something under his breath.

“Huh?” You squeaked, unsure if you really heard him right.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, grinning at you sheepishly. “Well, it’s just— The stores didn’t really have any lions that looked cute enough when I took my sister to the mall and that’s when she suggested making one for you.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor.

“I remember you saying that you liked lions because… well, you said they reminded you of me so I really wanted to get you a lion.” Ojiro continued, not noticing your reaction, too caught up in his rambling. 

You had told him one night after playing with his tail to calm you down after you had a nightmare and he hadn’t forgotten it since.

“Holly-chan helped me sew it, I got the materials from Aizawa-sensei and Shoji helped me attach the tail and the mane and everything else.” He told you, pointing out all of the features that were carefully crafted together with the utmost love.

Your heart skipped a beat.

He hesitated, now picking up on the fact that you had yet to say anything. “Is… Do you like it?”

You would’ve punched him for his obliviousness if it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t want to let your lion go in order to do so. “Are you kidding?! I love it!!”

Ojiro’s chest deflated as he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, thank All Might.”

“You could’ve done this in private, you know.” You lightly teased, brushing your fingers over the soft material in awe. “I’m sure it would’ve been less stressful for you.”

He made it for you. You’ve never had anyone buy anything for you for the longest time, let alone make something for you with their own two hands. The time and energy it must’ve taken, not to mention the thought he put into it. 

That was it. You were going to explode with happiness.

“I was going to.” He said, shooting a look over your shoulder at a satisfied Shoji and a smug Tokoyami gazing at you from the sidelines while everyone else wrecked havoc on the common floor. “But everybody kind of wanted to see what it was. And your reaction.”

You giggled, hugging it tightly to your chest. “Thank you, I love it, Mashirao.”

He kissed your forehead, murmuring, “I’m really glad you do, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you bit your lip to stop your smile from getting too wide. It was too much. You felt like you were going to burst.

“Y/N?” Ojiro asked worriedly, cupping your chin and furrowed his eyebrows. “Your face is all red.”

“Dummy!!” You pouted, pushing him away and clutching the lion plushie tighter. “It’s your fault, you know!!”

He chuckled, patting your head. Your lashes fluttered shut at the stimulation, throaty growl emitting in approval at the affectionate gesture. 

Ojiro’s gaze softened, brimming with love. He couldn’t believe how far you came from being that shy, wary girl back then.

You raised the stuffed animal up, tapping it on its nose. “Your name will be Koko!!”

Squeezing it tightly to your chest, you rocked back and forth on your heels, gazing at it with adoring eyes when you held it up. 

Ojiro’s heart melted at seeing you so happy. 

Your other friends insisted that you open their gifts next, nearly dragging you over the table. Everyone had given you something, even Bakugou. 

You objected to their generosity, protesting that they spent too much on you already the first time around but it was like all of them went deaf and ignored your objections, shoving box after box in your hands. 

Sato had made sure to have enough food on hand for moments exactly like these, when everybody got swept up in the energy of it all and were literally bouncing off the walls. 

Somehow, somewhere, Aizawa was found and dragged out of his cave to join his students in the party. But he mostly was out of the way, watching from afar as you were handed gift after gift.

Aoyama had gotten ahold of a painted tea set that looked very fragile and it was paired with Yaoyorozu’s jasmine tea she had gifted you. 

It took a couple of turns for you to realize that they had collaborated when giving you things. 

Sato’s cookbook filled with a couple of his own added recipes he knew you loved went with the polished pots and pans Shoji gave you. Tokoyami and Asui’s were combined into a patterned quilt that everyone had pitched in to help with. 

The two tickets you got for the autumn festival stumped you but that mystery was soon cleared up when Todoroki gave you what looked to be an extremely expensive, embroidered kimono.

“When you two finally go on a date.” He said monotonously, pointing a finger at Midoriya and Jirou. “They said that you two will have to confess first, though.”

Your jaw dropped and you and Ojiro both turned opposite ways, unable to look each other in the eye in case that claim wasn’t true.

You had to physically push Ashido and Hagakure away when they made kissing sounds at you, embarrassed beyond belief.

Ojiro had to fight to keep Shoji at bay but his friend was much stronger than him and the tailed teenager ended up losing his balance and careened into you.

You yelped as your face ended up right in front of his, a millimeter away. Breath catching in your throat, your heart stopped and he audibly gulped at your proximity.

Neither one of you moved. 

It wasn’t until you shakily held up the tickets Kirishima had given you did he blink.

“Would…” You swallowed hard, gathering your courage. “Would you like to go with me?”

Ojiro didn’t even think of saying no. 

A huge smile broke out on your face as he said yes and you covered your face with your hands as Uraraka and Ashido squealed, instantly hiding into Ojiro’s chest out of instinct.

He didn’t mind but the heat that was creeping up his neck turned into a full-fledged blush as he hugged you, keeping you close even after Shoji and Tokoyami sent him a pointed glance.

Mouthing for them to mind their own business, he held you until you collected yourself enough to face them. Even then, he kept you seated on his lap, running his fingers through your fluffy tail as you opened the rest of your gifts. 

He knew you were going to cry by the end of the night, most likely when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t help but agree with everything that his classmates had thought of for you.

You had been without love for so long that when you saw it, you didn’t know what to do. He would take every opportunity to show you how much you meant to him and how precious your life was.

After hours of playing video games, eating Sato’s delicious cooking and getting caught up in Kaminari’s schemes as he tried to push you and Ojiro together not-so-discreetly before Jirou bonked him on the head, you were so tired you felt like you could fall asleep standing up. 

Aizawa had left a while ago, once Bakugou destroyed the TV remote, lacking the energy to deal with his students outside of the classroom. 

You had run up to him, begging cutely for a hug and he hesitated but didn’t refuse you. 

Everyone except for Ojiro’s jaws dropped as you called him dad so nonchalantly but they were even more shocked when Aizawa simply ruffled your hair and told you not to stay up too late. 

You had made your way back into Ojiro’s arms as soon as the older man left his student to their craziness, and you tumbled onto an empty sofa with him cushioning your fall.

He smiled at you fondly, eyes softening as he swept the hair away from your eyes, his heart stopping as you nuzzled into his chest. 

“Princess…” He murmured, tucking a lock behind your ear, as he had seen you do earlier. “Are you happy?”

A smile curled against his neck. 

“Mmhm…” You hummed happily. “Thank you, Mashirao.”

For the rest of the night, you didn’t let go of the stuffed lion he gave you once, eventually falling asleep on the couch with your new present tucked safely in your arms. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you once as he used his tail to pull a blanket over the both of you. 

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[living-in-the-state-of-dreaming]

Yandere! Minos Griffon: Head-cannons.

I’ve been wanting to do head-cannon’s for Minos for quite a while now, but the problem was I didn’t want to rush it and just spew out a bunch of head-cannons; because I didn’t think they’d be that great if I did that; but I watched the episode’s he was in again and with them in mind, I decided to write these. 

I hope you all enjoy these because I really love this series, The Lost Canvas specifically and I deeply believe that the characters in the anime, like Minos and, most especially, Alone, are not given enough attention. Plus I thought this would be a cool way for me to get back into writing since I haven’t written anything on here for a while. ^~^ 

Anyway, Please enjoy. ^~^ 

Warning: Due to the mentions of possibly adult subjects and dark and possibly triggering theme’s, this post is ONLY for those over the age of 18 only and not easily triggered. Minors please do not interact or read. Thank you. 

“ Entertain me won’t you? My beautiful puppet. “ 

As a judge of hell, Minos, the most sadistic and cruel of the three judges is one who delights in chaos simply because it brings entertainment for him--something that he has found increasingly difficult to find among his long life and otherwise boring duties as a Judge Of Hell-- but none more so than seeing someone or a multiple someone’s dance on the end of his cosmic strings to escape, no matter how futile that attempt may be. This only makes it all the more unfortunate for you when you happen to catch his attention, but it’s also something that at first inwardly shocks him when he finds himself interested and intrigued by a human, much less one without a cosmo.

Upon noticing this Minos will find it little more than laughable and you a passing interest who happened to catch his eye by chance when you, instead of cowering and begging for your life like the other humans, when your home was destroyed, instead stood up against him with defiance and resolve burning in your hues, how your lips curled up into a defiant snarl while you glared up at him with little intimidation and fear, regardless of how you knew he could easily kill you if he wished, despite your friends and family avidly advising you against it, something that was quickly met by anger by his men, who, outraged by your insulant tongue, quickly began moving towards you with the intent of silencing you. 

As much as he knows he should’ve simply allowed his men to kill you, he doesn’t and instead, with command clear and obvious in his voice, speaks against it, all while his gaze remains on you, his expression tinged with intrigue. Not giving any response to the confusion and surprise this causes in his men, Minos, silver eyes never leaving your face, approaches you, stopping only when he is standing directly in front of you. Primitively doing this as a test of sorts to see whether or not your courage and bravado would wither away once he stood before you, his intrigue only grows when it doesn’t, causing his eyes to narrow in amusement. Reaching out a hand of his, he takes a firm hold of your jaw amidst his cool, surplus clad hand and once he does, it’s only then that he sees the smallest hint of fear, by way he could feel your pulse quicken regardless of how that glare of defiance did not leave your eyes.

It’s then, while looking into your eyes and watching for any change of emotion, and listening to any change of pattern in your heart, like a griffon observing it’s next meal, that he comes to a decision: He won’t kill you. No. Destroying you would be too much of a waste, it would be too boring, instead, he’ll toy with you, play with you and see just how long it can take him to get fear to shine in those eyes of yours; until you're begging him for death. While he continues to hold your jaw in his grip, his lips curl into an anticipated smirk and before you can ask what he finds so amusing, his invisible strings are already wrapping themselves around your body, leaving you stunned for a long moment, due to knowing what that meant before your eyes shift back to that glare. The smirk remains, cruel and sadistic before his gaze returns to the people who had survived the onslaught he and his men had done, causing the town to be near rubble and when his gaze lands on one of your family members in particular, before glancing back at you, despite your best attempts to hide it, fear, more so for them, comes to you quickly, causing you to throw curses at him demanding he leaves them alone, to which he responds, the smirk still not leaving his expression and instead only growing as sadistic amusement dances on his tongue.

“ Whether I allow them to live or not is entirely up to you. Come with me like a good little doll, unless you want to watch as I break your friends and family right in front of you. “

It’s an amusement that only seems to be elongated upon noticing the way you deflate inside at hearing your family and friends beg the judge not to take you, including the ones who had shown courage and glares along with you but it’s a decision that you’ve already made, to keep them alive, despite how much you loathe the very idea. 

So beings your new ‘life’ although it is hardly what one would call life, stripped of your friends, your loved ones and your freedom, although Minos keeps you well-fed to keep his doll from death, the room that you are kept in at first is more so a dungeon than an actual room. Ensuring the comfort of a human is very low on the griffon's priorities after all and for a long while your sleeping arrangements will involve you sleeping on the cold floor with only your body heat to keep you warm at night. The most freedom you have is going to the toilet and bathing in the bathroom connected to your cell-like room and eating when he delivers you your food; anything else is off-limits to you to ensure no chance of escaping; and if you do try and escape, his punishments are cruel. One's which involve denying you clothes, or food until you beg him on your knees. Why he does this is simple, or at least, in his mind, as it’s to ensure you learn and accept your place as his doll and he, your master, one who gives you what you need to survive and can deprive you of them if you do not behave, it is all very dehumanizing, but a strategy that Minos believes essential, for his dear little puppet to learn proper obedience and it’s a method that slowly but surely works as, despite how much you tried to escape, defy and go against his wishes, the denial of basic human necessities atop of everything else quickly begins to eat away at your senses.

If he believes it necessary, Minos will not hesitate to break one or several of your bones with his Cosmic Marination, mostly to prove to you how powerless you are against him, or to escape him, before having those same bones mended and healed while you are unconscious, most likely due to having passed out due to the agonizing pain of the several broken bones. For a long while, Minos will purposely play and toy with you, giving you small tidbits of hope at escape, only to destroy them and then punish you for being foolish enough to believe such a thing. That this punishment is your fault. 

Yet despite how he enjoys knowing that he’s slowly breaking you down, a large part of Minos does not want to take that part of you away and have you become entirely submissive, at least, not entirely. Your courage and the will that burned in your eyes was what initially lured him to you, despite how he would never admit it, due to him being a rather prideful and arrogant man, like a certain god of death. To anyone who asks, be it his fellow judges, specters, or other gods, Minos will only shrug it off, referring to you as a means to keep him entertained, but he will never admit that his interest in you steams far beyond that of simple amusement, at least, now it does. His pride keeps him from admitting such a thing, but overtime you, his dear doll, have grown on him, very much in fact. Those moments where he will allow his fingertips to brush over your soft skin when he’ll thread his fingers through your soft, long hair; all while you're forced to sit atop his lap due to his strings; are moments that he has come to crave like the chaos that comes with every holy war. But that will be subject to change as his obsession with you, one that he will be in denial of for a large amount of time until the moment he finally accepts it, grows more and more.  

The strings will remain bound to you, but instead of you being kept in that cell-like room, you will now be kept in his private chambers, and due to how your rebellious nature and defiance has dwindled you’ll be given more freedom while you are inside of his room, but even then the threat that if you try to escape, he will hunt down and decimate your family as easily as he did your town, hangs over your head. You have no problems believing that to be true, especially with how keen he now seems to keep you by his side, often taking you to meetings he has with other judges solely to show you off. The means are cruel and sadistic, but it is one that, just like his initial treatment of you when he first brought you to the underworld, feeds into his sadistic side while also asserting his dominance once again, making it clear to you as to who the one in control is, despite his….Ill-advised but growing infatuation with you. 

How he will show you off will defer in two ways depending on whether or not you misbehave or behave. One is dressing you nicely, something that he can easily do given his authority and position as a Judge Of Hell, one of his arms being around your waist as he sits there with a satisfied and smug smirk, mentioning just how lovely you look, to both you and the other judges and the other is a far more inhuman way. Despite how he may find your stubbornness and defiance cute, Minos’s patience is not immune to coming to a grinding halt if he believes punishment is order and he will strip you of all your clothes, put a collar around your neck, and have you sit on his lap as punishment, the only thing that makes it less horrible is the fact that he sits you in a way no one can see the flower between your legs, only to whisper in your ear as you bury your face into his neck from shame and embarrassment, while his fingers thread through your hair. It is a means that quickly puts an end to any misbehavior; as you know, he can get quite creative with how he uses those strings of his.

This way of showing you off is one that is only given more cause by the irritating and annoyance he will feel; if he believes that you are acting ungrateful, especially with how kind he is now, or trying to, be to you. Letting you sleep not only in his room but also in his bed while ensuring your comfort while seeing to your needs and going out of his way to ensure that you had something to eat, instead of giving you food from the underworld. Things he would never even consider doing had you just been another human. During these kinds of displays, although you only see them as what they are, a type of punishment, your only relief is how he has yet to act on the desire you see whenever he looks at you in such a vulnerable and submissive state. Although you wonder how long it will be until that happens, despite how Minos has said, time and time again, that he’ll wait until you come to him.

If any of the specters that he commands show an interest in you, he will not be happy, but will simply give off a remark saying that it would be best if they’re interests lay elsewhere, but if that specter persists Minos has no problems putting that fool in his place. If the fool still does not get it and tries to so much as touch you, Minos’s strings will wrap around that specter's neck and snap it in half faster than you can say hell. You are his doll after all and the judge of hell does not take lightly to anyone, specter or human, trying to take what he now believes is his. 

“ You’re always so lovely when you dance for me. “