#favorite fics and books of 2023 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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Namjoon fic recs 2024 🥳

In honor of Namjoon’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Namjoon stories that I’ve read this past year (2023-2024) 💜 Have I recommended these before? Yes. But I will not stop screaming about these stories because they are so fucking amazing!! I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹🥳

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the fic, it might seem like a tiny gesture, but it really means a lot for writers and I can guarantee it will put a smile on their faces💜 Let’s share and give lots of love!

Looking for more to read? Check ‘The Library’, last years Namjoon recs or last years recs 🙂

[index] → jan | feb (jhs) | mar (myg) | apr | may | jun | jul | aug | sep (jjk)(💜) | oct (pjm) | nov | dec (kth)(ksj) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, fantasy = 🪄.

⭐Friend or Fuck: pt1 & pt2 @joonsmagicshop [18K] // knj x f.reader // f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 a drunken night leads to a good morning.

🗨️ I really liked this 🥺 Namjoon was just so sweet, caring and gentle with OC. Really loved it 👏🏾💜

⭐Emotions of the Soul @oddinary4bts [36.6K] // knj x f.reader // idol!au, childhood/teenage lovers to s2l2l // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

🗨️ this is another masterpiece from Ella! She is incredible at writing idol!au’s that just feels so goddamn natural and real 👏 The way Namjoon is written is just perfection and OC with her struggles, and they are goddamn human, yes – and that’s one of the beautiful parts in it!!! 😭

⭐A Word from our Sponsors @ugh-yoongi [17.5K] // knj x f.reader // podcast!au, f2l, idiots to lovers // 😂🥵🥰

📝 you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

🗨️ okay. This. Was. Exceptional ✨🥹 It was amazing, seriously one of the best fics I’ve ever read 😭 everything just had that perfect flow, the writing was incredible, like I can’t even speak? The characters, out of this world fantastic ✨ the whole thing, just, perfect. Perfection. I don’t know what else to call it, sorry. The world building and tension was so fucking delicious I just ate it up! 😭 And their banter and chemistry was just off the charts amazing. Perfection. And it was so fucking hilarious too!! Many times I was just laughing or chuckling, like the lovesick fool I am 😂

⭐Bookworms @hoseoksluna [4.4K] // knj x f.reader // boyfriend!namjoon // 🥰🥵

📝 Namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

🗨️ the love that they have for each other– so beautiful too! The smut? Perfect! The aftercare too— they did each other’s hair???? 🥹 I mean, just the perfect amount of smut, fluff and overall cuteness ❤️

⭐New Guy @kithtaehyung [5k] // knj x f.reader // university!au, e2l // 🥵

📝 all you want to do is have a successful meeting after experiencing dwindling attendance. but the new guy is completely disrupting things… or is he?

🗨️ so many feels about this one; all good and dirty ones!!! I had a feeling about the twist but I wasn’t sure. Anyway, it was extremely good, and it was so fucking HOT, like the tension, incredible! It really had me 🥵 So, so fucking good— love it 💖

⭐Holiday Shambles @ressjeon [5k] // knj x f.reader // christmas!au, married!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 when you have to spend time with both your parents and Namjoon’s snobby ones for this Christmas, you’re forced to show the best version of you even knowing what’s to come. you’re ready, right? after all, you’re the best wife aren’t you?

🗨️ this is so hilarious, cute and sweet 🥹 Loved it✨

⭐Entirety @btsgotjams27 [3.3k] // knj x f.reader // slice of life!au, f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 namjoon is the complete package, except for the fact that he won’t make the first move.

🗨️ AFGJFKGHLKFDHGJGKJHG— 🥵🥵🥵 Yes, I’ve resulted to key smashing because I’m speechless, but I’ll try to give a few words anyway: first, this was incredibly hot, I can’t even begin to articulate properly, and the writing, like I’m a so in love with the writing, like the language is so descriptive and imaginative that I can clearly imagine every little fucking detail— and the words? Well they just flow seamlessly! ✨

⭐Heart got Teeth @ugh-yoongi [12k] // knj x f.reader // enemies to fwb to lovers // 🥵😂

📝 (or, the one where namjoon meets his match and isn’t quite sure how to handle you.)

🗨️ wow okay, love, love, love this one 😭 it’s mainly from Namjoon’s pov, which is amazing, like all he observes about oc… Gosh and their back and forth teasing, witty banter and the dynamic between dominance and losing control— so good, ugh! 🥵 It’s amazing, so if you haven’t read this one yet, I highly recommend it ✨

⭐Castaways @rmnamjoons [25.5k] // knj x f.reader // s2l, slow burn, cruise!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 you’ve always hated the ocean. Open water terrifies you, and you stay as far away from it as possible for self-preservation and peace of mind. Despite this, your friend somehow convinces you to go on a luxury cruise with her, her boyfriend Hoseok, and Hoseok’s nerdy friend Namjoon, who’s almost cute enough to distract you from your debilitating fears. When a sudden storm hits, however, you and Namjoon are swept overboard and find yourselves castaway on a desert island somewhere in the vast South Pacific.

🗨️ holy fucking shit— this was perfection 😭 A new favorite of mine, hands down. First off, the theme? Like being stranded and a castaway, so fucking good. I loved it. The whole trip, also so fun, but their banter, exceptional 👏✨ I loved how their tension build so slowly, a fantastic slowburn 🥰 I also did enjoy when the went overboard, because it made it much more realistic, and the descriptions of the event underwater was so good. Like, everything about this is so fucking amazing! And the smut, omg I’m drooling 🤤

⭐Solace @m-yg93 [13.5k] // knj x f.reader // roommates!au, s2l // 🥰🥵😂

📝 Namjoon thought getting used to a new roommate would take time and adaptation but you fit yourself into his apartment with ease. He swears he only landed in your bed to keep you safe in his arms when you get spooked by the storm. Surely he can blame the eventual lack of clothing on the summer’s heat stroke.

🗨️ omg 😭 This was so fucking cute, sweet, dirty and filthy 🥵 I loved it so much!!!! I loved how Yoongi called Jin and Namjoon ‘Biceps and Shoulders’ 🤣 So hilarious! This was truly just— *chef’s kiss* 😘

⭐The Sheriff @ppersonna [6.8k] // knj x f.reader // f2l, cowboy!au // 🥰🥵😂

📝 you’ve always had a soft spot for Kim Namjoon, the local sheriff. seems like he’s had one for you, too.

🗨️ ahhhh— the smut in this 🥵🥵🥵 Hot, hot, hot! Another new favorite! It was so good and damn, the last line of dialogue had me laughing way too much 🤣

⭐Knock it Down a Peg @thatlongspringnight [3.3k] // knj x f.reader // est. relationship // 🥰🥵😂

📝 thanks to an idea from Jungkook’s girlfriend, you and Namjoon decided to try something new in the bedroom.

🗨️ this was just so fucking funny 🤣 I really loved it! Like I was laughing the whole time— that’s how funny it was! A short, but very very funny read! ✨

⭐The Truth Untold @rmnamjoons [10.1k] // knj x f.reader // bf2l // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 you’ve been trapped for months in a loveless, toxic relationship, too afraid of what would happen if you ever tried to leave. Your boyfriend gets so jealous, especially of your best friend Namjoon, who you’ve missed more than your heart can stand. Now, seeing Namjoon for the first time in weeks, you decide that it’s time to tell him everything, no matter the cost.

🗨️ ah what— this was both sad and very very sweet 😭 It’s sad, because it’s cheating— 😭 What she has with Namjoon is pure sweetness, and he is perfect for her 😭💜 I really loved it, though I have conflicted feelings about the cheating (I always have lol), but it was really good and I really liked it! It was so soft, beautiful and I love their relationship and she should just have picked Namjoon from the start!! Anyway, a really good story that will tear you up a bit. Also, just seeing the banner had me in tears already, and looking at it again, I’m already crying 😭

⭐Park and Ride @here2bbtstrash [4.8k] // knj x f.reader // fuckbuddy!au // 🥵

📝 your fuckbuddy asks if the two of you can drive around a bit first, but he has a hard time keeping his hands to himself

🗨️ wow this was both cute and hot 🥵 There’s also a small drabble to it that can be found here: [link]

⭐Cream @luxekook [1.8k] // knj x f.reader // est. relationship, idol!au // 🥵

📝 you thirst over the outline in the pants of kim namjoon’s iconic cream suit just one time too many, and he’s ready to make you pay for it.

🗨️ Namjoon in that cream suit— what more do I need to say? 🥵 (also loved it, in case there was any confusion on that part ✨)

⭐Don’t Want Your Sympathy @sketchguk [9.5k] // knj x f.reader x jjk // est. relationship + threesome (kinda) // 🥵🥰🌩️😂

📝 jeongguk is like an annoying little brother to you, but nevertheless, there’s nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for your sweet, innocent best friend. so what are you supposed to do when he wants to watch your boyfriend fuck you senseless? say no?

🗨️ fuck. I’m going feral over this one 😭🥵 First, oc being best friends with Jungkook, so much so that she and Namjoon are willing to show him how to please a woman, please, I don’t know but that must be like the ultimate friendship goal? 🥹😂 I really loved it, and all the sexual teasing and banter was just so hilarious 😂

⭐1-Year Anniversary @johobi [7.8k] // knj x f.reader // est. relationship // 🥵🥰

📝 your 1-year anniversary is fast approaching and you’re determined to gift Namjoon the one thing he would never dare ask for.

🗨️ omg this was so utterly amazing and hot 🥵✨ Another favorite and I loved everything about it 💜

⭐Embrace @rmnamjoons [3.9k] // knj x f.reader // bf2l, idol!au // 🥵🥰

📝 you and Namjoon have been best friends for years, and you’ve been secretly in love with him basically the entire time. You both love cuddling and being close, much to the amusement of your friends, but to you, being with Namjoon like this means everything. You’ve always believed that Namjoon didn’t feel the same way as you, no matter how much you wanted him to, but maybe there is actually something else behind Namjoon’s cuddles, other than just innocent friendship.

🗨️ this is so fucking soft, cute and sweet and the smut is just so tender 🥹 a really awesome read and I really love it! Might read this one again sometime ✨💜

⭐My Only Wish @ppersonna [15.1k] // knj x f.reader // e2l, fake dating!au, coworkers!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 there are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

🗨️ the way that I am screaming and kicking because of how incredibly awesome this was 😭✨ The tension? The built up?? God. That tension was so fucking thick and hot, I was going feral through most of the reading. I mean, what isn’t there to love in this one? Amazing, I loved it so fucking much it’s illegal 💖🥹

⭐You Set My Heart on Fire: pt1 and pt2 (series; finished) @hayjeon [21k] // knj x f.reader // one night stand, s2l, workplace!au, fireman!Namjoon + paramedic!reader // 🌩️🥰🥵

📝 as a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.

🗨️ holy shit this is amazing 💖 Namjoon as a firefighter? So fucking hot 🔥 oc as a surgeon turned paramedic ✨ and all the action, the tension, the friends with the whole crew and all the guys??? 🥹 Fuck. This one is amazing, another favorite!

⭐Real Magic @here2bbtstrash [16.7k] // knj x f.reader // christmas!au, workplace!au, single dad!Namjoon // 🥵🥰

📝 the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

🗨️ omg this was just so fucking amazing 🥰 I love everything about it and the plot was so fluffy 🥺 Namjoon was just so fluffy and I love his kid ✨ Such a sweet holiday fic, and even if it isn’t read around Christmas time it will bring a smile to your face. It’s truly amazing 💜

⭐Taking Flight @rmnamjoons [15.2k] // knj x f.reader // sci fi!au, post apocalypse!au alien invasion!au, e2l // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 more than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

🗨️ This was so fucking good, amazing! Really good backstory and world building, the dystopian universe was heartbreaking though, they lost so much 😭 but amidst it all, they thankfully found each other 🥹 it was so fluffy after all the rivalry and angst! The rivalry and banter was so funny though! I really liked that! I really loved the whole thing 🥰

⭐Love.fm @ugh-yoongi [12.4k] // knj x f.reader // exes!au // 🌩️🥰😂

📝 you know three things for certain: jeon jeongguk will do anything to inconvenience you, kim seokjin is an absolute bastard for putting you in charge of the station’s holiday show, and you’ve got a lot of regrets about the way your relationship ended. however, you also know spending the last two years on your own has done you some good. you’ve got a new haircut, an apartment with a bay window, and a rescue dog. there’s also the stranger who keeps writing into the station about regrets of their own. the stranger whose prose feels so familiar. the stranger who leaves you wondering if things with your ex are quite as resolved as you think.

🗨️ this one is completely SFW 😘 It’s angsty, really more sad to me, with all the thoughts and feelings one could go through after a break up, but still missing that person 🥹 it was really beautiful, and I think the feelings are handled so well, how oc gradually let her friends in (the fact that she went two years without mentioning why she even got to the radio station in the first place, lol) and how her friends support her, the same with Namjoon, and how they will miss each other, but doesn’t shy from the fact that they still need to talk, work through things, but most importantly, how much they still miss each other, but are so fucking afraid of THE TALK. Gosh. All the feelings 🥹 anxiety! It was so good! The ending is very open and allows you to imagine whatever you want to the (potential) couple 🥹 So amazing, and I really loved it 💖

⭐Reflection @jimilter [18.6k] // knj x f.reader // s2l // 🌩️🥰😂🥵

📝 when his muse ran dry, his publisher suggested Namjoon to change sceneries in order to regroup his creative spirit, and he left the big city to land in this tiny restaurant on the beach. In his quest for inspiration, he has interacted with hundreds of travelers and realized that on the beach, every life’s a movie – some he connects with, some he likes, and some leave him confused. You fall into the last category, confounding him with your sad eyes and quiet smiles; and with the way poetry flows out of him when you’re around. But what happens when things start to careen towards intense feelings, and both of you have vastly different lives to go back to? Heartbreak.

🗨️ this was so good 😭 so angsty, emotional and sad. All his observations, and then finally towards the end everything comes tumbling out 😭 it was very beautiful, heartbreakingly so, but it does have a happy ending ✨💜

⭐Don’t Read Dead Languages @sailoryooons [17.4k] // knj x f.reader // e2l // 🌩️🥰😂🥵🪄

📝 Namjoon is determined to visit the Living City of the Dead. Amtenemhat is the Egyptian ruins that the locals fear. Archaeologists have gone missing and strange things lurk in the night. But Namjoon’s work as a historian isn’t perfect if he doesn’t go to the source of the legend, and hiring a weaponized tomb raider seems his best bet at surviving.

🗨️ another brilliant one from Hali ✨ it was so exciting, action packed, incredible lore and funny banter 💜 loved it a lot 💎

This is my little corner with my own fics— I don’t write that much (I prefer to read), but it would mean a lot to me if you checked out my work or read it. You don’t have to, it’s up to you of course 🥰

⭐Sprout (mini series; completed) [21k] // knj x f.reader // neighbors!au, s2e2l, garden!au // 🥵😂

📝 you love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate.

🗨️ I really don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this, but it’s very funny 🤣 OC is so mad and goes straight up vigilante on Namjoon (poor man), there’s stupid banter (JK is her roommate) — it’s really just a crack fic, please don’t take it seriously, but it’s one of my faves 🥰

⭐Deep Dive [19.8k] // knj x f.reader // mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, s2l // 🥵🪄🥰😂

📝 you’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

🗨️ this is a new addition to my mermaid series— this Namjoon is very soft, cute, loves reading romance books (he’s a nerd and hopeless romantic okay) and he loves collecting crystals too 🥰 This is really just a spicy fantasy story 💜

And as a something little extra, here’s a few fics that I haven’t had the time to read yet, but damn I’m buzzing to get to read them:

Dirty Little Secret @nottodayjjk

All About You @taegularities

Trust Me, Please? (series; discontinued) @sugarwithtea

Sunshine (series; discontinued) @rmnamjoons

All I Want For Christmas is Joon @leahsfavefics

Intersect (series; completed) @shina913

Not Another Holiday Romance @kpopfanfictrash

Dino-Mite @chimcess

Just Like Candy @jamaisjoons

Cruise Control @lavienjin

Happy birthday to the best leader EVER KIM NAMJOON!!!! 🥳💜✨

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satorhime · 1 year ago

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. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

#little novels.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo angst

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avocad1s · 1 year ago

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this is a weird thought but I definitely know that in sagau theres some mfs making fanfiction about the creator. Like imagine the creator visiting whatever nation they go to and they just see a self insert book about them. I know some acolytes religiously read them before bed every night (cough yae miko cough)

Note: Not weird at all Anon! I enjoyed this a bit more than I should’ve.

Mostly a crackfic just the acolytes being delulu

Without a doubt there are TONS of books about you all throughout Teyvat. No matter what nation you are in, you will always find what you’re looking for if it’s related to the Creator.

People have wrote books about how you created Teyvat, their speculations on how Visions were made, and even your relationship with all of the Archons. Of course there’s no telling which books are true or not, but it’s about you and they’ll consume anything that has your name in it.

That of course includes fanfics.

The fanfics aren’t openly talked about, many people feel embarrassed and don’t want to be judged by their peers for consuming that content. People who write such content always use a pen name, not wanting to attach their work to their true self.

Despite the embarrassment, these books are quite popular in all seven nations.

The Sages in Sumeru tried to ban them for being exported to their city claiming that are extremely disrespectful and sully the image of you. But that doesn’t stop the books from being smuggled in, many people, even scholars within the Akademiya, own at least one fanfic.

Inazuma is of course the main producer of these novels. Under the guidance of Yae Miko, many people have the chance to have their work published. (Yae has no shame whatsoever 💀) The Kitsune proofreads them all personally and critiques them harshly. Only the absolute best will be coming out of her publishing house.

Liyue, the place where all goods come to be traded and sold, are the ones who get the most exports of these products. Of course they’ll say they are simply for profit, which some of them are, but lots of them are for the Liyue citizens themselves. Even the Adepti read these novels but they always comment how odd mortals are to want Their Grace in such a way. (Yeah they projecting cuz they want you too 😩🙏)

Imagine all the arguments people have had debating whether a fanfic characterized you properly or not. Lmao.

Once you’re in Teyvat the fanfics don’t stop, actually they increase.

Now people have the chance to watch you from afar and come up with even more scenarios they’d like to imagine you in.

You mention your favorite food? They’re gonna write fics about taking you on a date to get that food.

You mention your favorite hobby? Yeah, you get the idea…

Of course they never expect you to find out about these books but it’s not like they’re hiding it. Just imagine how awkward that would be to see a self-insert book about yourself.💀

Now no one is reading these books publicly, that’s way too embarrassing for them, but once the sun is down and everyone is going home to rest once again, that’s when the books come out.

You know how some people need the perfect fake scenario before they fall asleep? Yeah that’s them with these books.

They’ll read to their heart’s content and eventually fall asleep having dreams about you hoping that one day they can meet you and make the fanfic a reality. They’re a bit delusional and the fics aren’t helping 💀

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

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aftgficrec · 1 month ago

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My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

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moonjxsung · 1 year ago

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Where the Storm Looms

*This fic is part 2 to “When the Rain Stops.” You can read part 1 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 13k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, mention of cheating, mention of masturbation, mention of casual sex, brief mention of calories, nipple play, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: Now living in the city he despises, Minho is determined to find you again- despite the sacrifices he’ll have to make.

18+. mdni!

•

They say if you love something, you have to set it free. And if it comes back to you, it’s yours.

So what implication can be drawn if you go searching for it- for three months and 13 days straight?

Minho isn’t sure.

The city is just as grimy as he remembered it- teeming with the sounds of pushy street vendors, bumper-to-bumper traffic and conversations of plummeting stocks at every corner. The coffee is overpriced, and the people dress in gray slacks even on laundry day. The girls are pretty- they’re decent in bed, they work good jobs and they can carry a conversation well as long as it involves their respective companies or an ex-boyfriend.

But none of them are you.

Minho feels stupid for thinking about it this extensively. A random hookup in his bar as a result of bad weather conditions- one you never even bothered saying goodbye to him after, and yet he’s still hung up on you.

That stupid game. He should've never let you fix that arcade game. Maybe then you wouldn’t have stayed so long, wouldn’t have kissed him back even though he’s the one who initiated it. Wouldn’t have let him fuck you on the pool table, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer permanently etched into his memory. But he didn’t stop any part of it- in fact, he didn’t want to. Minho knows he wouldn’t have been able to deny you anything you asked for that night, not with the way you looked at him through wide sparkling eyes, scared you’d angered him, when all he really wanted was to keep you safe. Safe from the storm, safe from people with ill intent. He’d pour you a hundred cups of Diet Coke on the rocks if you asked, or be a chance card in another game of pool you’d inevitably lose at. He’d make love to you repeatedly on any surface inside the dive bar, kissing you every chance he got like it would be his last. Because you changed something in him that night- and he’s determined to find you again.

“Still waiting on that garlic bread. And we have another order for fettuccine.”

Minho nods once, drizzling a pan with olive oil and prepping the ingredients that sit in disarray on the counter in front of him.

Tales from the hotel kitchen.

So maybe getting his job back as a private chef was a harder feat than he’d originally anticipated it to be. But Minho’s sudden assimilation back into city life meant he had to make adjustments- sacrifices. And although he’s still technically the owner of the little dive bar 6 hours out of the city, he recently signed co-ownership off to Jeongin, who’s been practically running the place while Minho does some soul-searching in the city.

Of course, the soul he’s searching for is nowhere to be found.

Coffee shops, bookstores, convenience shops, dive bars... Minho recently read there are nearly 2 million people in this godforsaken city at any given moment of the day. That’s a 0.0000005% chance he’ll run into you again. Coupled with the fact he’s already run into you once before, and slept with you, the odds are considerably lower. But nonetheless, the objective remains.

Sometime after the initial run-in, Minho also realized he knows nearly nothing about you. You never spoke of an occupation, or a significant other, or even your favorite color. He does know you live in the city, you’re vulnerable against married men and you can use a screwdriver like a cellphone. The rest is left to his wandering imagination.

“Minho, your bread is burning,” a voice interrupts, and he snaps out of the daze he’s in to lower the heat on the oven. Minho’s sous chef Seungmin sighs in irritation, practically pushing Minho aside to retrieve the loaf from the oven himself.

“Do you want me to take over for the evening? You seem really distracted and we’re super busy out there.”

“No, I’m fine,” Minho says, his eyes darting briefly to the window across from him.

Dark rain clouds loom over the afternoon sky, but it doesn’t rain- in fact, it hasn’t rained once since that night. At first, he sees it as some sort of blessing, attributing the mostly-clear skies to your presence somewhere in the city. Perhaps where you go, the sun follows.

But he quickly realizes that it’s more of a curse, this constant storm looming over him, taunting him with promises of darkened clouds and rainfall, only for the nighttime to bring clear skies once again.

It never rains anymore. Sometimes Minho thinks he imagined you, that night in his bar.

Maybe he imagined the rain, too.

The ceiling of this apartment is in desperate need of some TLC, Minho thinks, as he lays in bed that night with hands folded over his chest. It’s riddled with cracks and imperfections, running along the drywall like a design choice. But it’s not a design choice- it’s a result of the shitty architectural integrity of this crowded city. Everyone’s so desperate to live out here they’d put up with leaky roofs and cockroaches before they’d live in the suburbs. Minho thinks back to his apartment in the suburbs, where his three cats are currently being taken care of by a friend, and the biggest pain point is patching up thumbtack holes when he moves things around. It’s spacious, a lot bigger than this dump, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.

There’s no set time Minho has dedicated to being out here. “When the time is right, I’ll leave,” he told his friend, averting his gaze to avoid raising suspicions about his intentions out here. But to most, it’s clear Minho is going through something. His hair is visibly longer, the silky ends of it now resting just above his shoulders. He can’t be bothered to care about what he wears, knowing very well that he doesn’t blend in with the other city-dwellers when he’s in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But without the bar to dress up for like he used to, he doesn’t find reason in trying.

Minho’s also well aware that he looks like a complete lunatic, coming out to the city like this to search for a hookup. If your paths do cross, there’s a likelihood you’ll call the police and have him arrested for stalking. You could also have zero recollection of who he is, or that you ever hooked up with him. You could have a boyfriend, be married by now, or just not interested in Minho. Maybe you regret that night. Maybe you lied about being from the city. You could be on the other side of the world by now, and he’d have no clue.

But he feels it- he feels you, in this city, at every corner he turns. He sees traces of you in the people who smile at him when he passes them by. He sees you in the people who hold doors open for him, the baristas who make foam hearts in his lattes every morning, even the businessmen when they catch themselves admiring the beauty of the buildings on a smoke break. He sees you in all things good, when he’s reminded momentarily that the world has more to offer than boxing him in the confines of a dark bar out in the suburbs. And while he’s not completely in love with life all over again, it’s a start.

The hotel patrons give their compliments to his cooking, and he’s reminded of his days as a private chef again, chasing the sweet high of people fawning over his entrees and desserts. When he calls Jeongin to check up on the bar, he remembers the view out the window by the kitchen- nothing but a parking lot, empty most days, or plagued by truck drivers and prostitutes.

Sure, his apartment window in the city faces a brick wall, but he can escape at any given moment of the day to be part of the towering skyscrapers and city lights that stay on all night. It’s then that he feels bad for Jeongin, who doesn’t have the same luxury all the way out there.

Of course, Minho also remembers the sex from that night. It plays in his head on a loop, often echoing in his brain at the worst of times. The way you’d called out his name was all but intoxicating, chanting it in the empty space of the spare room like you’d done it a hundred times before. Your fingers looped through his hair, massaging his locks in praise while your moans did the rest. Your lips on his, smiling when he teased you about the game of pool- teasing him back, like the complex woman he knew you were.

He remembers the way your hardened nipples felt between his fingers, memorizing their feel with his nimble hands while he pressed his third erection of the night against you, a confession that this is what you do to me.

The way you took him with complete ease, undoubtedly craving him, too, gushing with arousal as he fit so perfectly inside you.

“You’re so big,” you’d said to him, and Minho isn’t sure he ever felt confident in his girth until it was inside of you, thrusting in and out like he was trying to make his semen catch, painting your walls white while you squirted on his still-hard cock.

He can’t get off with girls from the city unless he’s thinking of you and him, in the bar, bent over the pool table. He also avoids the spare room of the bar now, getting hard almost instantly at the sight of it.

It’s embarrassing, and he knows it, tucking his now-softened cock back into his boxers and reaching for tissues on his makeshift cardboard box nightstand. The shame washes over him as he folds his hands over his chest again, eyes locked with the shitty drywall ceiling. Have the cracks gotten bigger? He’s not sure of the large one to the left, caving in toward the window in the shape of a backwards L. If it rains, the roof will surely leak. How do you fix a leaky roof? Is it ever going to rain again? Where are you?

On a random Tuesday in the middle of the month, Minho runs into Jisung again.

He’s out by one of the tall buildings in the financial district, one hand shoved in the pocket of his suit while the other brings a turquoise-colored vape up to his lips.

Of course he vapes, Minho thinks. He’s just as predictable as he’s always been.

“Is that the Lee Minho?” Jisung says, blowing a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke into the air. Minho shrugs, saying nothing as he approaches Jisung.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Lost ownership of the bar or what?”

“No,” Minho replies, a stoic expression on his face. “I’m living here.”

“You’re living here? You? Avid hater of city life and all things that inhabit it?”

“Yeah,” Minho says, counting black spots on the concrete below him. “Not permanently. Just looking for something.”

“What are you looking for?”

Minho swallows momentarily. He knows he could bring up your name, and Jisung would probably know where to find you. After all, the two of you bonded over your love of the city before you almost went home with him that night. But he refrains, suddenly feeling a little jealous and overprotective. It’s the reminder that Minho was technically a second choice- maybe you’d just slept with him to get some relief for the sexual tension you felt with Jisung. You did lecture him when he cockblocked you, after all.

“Seeing if the apartments are better out here,” he settles on saying. “They’re not.”

Jisung chuckles. “Yeah, well, I could’ve easily told you that.”

He slides his vape back into the pocket of his suit, adjusting the buttons as he begins to speak again.

“When was the last time I saw you, anyway?”

Minho blinks nervously. His mind races with options of what to reply, but Jisung is faster.

“That storm!” He finally exclaims, clapping enthusiastically. “When we were stuck there while it rained fucking cats and dogs out there. You, me and Miss ‘hard to get’.”

“Right,” Minho says, his pulse quickening a little at the mention of you.

“Can you believe she backed out like that? I went back to that hotel with blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. I bet she’s a good fuck, too, the way she’s persuaded so easily.”

Minho grows irate, doing his best to refrain from lashing out at Jisung to defend you. The way he speaks about you like you’re disposable, like you weren’t only swayed by him because he puts on this act, one where he’s single and nice. Both polar opposite of the sleazy man standing in front of Minho right now.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung says. “I ran into her like a week after that, anyway.”

Minho feels his heart stop. He finally makes eye contact with Jisung, voice hitching in the back of his throat as he searches for words to say. What were you doing? What were you wearing? Were you with anyone? Did Jisung try to pursue you again? Was there any trace that you were as changed by Minho as he is by you?

“You did?” Minho queries.

“Yeah. She remembered me, for sure. Said she googled me and found out I was married. That’s the problem with women these days- they fucking google you. Who does that?”

Minho observes the way Jisung snorts with laughter, shaking his head like he’s not a serial cheater himself.

“Where was she?” Minho asks, quickly aware of the way the question comes off as a little too bold.

“Uh… I can’t remember. Think we were in the parking garage off 7th. She was all dressed up like she was going to work or something. Must be a private investigator with the way she stalks her potential hookups.”

Minho laughs internally at the irony.

“Why do you ask?” Jisung chimes in again, sounding a little skeptical of Minho’s behavior now.

“Nothing,” Minho says quickly. “Just curious.”

Jisung nods slowly, not taking his gaze off of Minho. He’s visibly tense, thoughts circling his mind as he tries to recall the buildings on 7th.

“I should get going,” Jisung says, pulling his vape back out to take another hit, much like the nicotine-addicted cheater Minho sees him for.

“Good catching up,” Jisung finishes, exhaling a cloud of smoke into his face. “Catch you later.”

And as Minho leaves, he turns back around to Jisung, pausing momentarily before speaking again.

“Oh, Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

Minho cocks his head slightly.

“Your wife really deserves better.”

The parking garage on 7th is a shithole. It’s a narrow, almost cylindrical building, filled back to back with rows of fancy cars. Minho remains parked on the third floor, sat in his car like he’s staking out the place, eyes darting over every passerby in hopes you’ll be one of them.

But they’re all middle-aged folks, blabbering into their cellphones with briefcases in hand, no sense of purpose for the life they’re living aside from money, and maybe their fancy cars.

He sighs, reaching for a cigarette and cupping his hand over the lighter to set it ablaze. Smoking is a recent development. Minho doesn’t think he’s chain-smoked like this since his culinary school days, when he’d spend late nights preparing for exams and practicing his plating techniques. It’s not that the cigarettes relieve him, nor does he even care for the flavor. But he does it as a form of sacrifice. The city keeps you from him, and consequently, he’s pulled back largely from things he actually enjoys, choosing to mirror the actions of the city-dwellers. Smoking, casual sex, drinking, dressing down, hardly ever eating full meals. He’s become reduced to a product of the disdain he feels for himself, spiraling further with every cruel reminder that you’re not his.

When his car stakeout passes the three hour mark, Minho is all out of cigarettes. He’s also starving, and dying for a beer. So he pulls out of the lot, most of the spaces vacant now, anyway, and starts the painful trip back to his apartment. The streets smell like sewage with his windows rolled down, but his own car reeks like a cheap casino. With one hand hanging loosely over the door of his car, Minho speeds down the crowded streets, groaning when he’s promptly halted by a red light. Cars press their horns impatiently as nobody seems to move. Minho glances to the right of him, scanning the streets that begin to darken as night falls. And then he sees it- a dive bar. It’s a city dive bar, of course, tainted by its rustic gentrifying decor and teeming with hipsters. But he’s sure you’re in there, knowing you probably regularly finish work and hit up the nearest bar to down Diet Cokes and chicken wings. In a frantic motion, Minho puts the car in reverse, using one hand to steer as he makes an illegal u-turn. The cars around him honk angrily, shouting profanities and pulling up to fill his spot. But he crosses several lanes to reach the bar, a sense of anticipation bubbling inside him already.

The place is much fancier than Minho’s, albeit much smaller. An open bar makes up most of the dive bar itself, a sleek laminate wood finish surrounding the series of draft beer dispensers. The wall above the bar is plastered in license plates from all different regions, and the patrons around all appear to be tourists judging by the way they take photos of it. There are several bartenders working tonight, the nearest one to Minho being a heavily tattooed gentleman with bleach blonde hair.

“What can I get you?” He asks enthusiastically, holding a pen and pad in his hand. Minho’s not sure he’s ever seen a bartender write down an order for a single beer.

When the bartender makes his way to the tap, Minho sits on one of the circular red stools. They’re a little too tall for his liking, swiveling around erratically while he catches his balance and glances around at the patrons. He’s the only one alone here, standing out even more in his loose jeans and an old jersey.

“That’s $12,” the bartender says when he returns.

“Can I just run a tab?” Minho asks, scoffing internally at the steep price.

“First drink’s upfront payment,” the bartender replies, flipping a tablet around to Minho for his payment details. Minho swipes his card and confidently smashes the ‘no tip’ button, earning a little eye roll from the bartender. These bars are nothing like his back home.

When the bartender moves away to attend to another patron, Minho swivels around on his stool, scanning the bar for a sign of you. There’s not a single cup of coke on any of the tables here. Everyone’s happily sipping away at whiskeys and vermouths, their drinks clutched closely in hand as they chat about their boring lives. Minho tunes in briefly to a conversation about someone’s broken toe and sighs, wishing so badly he had you to converse with. You’d probably laugh at all of Minho’s jokes about the people here, agreeing with his presumptions of them. See him? He’s definitely compensating. That guy there needs to cool off the vodka seltzers. She’s definitely not interested in him.

As he takes a sip from his mug of beer, it suddenly catches his eye. The arcade game, tucked away in the back of the bar like a little secret. It’s neglected, probably no one around old enough to know how to operate the thing. Minho rises from his seat, making his way to the game and smiling at the sight.

It reminds him of you, the giant black display of Galaga, decorated with whimsical drawings of aliens and Galaxian Flagships. He pulls out a quarter, slotting it in the machine, because of course you have to pay at this one, and slots it in, waiting for the thing to start up.

Only it doesn’t, the game not even emitting so much as a hum from the monitor. He smacks it a few times, partly in efforts to start it up, and partly to reclaim his last quarter. But it’s a moot effort- the game is completely dead.

Minho makes his way back to the bar, frustrated at the deja vu of broken arcade games and the memories they bring back to him.

“Your game’s broken,” Minho says to the bleach blonde bartender.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That thing’s been dead for months now.”

“I put a quarter in. Swallowed it and won’t spit it out.”

“Yeah, it does that. Sorry, man.”

“Sorry? You should be. That thing shouldn’t be down here if it isn’t working.”

The bartender narrows his eyes as he mixes another drink for a patron.

“Yeah, well, people don’t usually try it. Again, sorry man. Not really anything I can do about it.”

Minho is angry now, his ears flushed a crimson shade as he speaks, not in any mood to reason with the bartender.

“Look man, just give me my quarter. Can’t you key the machine or something?”

“We don’t have access to it. It’s from some local vendor. You’re welcome to go find a few pennies on the ground if the 25 cents means so much to you.”

“What the fuck kind of behavior is that for a bartender?”

The other patrons and bartenders have noticed now, quieting down as they watch Minho down a few more sips of his beer angrily.

“Look man, you’re gonna have to leave. I can’t have you in here acting like this.”

“I want my quarter.”

“I can’t get your quarter, dude. It’s gone. Get out before I call the police.”

“Why don’t you hire someone to fix the machine, then? There are people in the city who do that, you know. I know someone who’d get it fixed in seconds. She’d be able to get the fucking quarter out, too.”

“Call the police,” the bartender says to another, and Minho raises his hands up in surrender.

“Relax, I’m leaving.” He chugs the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other patrons look on in shock. Nearby, a different bartender has a phone clutched in his hand, ready to dial the cops like they’d requested.

“Tell me one thing,” Minho says before turning around.

The man says nothing, eyes narrowed in fear as he waits for Minho to finish.

“You guys sell Diet Coke here?”

The bartenders look around at each other nervously, confused at the question.

“We only have Pepsi,” one chimes in.

And Minho nods, understanding.

“Take care,” Minho says, waving them off as he finally exits the bar.

“I need you to come back for a little bit,” Jeongin says into the receiver one morning. He sounds panicked, like he might break down at any moment. Minho knows he wouldn’t request this of him if it wasn't something serious.

“Okay,” Minho replies. “What happened?”

“The place was robbed last night. By a group of guys. Nobody’s hurt, but they did have a knife on them. Cleared out one of the registers.”

Minho sighs, suddenly feeling awful about being out here. What is he doing out here when the business he owns is being threatened? Even worse, putting Jeongin and the other staff at risk while he embarks on the futile task of searching for what’s already gone? There’s no good explanation for it. It’s selfish- sure, he’s finally chasing after what he wants, but it’s a selfish task nonetheless.

“I can be there this evening,” Minho says, already mentally preparing himself for the six hour drive out there. “Just close up for the day. Make sure everyone gets home safe and knows they’ll be paid for the day anyway.”

Jeongin understands, hanging up on his end of the line and closing up the bar.

As Minho tosses his cell phone aside, he looks around the apartment, sighing heavily when he observes the state of things. His stuff is still stored away in cardboard boxes, the apartment looking more like a showroom than a space lived-in by him. The walls remain bare of any form of decorations, the tiny excuse for a kitchen is void of dishes and cutlery, even his toiletries are in travel bags, like he’s ready to go home at any given moment. And he just might be, after this week’s events.

The drive home is as excruciating as he remembers it. Exiting the city means sitting in miles of traffic, alongside impatient city-dwellers who somehow voluntarily make the commute everyday for their jobs. Minho briefly wonders if you’re in the traffic, too. You’re a little impatient, he remembers, thinking about how you demanded a phone charger from him that night in the bar. Only your impatience is something he’d gladly put up with in traffic like this, probably taking the opportunity to play his favorite songs for you and listen to you talk his ear off. He sighs to himself, wishing so badly you could fill the empty leather seat next to him, currently inhabited by empty cigarette boxes and discarded takeout boxes.

Six agonizing hours later, the sun’s beginning to set as Minho pulls into the familiar parking lot of the bar. Waning beams of sunlight reflect off the old bar sign, almost luring Minho inside as the nighttime chases closely after. When he unlocks the door and makes his way inside, it’s like he never left. The red booths are vacant, the peeling vinyl of their seats still scattered across the floor like he remembers. Bottles of alcohol neatly line the shelves behind the counter, which don’t reside far from the shiny mugs and glasses inside the cabinets. Minho runs a finger over the counter, well impressed with the state of the bar since Jeongin’s taken over. It’s impeccable, almost better than it was when Minho first left.

“Minho?” A voice calls, and a figure peeks from around the corner.

It’s Jeongin, who looks different in casual wear for the day, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. He’s wearing his signature pair of thick framed glasses, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on one of the barstools.

“It was this register,” he says, gesturing to the one closest to Minho. “I think it was roughly $300 in there. They all had dark jackets and I couldn’t see their faces.”

Minho nods, opening the register to investigate, and then slumps back in the stool behind the counter.

“I’ll take the remaining cash to the safe. Let’s stay closed for a few days while I file a police report. They’ll probably want to poke around in here, and I don’t want any of the patrons to panic.”

It’s Jeongin’s turn to nod, making a mental note of Minho’s instructions. After a brief pause, he speaks again.

“How’s the city?”

“The city is…the city.”

Jeongin chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“Are you working?”

Minho nods. “Not my private chef gig. But it’s a restaurant. I have a sous chef, which helps. It’s nothing special, though.”

There’s a moment of silence as Jeongin traces the table pattern with his fingers. He wants to ask more from him- he wants to know why Minho’s out there in the first place, why he even agreed to sign co-ownership off to Jeongin when this was his bar he was so proud of for all those years. But there’s seemingly no courteous way to go about it- any which way, he feels like he’s overstepping. Minho is usually on the quieter side, only confiding in his colleagues when it’s something that affects the business.

“Minho, are you…” he begins, his voice wavering in fear that he’ll unintentionally offend.

“Have you found what you’re looking for?”

Minho is silent, and for a second, it’s hard for Jeongin to gauge his reaction. His eyes remain locked on Jeongin’s pupils, trembling in discomfort as he thinks back to you. He thinks of the city, of the bar fight, of the hours spent in a dingy parking garage and the cracks in his apartment ceiling.

Jeongin begins to take back his question, disappointed in himself he’s even chosen to utter the inquiry. But Minho finally does give an answer, albeit a vague one.

“Not yet,” he replies, swallowing nervously before continuing. “You’ll be the first to know.”

When Jeongin leaves, he takes the cozy atmosphere of the bar with him, and the place now feels colder, more unfamiliar. Minho looks out the window at the darkness that envelopes the parking lot, feeling a sense of unease in knowing he’s going to leave it all behind again. This bar needs him, it needs stability. It needs someone to look out for the people who are vulnerable to sleazy married men or robbers. As he pockets the cash to transfer to the safe, he glances at the yellow Pac-Man game, sitting proudly where it has for the past three months since its repair. Little ghosts dance along the display screen, prompting users with ‘press A to start’.

Minho simply walks past it, knowing very well there’s little joy in a game that only brings back painful reminders. He makes his way to the back office, where the red leather couch and desk still remain. The cash is deposited in the safe, and the keys in the file cabinet- third drawer from the top.

Minho feels a gravitational pull to the spare room upstairs- he knows he shouldn’t, very well aware that he’s only hurting himself by picturing you up there. But still he does. Hands shoved in his pockets, he makes his way up the creaking stairs and through the little hallway.

The room is just as suffocating as he remembers it. The same old pool table sits in the middle of the room, and at the back where the arcade game previously lived, there’s a rectangle on the carpeted floor where it once sat, contrasting a bright untouched green to the older, worn down carpet. Minho doesn’t leave the doorway; he just stands, observing the room in all its mundane appearance. His eyes remain on the spot you’d previously hoisted yourself up to sit on the pool table, and he can almost see himself looming over you, too. From this angle, it doesn’t feel like it ever happened. It plays more like a cheap movie where a famous scene was shot. Like a figment of his imagination.

Have you found what you’re looking for?

He hasn’t, not yet. But seeing the potential of this old room, in the bar he owns, Minho knows it’s finally time to stop searching.

Back in the city, Minho’s days are numbered by the countdown. Two days until he’ll leave all this behind, for good this time.

The kitchen is busier than normal on this gloomy Thursday, more staff than usual working floor while others make trips up to hotel rooms for delivery.

Minho drizzles pans with olive oil in between plating a shrimp scampi, tonight’s special. The air is thick and fragrant with seafood and Parmesan cheese.

“I need a lava cake for room 302!” Seungmin exclaims to Minho in a rushed tone.

“On the cart by the door. Second row.”

Cooks work diligently in their respective areas, and Minho wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. It’s a stressful role, no doubt, but he still feels a sense of sadness knowing he won’t be back to cooking like this once he’s back in town. He tries to mentally prepare himself for days of mixers and signature cocktails again.

“Minho, get out of here and go take a lunch,” Seungmin says as he reappears from behind the door. “That way the schedule doesn’t rearrange.”

Seungmin is a blunt sous chef, but he’s dedicated to his work. Minho knows he’ll have no problem working his way up to a head chef role one day. He appreciates his attention to detail and ability to work with difficult patrons, and he’d certainly entertain the idea of bringing him to work at the bar back home if he liked.

“On it,” Minho says, already pulling off his apron.

“Oh, and can you bring a Diet Coke to table 6 out there? I brought regular on accident.”

“Yup,” he says plainly, grabbing a clear glass from the clean stack and filling it at the fountain.

Minho thinks back to his apartment- this might be his last day at work, but he still has a generous amount of packing to do when he gets home. He’s relieved he kept most of his stuff in boxes, or else he’d easily be stuck here another week.

Minho counts boxes in his head, balancing the glass in one hand and his apron in another as he exits the kitchen to the seating area. He’s seldom out here, only really passing through when he gets in for the day. But he’s not in charge of serving guests, and the whole thing suddenly feels a little uncomfortable to him. Quiet jazz music plays overhead as tables fill the room with noise of their conversations, everyone dressed up with legs crossed neatly under white tablecloths.

Minho looks around frantically as beads of condensation on the glass wet his hand- where the hell is table 6?

A family sits at the back, every member paired with their drink of choice. An older couple sits closer to Minho, two cups of coffee steaming in front of them.

And by the window, two women deep in conversation- one of them passionately sharing tales of work or perhaps a lover.

And the other one, you.

Minho thinks he’s hallucinating for a moment, when he first observes you sitting there. You’re nodding as the other woman talks, a smile pulling on your face as she exaggeratedly makes a hand motion during her story. You’re not dressed like the other city-dwellers here, looking starkly more beautiful in a sweater and a pair of jeans. You’re the only one in here wearing jeans, aside from Minho. He smiles when he takes notice.

Another server passes Minho in a rush, shoving by him with a tray of food in hand.

“Oh sorry,” he says, eyeing him a little confused. “Did you want me to take that? I know you’re on lunch.”

Minho grips the coke firmly in his hand, shaking his head almost immediately. He’s never refused something so fast in his life before.

“No, I got it,” he says, finally taking the first step toward your table.

Minho glances down at his appearance briefly, fixing the collar of his shirt as he approaches you. He’s a little more dressed up for his last day here, a pastel blue button-up tucked into his jeans, his now long hair parted down the middle. He wishes he could tuck back into the bathroom and see himself more clearly, but he knows he’ll lose you if he doesn’t make his move now.

Minho’s thought of this moment so many times, replayed the conversation in his head like a speech he’s been waiting to give. He wants to proclaim his adoration for you, giving you a romantic explanation of how he’s searched for you all these months and never stopped thinking of you. And in an ideal scenario, you’d say the same, kissing him in front of all the restaurant-goers here and leaving back to town with him to live happily ever after.

But he’s never considered the idea of a friend being present. Or being crunched for time on a 30-minute lunch break. It’s all happening so fast, and his head spins with anxiety as he approaches you.

You’re still in conversation when he sets your Diet Coke down at the table a little too hard, hoping to get your attention. You don’t so much as look his way as he does, and he lingers by your table for a moment as he thinks.

“Do you need a straw?” Minho asks, eyes darting over your face briefly. Your hair is a little longer, too, but you look the same. He’s sure you’re not a hallucination.

“No thank you,” you say, finally glancing over at him to give a small nod.

And just like he’s lost for more words, you seem to be too, lips parting slightly as you keep your gaze fixed on his.

“Thank you for lunch,” you say to your colleague at the end of the meal, who’s been passionately talking about her recent project at work for the last hour.

You tuned her out after the first 15 minutes, being completely awestruck when the server delivered your requested Diet Coke to your table.

Either the brain fog from work is finally starting to catch up with you, or you’re simply too tired. But the server looks exactly like Lee Minho, the bartender you slept with a few months ago. Normally, you’d tuck away and hide at the sight of running into a hookup again. But Minho wasn’t just a hookup to you.

He’s lingered amongst your thoughts for the better part of those three months, the polite action of protecting you from sleeping with a married man and letting you seek shelter in the storm remaining some of the nicest things someone’s ever done for you.

He wasn’t just a hookup, not with the way he spoke of his hopes and dreams and asked about all of yours. And then he fucked you like a husband, the feeling you got from him bending you over the pool table like that still sending chills down your spine.

Your colleague pulls her scarf and coat on, nodding as she gestures to the door. The lunch rush has died down by now, and most of the tables are vacant as the streets bustle with people returning to work.

“I’m gonna grab a meal to-go,” you tell her. “I’ll meet you back at the office. Thank you again for lunch!”

Fortunately for you, she doesn’t question it, leaving you to order as she heads back to the office.

Minho is nowhere to be seen, only one server present on the floor as it’s more empty now.

“Can I help you?” A voice asks, and you’re met with the warm smile of the singular server.

“I… I wanted to give my compliments to the chef,” you say, sounding a little unsure of yourself.

“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you very much,” he replies, bowing when he finishes.

“I meant my personal thanks,” you clarify, and he furrows his brows in response.

“Uh… sure, I can ask him. Do you know if it was the head chef?”

“His name’s Lee Minho,” you say with a smile. “He’s probably the head chef.”

Minho’s sous chef runs his kitchen like the navy, you quickly learn, as he ushers for you to leave soon after Minho exits the kitchen due to the impending dinner rush.

There’s no time to catch up with him, only being able to utter a short “thanks for the meal,” as he waits for you to speak.

But he recognizes you, his gaze staying on yours a little too long as he nervously bows.

“Y/n,” he says in response, the action saying nothing and yet so much at the same time.

And you smile back at him, relieved he still remembers.

As Seungmin calls for him a second time, you pull a pen from the pocket of his apron, scribbling your address on a napkin from one of the tables.

He nods back at you, napkin clutched in hand, as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

And for a brief moment, neither of you can make out the implications of the action. An invitation for sex? A date to catch up? The details are blurry to both of you. But you hope he shows, and Minho already knows he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

As you fix your hair in front of the mirror that evening, memories of Minho play in your mind like they did after the night you spent together. You know you had to leave- it wasn’t something you decided lightly, but you and him are fated for different things. And who are you to intervene where the stars align? Minho deserves someone who will be available for him, someone uncomplicated and willing to inhabit the place he loves so dearly.

You, on the other hand, have a historical bad run with men, and so pursuing Minho would be uncharacteristic. But also unfair to him. It’s clear from that night that your worst traits will always remain the most significant parts of you- impatience, judgment and naivety. And while Minho comes off as curt, he’s anything but. He’s too good for you. You’re just a byproduct of this city- everything he despises. It would be over before it even started.

Minho shows at exactly a quarter to nine, knocking twice at the door as he waits out in the hallway for you.

When you unlatch the door, he perks up from nervously staring at the carpeted floor, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat. He looks more casual than you’ve probably ever seen him before, in a striped gray and black top, layered with a black collared shirt and dark ripped jeans. He also looks particularly handsome tonight, but also different, noticeably thinner in his face where his cheekbones protrude generously, his hair a little longer now.

“Hi,” Minho says plainly, his gaze fixated on yours in an almost trance-like state.

“Hi,” you reply, unsure of where to start. “Come in, please.”

You step aside, ushering him into your apartment and shutting the door behind you both. Minho looks around, impressed with the state of your apartment in comparison with his. There are cherry wood bookshelves lining the walls, filled top to bottom with stacks of old novels and textbooks. Colorful modern paintings decorate the walls, which are admittedly much taller than his own, and cozy lighting fills every room in the space.

Minho bows a little, handing you a bottle, and you smile in amusement as you scan the contents. A single liter of Diet Coke.

“You remembered,” you say, endeared by the simple action.

“So you don’t waste your calories,” he replies with a small smile, echoing the statement you told him so many months ago.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” you tell him. Minho takes note of the shakiness in your voice, a little relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is. It’s certainly not a matter of picking up where you left off when you both have your walls up like this, but he prefers the silence to your absence any day.

You disappear into the kitchen, pouring both of you glasses of Diet Coke as Minho settles on the edge of the couch. He folds his hands in his lap and blinks nervously, trying so hard to remember everything he’s wanted to confess to you since returning here. But in this proximity to you, in your own home, everything suddenly seems like a bad idea. He feels dramatic, overbearing, trying to make sense of this. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

When you return, Minho takes a deep breath, quietly thanking you for the beverage when you place it on the coffee table in front of him. And then as he feared, a silence washes over both of you.

You take a sip of your coke, waiting for him to speak, and similarly, he waits for you. You’d forgotten, briefly. That Minho is inherently a quiet guy. It’d been you who brought his walls down, challenged him to a game of pool and even instigated the argument when he told Jisung to leave the bar. As he blinks at you a few times, you realize it may be his way of asking you to do it again, to help him feel comfortable again.

“Your Italian food is on par with your chicken wings,” you say to him, finally breaking the silence. “Think you need to add shrimp scampi to your bar menu.”

Minho smiles, and the whole room seems to brighten up when he does. His eyes turn to little crescents, his grin flashing you the skewed front teeth you were so endeared by when you first met him. His presence feels like the bar did- safe, familiar.

“It’s not my best work,” he replies. “It’s just a temporary job. But I do have a sous chef here, which is a plus.”

“The one with the nice smile? I know, he almost kicked me out for asking to see you. He’s very deceiving.”

You and Minho share laughter, recalling how Seungmin yelled at you several times at the restaurant today. When your laughter dies down, he swallows nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“Thanks for… giving your compliments today,” he says. He really wants to say ‘thank you for seeing me again’.

“I knew I recognized you,” you say back to him. “I was surprised to see you here in the city. I guess I just wanted some confirmation it was really you.”

“It’s me,” Minho says sheepishly. You smile at him, feeling a little sorry at the way his tone sounds so unsure.

“What are you doing in the city, anyway?” You ask.

Minho isn’t sure what to say. In an alternate timeline, he’d like to tell you he came for you. But he knows he’ll come off as a creep, and the last thing he wants is to lose you again.

“Just wanted a break from the suburbs,” he settles on saying.

“Do you like it?”

He toys with a frayed hem on the throw pillow beside him, shaking his head a little hesitantly.

“If I say no, you’ll think less of me.”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, not wanting you to think he came here for you to pity him. In fact, the reality is quite the opposite.

“I would never think less of you,” you assure him with a gentle smile. “You’re allowed to have your opinions.”

Minho nods, not entertaining the subject anymore.

“How’s the bar?”

“It’s okay,” Minho says, sighing a little as he thinks back to recent events. “It was robbed just the other night.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say to him with widened eyes. “Is everyone… okay?”

“Everyone’s okay,” he affirms. “Just lost some money. I’m working with the police on it, so hopefully we’ll have someone arrested if we’re lucky.”

You nod at his words, feeling disheartened at the mention of the robbery. Although you’re not particularly fond of the suburbs, the bar is a sacred space for you, and knowing he and the staff were put in that situation makes you uneasy.

“How’s work?” Minho asks, and you chuckle at the question.

“Nothing special. I did get a promotion last month, but I’m only making a few dollars more than I was last time we met. Nothing to write home about.”

“We’ll congratulations anyway,” Minho says, raising his glass of Diet Coke. “Well deserved.”

“Thank you,” you say, clinking your glass against his and letting the cool carbonated beverage soothe the nerves still present in your demeanor.

“Oh, you’ll never believe it! I ran into Jisung out here,” you say to Minho with a scoff. “He tried to pursue me again, the bastard. I’m pretty sure he was even wearing a wedding ring this time. I had to tell him I found out he was married on-”

“On Google,” Minho finishes your sentence. “He told me.”

“You saw him too?”

“Yeah, just the other day. He’s just as obnoxious as he was three months ago.”

You smile at Minho, briefly reminded of the way you were able to bond with him as a result of Jisung’s antics.

“I never got to say thank you,” you say a little quietly, averting his gaze. “For that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there to help me.”

He looks down, pondering your words for a moment.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. Trust me. But I figured…” your voice trails off, trying desperately to decipher how to word your sentiment politely.

“Figured what?” He says, looking back up at you. His eyes tremble a little in anticipation for your reply.

“I figured we’re just different people.”

Minho nods, pursing his lips together as he replays your words.

“And by that you mean that you’re a successful member of the city, and I’m just a bartender.”

Your face drops at his words, suddenly panicked that he’s come here because he’s angry at you. You would never think less of him for being a bartender- hell, you wouldn’t even think less of him if he was unemployed. You’re not sure you could think less of him if you tried.

“That’s not what I mean. And you know that.”

Minho narrows his eyes a little, challenging you.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you begin, sighing before continuing to speak. “That I’m everything you despise. I let people down. I’m not inherently a good person, the way you are. You know how I stormed in there demanding a phone charger? Fighting you at the bar because you wouldn’t let me sleep with a married man? That’s the kind of person I am. I’m impatient, and naive and I’m nothing like the girls you’re used to.”

“How do you know what I’m used to?”

“Come on, Minho,” you say, and the conversation finally begins to sound a little more natural between the two of you. “You said it yourself- I’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible. Who’s to say that doesn’t apply to people, too?”

“You’re nothing like you say you are,” Minho interrupts, and you can feel yourself getting frustrated at his words.

“How would you know that? Because you slept with me in a bar? I’m not this dream girl you think I am, Minho. I was looking out for you. You deserve better.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, swirling Coke around in his cup and watching the bubbles fizzle away as they hit the rim of the glass. He shakes his head a little to himself, and then he begins to speak again.

“You want to know why I came out here again?”

You remain silent, already knowing what he’s going to say. But to your surprise, his answer is a little more complex.

“I came out here because I wanted to. I wanted to work as a chef again. I wanted new colleagues, I wanted a different view and I was tired of being stuck in that little bar.”

You don’t reply to his statement, waiting for him to continue.

“And do you know why finding you was something I held onto so dearly?”

“Why?” You ask, the question coming out in a shaky tone. He takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I wanted to thank you. I wanted to tell you all about it. To tell you that you were right- sometimes, simple isn’t better. Sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again. I wouldn’t have done any of this if someone really cool didn’t walk into my bar and make it clear to me. I guess part of me just hoped you were changed by it, too.”

Your expression softens at his words, feeling awful for the way this conversation has gone so far. It’s not your intention to hurt him- in fact, you feel particularly protective of Minho.

“I came looking for you, too,” you say after a moment of silence, and Minho perks up at your words.

“You did?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I visited your bar. Twice since that night. I asked for you both times. The guy said you weren’t there anymore. I think after the second time, I took it as a sign to stop trying.”

“Jeongin?” Minho says, furrowing his brows together in visible confusion.

“He was blonde, a little small. Freckles.”

“Felix,” Minho says, chuckling lightly. “He’s a new hire. Jeongin would’ve told you differently. I have co-ownership with him now.”

You nod, folding your hands in your lap.

“I was changed by it,” you say, finally letting your gaze meet his. “I never stopped thinking about you. But it scares me. In so many ways, you’re everything I tried to run from when I left the suburbs. I don’t think I was ever good enough for any of it- all I cared about was money, and my work and finding an apartment with a nice enough view of the city. I didn’t care about the memories I made there, or that there’s genuinely good people. I didn’t even visit my parents very often. You reminded me that there’s more to it than just that. There’s more to the past than its negative aspects. So thank you, too.”

Minho is quiet for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do- how to keep you around. But in this moment, it’s clear to him- he has to let you go. He said what he had to say. He’s done the search, all three months of it, and he found you. He validated his own emotions and made sense of yours- you were just as changed by it as he was. But maybe that’s enough- perhaps the rest is just wishful thinking.

“Looks like we felt the same about it, then,” he says with a small smile, sitting up from the sofa and making his way to peer out the large glass window in your living room.

“And by the way, you definitely succeeded with the view out here. Mine’s just a brick wall.”

You chuckle, making your way over to the window and standing next to him to take in the view, too.

“It’s nice, right? All of the east side is visible from up here.”

“See that down there?” Minho points. “Visited that dive bar the other day. It sucks if you’re wondering.”

“CJ’s? Yeah, it’s kind of a shithole. They don’t even serve Diet Coke.”

Minho chuckles lightly, a little sadness evident in his tone.

“You know, maybe if you swung by and fixed their little arcade game, they’d supply you some. Probably something to do with all the ABC’s.”

“The what?” You query, furrowing your brows together and chuckling as he speaks.

“The little gidgets inside. You know, with the pins.”

You pause to think for a moment, mentally mapping out the circuit inside.

“The EPROMs,” you say finally.

Minho feels his breath hitch in his throat as you utter the acronym. It sounds so unfamiliar, and yet so familiar to him at the same time. He suddenly remembers that night, in the spare room, hearing you say it for the first time.

“The what?” He replies gently, not removing his gaze from the window.

“The EPROMs,” you clarify, a little louder this time.

“Say it again,” Minho breathes, a small smile painted on his face now.

“EPROMs?” You question, turning to face him, visibly confused.

“Yeah, those. What’s it stand for, anyway?” Minho finally asks, turning to face you. You face him, too, endeared by the curiosity he’s displayed for that game repair since the first night you met.

“Erasable programmable read-only memory,” you explain, aware of how close he is in proximity to you now. His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up again, his plump lips pulling into a knowing smile as you speak. He knows he’s wandering into dangerous territory now, but he can’t help it- not when it’s you who makes him feel like this.

“God, it sounds so sexy when you say it,” Minho says sheepishly.

And he knows he shouldn’t entertain it- he’s well aware that his intention is to walk out of here and get on with his life, comfortable with the knowledge that you’d sought him out, too. But he can’t help himself when you’re this close to him, talking circuit repair so intelligently and erotically.

So without another question to stutter, or a fight to be had, he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you one last time.

You don’t protest the action, instantly tangling your hands in his tresses and reciprocating with the same hungry, passionate kisses he delivers. Maybe it’s the long hair, or the ripped jeans, but part of you also wonders if he’s been dying to kiss you tonight as badly as you’ve been craving him. The flavor is reminiscent of the bar to you, on that pool table like the first time you kissed him. He tastes like mint, enveloping your tongue with hints of Diet Coke while he nibbles on your bottom lip between kisses.

Without any sort of end goal in mind, your hands snake down to his collared shirt, which you tug on hungrily, and then begin to push off his torso. Minho smiles into the kiss, reaffirmed that you want him just the same, and he pulls away momentarily to complete the task of pulling off his button down.

Underneath, his striped t-shirt is cut off generously at the shoulders, completely exposing his arms to you. You almost gasp at the sight of his toned arms jutting out, veins running along his forearms and flexing with each movement. Minho chuckles softly when he takes notice, amused at your reaction.

When his button down shirt is fully off, he kisses you again, hands finding their way to your waist as he pushes himself against you, desperate to feel you against him. You walk backwards, cupping his face between your hands and leading him toward your bedroom.

For a fleeting moment, you’re nervous to take it any further than this, the last person you slept with being Minho himself. You can’t remember which undergarments you wore, or what your bedroom decor looks like to anyone except yourself. But Minho’s kisses shut you up, his lips moving against yours with desire and passion, and you don’t want to do anything except this, right here.

When you’ve made it to the bed, you pull away, crossing your arms over your torso and pulling your sweater off over your head. You’re in a lacy black bra, you realize, because of course you thought to dress for him. Minho blinks a few times, crossing his own arms over his torso and finally pulling his shirt over his head.

It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Minho without his shirt before- he wore that white button down in the bar, only allowing you to see a generous amount of his collarbones. But standing in front of you like this, he’s breathtaking, his toned torso and his sharp collar bones complementing his sculpted thighs and arms so perfectly.

When he takes notice of you staring at him, one hand flies down to his mid-torso, where he spreads a palm out over the skin, seemingly in an attempt to cover something. You take one step forward, gently placing a hand over his and moving it so that his torso is exposed again. And across his tanned skin, a pale pink scar catches your eye, not very noticeable from your previous distance, but definitely perceptible when you observe his body long enough.

“Minho,” you coo, running your hand along the scar and tracing it with your fingertips. “You’re beautiful,” you say to him after a moment, smiling up at him sincerely.

Minho’s heart almost stops in its place, overwhelmed with his emotions for you, to be here with you, the desire to make love to you eating away at his mind like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

And if it is, he’d die a happy man.

His lips crash against yours again, hands snaking down to your jeans, where he unbuttons them, your hands meeting his to help pull them down. While you take over, he unbuckles his belt, snaking the leather out from around his waist and undoing his buttons. It’s then that he pushes you gently against the bed, hoisting your legs up so that you’re at a comfortable angle, finally propping himself above you and working kisses down your neck. He nibbles your flesh between his teeth the way he did before, beginning to work purple bruises around your throat. And you let him, without protest, because you’re desperate for a reminder that he’s here, that he’s yours. Minho smiles against your neck when he feels you moan softly at the sensation, satisfied with the way you melt at his touch.

“Minho,” you call, and he brings his lips to press a chaste kiss to yours again.

“What is it, baby?” He coos gently, pressing a series of kisses to your lips before you speak again.

“I never should have left,” you reply, toying with a strand of his hair around your fingers in a pleading manner. Your chest is heavy with guilt, tears almost pricking at your eyes as he looms over you like this.

He chuckles softly, kissing you for a moment before grazing his lips over yours again, speaking just above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m right where you left me.”

And it’s your turn to kiss him, crashing your lips against his again as tears fall from the corners of your eyes. Minho takes notice when the salty taste of them dance along his tongue, kissing them back up your face and holding you a little closer to him. His hands wrap around the small of your back to find the clasp of your bra, skillfully undoing it with one hand and pulling away from you to discard it on the floor. It’s Minho’s turn to stare, running one hand down your clavicles until he’s grazing your nipples with his fingers.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat with anticipation, before he finally dips his middle finger down over one of your hardened nipples, earning a stifled gasp from you. He works little circles over your nipple with one finger, the gentle stimulation making you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you again.

And then he moves back to your neck, kissing over the bruises he sucked into your flesh, trailing lower and lower until he’s just above your breasts. You look down at him with bated breath, almost clenching at the way his lips exhale little breaths against your nipples, making them even harder. With his eyes on yours, he finally lowers himself, latching both lips around your breast and sucking.

Your back arches up into him instinctively, the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sending divine shivers up your spine. In a sudden motion, his tongue swirls around your bud, the cold sensation causing you to moan fervently. He smiles with your flesh between his teeth, while your hands tangle themselves in his hair and massage him encouragingly.

It feels so primal, so natural to have his mouth all over you, your legs pressing together to calm the ache between your legs. He takes his time on one breast, only coming up to press a kiss in the valley of your breasts and then moving to give attention to the other one. You could stay here for hours, like this, if it wasn’t for the pulsing reminder in your groin that you want to feel him inside of you.

“Please,” you say gently, pressing your legs together and squeezing in efforts to relieve yourself.

Minho chuckles softly, letting go from your nipple with a gentle sucking sound, a string of spit hanging from his lips as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

“I want to feel you inside me again,” you admit shyly, tenderly running your nails along the back of his neck. Minho’s lips meet yours again, and his hands quickly find their way to the hem of your underwear, sliding them down and pulling away to discard them on the floor.

He’s promptly reminded of how needy and vocal you are, smiling down at you as you pull his face back to yours and swirl your tongue around his. But truth be told, he’s just as needy as you are, equally reminded of how much he’s touched himself to the thought of this and secretly prayed he’d be able to make love to you again. And now here, his lips on yours, it’s finally happening, his rock-hard erection proof that it’s always been you.

As you arch up into him, one leg wrapping around his to push him even closer against you, your hand snakes down to his erection, palming him through his boxers. Minho groans at the contact, his lips parting a little as he winces in pleasure.

“You’re so hard,” you say with a smile, pleased at his evidently equal desperation for you.

“All for you,” Minho replies, running one hand down your stomach to rub little circles on your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure.

“Ah- fuck,” you breathe out, contorting against him, desperate for him to fill you up. “Please, Minho, want to feel you inside me,” you pant against him, pleading for the second time now.

He remains like that for a moment, working little circles onto your clit as he observes the way your eyebrows arch up in pleasure.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asks, cocking his head with yours as you grasp his forearm.

“Yes, please,” you reply, trying your best to stave off your orgasm until he’s inside of you.

And without teasing you any further, Minho pulls away from you to slide off his boxers, his cock springing up against his abdomen in anticipation for you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, in awe at the sight as he tosses his boxers aside and leans down to kiss you again.

“Lay down,” Minho orders sweetly, and you do as you’re told, exhaling once to calm your steadily beating pulse.

“Is this still okay?” Minho asks, caressing your shoulder with concern as you wait for his next move.

“Yes,” you say, giving a half smile to him when he rubs his thumb along your cheek lovingly. He smiles back at you, giving one small peck to your lips before hoisting himself up and wrapping one hand around his cock.

You watch as Minho wraps his slender fingers around the base of his cock, pumping a few times before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. The sensation causes him to breathe a few gasps into your mouth, Minho also trying his best to stave his release until he’s inside of you.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?” He asks, breaking away to part your thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But you don’t- not when you’re this wet for him, this desperate to finally feel him fill you up again, like you’ve fantasized for so long.

A strand of his hair falls into his face as he finally guides his cock inside of you, rubbing your clit as he thrusts in fully and bottoms out. You gasp at his size, almost having forgotten just how thick he is, the stretch making your head spin with pleasure. When he gauges your reaction, he begins to move with you slowly, giving gentle thrusts while you wrap your arms around his back.

The bed creaks as he moves in and out of your sopping pussy, emitting lewd sloshing sounds as he leans down to kiss you, your tongues and mouths doing much of the same. You can hardly kiss him back, your lips already dribbling strings of drool in fucked-out satisfaction from him filling you up like this.

“Fuck… baby… you’re so tight,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Feels so good,” you breathe back, gripping his shoulder a little bit when he picks up his pace. “No one fucks me the way you do,” you say to him, and his cock twitches inside of you at the admission.

“Fuck,” Minho says again. “I dreamt of you for so long,”

“Me too,” you say, reaching up to move a stray piece of hair out from in front of his eyes between your heavy breathing. “I wish I came looking for you again. God, I wasted so much time.”

Minho kisses you, burying his lips in the crook of your neck to caress the bruises he’s already left.

“I never stopped searching for you,” he breathes out against your skin. “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

His words make your heart flutter as he continues to thrust in and out of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust now. Your moans get louder as he picks up the pace, digging his nails into your waist as he holds you in place. Between kisses, he caresses your thigh with his hand, positioning it up and bending your leg at the knee beside him. You moan instantly at the new angle, his length caressing every inch of your pussy, his girth stretching you out with every thrust inside of you and tickling your pulsing clit as he moves against your hips.

“Good girl,” Minho says, smiling against you as he kisses you. “Take me so well.”

Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts a little faster now, the rhythmic motion sending shivers up your spine.

“I’m close,” you breathe out, and judging by the way Minho’s cock twitches inside of you, he is too.

“Will you do that thing again?” You ask in a shaky voice between moans, and Minho lets out a breathy chuckle.

“What thing, baby?”

But he knows very well what you’re referring to, having replayed it in his head every time he got off without you. You don’t respond to him, instead intertwining his hand in yours and bringing it down to your abdomen, where you sprawl his palm across your navel and give it a little push. Minho groans at the feeling of your warm abdomen under his palm, remembering the way you reacted last time. And he’s eager to please you, to do it exactly how you liked it before.

Without teasing you any further, Minho presses down on your stomach, observing the way you moan when he does, and then thrusts a little faster. He can feel his length sliding in and out of you under his touch, locking his gaze on the bulge in your abdomen that appears with every thrust.

“Min, I’m so close,” you say, gasping desperately and digging your nails into his back.

He presses down a little harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and moving even faster, moaning every time he can feel himself move against your abdomen.

And as he brings his lips up to meet yours, you finally let go around him, making a mess of your sheets as you cum around his cock, your clit pulsing in syncopation with your entrance as he fucks you through your orgasm. Minho finishes just seconds after, emptying his milky white release inside of you, both your juices spilling into each other and coating the bed in your arousal. He doesn’t pull out immediately, slowing his thrusts for a few minutes as he kisses you much gentler this time, your lips still glistening with the exchange of saliva.

When he feels you shiver against him, Minho finally slides out, turning over to lay on his back and catch his breath. The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and wiping beads of sweat off your forehead as you do. After a moment of silence, he turns to you again, a worried expression on his face.

“I promise I didn’t come here to have sex with you,” Minho says. “I wasn’t lying about wanting to tell you all about it. I guess I just happened to-”

“Min, I know,” you say with a small smile. “I didn’t think that’s why you came here.”

He lets out a silent chuckle, and you mirror the action, smiling back at him before laughing silently. The two of you remain sore and wearied, your languid bodies a comfortable distance away from each other on the soiled duvet.

Still, Minho extends a hand out from beside you, palm facing up and shifting his gaze onto yours out of his peripheral vision.

Your hand meets his, intertwining your fingers together, the delicate embrace a reminder that he’s here, right where you left him.

“Can’t you just stay another week?” you say to Minho, leaning down to press another kiss to his already swollen lips.

You lie on top of him as he lays back on your couch, his hands tucking strands of hair behind your ear as he smiles up at you.

“It’s just for a little bit, I promise. I just have some unfinished business out there.”

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say in a whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your fingertip.

“You won’t lose me,” Minho replies, his tone turning serious at your words. “You’ll never lose me.”

“What am I going to do without you?” You ask him, feeling yourself grow increasingly more panicked at the thought of being away from him again. You’ve spent the better part of three months searching for each other, desperate for some closure to this fleeting thing- and now he’s leaving, and you can’t help but feel like you’re doing something wrong by letting him leave like this.

“You’re going to be the woman you always have been,” Minho says with a smile, stroking your hair gently. “You’re going to work your job, and fix things and be absolutely remarkable wherever you go. And I’m going to finalize a few things out there and then meet you right back here in the city. And we’ll lie on this couch, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”

You smile at him through pricking tears, feeling them begin to fall as he reaches a thumb up to wipe them off your cheek.

“Hey,” Minho says to you reassuringly. “You know- I was thinking a lot about the bar.”

You nod at him, trying to hold back the rest of your tears as he speaks.

“We have contract negotiations coming up next month. And I was thinking of… maybe…handing it off to Jeongin.”

You sit up a little, eyes widening at his words.

“Complete ownership? But you love that bar, Min.”

He shrugs a little, blinking a few times as he pauses.

“I want to cook. And I think being out here made me realize I need a change of pace again.”

“You mean like… moving out here? To the city?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, throwing his head back a little before meeting your gaze again.

“Maybe. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”

You chuckle too now, cupping his face in your hands as you sit up to look at him.

“You know,” you begin, thinking for a second before continuing to speak. “This really cool bartender told me once that sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again.”

His lips flicker down to your smile and back up to your eyes as you speak, a visible sparkle in your pupils as you look down at him. “Whatever you decide to do back there, I’m here with you when you go forward again. As a bartender, or a chef, or whatever you decide. I’ll be right where you left me.”

And he doesn’t have to ask you twice, knowing in his heart, you’re already here with him- every step of the way.

Minho leaves bright and early that morning, grasping your hand firmly in his as you make your way down the concrete steps of your apartment building to where his car is parked.

He looks more angelic than you’ve ever seen him, his smile illuminating the space around you as he holds you in his gentle embrace on the sidewalk. The two of you say nothing, only speaking through the tender touches of your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, face tucked in the crook of his neck as he holds you. He presses kisses to the top of your head, reminding you through hushed whispers that he’ll be back as soon as possible. And you know he will, feeling completely enveloped in his loving trust as he holds you, as he promises not to lose you again.

When he pulls away to look into your eyes, tears prick at the corners of your eyes for the third time this morning, and Minho chuckles lightly, reaching up to wipe them away with his thumb.

Before he can say anything, he feels it, finally.

The gentle caress of droplets on his face- not your tears, not his, but the sky above, showering you with little raindrops for the first time in three months and some days.

At first, Minho thinks he might be hallucinating it, when he looks up to squint his eyes back at the cloudy sky. You do the same, feeling the familiar kiss of raindrops on your skin. And then, as if the sky’s taking notice, it begins to pour, warm rain showering you both in the hazy atmosphere of the city sidewalk.

Minho laughs up at the sky, shaking his now damp hair as he looks down at you again. All this time he’s waited for the rain, thinking maybe he’d imagined it that night in the bar- the same night he ran into you. But as the raindrops graze his skin and glisten under the light of the city, he realizes it was very much real, as are you, standing right here in his arms. And like everything falls into place, so does the rain over the city, washing away the doubts he held onto for so long.

“It’s finally raining!” Minho exclaims, holding you closer to him as he tilts his face up to the sky again.

You watch him in admiration, laughing at the way he embraces the sudden downpour, also remembering the first night you met him because of the storm like this.

The city-dwellers around you begin to seek shelter under the cement roofs of the high rises, but you remain there on the sidewalk, warm in each other's embraces, content with the sudden turn of the weather. When he looks back down at you, his hair is now completely soaked, stringy pieces falling into his face as he continues to laugh.

“Minho,” you say through gentle laughter of your own. The rain comes down violently now, drenching the two of you as he holds you closer to him.

“Where have you been all my life?”

And he smiles down at you, the familiar beam of his giggle instilling the same safety and comfort as the first night you met in his bar.

“Right here,” Minho replies, leaning in to kiss you again.

“I’ve always been here.”

This time, you make no effort to escape the rain, comfortable in the way it looms over the city, much like how Minho looms over you- fortuitous, and with promises of new beginnings.

#skz smut #Lee know #Lee know smut #Lee know fic #stray kids hard hours #skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #Lee minho #lee know scenarios #Lee know x reader #fanfic #smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #Spotify

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nessianweek · 4 months ago

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✷ Announcing Nessian Week 2024! ✷

❤️‍🔥 Join us in celebrating Prythian's hottest couple for the fourth year in a row! ❤️‍🔥

Come celebrate Nesta and Cassian with us from September 15 through September 22, 2024! Feel free to participate in any way you can, from headcanons, fanart, moodboards, playlists, fics, drabbles…. no matter how big or small, anything celebrating Nessian is welcome! Please note this event will be happening on Tumblr, AO3, and Instagram only.

Please tag @nessianweek and use the tag #nessianweek2024 to spread the word! If you're posting on Instagram, please tag @/nessianweek2024!

You can find Nessian Week 2023's masterlist here, Nessian Week 2022's masterlist here, and Nessian Week 2021's masterlist here!

This year's prompts are as follows:

Day One: Banter ✷ One of our favorite things about Nesta and Cassian's relationship is their banter. They're always ready to go back and forth with one another, and we're always ready to see it. Show us your favorite Nessian banter, or come up with your own!

Day Two: Yearning ✷ Nesta and Cassian didn't immediately act on their feelings for one another, despite how badly we wanted them to. How do you see them handling all that longing?

Day Three: Symphony ✷ Music has played such an important role in Nesta and Cassian's relationship. What does that mean to you?

Day Four: Alternate Universe ✷ What do you think Nesta and Cassian's lives would look like outside of canon? How would they live in the modern world, a completely different fantasy world, or within the plot of your favorite book or movie? [Non-Canon AUs requested]

Day Five: Behind Closed Doors ✷ Nesta and Cassian's relationship when they're alone can be very different from what they show the world. How do you see them behaving behind closed doors?

Day Six: Legends & Destiny ✷ As Lady Death and the Lord of Bloodshed, Nesta and Cassian were destined for one another. What does their predestined love mean to you? How do you portray Lady Death and her Lord of Bloodshed?

Day Seven: Free Day ✷ Any topic of your choosing!

We look forward to seeing everything that you create for this event, and make sure to tag @nessianweek once the event starts! Thank you so much to everyone who has contributed to planning this event, with special shoutouts to @unhealthyfanobsession, @podemechamardek, @kale-theteaqueen, @talkfantasytome, @c-e-d-dreamer, @melphss, @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk, @separatist-apologist, @jsmelodies, @wishcamper, and @dustjacketmusings! Our lovely graphics were created/commissioned by @podemechamardek and the artwork was drawn by Pablo Souza (@/pablochmn).

Please contact this page if you have any questions about the event. We can't wait to see what you create to celebrate Nessian for the FOURTH YEAR RUNNING!

#NessianWeek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #pro nessian #cassian acotar #pro nesta archeron #pro cassian #pro cassian acotar

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sayornispress · 1 month ago

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Two author copies delivered! Both for @bropunzeling (AO3 here).

More photos and info under the cut!

I actually did my copies of these a while ago--both in February, one in 2024 and the other in 2023. collide the spaces that divide us was one of my earliest attempts at social media formatting, and one of the last books I ever made with my inkjet printer. I did end up fixing a few things on that one's typeset, but it's nearly identical to my first copy. You may also notice in the photos that I chopped off a bit too much off the edge--I didn't yet know how to use my guillotine, and in all the time that's passed since then, it's become defunct (sharp enough to cut off a hand, but not sharp enough to cut through a stack of paper lol)

It's neat to see such a clear example of how much I've improved as a bookbinder in a year and a half--my copy on the left, author's on the right:

Also, a comparison of color ink (left) vs color laser (right):

Like this, it's easy to see how much more vibrant color toner is than ink. Ink works much better for complex images, but since I don't print a lot of photos, but do make a lot of social media typesets, this works much much better for my purposes.

Soon after that, I bought a black-only laser printer and had a whole new set of challenges. It was in this era of printing that I made only fools rush in. It has one of my most complex title pages to date, as they're not really my forte.

Below are my copy, the title page, and an example of how I did texts in this particular typeset.

My copy has a cloth spine and a different cloth as the cover, with a strip from the endpapers to hide my sins act as a bridge between them. This is one of the binds from last Binderary that I'm most proud of.

The title page is in several different pieces--sort of jigsaw-puzzled together from vectors, Google Drawings, and a few different fonts.

Black-toner-only printing meant adjusting how I did social media formatting, and this is one of my favorite ways I solved that problem. I like the simple, almost minimalist formatting that sets the texts apart but doesn't steal the show.

I'd been meaning to offer author copies for these books for as long as I'd had them, but it's hard to understate how little I wanted to use my inkjet once I got a laser XD It's both slower and more expensive to use an inkjet, so as soon as I got my color laser printer set up, I sent the DM!

I organize my handbound fics by ship--that is, every ship has a set spine cloth and title color--so one of my favorite things about author copies is that I get to be a little more creative about covers!

#my binds #fanbinding #author copy #bropunzeling #collide the spaces that divide us #only fools rush in #hockey rpf #mattdrai #binderary 2023 #binderary 2024

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totaly-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Suprise Party

Katie McCabe x reader fic

-> It is Katie's Birthday but reader isn't one to party

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The 21st of September 2023, otherwise known as your girlfriend's 28th Birthday. In your relationship Katie was the outgoing one, which was not really a surprise to anyone – she liked to refer to you as her ‘better half’ because she liked the differences between you.

While she was always up to party, you would much rather stay at home and read a book or catch up on your TV shows. Meeting new people? No problem for Katie, always making quick acquaintances and friends, introducing you straight after: “Hi, I’m Katie, this is my amazing girlfriend Y/N – Nice to meet you!” By now it was well well-rehearsed sentence, always coming out when you were her date to a function she had to attend.

The Irishwoman had no problem with not throwing a big party for her birthday, after all, it would only be a year till the next one, but you knew that her friends liked to celebrate with her. So in secret, you had contacted Leah and Steph, the two footballers helping you set up a little something in one of Katie's favorite restaurants for the evening.

The morning, however, was all yours. It was a weird situation for Katie, coming back from the World Cup and into the new season, not having much of a preseason, and already having played two Champions League games, which resulted in Arsenal not going further. So today, you had planned a cozy morning, before Katie could party all she wanted, safe with her arsenal teammates – knowing you were waiting for her at home.

So here you were, at seven in the morning, making breakfast – in the form of a cake. It was covered in vanilla buttercream, and decorated with red hearts – the inside being red velvet. You were in a hurry, Katie’s normal schedule did not allow her to sleep past eight o clock, and even though she did not have training today, you knew she would be up – and it would be even earlier, when she could not feel you, next to her.

But with a cake in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other, you made your way to your shared bedroom. The soft morning sun was trying to get in through the window – after setting the cake down on your desk, you allowed it in, pulling the curtain aside, slowly.

Unhappy groans can be heard from somewhere on the bed. With a quiet giggle, you made quick work of jumping onto the bed, straddling the older woman. “Happy birthday to you!” A broad smile made its way onto your girlfriend's scrunched-up face.

After laying a gentle kiss between her eyebrows, Katie's face relaxed. “Happy Birthday to you!” Kiss on the left cheek.

“Happy Birthday dear best girlfriend I could have in the world.” Kiss on the right cheek, which was a little shaky, as she was laughing at how you had sped through your new name for her. “Happy birthday to you!”

She made kissie-noises at you, expectingly holding her face up – but upon not receiving a proper kiss, she started to pout. “Babyyy!” The pout intensified, when you hovered above her, a teasing smile on your face. “Not faiiir!” Her voice was deep and gravelly, having just woken up, sleep still deep in her eyes, so it was safe to say, that you were surprised when she promptly rolled you over, easily overpowering you (I mean, have you seen those arms).

“My turn.” Kissing your face all over.

“Hey! It’s your birthday!” By now the Irishwoman was wide awake

“Yeah it is – I want breakfast in bed”, and with that she pulled you closer, diving in for a kiss.

“I made cake!” an excited hand stopped her advances, leaving her shoulders to slump. Laughing she got off of you – with hurried steps you set the cake down between you, handing her a spoon.

Stuffing yourself full of cake at eight-thirty in the morning was a nice start to the day, but it didn’t stop there. After a lot of cuddling and staying in bed, you finally convinced your girlfriend to get out of bed and get ready. You had to compromise though; you would join her in the shower so that she would “allow” you to take her out. Would you have kept the pout on your face for just a second longer Katie would have broken, and both of you knew it.

Pottery painting.

That was your chosen activity – and even though the brunette looked and acted incredibly tough, you knew that she would like this. Katie had been dropping hints, always showing you TikToks of people doing it and cooing “Look how pretty their mugs are! They would be perfect for my breakfast, don’t you think?”

They turned out pretty nice, Katie having gone for flower designs, had been much faster and had done two mugs, while you had decorated one with mushrooms, flowers, and many more things. Now they just needed to be fired and you could pick them up.

Your afternoon was spent relaxing together until you told her to get ready. “But for what?” And back was the whining.

“You will see it then, baby.” And after a lot of moaning and you hurrying her, she was done. As an alibi for eating out together, you had gotten dressed as well.

“Why is it so empty?” Her confusion was evident when she only saw two parked cars at the location. “It’s the middle of the week baby, people are probably working.” She seemed to be happy enough with it, not questioning it, when you littered soft kisses on the back of her hands.

With quick steps, you held the door open for her, which got you a swat to the bum “Oy! That’s my job!” But it was quickly forgotten when she saw the decorations and her friends jumping out “Happy Birthday Katie!”

The brunette stood there for a second, not knowing how to react, before turning to you, her comfort person, and pulling you into a hug. Teary eyes pressed into the nape of your neck. “Thank you, baby.” With a soft smile, you pushed her into Leah’s awaiting arms.

“You’re ours now McCabe! You’ll see ya missus later. Say byeee!”

And with that, your girlfriend was pulled away by her friends. You waved her goodbye, earning you just another pout, Katie being sad that you were leaving her.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Katie called you, slurring slightly, asking if you could pick her up.

She was already outside of the establishment, together with Steph, who you dropped off at home.

An hour later you were cuddled up in bed, Katie pulling you as close to her as she possibly could. “Thank you – I know you don’t like things like that. I appreciate what you did for me.”

She could practically feel your face heating up on her chest “Well I didn’t do it alone Steph and-“ A kiss interrupted you, Katie shushing you. “Just take the compliment, baby.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by stephcatley and 44.331 others

katie_mccabe11: All my love to my incredible girlfriend. And thanks to all of you for the Birthday Wishes!

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #woso imagines #katie mc cabe x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe

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plor-bindery · 28 days ago

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Bound: Kinkuary ‘23 by wolfpants

Next up in my tour of binds I made for wolf: Kinkuary ‘23 by @wolfpants

When I first reached out to wolf to ask permission to bind their fic, I asked if there was anything in their fic that they wished they had bound. They mentioned their Kinkuary fics but immediately said "oh but that's impractical because it's a whole collection" or something to that effect, which of course I took as a challenge. (Authors, be warned. I will almost certainly bind the thing you say I should not try to bind.)

Anyone who is wisely subscribed to wolf's works on AO3 probably had the same delightful experience as I did throughout February 2023: namely, waking daily to a little notification that there was a small kinky gem awaiting consumption at one's leisure. Wolf writes sex incredibly well: the viscerality and immediacy of it, but also the thoughts and turn-ons and how it lights up each character's brain differently. They have a gift for making me love tropes and kinks I might not ever think to read or write otherwise.

All that being said, I felt slightly weird about being like HERE IS A BOOK OF YOUR KINK THAT SAYS KINK ON THE SPINE so (as wolf has noted) I went all Victorian and made a dust jacket to cover up the bind if wolf ever wants to make it look a lot more innocent than it is.

So many firsts in this one for me: first dust jacket, first index, first collection of fics, first table of contents... It was a blast from start to finish and I learned SO MUCH.

Materials and process chat under the cut.

Materials:

Ye olde wooqu bookcloth off Amazon, HTV vinyl, 24 lb cream letter (wrong grain, forgive me) folios, machine-made endbands, black cardstock end papers.

The dust jacket is probably the only newish thing for me: I did a print using Staples' online service (which probably contributed to my choices because I also use this service for actual work things...) It was a poster print on matte paper.

Process:

This was a pretty straightforward bind but the typeset was full of learning curves. I use InDesign for typesetting and figured out how to set up a TOC and index. Wolf is a GREAT tagger so once I realized I'd either have a seven-page run of front matter listing the tags for each fic, or an index condensing them down, it was a no-brainer. And because wolf is so brilliant with tags, this led to my favorite index entries ever under Draco's listing (see photo.) I also figured out how to use styles to make every story have a header of its title, etc.

The great artwork of Eros is from rawpixel.

The other new thing for me was, of course, the dust jacket. I was disappointed to realize I'd messed up the measurements somehow once I printed, but it was close enough, so I went with it. I tried to rub some beeswax into the cover to help preserve it a bit but not sure it did much. If I were doing it again now, I'd use some Mod Podge matte aerosol fixative.

The dust jacket artwork is from the Smithsonian online collection of vintage seed catalogues. (S/O to my librarian spouse for the tip!) I created the spine matching the style as closely as I could, and then I went to town with silliness for the flaps. (This is probably a downside to having a fic writer also be a binder. I have trouble not writing something when the opportunity presents itself in the course of binding...)

The cover design is, of course, just a whole bunch of cursive X's. I'd hoped to have the title and author be a knockout from that pattern but it proved too hard to weed/read, so I ironed black HTV over the red pattern instead.

This is the only one of the set of four binds that I haven't (yet) bound for myself as a personal copy, but I think I will probably do so at some point! I was running out of black bookcloth at the time, so I prioritized wolf's copy for obvious reasons.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #case binding #wolfpants #kinkuary 23 #dust jacket #book jacket #drarry fanbinding #fanfic collection binding #stealth fanbinding

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lumosatnight · 11 months ago

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23 Fic Recs 2023!

This year has definitely been a year. I've devoured so many wonderful fics by so many amazing authors. Thank you @hprecfest for the super fun rec categories and for some fic inspiration! Here are 23 fics that I read and loved in 2023 (although some are quite a few years older) ordered by ship.

🌼 - fluff | 💔 - angst | 🔥 - smut

—

💫 DRARRY 💫

1. A post-canon fic

The Discreet Gentleman's Connection by pluto (gayrights420) [Drarry, E, 80.4k] 🌼🔥 I had the absolute pleasure of beta-ing for this fic, so when I say it is amazing, it truly is just that. Fast burn on the smut via Floo sex, slow burn on the in-person falling in love. Satisfying in all the best possible ways.

2. A fic that made me laugh

AITA for being "obsessed" with my childhood nemesis? by @rainstormradish [Drarry, M, 4.3k] 🌼📲 Draco on a reddit forum is hilarious just on its own, but the banter and formatting really bring this fic to life. Amazingly creative, had me in stitches!

3. A comfort fic

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered [Drarry, E, 12.0k] 💔⏳ An oldie but a goodie. I constantly find myself coming back to this fic and having my mind blown every single time. Time travel timey-wimey angst.

4. A fic with art

Dating Draco - A Visual Game by @itsphantasmagoria [Drarry, M, Video Game] 🌼🎮 This is a fic in video game form!! Amazing art and lovely story where YOU get to make the choices for Drarry's happily ever after.

5. A favorite series

The Journal of Dreadful Things by @lilbeanz [Drarry, G, 112k, WIP] 🌼📖 Hilarious, witty, AND COMES WITH ART!! Lilbeanz draws and writes a wonderfully delightful series starting from Draco's First Year. His characterization had me in hysterics. Book 4 is starting soon!

—

💫 COMMON SHIPS 💫

6. Fic with the hottest smut

Moonstruck by @prettyremus [Wolfstar, E, 3.8k] 🔥🐺 Found this gem while scrolling through the werewolf smut tag (don't judge me). I love the switch in dynamic with Sirius taming Remus's wolf through, ahem, rough sex.

7. An unreliable narrator fic

Sea of White by @dividawrites [Harrymort, E, 8.6k] 🔥🤍 Deliciously hot, creepy, and strangely sweet. Love their dynamic here, the unrestrained lust. Harrymort "die" and lose their memories, so, of course, then they bang.

8. A fic that made me cry

Far Apart, Far Away by @unmistakablyoatmeal [Hinny, minor Drarry, T, 1.6k] 💔💍 Infidelity angst has never been this good. I love the layers of emotion in this fic. Quick punchy sections that really pulled me in.

9. A Muggle(?) AU fic

Pleasant Hope by @ac1d6urn, @sinick [Snarry, E, 41.6k] 💔⛪️ Pastor Severus!! The angst, pining, and self-discovery in this fic is superb! I love the interwoven magic and detailed world-building of this little town.

—

💫 RARE PAIRS 💫

10. A fav amongst faves

The Last Trial of Peter Pettigrew by @sleepstxtic [Prongstail, M, 20.8k] 💔 🐀 Holy moly, this fic!!!! Is this my new favorite fic?? Possibly. The concept is brilliant, so creative and nuanced. The Peter character study using outsider perspectives is genius. Seamlessly balances canon and new scenes.

11. A pre-canon fic

Careless by @tax-onomic [Luther, E, 1.5k] 🔥🪞 Lucius/Arthur my beloved rare pair!! I am captain of the Luther ship, and Tax's fic hits all the right spots. The pining, the sniping, the prickly personalities with emotional vulnerability underneath! And all in the middle of a hot smut scene. Perfect.

12. A canon-compliant fic

Scottish by thepadfoots [Chedric, G, 749] 💔🌟 Lovely Cho character study focused around her Asian identity and the boy she loved.

13. A fic rated G (more like T though)

Lion-Hearted Girl by MinnieQuill (odainath) [Minmione, G, 4.5k] 💔🦁 I know the large age gap might scare some, but their relationship feels very organic in this fic. The setting is grim, but there is always hope in the darkness!

14. A fic rated T

You're So Vane by @patriceavril [Romelina, T, 6.8k] 🌼💄Romilda is so delightfully characterized, I was smiling through the entire fic. Angelina is the perfect foil (and love interest) to Romilda's attentions.

15. A rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics on AO3)

Snakeskin by @cntrl15 [Bellastoria, E, 3.7k] 🔥👠 Talk about a rare pair! Astoria/Bellatrix only has 2 tagged fics on AO3: this fic and the drabble I wrote based on it. But read this fic, and you'll see why I felt the need to write more in this universe.

16. A fest fic

Master of None by @nanneramma [Snormac, G, 5.5k] 🌼🧘 Severus is so wonderfully cranky, and Cormac is fine AF. The surprise pairing of 2023 that I never knew I needed and now I'm obsessed with!

17. An under-rated fic

Sun, Shadow, Shade by @naomijameston [Snuna, G, 700] 🌼☀️ Post-war fluff. Sunshine Luna is the perfect match for sullen Snape. A short and sweet fic for this underrated ship.

18. A canon-divergent fic

but somebody's gotta do it by nocturn [Pangulus, T, 920] 😄🧟‍♂️ This fic will make you say WTF but also huh, okay that totally works. The concept is WILD but Lyra executes it wonderfully. Pansy drags Regulus out of the inferi lake and they flirt a little while he gets de-corpsified lol.

—

💫 POLY SHIPS 💫

19. A dark fic

In his embrace by @loneamaryllis [Snarrymort, het!Snarry, E, 48k] ⚡️👀 Dark and dirty but so so good. A Voldemort Wins AU where fem!Harry is taken as prisoner. Snape's mindset as he tries to save her (and is forced to rape her) is so twisted and mesmerizing. Mind the tags!

20. A thought-provoking fic

Icarus by @thistlecatfics [Millvansy, M, 20.0k] 💔🍾 War trauma, addiction, codependency! This fic is messy with emotions but has a strong, beating heart underneath. I am in love with Parvati as she deals with Pansy's addiction and Millicent's denial — three beautiful, imperfect girls.

21. A holiday fic

A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose [Dronarry, E, 17.0k] 🔥⛱ HOLY FREAKING FUCK!! The sexual tension in this fic is off the freaking charts. Drarry seducing Ron while on vacation in Portugal. Sign me the fuck up!

—

💫 GEN 💫

22. A favorite fic under 5k

The Scrunchie by @saintsenara [Lightning Era Girls, G, 4.5k] 💖👭 Such a lovely look into some of the female background characters, all following the path of a single scrunchie. Lisa, Padma, Parvati, Hannah, Sally-Anne.

23. A fic with an ending I can't stop thinking about

Through the Middlegame by @sandervansunshine [Astoria & Peter, T, 6.6k] 💔♜ Devastating, heart-wrenching, tragic. 10000% would recommend. Kylee has already heard me screaming in the servers about this fic. If I could get a fic tattooed straight onto my brain, this would be it.

—

💫 BONUS RECS! 💫

A podfic

Plenitude by @wilfriede, written by eldritcher [Amelmione, M, 14 min] 💔🥀 Amazing voices, amazing music, amazing ambience. Wilfriede really brings one of my fav Hermione/Amelia Bones fics to life in this podfic!

A comic

War Prize by @mrviran [Snegulus, Reggiemort, M, Comic, WIP] ☠️🐍 The panels are awe-inspiring. I am HOOKED on this comic. The murder and the TENSION. Ughhhhh so good. I am so invested in Severus's arc!!

A self-rec (completely self-indulgent)

For I Have Found Salvation by @lumosatnight [Snarry, E, 7.1k] 🔥✝ My first time writing Snarry! Priest Kink, church sex, and blasphemous religious imagery. Priest Severus is oh-so-tempted by Teen Harry. So fun to write and even more fun to go back and read as a guilty pleasure.

—

⚡️ Want more fics to read? ⚡️

Try my rec tag: #lumosinthelibrary

Year in Reading, b-day oneshots, WLW Library

#2023 fic recs #hprecfest2023 #year in reading #hp rec list #drarry #wolfstar #harrymort #hinny #snarry #prongstail #minmione #snuna #dronarry #lumosinthelibrary #2023

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 year ago

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Jungkook fic recs 2023

In honor of Jungkook’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Jungkook fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (💜)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂.

⭐Two point Five: pt1, pt2, pt3 [series] by @bratkook // jjk x f.reader // handyman!jk, s2f2l // 🥵🥰

📝 Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. Right?

🗨️ This is also one of my all time favorites! 💎There is just something incredibly hot about handyman JK 🥵 It is so good, juicy, smutty and there’s comedy in it too! Please don’t be sleeping on this one.

⭐Caught Me by @jeongi // jjk x f.reader // roommate!au, e2l // 🥵😂

📝 You hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

🗨️ This is a fucking MASTERPIECE 💖 I love the banter and comedy, how JK gets on readers nerves 😂 I love absolutely every fucking thing about this and don’t get me started on the smut 🔥🔥 🔥

⭐The Forgotten Spaces [completed series] by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // college!au, dancer!au + e2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You’ve been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

🗨️ This is truly a masterpiece! The writing is perfection and the characters have so much soul, dimension, hurt and love. It is exceptional 👏🏾♥️ you just have to read this gem 💎

⭐McD*ckin by @jinned // jjk x f.reader // slice of life, fast food worker!jk, customer!reader, s2l // 🥵😂

📝 “So, if I’m so predictable,” you tease, running your finger along his clothed chest, “what am I going to do next?”

🗨️ I’d like to order a McChicken please 🙋🏾‍♀️🥵💦 this was funny, and actually made me laugh like a freak at some points 🤣 also the second hand embarrassment 😳🙈 It really cheered me up. I really liked the ordering menu when reader arrived 🙈🤭 also the ending, which was unexpected for me, but I quite liked it because it wasn’t “super happy and lovey dovey” like most of the stories I read, but still open 😊

⭐The Wedding Planners by @gukyi // jjk x f.reader // e2l, wedding!au // 🥰🥵🌩️

📝 Jeon Jungkook is three things: cocky, terrible, and your worst enemy. Then your best friend Hoseok gets engaged to the love of his life, and suddenly Jeon Jungkook is four things: cocky, terrible, your worst enemy, and the man you will be spending the next seven months with in order to plan your best friend’s wedding. And then, as if your life couldn’t get any shittier, you make the poor decision of sleeping with him on the first day of the job.

⭐In the Dark by @jksangelic // jjk x pjm x f.reader // threesome, f2l, mxm // 🥵😂

📝 “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

⭐Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates 💯 by @ot7always // jjk x f.reader // college!au, roommates!au // 🥰🥵

📝 What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

⭐Anpanman by @honeymoonjin // jjk x f.reader // bf2l // 🥵😂🥰

📝 Your best friend jungkook finally convinces you to seek therapy for your failing mental health. the only catch? the one therapist that’s within your price range is an alternative marriage counsellor, jung hoseok, and the only way jungkook managed to get you an appointment was by saying the two of you were married. will couples counselling actually be useful for your wellbeing, or will something that runs much deeper rise to the surface instead?

⭐The Boy with Galaxies in His Eyes by @oddinary4bts // jjk x reader // idol!au + fwb2l // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

🗨️ It is a long one, but damn is it worth it! It will take you for the very best rollercoaster ride of your life. So if you haven’t read this yet, what are you honestly doing with your life?

Borahae and happy birthday Kookie 💜 🥳 🎂

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kiestrokes · 1 year ago

Text

astringe | NSFW

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 2516 Genre: smut, porn without plot, friends to casual lovers. Warnings: artsy undercut Hyunjin from the last month + 2023 VMA's, college, art school, a variety of kissing, handholding, Hyunjin is confident, mentions of a fantasy book featuring a blood mage which is a nod to @chans-room and a lovely fic they are crafting up.

Sexually Explicit Content: consented choking (this is the main focus of this fic DO NOT read if you don't enjoy choking in theory or real life), sexual intercourse (penis in vagina) cowgirl, missionary, some breast play but not really, mutual orgasms. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Things get a little tense in the library when your best friend innocently discovers your secret asphyxiation kink. He just wanted a better angle of your neck, but now that he's found it, how could he not toy with you a little?

🗝️ Note: sooo this brain rot had consumed me all of my workday yesterday and was only intensified after that undercut reveal at the VMA's. Hyunjin has been a fucking menace lately and I just needed to yeet this my from my brain. So yea, enjoy 🙏🏼thank you to B for their lovely beta read 🖤

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted in this story.

Read it on Ao3!

You’re tucked away into what is arguably your favorite place on campus- a window alcove nestled between two rows of bookshelves stocked with the full collection of Oxford dictionaries that nobody ever uses anymore. Thanks to the invention of smartphones.

Your best friend, sketching away on the window sill across from you as the sun descends into twilight.

Hyunjin looks every part the troubled artist; a black sweater draped over his broad shoulders, dark hair pulled back nonchalantly, displaying his freshly shaved undercut, silver-rimmed glasses glinting under the fading halogen bulbs, a singular black nail pinching a bit of oil crayon as it glides across the thick paper of his sketchbook and rambling about how he needs to work on specific body parts more.

You’re immersed in your fantasy novel, humming along, without the notion that you are his current subject or what he is saying at this point. The handsome blood mage has captured the warrior princess and is taking her back to his-

Hyunjin’s hands are suddenly around your throat and your brain doesn't have time to stop the strangled moan that leaves your lips. Your book topples to the carpeted floor with a soft thud, announcing the loss of your place. You regain enough awareness to fight off your body's natural response to this type of touch. How you want to close your eyes, to sink into the hand cupping your neck, and relinquish control.

Hyunjin’s observant gaze catches it and a mischievous smirk marks his beautiful lips. Slowly he begins to toy with your neck, turning you at angles with a slight flex of his fingers and jut of his thumb into your jawbone. Pretending to sketch the slopes and hollows of your throat, his interest already elsewhere. He grasps the column suddenly and your spine snaps arching your chest forward with a moan, your own hands clawing helplessly at the denim of your pants.

“Shhh, you don’t want anyone to hear you.” His tongue toys with his top lip as he strokes your throat firmly with his thumb.

“Hyun-”

Hyunjin squeezes again, his gaze cutting to yours, the intensity of his eyes causing a whine to get caught in your chest.

He abandons the sketchbook and slips up next to you, his large thigh pressing into yours. His arm comes to rest between your breasts, rising and falling with your rapid breathing.

“Does this turn you on?”

You nod subtly. Head kicking back as he gifts you with another squeeze for answering his question honestly, biting your lip hard to keep all sounds locked behind your teeth.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” He looks at you from under his brow, smiling almost wickedly.

Your lip slips from your teeth and a whimper escapes, Hyunjin rewards you with a firm press to the sides of your neck. You can feel your pulse thrumming against the tips of his fingers, and your eyes close in an attempt to calm your breathing.

“Do you want me?” Hyunjin’s cool breath fans across your lashes.

“Yes,” You whisper.

Hyunjin’s hand slips up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your lip before tugging it down. Your eyes snap open to find his gaze focused on his hand, and your lips. Then he's standing suddenly, like nothing had just occurred between the two of you. Calmly collecting his things, and slipping them into his bag along with your book he retrieves from the floor.

Not a word is spoken until he looks down at you expectantly, “Let's go then.”

You stand up shakily and Hyunjin wraps your hand in his, tucking you into his side and turning the two of you toward the exit. Hyunjin smiles politely at the librarians as they wave goodbye on your way out. His other fingers interlocked with yours as he guides you toward the elevators.

Hyunjin had lucked out in having a solo artist suite above the library, your second favorite place on campus.

Inside the elevator, you watch him in the tin reflection. Hyunjin smirks back at you, slipping your hand into the pocket of his baggy pants, and pressing the tips of your fingers into his erection. You gasp and turn to look at him, but he’s already watching you. An unspoken acknowledgment that he wants you too.

Hyunjin’s eyes only intensified behind the magnification of his circular glasses. With all the metal surrounding you, you’re all too aware of the charged energy behind Hyunjin’s gaze. As if you were to reach out and touch the wall of the rattling lift, you would be electrocuted.

The elevator dings and you tear your eyes away from him. Hyunjin removes your hand from his pocket and pulls you out of the elevator, toward his room. He punches the code in with his free hand and gestures you inside, finally releasing your hand from his firm grasp. Inside, the room is the same as it always is; dimly lit by a single lamp by the bed, bathing everything in a buttery glow that softens the sharp edges of Hyunjin’s drawing desk and stacks of sketchbooks.

You slip your sandals off and pad unsurely over to the bed, toes pinching into the soft checkered rug at the foot of his bed. The heat of Hyunjin’s body alerts you that he has moved on from removing his shoes and hanging up his bag at the door.

You tilt your head to look up at him, just as his eyes meet yours his hand is on your throat again, stroking up before spreading firmly across your larynx.

Hyunjin’s lip's part when you press into his hand, asking for more, consenting to be choked. His lashes flutter in a soft laugh when you moan at the squeeze he bestows. He presses his front to your back, his other hand slipping under your sweater, across the soft skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“What a lovely little secret you kept from your best friend,” His lips ghost yours as he squeezes again, a groan erupting from your throat.

Hyunjin breathes a laugh as he shuffles you over to the bed, the front of his thighs pressing into the backs of yours as if you are a doll, marionetting you exactly where he wants.

Your knees bump into the end of the bed and Hyunjin’s hand slips from your throat, turning you around to face him and tossing you down on your back with a soft push. Your hands fist the soft gray fleece of his bedding, anchoring yourself to something, solidifying yourself in this moment.

He wastes no time ridding himself of his clothing, tugging off the sweater, dropping his pants and boxers to be shamelessly nude before you.

You gulp, gaze bouncing across the chiseled body of your best friend. Hyunjin smiles knowingly, everyone reacts to him this way, he just didn’t expect that switch to be so easily flipped on in you. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging out the tie and allowing his dark locks freedom. While his other hand rises to remove the glasses.

“No-”

He stops and shoots you a quizzical look, one that is punctuated with a paradoxically cute tilt of his head.

“Leave them on.”

He grins, “another kink.”

Hyunjin rolls his tongue between his lips, as he bends to tug you down the bed by your thighs. The squeak that escapes your mouth earns you an affectionate chuckle from him and you relax at the familiar sound.

This is your best friend, he’s not some inexperienced man pretending to be a dominant. Hyunjin smiles at you as he feels your muscles release underneath his hands.

The urgency with how he undressed himself is the polar opposite of how he unclothes you. His slim fingers slowly unbutton your pants, methodologically like he’s molding your body like clay.

Committing each touch to memory to draw later, each feeling, each sound. The snap of your button, the zip of your pants, you watch his eyes observing every subtlety.

He bites his bottom lip at the tilt of your hips, his eyes tracing how the light casts shadows over the mound of your cunt.

The darkened valleys that your hip bones create as he shifts the denim down your thighs. He tosses them off to accompany his discarded clothing, absently tracing the malleolus of your ankle as he nestles himself between your open thighs.

You move to sit up, thinking your shirt is next, but Hyunjin is quick- he pins you to the bed by your throat and the moan that escapes you is raw.

Hyunjin huffs at you, eyes lidding as the sound impacts him. With his hand firm on your throat, his other fingers dip into the band of your panties, middle finger diving into your slit. He moans himself, eyes closing in pleasure at discovering how wet you are.

Hyunjin releases you altogether, bending over to grab a condom from the crystal ashtray on his nightstand. He rolls it over his length, and everything picks up speed.

Suddenly your panties are gone and Hyunjin spears open your lower lips with one hand, slapping the head of his cock on your swollen clit. You writhe, crying out at the sensation as he circles it with his tip.

“Choking you makes you this wet?” Hyunjin’s eyes are on your face and you blink yours open at him, nodding. “Can you come from it?”

“I don’t know, no one has ever tried. Most guys get too lost in-” You break off and he tilts his head, eyebrows rising slyly.

His tip breaks your entrance, “-this pussy?”

You arch off the bed when he thrusts into your bowed body causing you both to moan loudly.

Hyunjin climbs onto the bed, thighs slipping under yours as he presses your pelvis together.

“Oh fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” He heaves out in half moan, half laugh.

“Hyunjin-” you grasp at his arms on your hips and his fierce gaze meets yours as one hand takes its place on your throat, thrusting in and out a few times.

“Squeezing me just like this-shit” his hand on your throat tightens in a way that makes your eyes roll back.

Combined with the sensation of his dick rubbing snuggly into the front wall of your core. He has you panting and whimpering from both.

Hyunjin’s eyes burn into yours as he snaps his hips hard a few times before backing off of you entirely, his chest heaving slightly. You chase after him, legs sprawled open, and tug his mouth to yours with a fistful of his silken hair.

He grins against your mouth, “That's it, show me what you want.”

He slips back onto the bed, guiding you into his lap, and you comply, eagerly. Slowly sinking onto his length, only Hyunjin doesn’t want that, he slams you down by your hips and you both cry out at the stretch and clench of your cunt.

His hands drift up your sides, snatching the hem of your sweater, followed by a one-handed snap of your bra, before both are tossed off into the void of his darkened room.

Hyunjin reclines back against the pillows fluffed up against the headboard, hands trailing down your chest. His right hand, the one that seems to be permanently tinted with oil crayon and kohl smudges your nipples as he grazes them. His pupils spread as he watches you, as you roll your hips forward just a little, to test how he feels in this position.

“It's not too deep for you?” He rolls up into you, bathing in your reaction as you arc forward, breasts thrust towards his face.

He does it again, this time his hand grasping your throat firmly as you shudder against him.

“No,” you moan, rubbing yourself shamelessly into his base.

Hyunjin’s lips part as you continue your gyrations, his hand on your throat constricts in response. You start to pant, your arousal beginning to climb again.

“Fuck” Hyunjin curses.

His pelvis tucking into the bed, away from you as you tighten around him. His other hand rocks your hips encouraging you to keep moving, and you do.

Your eyes lidded as you stare down at your beautiful best friend, his dark hair splayed across the pillows, metal rims of his glasses catching in the light.

Hyunjin smiles at you fondly, his own arousal flaming under your heated gaze. He squeezes your throat again, both of you moaning as you tremble around him. You start to rock, and Hyunjin’s head kicks back as you draw him out and your pussy sucks him back in with urgent strokes.

“Harder,” he bites between clenched teeth, and you slam your ass back, your hands grasping the arm linked to your throat for balance.

You’re not sure who is more lost in the sensation, you or Hyunjin. He lets out a suppressed moan, each time you sink fully into his lap. While you moan and pant unabashedly, gasping for breath as his fingertips alternate long squeezes with short tight ones against the column of your throat.

The coil of your climax sends your nipples into tight buds as it slips across your body, sinking into every muscle.

“Hyun-” you start, and he sits up smashing your lips to his, plush lips parting and tongue diving inside to swallow every moan you release.

With a firm hand on your throat, his hips match your pace, drilling up into you and no longer hiding his vocalization.

Hyunjin’s fingers squeeze tight and hold firm, causing you to burst around him. Overwhelmed not just from the asphyxiation but by his tongue tracing figure eights across yours and the swell of his cock stroking along your sensitive walls.

Arousal gushes out of you, wetting Hyunjin’s lap so that each thrust is announced with an undeniably intimate squelch. You cry a strangled version of his name into his mouth, his lips still working yours until you’re bowing away from him, your spine curving you back.

Hyunjin follows right behind you, fisting your throat one last time before his fingers splay open as he comes apart groaning your name. His head tossed back, hips shaking with effort as you continue to seize around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he whispers as he collapses back against the headboard, “Mmm.”

Hyunjin rubs your thighs affectionately, rolling his hips into you one final time before pulling you down to lay on his chest.

The two of you lay there in near silence, the only sounds are your labored breaths returning to a normal pattern. Hyunjin idly draws lines along your spine, with the tips of his slender fingers as you come down from your high.

“Hyunjin,” you mumble against the valley of his clavicle.

“Hmmm?” He returns sleepily.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, right?” You lift your head to look at his face.

His eyes are closed, and he looks like a Grecian carved work of art. Full lips glistening with your exchanged saliva, cheekbones dewy from sweat.

His hand on your back stills briefly, before flattened palms rub up your rib cage and his eyelashes flutter open to meet your anxious stare.

“A couple of fucks won’t change what's between us, honey.” He says firmly and you smile in relief pressing your forehead to his, he wastes no time in sealing his lips to yours.

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