#so I end up having to run a bath for him at any hour of the day

[kingkatsuki]

Do you ever think about the pet peeves you’d have if you were dating your fave?

[eternally-racing]

sleep tight | lando norris

pairing: lando x reader

genre: fluff, a smidge of angst maybe

wc: 1.3k

summary: As the summer break comes to an end, Lando needs your help when he just can’t fall asleep.

_ _ _ _ 

“You’re still up?” you whisper as you feel Lando shift again in bed next to you. 

Getting back into the race week routine was always a challenge after a long holiday, and this summer break was no exception. After jet setting around Europe, partying in Ibiza, and spending many sleepless nights taking on late night adventures, you'd expect that the two of you would be sleep deprived enough to pass out the moment your head hit the pillow - but unfortunately it seemed like that was far from what was happening for your boyfriend.

There were still a couple of days before Lando needed to hop on a flight to get to the next track, but it still felt like a sharp return to reality as you returned to your apartment after your fairytale vacation. Instead of pizza boxes, there were meal prepped chicken wraps in your shared fridge, and tomorrow Lando would spend the whole day in the gym getting back to his workout routine.

That brings you to your current predicament. The both of you have been laying in bed for probably well over an hour now. And while sleep comes to you easy, of course it’s Lando, the one who has to be up at 6am tomorrow, who can’t seem to fall asleep. 

“Sorry, I was trying not to move around too much.” Lando whispers back, groaning slightly as he wipes at the tiredness in his eyes. 

You turn around to face him, immediately seeing the frustrated look on Lando’s face. Your bedroom is bathed in darkness, the moonlight trying to seep in through the cracks in your blinds. 

Instinctively, you reach over to smooth out the creases in Lando’s forehead, then take the time to run your fingers through Lando’s curls. He lets out a soft sigh at the action, the relaxation evident on his face. 

You both stay like that for a couple more minutes, and you’re mentally crossing your fingers that he somehow falls asleep. For a moment it’s peaceful, but the mirage is broken when Lando’s face scrunches up beneath your hold. 

“Oh god, Jon is gonna kill me.” Lando groans as he turns over to check the time on his phone. 

Lando is half debating just getting up and starting his workout now. Sure, he may be running on being awake for almost 25 hours at this point - but if he’s going to be awake, he might as well be productive. 

“I’m going to make you some tea with honey, okay? Just stay here, love.” you say gently, kissing his forehead as you walk out of the room. 

It’s definitely not the first time that Lando has had trouble falling asleep, but it hasn’t happened as much lately - the jet lag and exhaustion usually catches up to him the moment he steps foot back into your apartment after a long race. But no matter how long it’s been since his last sleepless night, it’s easy for you to fall into the routine of making a nighttime tea for him.

The only sound filling the room is the whistle from the kitchen that lets you know that the water is ready, and before you know it you’re back by Lando’s side. He’s sitting up now, back resting firmly against the headboard as he fruitlessly tries to fall asleep standing up. Lando says a quick thank you as you pass the mug to him. 

From there you fall into an easy rhythm of crawling into bed next to him, your head taking purchase in the crook on his neck. The silence feels far too loud, so the new sound of the nature channel playing softly on the TV is a welcome addition. You could pretend that you’re paying attention to the show, but the truth is that you keep stealing glances at Lando to see if he looks any closer to feeling at rest and ready to sleep.

“You’re so exhausted, Lan” you say as you look at him. Your hand stays tight in his as you give him a comforting squeeze. “Something on your mind keeping you up?” 

Lando knows you can read him like a book, that’s why as soon as the words leave your mouth he knows that you’ve already seen into his mind. Lando takes a shaky breath before he starts, turning you in his hold so you can face each other. 

“Something about going back to racing right now… I don’t know. There was just so much going wrong before, and then over this break I just felt so free. I feel ready to get back in the car, but I just don’t feel ready for everything else that comes along with it.” Lando admits.

Lando’s embarrassed more than anything. He gets to do what millions of budding drivers dream of doing but a few hundred only get to actually live out. How dare he feel anything but joy when he gets to drive in Formula 1? The guilt is what is swimming around in his head, keeping him awake - but he’s hoping he can keep those words unspoken so he doesn’t have to face the reality of his feelings. 

Lando worries when you don’t reply right away, but when he looks at you he notices that your eyes are focused on his cheeks. It’s only when you reach out to touch them does he realize that he’s crying. You cradle his cheeks in your hands, wiping away each tear as they fall.  “I’ve got you, babe” you whisper over and over again - letting Lando cry it out as much as he needs to.

“I’m so proud of you, Lan, always. I know I’m not out there on track with you, but I’ve got your back every step of the way.” There are small tears swimming in your eyes, but you keep them at bay because you don’t want to alarm your boyfriend.

“It’s okay to still struggle and have tough times - even if you are living your dream. And if there’s a day that comes where you don’t want to be in Formula 1 anymore, I’m still going to be here for you and love you just as much. You’re so much more than being a Formula 1 driver.” 

No more words need to be said, Lando just holds you tighter as you feel the sobs shake his body. Tomorrow, Lando will leave breakfast for you on the kitchen counter and a thank you note to express how grateful he is for your support. Tonight though, he just keeps you in his hold, intermittently giving you forehead kisses once he catches his breath, unable to find the words to express how much it means to him that you're here in this moment.

You don't know how much time passes, but Lando falls asleep just like that. You know that you will both wake up with achy necks and sore backs tomorrow, but you don’t dare move a muscle other than to turn off the tv, set your phone alarm, and send Jon a quick text that Lando had a rough night so he's prepared when he sees how he looks the next morning.

The next evening, Lando comes home from training at 8:30pm. The minute he walks through the door you can see the light ghost of a smile on his face, and without knowing it you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s a nice, quiet evening as you both settle onto the couch to eat Lando’s pre-prepped meals (because true love is being willing to suffer through unseasoned chicken and rice with your race car driver boyfriend).

Lando’s the first to head to bed for the night, letting you finish your episode of reality tv in peace when he sees how invested you are. Once you’re finished up for the night, you don’t even think twice before making a cup of tea and carrying it to the bedroom. Your spidey senses have proved you right as Lando lays awake, the frustration starting to settle in again between his brows. 

This time, instead of reaching for the mug, Lando immediately puts it down on the nightstand and instead reaches for you. He pulls you into his chest, intertwining his legs with yours he gives you another goodnight kiss. Within seconds, he’s fast asleep, his snores making you smile as they fill the room. 

This time there was no tea, no TV - it turns out all he needed was you. 

_ _ _ 

author’s note: this is my first piece of writing in an embarrassingly long time. Sorry that it got kind of sad, i am kinda sad so i fear that transferred over lol. Hope you liked this little fic! Until next time! - Em🤍

[suncoved]

HANDS OF AN ANGEL ! — RAFE CAMERON (18+ smut mdni)

in which, washing rafe's hair didn't go as you planned.

you looked up slowly from your book to the sound of your bedroom door opening roughly, rafe trudging in lethargically. your eyes followed him around the room as he threw off his clothes one by one, a trail of fabric following him until he was just left in his boxers.

you rolled your eyes at his unnecessary messiness and let your eyes travel back down to the off-white pages of your book.

you could only read about three words before rafe huffed rather dramatically across the room.

you ignored his annoying sighs and groans until it was physically impossible to not pay attention to him, slamming your book closed and looking at him from the bed.

"what is it rafey?" you asked sweetly, even though you knew what he was gonna ask. "shower" he said simply, nudging his head towards the bathroom from where he stood right outside it. "can't baby, i already put all my lotions and oils and stuff, you're gonna have to have one without me" you answered, watching his face turned into that of a five-year-olds if they were just told they couldn't go to disneyland that day.

"ok" he huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom, but leaving the door open so you could see everything. you giggled softly, turning your attention back to the book in your hands.

you only perked up when you heard the tap of the bath turn on, not the shower. rafe was having a bath?

if there was one thing you had to know about rafe cameron, is that he hated baths, more than an average human being did. he only tolerated them because he could feel you up more in the bath than in the shower because of the close proximity.

but he always took a shower after because he doesn't like 'bathing in his own filth for half and hour'

you itched to get up and hop in the bath with him, but that's what he wanted, because why else would he torture himself like that?

after about 5 minutes of reading the same line over and over again, you untangled yourself from your bedsheets and made your way over to your vanity. reaching your hand into the brown paper shopping bag, you pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, hair masks and hair oils, making your way over to the bathroom with an arm full of hair products.

he heard you from a mile away, staring straight at you as you walked into his trap. "got you baby" he said, hinting at the fact that he was having a bath, for you.

"nope" you said, padding your way over to the bathtub. he looked at you quizzically at the new products you had with you.

you were glad that even though he was very very naked, there were mounds of bubbles covering him, his face and shoulders the only thing showing above the water. because after you spent nearly an hour after your shower rubbing oils and creams over your skin, you really didn't want to end up in the bath with rafe

"what've you got there bug?" he asked as you dragged your soft bathmat to the edge of the bathtub so you could have something to kneel on, placing the products softly on the floor.

"gonna wash your hair rafe" you state, reaching over and running your hand softly through his wet hair. "yeah?" he asked, tilting his head softly in admiration. "i went out and got some stuff for your hair type, not that you need any help with your hair at all! i just wanna do stuff for you like you do stuff for me." you quickly got quieter by the end of your sentence, avoiding eye contact with him.

"c'mere baby" he whispers, matching your soft tone. you hesitantly look at him, biting your lip nervously. your chin felt wet as he gripped it softly, bringing your lips to touch his as he kissed you. he pulled back first, resting his forehead on yours as he looked at you. "thank you, baby. i don't do the stuff i do for you to get repaid, but i love that you think of me"

you beam at his words, leaning down again and placing one last peck on his lips.

you pull up the sleeves of your long-sleeved white pyjama shirt before you lean over to squirt a generous amount of shampoo on your palm.

after rubbing your hands together to create a milky white texture in the shampoo, you leaned over the tub. the white acrylic made contact with where your bra wire would be had you been wearing one, oblivious that as you were reaching your arms to rafe's hair your tits were being pushed together, his eyes immediately staring holes into your cleavage.

"your hair is gonna be so soft rafey!" you exclaimed, using your acrylics to massage the shampoo into his scalp, making his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure.

you pulled back after sudsing up the liquid, biting your lip in concentration as you placed your hands on the side of his head and lowered his hair in the water.

he looked up to you, your hair hanging over him, your stare so concentrated, and your tits fully in his face.

rafe knows you didn't notice how much harder it was getting to hide his hard-on under the now less soapy water, the combination of you scratching his scalp and your cleavage fully on view making him spiral.

"ok, all done! once you get out, ill-dry it and put some oil on the ends." you voiced after raking the conditioner and leave in treatment through his hair, leaning down to kiss him after he made a come here motion with his fingers.

what you were unaware of though, is that as rafe was deepening the kiss between you two, he was pulling his hands out of the warm water and straight to your chest.

"rafe!" you gasped, pulling back instinctively as his hands made your once white shirt now see-through at your nipples.

"shh baby, c'mere. don't make me ask you again" he groaned, sitting up straighter so he could use his hands to pull your body towards his.

as he began another steamy kiss with you, he traced your nipples through your shirt, making you shiver. "rafe... i don't wanna get all wet" you whined, pulling back for a moment, giving him a chance to latch his mouth onto one of your tits.

"ill help you put more cream on later, now let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours" he rasped, pulling your shirt and shorts off as you came to a stand in front of him.

"can't believe my baby would think that i would let her win and sit out there reading her book. so naive" rafe cooed, his soft mannerisms of holding your hand until you made it safely in the tub being a complete juxtaposition of the nasty words he had uttered before.

you melted in the somehow still-warm water as he sucked at your neck, his hands roaming all around your body until he made it to your core.

"you're lucky we're in the tub bunny, because i'm gonna make you cum so hard you're gonna make a mess" he whispered into your ear, bringing a strong hand up to rest firmly around your neck, and the other now making circles on your clit.

you looked up at him in a daze, you're eyes already glossed over as you laid your head against his chest. due to the confined space, you could already feel his hard length resting below your ass, making you squirm.

he entered one finger into you without warning, making you gasp. "shhh, quit whining. you're alright." rafe commanded, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. he placed soft kisses on your head, his hand on your throat providing a comforting presence to you somehow.

rafe always made sure that during these times you felt loved and appreciated by him, knowing that your mind had the tendency to roam with thoughts 24/7.

"ready for another baby?" rafe asked, your walls somehow still tight around his finger. your hum in reply earned rafe to tighten his hold around your neck, urging you to use your words.

"yes rafey, please" you replied, snuggling more in his chest and looking up and him with glossy eyes. "ok, are you sure you can take it?" he teased, earning a whine to come from your chapped lips.

he slipped another finger into you, pumping them in and out as you squirmed. "good girl, such a good girl for me" he praised, beginning to pick up speed as you gleamed at his praise.

"g-gonna come rafey" you whined, gasping as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. you immediately turned your head to look up at him in shock, annoyed that he wouldn't let you come to his reach.

"don't look at me like that brat, you can cum on my cock" he remarked, placing another kiss on your head as you whined once more.

he pulled his hand cock to line up with your entrance, stroking your cheek as he slid into you softly. "shh, your alright sweet girl. i got you" rafe reassured in response to your gasp.

he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, stalling for a moment to look at your expression before beginning to pump in and out. "shit, most perfect pussy i ever had. taking my whole cock like the perfect girl you are, love you so much" he rambled, his mind in a haze as you squeezed around him.

he began picking up his pace, slamming into you from below as the water rippled from his movements. you were to cock drunk to worry that the water could splash out of the tub, gasping as he brought a finger down to circle your clit.

"rafe" you whined as you tightened around him, signalling to him that the knot in your tummy was about to burst. "i got you baby, milk my cock"

you squeezed your eyes shut as you came around him, hearing his groan echo in your ears as he shot his load inside of you. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he worked you through your orgasm, slowing the circling of his fingers as he stroked your hair as whispered in your ear

"so perfect for me baby, so so perfect"

[nxuvillette]

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely. 

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day. 

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed. 

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor. 

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..” 

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier. 

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there. 

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together. 

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in. 

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed. 

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes. 

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes. 

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers. 

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.” 

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features. 

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[ladymercysletters]

Aegon the Soft

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count : 1474

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in years so please bear with this. I just have some very soft feelings for the Targ siblings. All they need is a hug I SWEAR! anyways, hope you like it

When Aegon first married, he tried to be around you as little as possible. It was best that way, everyone else who should technically love him in his life never has; why would you be any different. The bedding ceremony had been performed; he had done his duty. He must only put a few heirs in you and that would be that. He finished that thought with the downing of his drink. Slamming the cup down on the table his men cheered around him, filling his cup as the merriment continued.

The hour was late, or early – who knew, when Aegon and his men finally dragged themselves back to the Red Keep. Sober knights greeted them and took the prince back to his rooms, depositing him on his bed.

“My Wife! Bring my wife to me!” he shouted, lolling about on his sheets and he struggled to stand.

“My prince, the hour is late an…”

“I know the hour. I said now!”

__________________________________________________________

Was he on a ship. He must be on a ship. His stomach rolled and churned so much it must be the waves on the ocean. Blinking blearily into the sunlight he vaguely felt fingers running through his hair. Aegon finally managed to focus his eyes on his bedside table, and the jug of water placed on it. The soft touch continued to caress his forehead and brush through the silver strands falling in front of his eyes.

“Good morning husband. How are you feeling this morning?” Aegon blinked and his mind cleared slightly. His wife was in his bed. You were stroking his hair from his face and asking if he was well? Thoughts flew through his head and as he jolted from the knowledge you were right behind him, his stomach reminded him of his current state and he rolled ungracefully from the bed. He landed sprawled on the floor causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth as you watched your severely hungover husband groan and roll around tangled in sheets before moving like a slug to the open doors of his balcony and slamming them close behind him.

You couldn’t see him like this. He hadn’t even managed to face you, but he knew he must look terrible and there was something in him, ridiculous as it may be, that wanted to keep you under the illusion that he wasn’t a complete failure. Once he’d finished evacuating the contents of his stomach off his balcony, and damningly close to his brother who was just making his way onto the training grounds for his morning spar with Cole, he inhaled deeply before steeling himself to walk back inside.

Opening the doors to his rooms, he saw you sitting prettily on the end of his bed. Hair fallen perfectly to frame your face, wearing only in a linen shift you had presumably slept in by his side all night – surely his wife had been carved by angels. Bustling in the room brought him back and he drew the sheets tighter around his waist. Maids flitted in and out, making up the bath and serving breakfast on a table set up at the end of the bed.

“Better?” you said shyly smiling at him. “I thought you might need something to line your stomach – and possibly a bath.” You trailed off. You’re right. He smelled revolting.

He doesn’t quite understand how or why you could be so nice to him, he thinks as he sinks into the steaming perfumed water. Especially as a vague memory of the previous night comes back to him, he’d stumbled back into the keep, pissed as a newt, and demanded you come to him to fulfil your wifely duties. Closing his eyes, Aegon felt his muscles relax in the warmth. Even his head lessened from the soothing lavender scent.

This time he felt your presence behind him before your touch. Softly, again, you carded your fingers through his hair, moving him gently forward so you could wash him. Your gentle touch was so foreign to him. Even when he was washed by the servants, they were never this gentle with him. The warm water cascaded down his back, your fingers working a floral scented soap into his hair and pressing firmly against his scalp. The sensation was heavenly. The warmth of your body surrounded him as you leant him back again to rinse the soap from his hair.

Once he was cleaned you set a small pillow at the back of the tub for him to rest his head on. Though he was a prince he was sure he had never been as pampered as this. He stared up into your face as he leant his head back, taking in the soft fluttering of your eyelashes and the curve of your cheeks and lips.

Though you had been married for over two moons now Aegon didn’t think he had ever really looked at you before now. Surely he would have lingered around you more if he had seen what a beauty he had married. Your mere presence brought him peace, and whilst he could not understand why you were being so kind to him, his heart overstepped his mind and let him live in this fantasy for just a moment longer; practically jumping from his chest when he felt you lay soft kisses along his hairline. Your warm smell invaded his nostrils and his eyes fluttered open to discover your neck and cleavage so close to his face. Your skin looked so smooth, and his lips ached for him to lean closer and place a reverent kiss to your collar.

You took a towel and held it out for him, helping him dry as he stepped out of the tub. His eyes rolled over your body as he dressed, tucking his loose shirt into linen britches as he watched you arrange the chairs around the breakfast table.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the question falling from his mouth.

“Aegon?” you replied. Softly breathing his name as you turned to face him. He was sure the sweet sound of your voice confirmed you had been sent from the gods. “I am here to care for you. I am your wife…” His face fell slightly at that, which you saw. Of course you were there for your duty. The thought brought back his words from the previous evening. Wifely duties. You were fulfilling your side of the bargain. “… and I like you.” You finished.

You studied his face as he looked at you. His delicate features held together by perfect milky skin. The rounded cupids bow of his lips forming a soft pout that was hard to resist. Though you’d seen his anger and drunkenness many times since your wedding and heard worse from the ladies of court before your arrival, you’d also seen the small sad look on his face whenever he’d leave a council meeting, or even just at dinner with his family. Although his mother had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, you could see this favour wasn’t extended to her own son, and his grandfather was even worse – openly mocking him with his father, the king when surely, they should have been teaching him.

Thoughts brought you back to reality as you stepped closer to him. Looking into his eyes, the pale violet seeming deeper towards his iris and wider as they searched yours for an answer. You softly took his wrist into your hands, sliding your fingers down to intertwine with his own you placed a small kiss between the crease in his brow.

“I am your wife. I know you did not choose me for love, or choose me at all, but I hope that you will know how much I care for you, and one day maybe you may care for me.” Aegon’s throat almost closed up, and his eyes betrayed him as they began to water. His thumbs barely moved to brush the backs of your hand bringing them up to place a kiss on your knuckles – gently leading you to sit next to him at the end of his bed.

The words struggled to form in his throat; a combination of a hangover and sudden emotion rendering him surprisingly catatonic. Your hand moved to stroke to side of his face, bringing his eyes back to your own.

“I will do my best” he whispered, leaning into the warmth of your palm. “I will do my best for you, and for our line.”

“I know you will. You will prove anyone who doubts you wrong.” You spoke, touching your forehead to his own. His eyes slipped closed once more, happy to bask in the bliss of your presence for as long as the gods would allow him.

[munsonfamilyband]

I have no time right now to elaborate too deeply on this thought but I just had a brain worm and I need to write it down before I forget. Who knows, I may elaborate and make this a whole thing with dialogue tonight, we’ll see. TW for depictions of Steve’s injuries post s4, vomiting, gore(?)

Steve refuses medical treatment at the end of s4, they drop off Eddie and he hides in plain site until it’s time to take Dustin and Robin home.

They stop at Dustin’s first, both he and Robin getting out to get Claudia Hugs (I just know she gives INCREDIBLE hugs). He drops Robin off at home with her promising to keep her walkie on their frequency. And then he goes home alone.

He tries to shower, it hurts his feet and back too much. He tries to change the “bandage” but just gently tugging almost makes him black out from pain. So he collapses on his bed and passes out.

Days go by, he’s trying to act normal, like he isn’t always running a fever and his sides are itching and starting to smell under the cologne he practically bathes in. It works for a few days at least, but Claudia gets suspicious by day 3 post earthquake when Steve shows up for lunch with flushed cheeks. 2 days later he doesn’t show up.

She drives over alone, Dustin is at the Wheeler’s, and she lets herself in with the key Steve gave her and Dustin after last summer. She calls his name, doesn’t get an answer but something smells off. She’s a nurse, she recognizes the scent of disease.

She hurries upstairs and finds Steve in bed, only wearing boxers and the filthy scrap of cloth wrapped around his stomach. He’s sweating and has vomited on himself at least twice, recently too. She immediately knows that he is what smells, she can see the pus and blood on his abdomen. He’s delirious, mumbling to himself and part of her wants to shut down and cry, to go cradle this boy, her son in all ways but blood, but she can’t. She steels herself and walks to his bedside to feel his forehead, almost recoiling from how hot his skin is.

As she keeps checking him over, she grabs the phone on his bedside table and calls 911, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder to keep working. When the operator answers she explains who she is, where she is and what’s happening.

It’s a blur after that until she’s sitting in the hospital waiting room and she realizes that 1. her shirt and her hands reek of Steve’s blood, and 2. she’s completely alone in the waiting room. Swallowing her tears, Claudia goes over to the payphone and fishes out some coins to call the Buckely’s. Robin’s father picks up but quickly hands it over when Claudia mentions Steve.

She will never forget the choked off sound of pure distress Robin makes when she hears what’s happening.

Hours pass, Robin had arrived shortly after the call and her and Claudia have been curled up together in the waiting room every since. They haven’t called anyone else, haven’t even thought about it, too worried about Steve. Later, Claudia will remember the other kids who adore Steve, Hopper who treats Steve like a son. But in that moment, still not knowing if her boy is okay, she can’t.

Finally, a doctor steps out, clearly fresh from surgery, to speak with them. She explains that Steve had a very severe infection in multiple wounds, especially the ones on his side. They had to debride the wounds, which is what took so long. He was lucky that she found him when he did and that he hadn’t picked up any truly terrible bacteria. He hadn’t gone septic, thankfully, but he was going to be on seriously strong antibiotics for a while. She explained that he was in the ICU and they aren’t supposed to let anyone but family see him.

Claudia wanted to scream and sob and go find the Harringtons and get them to come see their son, but before she even says anything Robin explains that Steve’s parents had all but disowned him and her and Claudia were both in his emergency contacts, not his parents.

The doctor lets them see him. They have to wear face masks and gloves, but they can see him. Claudia had never seen him look so small. And there, in that ICU room, her and Robin both broke and started crying. That was how Jim Hopper found them when he arrived shortly after, the nurses having called him. He’s wearing a mask and gloves but his eyes are wild and scared. He nearly falls over when he sees Steve.

Steve is unconscious for almost two weeks, though the first four or five days or so were due to sedatives - the doctor wanted him to rest and let the antibiotics work. After he was taken off the sedatives he was moved out of the ICU, to a regular room where other people could visit. The kids came and decorated his room, even brought something Eddie had “commissioned” from Will (it looked like Steve ripping one of those creepy things from that alien movie apart, which she really didn’t get). Joyce brought him the quilt from her couch that he always enjoyed at movie nights and Robin came in every other day with his shampoo and conditioner to wash his hair for him (on days she didn’t come to wash his hair, she would come do something else with him. One day Claudia walked in on her painting his nails and her heart felt like it was melting).

The day he finally woke up was the first day Robin hadn’t been able to come. Her parents had forced her to take a break and get some sleep, so Claudia was there on her own just reading a book. She was so engrossed in it that she dropped it in shock when she heard the person on the bed in front of her make noise. Her eyes instantly went to Steve and she could see him scrunching up his face and groaning.

Claudia was by his side in a heartbeat, gently grabbing his hand and brushing a hand over his cheek, speaking softly to let him know she was there. His eyes slowly squinted open, clearly struggling to get the energy to move at all. Their eyes locked and his mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile at her. Then, as she was watching him with tears in her eyes, he opened his mouth and spoke for the first time in weeks.

“Mom….”

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…” 

I want to apologize. 

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday. 

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You���re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 

At least, you think you are. 

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 

Oh no. 

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh. 

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

[luvscnarios]

Like Porcelain ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎ

Pairing :: Jing Yuan x fem!housewife!reader. Word Count :: 829. Warnings :: slightly suggestive towards the end, reader is described to be shorter than Jing Yuan, reader is described to be spoiled. Notes :: shamelessly projected here, whoopsie dingle 🎀.

“And maybe because these stupid shoes are too loose or are bad quality because now I have crazy blisters on my heels! So not only do my feet ache from walking so much, but now they’re all swollen too! I think I might die, I fear.”

Jing Yuan could only chuckle as he dutifully massaged your feet, listening to your complaints with a grin. As a general, blisters were barely something to rant over for almost half an hour, but then again he had centuries to build that pain tolerance. Not to mention that you were a spoiled little housewife, unknowing of discomfort and strain. What a delicate thing you have become, like porcelain, in constant need of coddling and care.

The culprit for the red blisters marring your feet was your monthly run around the Luofu for some errands. Usually, you just whine about the throbbing of your soles after walking all over the place and move on with your day. But not this time. You decided to wear some new shoes you recently bought from you can’t even remember and when you came home, you kicked them off like they had poison and awkwardly shuffled to the bedroom. All while cursing and complaining. 

This was all the more proof of how much Jing Yuan loved you because he followed you into the bedroom and wordlessly took your feet into his hands as you collapsed on the edge of your bed, doing his best to massage them and ease the pain. So from then to now, he’s been kneeling on the floor giving you a massage and listening to you rant without interrupting once. Not even when his knees began to ache from the hard floor or the fact your voice was way too loud. He spoiled you utterly rotten with his affection and devotion to you, but he wouldn't have it any other way. 

Once it was clear you were done with your little spiel, Jing Yuan kissed your ankles and lifted himself off the floor. Sitting right next to you at the edge of the bed, one is his sturdy arms curled around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. “Are you done, my love? You’re as whiny as a baby, such a spoiled little wife.” And before you could fire back at him with more scathing words, he cut you off by squishing your cheeks with his free hand and shutting you up with a kiss. You let out a huff through your nose but still melt into the kiss, nuzzling yourself closer to the warmth of Jing Yuan’s body. Your husband, loyal devotee, and wet cat of a lover was the only thing on your mind with his firm lips on yours. It was a surprisingly chaste kiss and you found yourself forgetting why you were so upset in the first place, the dull discomfort from your blistered feet fading away. 

Jing Yuan pulled away and you shamelessly tried to chase his lips, pouting once more as he held you still by the cheeks. And yet, your eyes told him you were more amused than annoyed by his antics even if you were pouting like an entitled brat. He had created a menace for sure but those saccharine eyes cut him to the core and crumbled his resolve. Jing Yuan loved you. You might as well take his heart, it’s already full of you. 

“You know, a little birdie told me that a warm bath with some soothing bath salts can help soothe aching and blistered feet. Want me to draw you a bath?” Before you got a chance to even answer his question, Jing Yuan slid his arms under your back and legs to pick you up as you yelped at the sudden movement. Holding you in the ever so typical bridal style, your arms instinctively curled around his neck as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Under all the silky hair of his and on his skin, you breathed in the scent of musk and woodiness and the fainest traces of your citrus body wash. This was the smell of home and of comfort. An aroma that floods your senses and gives you a sense of protection and cosset love. 

Although you knew he probably can’t even see your head and he already answered his own questions for you, you still nodded at the suggestions of a nice warm bath. “A bath is good. Together. But let’s actually shower and not start getting all handsy with each other. Like every time we try showering together.” Another huff left your lips and your warm breath fanned against the junction of his skin, not helping his restraint when it came to honoring your wish. Jing Yuan’s laughter rumbled deep from his chest and as he gently carried to the bathroom, pressing another lingering kiss to the top of your head. 

“I make no promises, my love. No promises.”

[astralis-ortus]

thunders of rage

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— even through the worst days, you're still my priority.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, comfort warning → mild cussing, reader had a bad day and lashes out at chan :(, one time jump, kissies, chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as baby and babe a.n → based on this request! tysm for requesting♡ ⋆ see masterlist

the word terrible doesn’t even cover the magnitude of bad luck you’ve been facing for the past 10 hours.

from waking up late for work, buses not operating due to a strike and causing the subway being jam-packed, getting absolutely roasted by your supervisor for someone else’s mishap, having your work ruined by a coworker, to barely surviving the somehow never-ending rush hour while running only on a single piece of toast you had in the morning—you’re absolutely in no condition to socialize, even for the slightest bit.

“hey, babe,” your boyfriend’s cheery voice was the first thing you heard as soon as you stepped inside your shared apartment. noises coming out from the speaker on your living room were the thing you noticed next—and you swear you’re so close to losing your sanity.

“how was your day? i saw you barely ate your breakfast when i got back from the gym. are you okay?” oblivious to your nonexistent reply, chris had his eyes glued to the game while he continued to talk. “i haven’t decided what to make for dinner, by the way. do you—”

“can you decide that on your own?” you finally cut your boyfriend off, tone of your voice catching chris off guard. you’re not one to speak sharply—you know it might offend the other party even when you didn’t mean to, and chris knew that about you.

so when he heard that tone being used against him, chris knew something is absolutely wrong.

“let’s get ice cream, then?” chris immediately paused his game and shifted his focus onto you. he sees it now—the seemingly permanent subtle frown on your forehead, the nonexistent glint on the reflection of your eyes, the messy bun on top of your head.

something stresses you out. bad.

“sure.”

chris watched your exhausted trudge head towards the kitchen and grab a glass of water, contemplating the best course of action to get grumpy you to cheer up even just for a little. “and some pizza? or some dimsum? while we wait i’ll run a bath—”

“goddammit, chris!” the loud sound of cup slamming on the countertop startled chris out of his sentence, eyes wide when confusion, irritation, and hurt started to mix in his chest. “i just told you to decide it on your own! stop bothering me! do i need to make every decision for you? god!”

the room fell silent as chris tried to digest the words you aimed at him—but it felt like his head was on static. it only took him a second to get up and grab a hoodie, suppressing any reaction his instinct was telling him to do before he said something he would regret.

“i’m gonna go cool off,” chris quietly said as he headed towards the door, momentarily stopping to look at your tense back. he desperately wanted to stay—but he knows you needed time to be on your own.

“you should cool off too.”

and with that, chris left.

it’s been nearly two hours since chris left, and after a cup of warm tea and a long bath later, guilt finally caught you up in its tight grip.

you knew what you did towards chris was wrong—chris was simply trying to make sure he’s getting something you like because he knows only then your mood would seem to improve, but instead, all you did was accuse him of trying to bother you.

thoughts ran through your head while you stare at your boyfriend’s phone number, thumb hovering over the green button as you try to piece an apology in your head. you’re genuinely worried—it’s getting later in the night, and you still haven’t heard even a single peep from chris. you can’t help but feel worried.

but just as you were about to press the call button, your ears finally picked up the sound of your front door cracking open—chris is home.

“baby, i’m ho—”

chris stopped in his tracks as he felt warmth suddenly enveloping him—you’re hugging him tight, face buried on the span of his chest.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly whispered, barely allowing him time to process what happened within the span of 5 seconds. “i was wrong. i shouldn’t have acted like that. i just really had a terrible day, and—”

“hey, hey, hey,” chris couldn’t help but chuckle, finally wrapping his arm around you after he finally set down the plastic bags on the countertop nearby. “breathe, baby. slow down. you’re okay.”

peering up at chris, your guilt only seemed to dig its claws deeper when you saw his dimpled smile, beautiful eyes gazing right at you even after the sharp words you threw at him.

you felt like crap.

“i’m really sorry,” you croaked another apology, now near tears with the tip of your lips turned down. “i really acted like an ass back there but you still became the bigger person between us. i would’ve understood if you shouted at me, but—”

“baby,” chris shook his head as he gently cradled your face, pads of his thumbs running softly against your cheeks, “i would never forgive myself if i ever raised my voice at you, even during a fight. you’re my girlfriend—you’re someone i need to protect, and that’s what i’ll always try to do.”

the way chris loves you never fails to render you speechless.

some might say you’re the bigger romantic between the two of you—date plans, endless whispers of ‘i love you’s, constantly wrapping yourself around his arm. it’s all what people would see; but you know the nights chris would pull you closer when he notices your tossing and turning, allowing you to settle to the rhythm of his heartbeat. you know the days when he would buy you a single stem of the prettiest sunflower or the loveliest bloom of rose, all because you said you’ve always liked flowers but never the huge bouquet. you know how he would always walk on the side nearest to the road, and the way his arm never left the curve of your waist.

you know the subtle ways he remembers—his ways of saying i love you, and you would never change that for anything in the world.

“kiss me.”

a chuckle rumbles in chris’ chest to your request, beautiful twinkle in his eyes turning you warm and fuzzy. he then gently tipped your chin, whispering a soft ‘i love you’ as he brought his lips onto yours, relishing in the way swarms of butterflies burst under your feverish skin.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[coldfanbou]

More Than A Bath

I mixed things up a little with a soapland theme. I hope y'all enjoy

Length 2.7K

Nako x Mreader X Kazuha

You look up at the sign and take a deep breath. There were murmurs that she worked here, but you didn’t think it was true. You click your phone and check the time: 10 pm. The shop is supposed to be open now. You walk up to the door and step inside. The front room was decorated in such a way that it looked like a casino. To your left was a man behind the counter wiping it down. “Welcome! I haven’t seen your face before. Is it your first time here?” 

You nod your head, “It is.”

“Welcome to the Royal Flush. We offer great relaxation for men after a long day's work. We have a few options here, starting at thirty minutes and going up to two hours. That said, you can extend it up to another two hours.” The man motions to a blank board behind him before turning around. “My apologies; I forgot to turn this thing on. Just a moment.” He goes under his desk, flicking a button, causing the screen to light up with pictures of women on playing cards. You couldn’t see anyone who looked like her, though. He motions to the screen. “As you can see, we have many ladies available to help you. You can choose any one of them for your time here. Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can play the roulette.”

“What’s the roulette?” 

“I’m glad you asked, sir. The roulette is a wheel that gives you the chance to get two women for the price of one and even enables some that are usually reserved for special customers. The price to play is a little higher than choosing from the board, but if you hit the jackpot, you get two women for four hours. At worst, you’re paying a little more for our basic thirty-minute service, but at best, you’ll have the best night of your life. All you have to do is predict the space the ball will land in. What would you like, sir?”

You consider the chance the rumors were true, and she was just for special customers. “I choose the roulette.” After taking your money, the man smiles and asks you for a number. You choose the number she had ended up with on the show, six. The screen behind the man changes to a roulette wheel, and he begins the game. The ball on-screen moves around the roulette wheel, and while you don’t have high hopes for getting it right, you hope you’ll at least get something good.

As the ball begins to slow down,  you see it coming up on your number. Time slows down as the ball approaches the number six spot and swings past it one more time before coming around again. The ball loses momentum as it hits one of the ball deflectors, and miraculously, it plops into the six slot. The man smiles at you, “How rare.” He says, a slight amusement in his voice. “Congratulations, sir, you’ve hit the jackpot. You’ll be allowed to choose two women to help you relax and choose from our special menu. That being said, not everyone is in, so you’ll have limited choices.”  The screen behind the man changes again to show different women than before, and immediately, you spot her. Nako was working here. You continue to look at the boar, seeing other idols on it. Some of them greyed out to show they were unavailable. 

“How do you get them to come when they’re so busy with other activities?” 

“They need to relax too. All things considered, they come here pretty often. So who would you like?” You look back at the board, seeing other Japanese idols like Twice’s J-line and members of Le Sserafim. 

“I’d like Nako and Kazuha.” 

“Great choices. Here is your room number. They’ll be there in a moment. You may take the elevator to the top floor.” You give the man a nod and head to your room. Thoughts run through your mind. You never expected to find out that idols would work at some place like this. You hadn’t even considered what you would do now that you were faced with meeting Nako and Kazuha. 

When you get to your room, you tap the card the man gave you and step inside. It was a fully furnished apartment on the inside. You walk further in, seeing the view from your floor. You could see block after block of the city from your room. Wanting to look at the other rooms, you first come across the bathroom; poking your head inside, you see the usual inflatable you had seen in porn and notice the giant bath behind it. The floor was all tile, with a drain in the corner of the room. You check the other side of your room, seeing it was just a bedroom. Checking through the dressers, you notice sex toys and condoms, among other things. 

You hear a small beep from the front and head back to the living room to see Nako and Kazuha standing there. What’s immediately noticeable is their lack of clothing. Both are wearing just their bra and panties, only after you notice their hair being up. You gulp, nervous and unable to say a word. They give you a small smile and wave, obviously used to being seen in their state. Nako takes the lead, walking up to you and wrapping her around your back. “Take good care of us.” She says, her head on your chest. She shines a smile your way before letting you go. 

Kazuha pats the short woman’s bottom, “Would you like to get started, sir?”

“I would.” 

“This way, then.” Kazuha grabs your arm, pressing it against her modest breasts as she leads you to the bath. Nako grabs your other arm. Kazuha turns the water on for the bath, and the pair begin to strip you down, working quickly. 

“Oh, look at this.” Nako teases as she pulls down your pants. Your bulge was obvious to everyone. She runs her small hands along it before kneeling and rubbing her face against it. “Ah, it’s been so long. Kazuha,  aren’t you excited?” She says, looking at the younger woman. She grabs Kazuha’s hand, placing it on your crotch. “It’s big, huh?” Kazuha��s cheeks turn red, and she looks away from you, embarrassed. “Let’s get these off.” Nako tugs at your underwear until it finally comes off, your cock smacking her forehead. She’s stunned for a second but quickly laughs it off. Her small hand struggles to wrap itself around your shaft. “You are big!” She exclaims with a huge smile on her face. You groan as she strokes your shaft. While Nako plays with your cock, Kazuha takes off the little clothing she has, unhooking her bra and tossing it near the door before stepping out of her panties. Your attention quickly returns to Nako as you feel her tongue running back and forth over your cock. 

“Ah, Nako.” You moan, feeling your knees get weak from the sudden pleasure. She giggles before continuing. 

“We should get you in the bath,” Kazuha says as she strips Nako of her bra. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Nako?” Nako has a slight frown on her face but agrees, letting you go to remove her panties. Kazuha leads you into the tub, stepping in to test the water. The tub was wide enough to comfortably fit the three of you, with Nako on one side and Kazuha on the other. The shorter woman couldn’t seem to keep her hands off you. She reached for your cock, stroking it slowly as she pressed her tits into your arm. Kazuha sees what Nako is doing and joins in, turning onto her side and cupping your balls as she drags her nipples along your arm. You’re eyes are glued to Nako as she steadily moves her hand along your shaft. She plants her lips on yours and speeds up. You grunt in response, struggling to do much else. Your hand wraps around Nako, squeezing her tit and making her moan. Her devilish smile grows as her grip on your shaft tightens. Kazuha begins to whisper into your ear as you focus on Nako. “You’ve got Nako wrapped around your finger. Did you know she’s on birth control? You can cum inside her all you’d like.” Kazuha’s sensual voice continues, “I’m on birth control too. I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a few creampies either.” 

Your cock begins to twitch in Nako’s hand. “Don’t cum so quickly. We’re just getting started. Kazuha and I still need to wash your body. Maybe we should use the mat. You’d like that, right? It would mean we get to use our entire body.” You nod along and get out of the bath with Nako and Kazuha. They place you on the inflatable mat. Nako grinds on your leg, lightly moaning as she stares at your cock. Kazuha had gathered water and soap to clean your body before seeing Nako enjoying herself. She huffs and puts everything on the floor before getting behind the petite woman. 

“Nako, you’re forgetting your job. We’re supposed to be making the customer feel good.” She says, grabbing Nako’s small breasts and squeezing them. The short woman throws her head back and moans. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Nako asks as she grinds on your leg. “I just need a little release.”

“Nako, you’re being a slut in front of our customer,” Kazuha responds, digging her fingers into Nako’s skin.

“I’m a slut. I’m a slut,” Nako cries. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” She breaks free from Kazuha’s grip and moves up to your crotch, rocking against your cock. Nako quickly raises herself and slams herself onto your cock. You fill the room with moans as you cum as soon as you’re buried inside Nako. You’re not the only one, though, as Nako cums with you. Feeling your warm cum flood into her cunt, Nako slowly grinds against you as she moans. Nako moves her fingers along her clit, rubbing it in small circles. “Ah, so full. I feel so hot, Kazuha.” You feel Nako’s cunt milking your cock. She was tight, her walls squeezing you with a lot of force.  Your eyes are glued to Nako, watching as she pleasures herself. You don’t notice Kazuha fingering herself as she watches Nako. She’s groping herself and pushing her fingers deeper into her cunt as Nako begins to move again. Nako leaves just the head inside before swallowing your cock in one movement. You stifle your moan while Nako lets hers fill the room. “You’re so big. Look here.” Nako says, pointing at a bulge. She presses on it; you grunt, realizing the bulge was because of you. Nako begins bouncing on your cock, moving at a steady pace as she gets used to your size. She holds your thighs and throws her head back as she moans, noticing Kazuha standing there. 

“Come on, Kazuha, join us. You’ll be in heaven.” Nako says, humming in bliss as she slams herself down, moving her hips to please both of you. Kazuha gets beside you, taking one of your hands and moving it toward her now aching cunt. “No, Kazuha ride him.” Nako says as she continues to use you. Kazuha looks at you, her face bright red, before nodding. She silently positions herself over your face, trying to lower herself gently. She was taking a little too long for you, and you decided to pull her down. Your tongue pushes past her wet lips, diving inside her. You felt Kazuha squirm on top of you; she placed her hands on your chest as she let a river of moans flow out from her. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Just wait until this is inside you.” Nako tells her coworker as she rubs the bulge. Kazuha's breathing quickens as she feels your tongue lapping at her walls. She struggles to keep herself up. Nako sees her friend struggling and lifts Kazuha’s head before kissing her. “I love seeing you like this.”  Nako seems almost drunk on the pleasure she’s receiving; she plays with Kazuha’s tit, attaching herself to her nipple and swirling her tongue around it.

You dig your hands into Kazuha’s waist, keeping her in place. She began to grind against your face, the pleasure making her go crazy. The pleasure from you and Nako was pushing her toward the edge. She started to whimper as she closed in on her climax. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to cum yet.” She whined as she came. Kazuha’s body twitched as she came, her body rocking uncontrollably. Nako smiled, loving the sight of Kazuha cumming on your face. You lap up her sweet nectar, making the younger woman shiver before she falls to the side. 

“Can you give me a taste?” Nako asks as she leans in. You were more than willing to share, pushing your tongue into her mouth. You sat up and grabbed Nako’s waist. You held her for a moment before moving her up and down your shaft. She began to groan as you took control of her. You rammed every inch into Nako’s small body, enjoying as her cries of pleasure came more often and eventually turned into whines. “I’m going to cum. I’m- I’m cumming!” Nako screamed as you continued to use her. Your cock began to twitch inside her cunt, and you told her to get ready for another creampie. “F-fuck, do it cum in me,” Nako whined as you impaled her on your shaft and shot your cum into her. Nako’s walls clamped down around your cock, rubbing the head and making you want to go deeper. Your cum flooded Nako’s pussy, leaking out of her before you even pulled out. You take a good look at Nako, the blissful expression on her face, the drool running down her cheek as her mind goes. 

Nako collapses on you, her cunt still squeezing your cock long after your orgasm ended. You lift her off and turn to Kazuha. She was face down on the floor, still recovering. Your eyes move down her smooth back until you notice her shapely bottom. You get behind her and stroke your cock, getting yourself ready for another round. 

With your other hand, you grab Kazuha’s waist and lift her ass. You press your cock against her entrance and slowly push yourself inside the young woman. “Ah, you're stretching my pussy,” She groans weakly. Kazuha manages to get her arms under herself and push her face off the floor. She looks over her shoulder to see you pushing yourself inside. Kazuha’s walls welcomed you, snuggly wrapping around your cock as you rested inside her. You were close to cumming, sensitive from your last orgasm. Still, you pushed onward, beginning to thrust into the young woman, your pace picking up. You have to dig your fingers into Kazuha’s waist to keep her from moving. As you’re pounding away at her body, you can’t help but look at Kazuha’s beautiful ass; you pull back your hand and slam it into her soft ass. She yelps from the hit. A handprint begins to form because of the force used, but Kazuha begs you to do it again. 

You drive your hand into her ass again. She moans this time, loving the pain. Nako comes around, lying on the inflatable mattress and looking at Kazuha. Her fingers playing with her clit as she watches. You’re getting turned on by having Nako watch you and begin to move faster, slamming yourself into Kazuha without a second thought. The young woman’s moans become louder, and her walls clamp down around your cock. You were both nearing your climax. You couldn’t hold it any longer and buried yourself inside Kazuha, filling her womb with your cum. Your orgasm triggered hers. As soon as she felt your thick cum fill her, Kazuha arced her back and came on your cock. You could hear Nako teasing Kazuha, but her words were muddled as you focused in on the image of Kazuha’s back.

When you start to regain yourself, you hear Nako’s voice. “We still have three hours, Kazuha. How are you going to last that long?” Nako pinched the younger woman’s cheeks. “Are you going to make me take him the whole time? I don’t mind, but you have to be professional.” Nako turns her attention to you. “Why don’t we head for the bedroom? We can take Kazuha with us. She loves watching.” You nod your head, ready to spend more time with Nako.

[rebelliousstories]

Ex Lover’s Lover

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Strong Language, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 2,093

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two: My Baby Shot Me Down

Summary: Cooper Howard gets introduced to a new up and coming actress after his divorce is finalized. What happens when Barb finds out that Janey has been spending time with the two of them?

The sound of giggles and laughter filled the beautiful California ranch home. It was a sound that had almost never existed there again, but that all changed. Two adults were running around their dinning room in just their bathing suits because someone decided to tickle the other one.

“You ain’t gettin’ me, Coop! Not gonna happen!” The sweet accented voice rang through.

“Oh yes I am, darling.” He replied, darting around the table just in time to catch the woman. Wrapping his arms around her, Cooper began to drag her back outside to make use of their hot tub. She giggled the entire way back, and laughed when Cooper picked her up in a bridal hold to set her in the warm water. There was a tray of drinks waiting for them from before they had gotten side tracked.

“Now that we aren’t goin’ to be distracted any longer,” he groaned as he slipped into the warm water. “Here you are, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, hun. Ugh, this is just what I needed. You have no idea the day I have had.” She took a sip of her martini and relaxed further into the water. Cooper squeezed her thigh underneath the water to prompt her into talking about whatever it was.

“So the new Nuka-Cola ads ran today, and I get it, they want the prettiest image out of the bunch. But the retouching they did afterwards made my lips look twice their size. I look like I have clown lips,” pausing to take a sip, “and when I brought up my concerns to John he said, and I quote, ‘that’s what the people want. They want sex appeal.’ I’m selling a drink, not myself for a few bucks for the hour.” She ended her long rant with another sip of her drink.

“Darlin’ why don’t you find a new manager?” He asked, following her lead with his own martini.

“Cause John is a family friend. If I didn’t use him as my manager, my family would freak out. I’m tryin’ to get them out of the slums in Dallas.” Her voice wavered as she thought about it.

“Well, baby. What do you wanna do about it?” Cooper set down his glass on the ledge and turned his body fully towards his lover.

“I don’t know, Coop. I’m just hopin’ this bullshit dies down before the new movie. I’m just so stressed all the time right now. And I wanna go back to when I was actin’ for the love of it. Not just the love of a paycheck.” Downing the rest of her glass, and eating her olive, her hands were relieved of its glass by Cooper. He maneuvered her from her seat to his lap, and wrapped his arms around her middle.

“Darlin’, you can do whatever the hell you want. If you wanna get back into acting for the love of it, you can. If you wanna change a manager, let your family be mad. You’re gonna take over the world one day. I just hope I’m round to see it.” Howard started to press kisses to any and all skin he could get access to. He was briefly interrupted by her hand hitting his own shoulder, and he began to chuckle.

“Shut it. You’re not that old. You’ll still be around to see me reach your level of stardom.” She teased, pressing her lips against his. Their lips moved against each other as hands began to roam. The couple lost themselves in the moment, and did not pull away for anything. That was, until, someone’s stomach growled loudly.

“You hungry there baby?” Cooper teased, rubbing the front of her bathing suit, right over her stomach.

“You know drinking makes me hungry.” She whined, hitting her lover again when he laughed at her.

“If you think it’s so funny, you can go get food to bring out. How about that?” And she scooted off of Cooper to the bench seat of the hot tub. The man groaned, but made the move to get out of the warm water.

“Alright. What you want, baby?” He asked, wrapping his robe around him to make his way to the house.

“Can you get the cheese board from earlier? That sounds wonderful.” She leaned up to give him a kiss as he passed by, before settling back into the water. Cooper walked into the house and quickly found the board that she had made for an appetizer before their dinner. He was about to leave with the board when the phone rang. Setting the food down, Cooper padded over to the phone, and answered.

“Hello?” He asked, waiting to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

“Coop, hey. It’s me.” It was his ex-wife, Barb, on the phone.

“What do you want, Barb?” As much as he tried to sound indifferent, he was worried it came across as rude.

“Listen, I need you to take Janey. I have a big meeting at work tomorrow morning and my babysitter can’t make it. Please, I really need this favor.”

“It’s a Saturday tomorrow, Barb. What the hell you doin’ that’s so important?” He questioned, leaning against the wall.

“It doesn’t matter. Please, Cooper. Will you come take her for the weekend? You guys can start your week early this way.” She pleaded over the phone. Cooper scrubbed a hand over his face while the other held the phone.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll come get her. Be there soon.” He hung up the phone before she could say another word. With a deep sigh, he opened the door to the backyard and made his way over to the hot tub where his lover looked like she was about to fall asleep.

“Darlin’,” he shook her and watched her slowly come back to the land of the living. “Gotta go pick up Janey. Wanna come with me?”

“Yeah. I’d love to. You know I love that little girl.” She stretched and made her way out of the tub where Cooper waited with her robe. They made quick work of getting dressed and ready for the evening drive. The sun was just about to set when they left their house and got in the car.

It was a little over an hour before they arrived at Barb’s new house where the lights were still on. The entire drive over Cooper kept squeezing her hand, thigh, or really and part he could hold. There was something nerve wracking about seeing Barb knowing what he knew. He was not looking forward to it, but she was the mother of his child; that would never be taken away.

Getting out of the car, Cooper ran around and opened the door for his lover, before grabbing her hand to walk themselves up to the door. He knocked, and waited. The door opened up to the face of his ex-wife. She relaxed upon seeing Cooper, but was shocked to see the woman beside him.

“Hey,” Barb turned back to her ex-husband, “thank you for coming to get her. Come in. She’s just getting her things.” The couple walked inside the luxurious home. Everything in it looked like it was from a magazine.

“Cooper, may I talk to you?” Barb whispered, beginning to drag the man into the kitchen. He turned to his girlfriend, and only went when she nodded. Walking into the kitchen, he placed his hands in his pockets, and waited for her to speak.

“What is she doing here?” She just came out and said it.

“What do you mean?” Cooper responded.

“Don’t give me that, Coop. I thought it was just her imagination, but now I can see that Janey wasn’t lying.” Barb continued, placing her hands on her hips.

“The hell do you mean?” He asked once more.

“What are you doing with a girl young enough to be your daughter?” It was finally out in the open.

“Barb,” Cooper began, “she is a wonderful lady and I’m really happy with her. She’s of legal, consenting age. I didn’t coerce her into anything. She makes me happy and she makes Janey happy.”

“But she is so young. What’s gonna happen when she decides she doesn’t want to be with you anymore and leaves? Then you and Janey are heartbroken.” Her stern words caused Cooper to reel back as if he had been slapped.

“Wow. You really think that she is going to leave me just like that? Because of my age?” He watched as Barb stammered and tried to back pedal on her words. But Cooper just held up a hand, and silenced her.

“Listen, we’ve talked about our age difference. Hell, this is not the first time that I’ve thought about that. But every time I try and bring it up, she’s the one that puts me in my place. We love each other, of course I want her to be around Janey. And they love each other.” Cooper had stunned Barb into silence. The sincerity in his words was shocking to his ex-wife. All she could do was nod without a word as she tried to think. But before she could get another word in, footsteps ran into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Janey yelled, happily throwing herself at her father.

“Oh, hello sweet pea! You been good for your momma this week?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he set her back down. She nodded eagerly, and smiled, which prompted her parents to smile. Another set of footsteps came in the room.

“Sorry, I know y’all were talkin’. But she was so excited to hear daddy was here.” Cooper’s girlfriend had made her way into the kitchen. Neither her nor her lover missed the way Barb’s face screwed up at the mere sight of her. Extending her hand, she introduced and gave her name to the older woman.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you. Janey has told me so much about you.” Barb shook the woman’s hand with a firm grasp.

“Likewise,” she turned to her daughter, “alright. You go have fun with daddy and his friend?”

“She’s not just his friend. Daddy loves Cola like he loved you, mommy.” Her words held an innocence that only a child could have. The three adults looked in between each other with solemn looks.

“Come on, Janey. Let’s let momma and daddy finish their conversation. Can I have the keys, please?” She held out her hands, and offered one to Janey while the other waited for the keys to the car. Cooper handed them over and sent a smile towards his girls as they left.

“At least she’s polite. That seems to be a lost skill for this generation.” Barb commented, tapping her nails against the counter top.

“Yeah she is. Listen, she’s going to be a staple in my life and Janey’s for the foreseeable future. So just try and keep the comments to a minimum. Good luck at your meeting.” And with that, Cooper left his ex-wife’s presence.

When he left the house, he felt like he could breathe again. Letting out a sharp exhale, Howard did not notice his ex-wife watching him from the window with a mournful expression. He opened the car door and smiled at the sound of laughter.

“Now what are we laughing about in here, huh?” He pressed, turning towards his daughter and lover. They shared a look and giggled to themselves once more.

“Nothing. Just laughing about the new advertisement that Janey saved.” She replied, showing Cooper the clipped out image. It was the same one that she had been lamenting over earlier in the hot tub.

“Gotta say darlin’. Clown look is a good look on you.” Everyone laughed at that, and Cooper handed the image back to his daughter before driving out and away, back to his house.

“Can we get ice cream?” Janey piped up after a minute. Cooper looked in the mirror to his daughter, and then over to his lover in the passenger seat.

“Well, I don’t see why not. Whatcha say, Nuka-Cola? Want a Nuka-Cola float?” He teased, squeezing her thigh when she slapped his shoulder.

“Maybe a root beer float. Do you know the chemicals in Nuka-Cola?” She quipped back, holding Cooper’s hand tightly in hers on her lap.

“Alright, well, let’s go get something for y’all’s sweet tooth.” They continued driving, talking, and laughing all the way to the ice cream parlor. And it was there,the Cooper realized that he could find a second chance at love and a family.

[wonnieluv]

Enhypen…

When they see you after you being apart for a long time

Heeseung

Heeseung would envelope you in the most tightest. Not the kind where you’re gripping each other real tight but the kind of hug where you just feel so secure. Like not even the strongest wind could knock you out of his embrace

He’d kiss your forehead and just hold you for a solid few minutes as you just bathe in each other’s presence mumbling small I missed you’s and I love you’s into your ears as you inhale his scent. It’s such a healing moment and any pain, exhaustion or stress you had weighing on you didn’t seem to matter anymore because all that mattered was that you two were together

Jay

Jay would be counting down the days to being able to see you again. You two probably have one of those countdown’s on your lock screen or something. The moment you open the door for him when he knocks, you nearly tackle him over as he drops everything in his hands to hug you

Once you let go of each other, you walk in your door hand in hand. He sets his stuff down and you both immediately snuggle up on the couch maybe with a cup of wine or some tea. You rest your head on his chest as he tells you all about what him and the members have been up to and some of the exciting things they have coming up. You eventually turn on the TV and pop in some cheesy rom-com that you both love. There hasn’t been a more perfect moment. The two of you cozied up on your couch, he runs his hand through your hair as you listen to his heartbeat. Needless to say your both asleep in each others arms long before the movie ends.

Jake

Jake is all giddy. No one within his close circle doesn’t know you’re coming. He probably sits and tells Layla all about how excited he is to see you and all the things you’ll do when he goes to visit his parents. When you finally do arrive he runs up and bear hugs you with the brightest smile on his face. Like his cheeks are probably aching with how hard he’s smiling. As you walk to the car hand in hand, he drives you back with his hand not leaving yours once on the drive home and he doesn’t waste a single second in pulling you into his room and trapping you in a hug on his bed. He’s waited so long to hold you and now that he has the chance, he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

He’ll tell you about all the stuff he wants to do with you; the cafes he wants to visit, the late night walks with Layla, the places in Seoul he can’t wait to take you to. He’ll promise to take you to the HYBE building and show you around (maybe they’ll let you watch practice ;)). If you show more excitement to see another artist he may teasingly say that you can’t go anymore and he’ll be pouty and never leave your side if you guys actually go. The time you spend with Jake you’ll probably end up sleeping better than you ever have wrapped up in his arms

Sunghoon

Sunghoon may not immediately show it on his face, but he is so excited to see you. When he finally sees your face and sees you running towards him he’ll break out into the prettiest smile and immediately open his arms for you to run into. He’s probably trying to play it cool but in reality he’s trying not to combust from how happy he is. His giddiness immediately gets exposed the second he brings you around the members. ‘Hoon literally won’t shut up about you’ ‘y/n comes in a week, y/n comes in 4 days, y/n comes tomorrow, I see y/n in a coupon hours’ ‘I saw him kicking his feet and giggling when you guys texted last night’. Like they won’t let this poor man live.

When you guys get to be alone there may not be many words exchanged at first but you guys are just going about your business being more than content to be in each other’s presence. Whether he’s playing games, you’re doing your skincare, on your phones, cuddling in bed. Whatever y’all are doing there’s always a permanent smile on your face. But before you fall asleep you probably tease him a bit about how much the boys said he missed you just to seem him get all flustered.

Sunoo

You and Sunoo would FaceTime almost everyday when you were apart. You would be spilling tea, giving eachother updates on whatever has been going on (because he knows alllll of your friends and all of the gossip in your life), doing skincare together, or just exchanging quick words to each other to help cheer the other up.

When you finally are together again you immediately take over the bathroom for the most extensive home spa routine to ever exist. No one is interrupting and by the time you’re done, you’re going through your camera roll looking at all the goofy pics you took with your matching face masks and pajamas on and giggling to each other picking the perfect one that you can post on your story without showing his face. You guys put on the drama you agreed to watch together and spill any recent drama you’ve had yet to tell each other. Needless to say the entire evening is filled with soft giggles and sweet smiles shared between the two of you from the comfort of each others embrace in Sunoo’s room.

Jungwon

You know Jungwon is busy and he knows that you are as well so when you finally have the time to spend an evening at his place you had your bag packed a week in advance and made sure no one would get in the way. He gave you the code so you came to the dorm a bit early to surprise him when he got out of his schedule for that day. The second he walked through the door to see you in the living room his tense shoulders immediately relaxed and before you could even sit up to greet him he was laying on top of you. I’m not talking but ‘tackled into a hug on the couch’ type of thing, I’m talking the ‘there’s his body laying on top of you like a sack of potatos’ and he is not getting up.

When you finally do get him up you head of his room. After you convince him that you will in fact still be there when he’s done showering, he goes to wash up before catapulting himself into bed to lay on top of you again. You spend the next 30 minutes to an hour with his head on your chest combing your fingers through his hair as you exchange words about all the things you’ve been up to as you both slowly fade into unconsciousness holding each other. The next morning he will not let you go and you may have to get 2 of the members to pry him away from you when you have to go back home but it’s ok because you know that it won’t be long until you’ll be in each others arms again.

Ni-ki

Your texts with Riki mostly consist of daily updates and horrible memes exchanged between the two of you with some play fighting added to the mix. Even when you’re ‘arguing’ with each other he knows how to make you laugh and that does not change when you finally get to see him face to face again. He would probably pretend to not see you if you’re a lot smaller than he but when you start to get annoyed he pulls you into a hug and apologizes through his giggles.

The majority of the time you spend with each other consists of you two giggling over things you find on Twitter, taking silly goofy pictures of each other that you beg him to post on Weverse, him teasing you, you punching him for teasing you, him apologizing while laughing and the cycle repeats. By the time it gets to 1am you have settled in his room and he’s telling you goofy stories of things the members have done recently and you’re telling him about the things you’ve been up to recently with your friends (who he totally 100% remembers the names of) until the conversation fades as your breathing steadies and you both fall asleep with smiles on your faces. The rest of the time you’re staying with him consists of similar routines with maybe a late night run to the convenience store or some video games where Riki promises he’ll play fair but we all know he won’t with the biggest smile on his face.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

You guys really got me to one thousand likes in less than two days.

I don't even know what's happening but it's pulling me out of a really awful writer's block.

I have more ideas than I know what to do with so expect a good bit of content in the future.

You're all incredible 💗 ❤️

Have some Shanks headcanons, ranging from fluffy to spicy. As a treat.

I was a little iffy about Live Action Shanks at first, since he was literally my first manga/anime crush ever. But he grew on me more with every scene.

Especially that final scene where he saw Luffy's wanted poster. I mean....

Lookit that smile 🥹

So anyway.

LA!Shanks X Fem!Reader

Shanks A — Z

A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)

Holding you close and telling you how much he adores you.

He's going to give you anything you want. Anything.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart? I've got you."

You want a bath, he's going to run it for you, carry you there once it's ready, and help you bathe.

Food or a drink, you just lay down, he's got it.

Shanks is completely and utterly devoted to making you feel like a goddess after sex.

Showering you with soft, tender kisses and caresses and endless praise, rubbing his fingers between your wet folds to prolong your pleasure as long as possible.

If it seems like he's trying to coax you into another round, he probably is. Your're going to have to outright tell him you're if spent, because he can't get enough of you.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

You can expect it nightly. You're his princess and he's going to pamper you.

He might only have one hand, but dear gods those fingers are magic.

He's not asking anything in return, but if you're offering then he isn't going to turn you down.

Closing his eyes and groaning as your fingers work through the tension in his muscles.

"Oh, you're too good for me, love."

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)

If you're within arm's reach, then Shanks has his arm around you.

His main mode of affection is physical.

Pulling you you to his side, resting his head over yours, tugging you down onto his lap.

He wants you close, as much and as often as you're willing to be, and he does't give a damn who sees.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Not really big on dancing, but if you want to he isn’t going to turn you down.

He'll take any excuse he can get to hold you close.

Tucking your hair behind your ear so he can rest his temple against yours.

His arm curled loosely around your back.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

He would literally move mountains for you if he could.

You tell him your dreams, well now they're his dreams too.

Anything you accomplish, whether alone or with his help, warrants the most lavish of celebrations.

He isn’t particularly materialistic, but what his princess wants, she gets, no questions asked.

"If you wanted the moon, I would make this ship fly so you could stake your claim."

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

All puppy-dog eyes and pouts.

Shanks makes it impossible to stay mad at him for any reasonable length of time. He's just too damned adorable.

Wrapping an arm around you and laying his head on your shoulder, refusing to let you go until you listen.

Even if it's a serious argument, the look of utter heartbreak on his face makes you cave every time.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just name it, I'll do anything."

He isn’t too proud to apologize—he knows when he's in the wrong, and he'll do anything in his power to make it up to you.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If Shanks is the one doing the planning, you can expect to end up one of two places.

You might be at the nearest tavern, going shot for shot on rum until you can't see straight, singing sea shanties into the dark hours of morning.

Or laid out on a secluded stretch of beach in the moonlight, sharing a bottle or two, wrapped up in each others' arms and lips and forgetting the passage of time entirely.

He's happy doing anything that means he gets to spend time with you, though, so he's fine with going out of his element if you have something else in mind.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

Don't. Please. Just don't. He'll be inconsolable.

He'll cry. Don't make Shanks cry. That's just heartless.

He won't show it in front of his crew. He'll keep up his usual carefree and aloof facade.

But once he's alone, he'll be in complete shambles.

He'll probably drink himself senseless.

He loves hard, with every fabric of his being, and losing you would utterly destroy him.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Literally all the time.

Shanks always kisses you like no one's watching, pulling you flush against him and delving his tongue between your lips and squeezing your rear.

In his eyes, there's no wrong time to show how much he treasures you. How much he wants you.

His ship could be under fire by a full Marine armada and he would still pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss if the mood struck.

In fact he'd probably do it just to show the Marines how completely unbothered he is.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

If Shanks isn't cracking some stupid joke, you're worried something is wrong.

He loves making people laugh, loves seeing people laughing and enjoying life.

And making *you* laugh? That gives him life.

He's gone far as to pull your panties on while you're alone together in the captain's cabin and imitate you being dramatic about something until you're begging him to stop before you choke to death on your own giggles.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

If you're within eyeshot, he *has* to kiss you.

He knows that his crew will roll their eyes and tease him about it, but he doesn't care. Your lips are like a drug and he simply can't get enough.

His kisses tend to be light and plauful.

Lightly biting and pulling at your bottom lip.

Flicking his tongue across lips to coax yours out.

Letting his tongue swirl slowly around yours before pulling back and leaving you craving more.

Pulling you into his lap when he deepens the kiss.

Lifting his hand to flip off anyone with the audacity to tell you two to get a room.

"Don't pay them any mind, princess. They're just a bunch of jealous pricks."

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to be against you in bed.

If you roll away in your sleep, he will subconsciously shift closer to you.

Spooning is definitely his favorite—your back and your ass pressed up against him, his arm draped over your waist so he can caress your stomach or lay his palm over one of your soft breasts...absolute *heaven*.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Shanks is good with kids, being that he's practically an overgrown kid himself half the time.

All the same, he just...isn’t sure.

He loves you to death. Having a family with you would be a dream come true.

But if he had to leave his ship, his crew behind? He just isn’t sure he could do that.

Because he loves them to death, too.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Shanks posseses the positively deadly combination of being unnecessarily charming and handsome, and incredibly aware of it.

Thus, his confidence is through the roof.

He knows he doesn't need anything more than a cheeky grin and a soft carress or two to get you in bed.

That being said, he'll spend all day subtly teasing you to the end of your sanity to make sure you want him as much as it's possible to want another person.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Absolutely a giver. He's incredible at it and he knows it.

And he's a terrible, terrible tease about it.

Taking you to the edge, making your thighs tremble...and then pulling away to brush his lips to your thighs and give you a cheeky grin.

"Oh, not yet, love. I love hearing you beg for it."

Keeping you on the edge until you're begging to come in complete and utter desperation before he finally lets you.

And then he isn't going to stop until you're begging him to.

He loves recieving just as much.

Really loves it when you pull him down an empty alley and get on your knees.Curling his fingers in your hair, groaning quietly and praising you endlessly.

His breath shaking as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and fuck your throat, wanting to enjoy the slow build-up.

"That's it, sweetheart. Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck my cock."

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Taking things too seriously. He's always joking around and having a good time, and all he wants is for you to do the same.

The silent treatment. It drives him absolutely insane. Just talk to him if there's something wrong, he wants to fix it.

Flirting with other men to make him jealous. Just don't. It's the one thing that truly gets under his skin, that could actually get him honestly angry with you.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

Gives you your distance if you need it, but he does so begrudgingly.

He knows life is short—he got his arm bit off by a giant sea monster, for gods' sake—and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you.

Whether you're out having fun, fighting alongside each other, or curled up together in a hammock sharing a bottle of rum and enjoying a lazy afternoon.

He loves being with you, and he'll take any excuse he can get.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

Shanks's version of romance isn't fancy dinners and extravagant date nights.

It's lying on a beach watching the sunset with you.

Pushing you into the water and diving in after you, kissing you while you're both sopping wet.

Making love under a full moon.

Telling you every opportunity he gets how much he adores you.

"You know you're my greatest treasure, don't you, sweetheart?"

It's hard not to know when he tells you at least three times a day.

But the way he looks into your eyes when he says it still manages to melt your heart every time.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Shanks isn't really much for materialism or consumerism.

You'll have to tell him if there's something you want, and he's not going to have any oroblem with getting it for you.

Every so often, something is going to catch his eye at some market in a port town.

Something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you'll like.

And he'll buy it without hesitation and give it to you with a big, goofy grin the second he sees you.

It's not all the time, but it makes it that much more special when it does happen.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

He absolutely trusts you—that's how love is supposed to work.

But he can get a little jealous.

You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself and jokes about it, but he does get a little insecure about missing an entire limb.

This can lead to him getting a little defensive and possessive if other men approach you—he's going to make sure it's known that you're his lover, and he'll always fight for you.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Loose-fitting boxers are more comfortable.

He doesn't care what kind of underwear you wear, as long as it comes off easily.

And if you whisper in his ear that you're *not* wearing any?

You'd best buckle up, because he's putting you over his shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest private, or even semi-private location he can find to take advantage of this information.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He is one hundred percent an open book with you.

You know everything about him. His life, his secrets, his aspirations.

He doesn't want anything to ever come up that could frighten you off, so he lays everything on the table surprisingly quickly.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

He would much rather cook, preferably with you. He's not the best at it, but he's not awful either, given that he's had to be self-sufficient for a good bit of his life.

And if you're good at it, he's not to proud to take advice.

Any time spent with you is a wonderful time to him.

If you go out, it's probably going to be street food or tavern fare—fancy restaurants aren't his forte, and he's frankly not sure he would even have anything appropriate to wear.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Hopefully you like being teased literally to the edge of sanity.

Major kink for edging you, making you beg for it.

And dear sweet fuck, is he good at it.

Whispering all the things he's going to do to you throughout the course of the day.

Pulling you down an alley or into a broom closet, pinning you to the wall and teasing you through your panties, stopping just short of letting you cum.

Subtle glances and touches.

He *loves* seeing you writhing in his bed, desperate for his touch while he kisses your neck, just trailing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.

Holding you down by your hips so you can't even grind against him.

"Such an eager little thing. Just be patient, princess. You're going to get what you want."

Kissing down your breasts, taking time to stop and tease your nipples.

Pushing your thighs apart with his knees so he can circle a finger around your entrance, chuckling a little at your moans and whimpers before finally pushing it in.

Sitting up on his knees to watch you arch your hips, rubbing against your g-spot just long enough to get you gasping.

Pulling his finger back out and slowly circling it around your clit instead, before shifting back between your thighs and giving the sensitive bud a few teasing licks, watching you shiver in anticipation.

Keeping it slow and sensual, enjoying every second of being between your thighs, building your pleasure at a slow and steady pace that drives you crazy.

Holding onto your hip keep you from grinding against his tongue.

Pulling back the second you crest toward orgasm, chuckling at your whimpering and begging as he trails his lips across your inner thigh.

"You're just so adorable when you're desperate for it."

Keeping it going for what feels like hours, before finally tugging you in close and not relenting until you're trembling and falling apart beneath him.

Feeling you throbbing under his tongue and tighten up around his fingers is like a high for him.

Not stopping until your body goes limp and the only sounds you can make are a few little whimpers.

Soft, tender kisses amd whispered praises at your neck and lips and shoulders, his fingers combing through your hair, letting you recover for just a minute, even though he's aching for you.

Grinding his cock against your wet folds a few times before sliding slowly into you, groaning quietly in your ear.

"Oh, fuck, you're tight, love..."

Absolutely savors every second of being inside you, moving in long slow strokes, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you.

If you ask for it harder, he's going to give it to you—he's done with teasing you now. This is about you now, about what his princess wants.

And if you want it rough, then you're coming out of it with your neck and chest half-covered in hickies, and he's not stopping until he's sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning.

Holding back just long enough so you can climax at the same time, grunting out a quiet swear and pulling your hips flush against his to come deep inside you.

Slow, deep kisses while you both catch your breath and come down.

But don't be surprised if he's gearing up for another round soon. He really can never get enough of you.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

It depends. If it's purely lust based, he's not going to pursue it very long and just move on.

If the feelings run deeper, though, he's absolutely shameless about it.

Relentless flirting and corny pick-up lines.

"Pardon me miss—do you have a map? It seems I've gotten lost in your eyes and I can’t find my way out."

Will absolutely get on his knees and beg you to give him a chance if he has to.

Puppy dog eyes in full effect.

It's pretty much pointless trying to resist.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

A bottle of rum, a hammock stretched between a couple palm trees on some remote beach only he knows about, and his arm curled around you while you lie back against his chest.

Kissing your temple and playing with your hair.

He's always more relaxed when he has you with him.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Brahms Heelshire Headcanons:

❝ Come back! I'll be good! I will! ❝

[SFW+NSFW + No Gendered Terms]

NSFW Section Warnings: Stalking, Secret Voyeurism, Somnophilia, Non-Con, Dom/Sub Dynamics

A/N: Different fandom but same styled headcanons :) Brahms rattles around in this dome of mine nearly everyday so he had to be next. Also, first time doing NSFW headcanons so the writing may seem awkward just bc it’s slightly uncomfortable to write lmao

SFW Headcanons:

> Brahms's Main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.

> Brahms is obviously very clingy and needy. You can find him to be attached at the hip with you at all times.

> It doesn’t need to even be something important but he’ll be hugging you, holding your hand. Something. ANYTHING. So long as he’s by your side.

> He’s simply happy to be beside you because you’re his favorite person in the whole world!

> Now, this is where his bratty behavior can come out. If you brush him off or not reciprocate his excitement, he’ll pout and whine that he should be given your attention.

> Brahms will match his schedule to yours to ensure that he spends as much time as possible with you! Occasionally he’ll stay up for later but normally he doesn’t want to miss out on any chance while you’re awake.

> Incredibly possessive over you and insists you never leave him. He has massive separation anxiety and is incredibly nervous when you ask to leave to do some chores.

> When you get back, better believe he is NOT letting go of you for a good while. “Please don’t leave me again! You can never do that again! Stay with me here! Please!”

> I 100% believe that any source of romantic interactions that he’s gotten is from romance books. He pictures himself as the knight in shining armor and will try and mimic things he’s read in books.

> Cue him trying to hype himself up to offer you a flower from the garden to which you’re wondering why you have several weeds in your hands now at 8:00AM.

> He definitely cannot cook or clean but seeing you do it will encourage him to want to help you out because he wants to be useful.

> He ended up burning his finger on the pan and cried at the pain for an hour and insisting he needed to be kissed better.

> He also watches you as you get ready for the day with pure admiration. His eyes sparkle while you do skincare, makeup, put on jewelry or do your hair.

> He then will ask if you can do the same to him. (Do his hair or skincare, etc.) Brahms will keep happily still and follow each instruction you give so he can look just as good as you do!

> It takes a long while before he ever considers pulling off his mask. Whenever he gets food from you, he immediately runs off to go eat it so you can’t see him without his mask on. If you help him bathe, he will firmly insist his mask stays on.

> After some time, if you ask again, he’ll hesitate but give a slight nod to encourage you to remove it.

> If you shower him in affection and praise at seeing his face, he’ll be wide-eyed and stunned asking if you really mean it then pull you into a bear hug.

> Brahms's Favorite Love Languages to receive are: Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service.

> Brahms obviously feels most loved when he's taken care of. His needs need to be tended to regularly or else he feels as though he's being ignored or has done something wrong to have deserved such treatment.

> Cooking for him, bathing him, brushing his hair, cleaning his mask, etc. are things he'll happily watch you do with pure love in his eyes.

> And obviously because of his childlike nature and insecurities, he needs to be complimented and reassured often.

> He'll get all giddy and excited accompanied by slight stimming when he's complimented. It's like you can tell when he's blushing under his mask just by how openly he reacts.

NSFW Headcanons:

> When you first arrive as a nanny to take care of Brahms and he begins developing his obsession with you, he’ll find it more comfortable to watch you while you sleep.

> He’ll start by just watching from inside the walls, then to being in the room, then to sitting at the bedside, then finally, he’ll work himself up to touching you.

> He keeps gentle to not wake you but he gets excited by the opportunity to be this close to you and touch at your soft belly and chest. He fears you waking up so he’ll only caress your body for a bit before slinking back into the walls.

> Definitely has several peepholes all across the manor to get off to you. He finds it difficult to keep quiet. You swear sometimes you could hear some breathing somewhere in the manor but you can’t place it.

> Occasionally, you’ll find your clothing missing. It would take a bit to notice since it’s one or two things but you take to notice your laundry seemed more full than you last saw it and your drawers can be messier than how you left it.

> Once you’re comfortable with the actual Brahms, he’ll straight up ask to have your clothing for… “personal reasons”.

> Firmly believe he has no idea how sex works. His parents, once he was an adult, gave him magazines to scroll through but that isn’t an instruction manual to do anything. So you need to teach him how most of it works and what feels good and also what aftercare is.

> To keep all his needs satisfied, he was gifted one of those dolls. Y’know? It’s a miracle he hasn’t broken the damn thing with how aggressive he can be.

> Remember those stolen clothing items? Guess what doll is dressed in them.

> The doll he has customized best he can to look like you and he’ll use it while dreaming and fantasizing what it would be like to use you the same way.

> I know he’s commonly accepted to be a pure sub but I think he’s a switch (sub-leaning). He does want to please and have someone take control which is why he’ll let you take the reins most of the time.

> But, get him worked up enough or he’s getting close? He’s changing positions quick and fucking you hard and fast without restraint.

> Like—Doggy style while his arms are wrapped around you to keep you in place as he desperately pounds into you.

> He enjoys hearing praise for when he’s doing well. His eyes will look up to yours for confirmation that he’s doing what you asked for.

> It’s pure praise for him. Bby boy cannot handle degradation because he’ll take it seriously and be put off. So obvious pet names like being considered your “good boy” or a slew of other sweet names like “baby”, “honey”, “sweetheart” or “love”.

> Brahms is the type to not last long or for the average time but have insane recharge speed. Like he can go five times a day until he’s crying from sensitivity.

> If he’s straight up frustrated, he does not hesitate to just bend you over the nearest surface, yank your clothing off and fucking you to oblivion. He struggles with restraint if you couldn’t tell.

> He’d enjoy doing that in every part of the house by the way. Just to be reminded anywhere that he’s at of what your body looks like.

> CLINGS onto you like never before once you guys are done and puddled in sweat. Aftercare consists of telling him how good he was while he worships your body and apologizes if he's hurt you or went too hard.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[unluckilyimnot]

How they comfort you – yoichi, chigiri, sae, reo, karasu, rin, hiori

after a bad day

m.list rules 1k

note: sorry I moved in with my colocs and I just started criminals minds and got lost. I’m barely coming back to write.

Isagi

he takes you on a date when he notices how bad your day seemed

doesn’t matter the hour or if he’s exhausted

he takes you out, walking around the street

then to eat, it doesn’t have to be a big things

usually 7/11 date

you two brought your favorite ramens, desert and drinks and eat there

letting you rant if you need or talking about totally something else to change your mind

in any case, he’s emphatic and really listen to you

he might be a little blinded and he’s always on your side but he’s sweet

he doesn’t try to solve your problem and you’re thankful for that

chigiri

he takes care of you, your skin, your hair : you name it all

he takes his time to gently exfoliate your skin while a mask sit on your hair

your eyes shut and the sweet smell of the big candle he lights up for you to relax

he doesn’t ask about it unless you talk about it first, but then he might be a bit mean to the people who ruined your day

he’s part of the girl yk

he washes and blow dry your hair for you before watching a movie or a tv show

but in the end you don’t even watch it and just talk together, about everything and nothing

he talks about his day as well, mention it if something bothered him and you two can rant together

or he can just let you sit between his legs and listen to you while stroking your hair

anything to make you feel better

sae

when you mentioned it over the phone or through text that your day was awful, he makes sure to pass by a flower shop

and if he knows he won’t have time, he call over for the bouquet to be delivered at your place or your work

he’s really into talking at first, he prefers to let you come to him further if you need it

yet, it's still the first thing he asks when he gets home – just to let you know that he cares

if you decided to talk about it, all his focus is on you

but don’t expect much answer from him, he knows he’s not the best at this anymore

but he’ll order your favorite food

and let you lay on him, playing with your hair or stroke your arm

if he feels you being overwhelmed you can be sure that his arms will tight up around you in a warm embrace

He expects you to fall asleep in there to be honest, but he'll always leave a kiss on your temple before taking you to bed

reo

He hates seeing you like this so if it can bring a smile back to your face, he’s down for anything

so he drops everything and takes you to a fancy restaurant !

For him it’s the best thing possible and he always enjoy taking you out to clear your head

but if you’re too tired for that, he let you tell the chef what you want to eat and spent a chill night

he asks about it, he wants to know what happened and how he can help

he physically can’t leave you like this – and if he can’t help it right now, he’ll do the same tomorrow

until you feel better

he honestly would do anything for you to feel better

Do you want to order something ? He doesn’t really like it but anything for you

wanna stay inside and do nothing, rot in bed ? He’ll stay with you

best boy

karasu

he can tell you’re on edge even if you don’t mention anything

you’re snapping at him too easily or in contrary not talking to him at all and he hates that it getting into him

so he’ll run you a bath or tell you to take a hot shower, that he’s handling what’s needed to be done

he reassure you that you’re free for the night, it doesn’t matter what there’s to do – he’ll do it

after that, he’ll take his time to massage your shoulders and back while asking you what’s going on

he insist on you telling him what's going on, he doesn’t accept a shrug or a simple ‘hum’/’nothing’

your his partner, he needs to know what’s going on to help you

he’ll fight every time if it’s needed for you to tell him

rin

take you for a walk, to clear your head

he hates it when you rot in bed for too long so he tries to avoid it in the first place

but he doesn’t force you to talk about it if you don’t feel the need to do so

he waits for you to open up, even if he has to fill the silence if it makes you uncomfortable

But it rarely happens, you two really enjoy a quiet walk around the city

There's also time when you talk about it

He's a bit annoyed about it if it's about someone ruining your day, but he dies his best to be there for you

The type to run his thumb a the top of your hands

He can be shy about pda but doesn't hesitate if it can make you feel better

Hide you in his chest if you cry on the way

hiori

He can be deeply emphatic so he'd rather spend the night hearing you talk about it

Even cry in his shoulders

Than to leave you alone

He tries to make you feel better, stroking your hand and hair, your cheeks

Looking deep into your eyes and kissing you all the time

He wants to find a solution if he can, and if you want it

He has a hard time letting you alone if you need space

But he will if he can check in you regularly, you have to stay available

But he much rather have you sitting in his lap, warmly in his embrace, not talking if you don't want to

Just, stay near please

Let me know if you liked it ♡

[byeuijoo]

don't fall in love 𐀔 myung jaehyun

genre : mostly fluff, first love coded ⋆ warnings : none but reader doesn't like basketballs ⋆ word count : 1,811

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

you don't particularly like basketball. you even hate basketballs because you're always afraid of getting one in the head — boys are often far too brutal when it comes to sports, their competitive spirit often takes over, and the desire to impress others can be felt in the strength of their shot. but when the only boy who ever made your heart beat madly, asked you to come to one of his basketball practices, you didn't hesitate for a second before accepting.

myung jaehyun has always been your buried secret — of course, there were other boys you might like, but it was him you wanted. from the back of the classroom, you could spend hours admiring him (and you weren't the only one) : his smile so big and bright that it overshadowed the sun, his hair always slightly in disarray from running around like a hyperactive kid, his school uniform' shirt always a little too open and his tie undone, revealing his sports shirt normally concealed underneath, but above all, his laughter, capable of chasing away every bad vibe in the air. he was always so kind, good-humored, funny and thoughtful, helpful, and full of other positive adjectives that didn't come to mind. you always found him interesting and intelligent, and not a day went by when you didn't squint a little too long at his concentrated face during classes. he's so cute, his lips slightly pursed together and his eyebrows furrowed, all bathed in the sunlight streaming through the window. nobody ever noticed your big crush on jaehyun, not even when you can't take your eyes off him and chew the end of your pencil until it almost breaks — and if, by chance, any of your friends knew, they were good at hiding it from you.

in spite of everything, the truth needs to be told : you're one another of the countless people interested in myung jaehyun. but even though so many people have already confessed their love to him, jaehyun never really showed much interest in any kind of relationship. he seems pretty focused only on his friends, classes and basketball practice.

or so you thought.

until the day he came up to you at the end of class, catching up with you, almost shouting your name, and trotting off to reach you. you don't know what face you must have made when you saw him standing in front of you — it was either embarrassment, curiosity or shyness, or a mixture of all three. but you didn't care at that time, because the boy you'd been watching so silently from the back of the classroom was standing in front of you, more handsome than ever with his sun-drenched face and a shy smile on his lips. his hand suddenly found your wrist, and the soft skin of his fingertips sent an electric field down your arm. you looked at him with doe eyes, noticing the way his eyes kept juggling between yours and an invisible spot on his right, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

after a few silent seconds in which you simply admired his sweet face, a little too perfect to be real, jaehyun spoke up and caught your attention. « can i have you number? » he asked, so softly, his voice vibrating your heart — so much, that you felt ready to faint. nodding shyly but positively, jaehyun seemed far too pleased with your answer, handing you his phone without hesitation. grabbing it without a second's delay, your eyes were riveted on the screen, before his voice drew your attention a second time, « i'm myung jaehyun, by the way. i should have started there.. » — a slight nervous laugh left his rosy lips, which made you look up at him, a smile hanging on your lips. « i know who you are. » you answered naturally, before typing your number into the contact section, not noticing the way his eyes lit up right after your words.

« you know me..? » he asked, as if it were completely inconceivable for him to believe this new information. a chuckle slipped out of your mouth, and your eyes locked with his as you handed him his phone again. « who doesn't? » you said, and you weren't really wrong on that thing. myung jaehyun was probably one of the most popular boys at your school, as cliché as that may sound : he was good looking, captain of the basketball team, and above that, he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. jaehyun had everything to please, and that's what made him so popular. and you weren't the only one who noticed it. you had a lot of competition if you decided to seduce jaehyun, which was why you'd always stayed on the sidelines in the first place, but now, seeing him so close to you and melting under his honeyed voice, nothing made you want him more than to have him all to yourself. it's amazing what love can do to you.

a timid pink tinge clung to the apple of his cheekbones, and you swore that never in your life had you seen such a pretty boy. his eyes carried all the sun's glow, and the smirk on his lips seemed more shy and flirty than teasing. jaehyun, who always looked so sure of himself, seemed troubled and distraught, as if he didn't expect you to pay any attention to him. of course, he had already noticed some of your gazes riveted on him, your pupils burning his back, but he never had the guts to come and talk to you.

or at least, until now.

poor boy — he was too obvious, but you were too oblivious. how could you not notice that he was interested in you? jaehyun decided to change strategy when your fingers brushed his as he retrieved his cell phone, a chill running down his spine. « oh, i wanted to ask you something, » he began, regaining a certain composure and energy that you liked so much, « are you free on friday? »

staring at the sky for a few moments, you thought about whether or not you already had plans, when you knew perfectly well that wasn't the case. finally shaking your head in the negative under jaehyun's watchful gaze, you gave him a pretty smile, « i am. why do you ask? »

jaehyun seemed far too delighted by this sudden revelation, and moved a little closer to you, his hand rising close to your face. just as you thought his fingers were about to reach your cheek, you stared into his eyes for a few seconds to see where he was looking : a little higher, his gaze wandering through your hair. the next moment, his index finger and thumb grasped something in your hair — something small, fine and pink. a cherry blossom petal. watching the petal twirl between his pretty, skillful fingers, the boy finally catches your eye, his gaze fixed on yours. and when he spoke, you swore you felt like one of this female leads straight out of a kdrama, « would you like to come and see one of my games? »

the wind rustled around you, slipping between the branches of the cherry blossom trees, and suddenly, a shower of pink petals fell on your shoulders. a scene straight out of a romantic film — which made your heart beating with happiness. it was almost unreal, the timing was perfect, and the twinkle in his chocolate orbs made you want to twirl in the clouds. you weren't much of a sports fan, quite the contrary, but seeing jaehyun's bright smile on a basketball court was worth all the effort in the world. so you nodded gently, positively, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the excitement creeping through your veins.

« of course, it could be fun. » you affirmed, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear and looking away. jaehyun suddenly felt his heart racing, like when he approaches a basketball hoop and adrenaline rushes through his muscles, having succeeded in inviting you had the same effect on him as winning a match. the overexcited boy shook his head like a happy puppy, before taking another step towards you, the sudden closeness catching you slightly off guard. your eyes opened a little wider than normal, planting themselves in his, which seemed a little too unkempt for your liking. out of the corner of your eye, you saw jaehyun run his tongue slowly over his lower lip, his gaze juggling from one eye to the other with the most tender smiles on his mouth. the image of his face surrounded by cherry blossom petals remained etched in your memory, you don't want to forget the way he looks so sweet and so hot at the same time.

« nice.. » he whispered, his fingers moving to reach your cheek and graze your cheekbone with the tip of his index finger, « don't fall in love with me after seeing me play. » — after his words, your heart raced in your chest, wildly, the words stuck in the back of your throat for long moments, far too surprised by his bold declaration. you hadn't yet realized that he was actually flirting with you (or maybe you just couldn't believe it), but now you knew for sure that jaehyun wasn't messing with you. in a burst of pure courage, your fingers innocently slipped around his tie, putting it back in place as you nodded, a look of understanding on your face. then, you stood up on tiptoe and put your lips to his ear to whisper the following words, « i can't promise you anything. »

with as much good as bad, and after a light chuckle, jaehyun tried to hide the smirk on his lips, but failed miserably when your gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth the next second. the poor boy thought his heart was going to explode — but he had to remain calm and wise so as not to hurt his own dignity. nevertheless, satisfied with your answer, jaehyun offered you one of those smiles that only he knew the secret of, making your heart tremble with shyness, « good.. i'll see you on friday then? »

trying to ignore the fact that his fingers kept brushing yours, you confirmed his words before moving gently away from him, taking a few steps backwards to admire his face for as long as possible. as for him, he stood there like an idiot for long minutes, before jumping up in a victorious rush, a huge satisfied smile hanging over his mouth. oh, he can't wait to make you fall in love with him.

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

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