#this au is now developing in my head...its developing.

[locustdays]

.ᐟ CREAM, NO SYRUP

synopsis: in which you try stop being friends with benefits with sukuna but it doesn't quite go to plan.

ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

cw. mdni: friends with benefits (quite cliché), oral (m!recieving), –semi-public, modern university AU, degradation kink

wc: 0.97k

a/n: aaa sorry for not posting in forever 😭 finals were kicking my ass and serving it on a platter!! and i also had 0 motivation or creativity

the café was supposed to be neutral ground. public, safe, no chance of sukuna pulling you into his orbit like the last two times you tried to end this… arrangement. you weren’t complaining about those failures, not really. sex with sukuna was never bad—it was phenomenal, earth-shattering, the kind of thing that left you boneless and questioning your life choices. but it had to stop.

somewhere along the line, over the past few months, you’d developed a teeny, tiny, catastrophic crush on him. maybe it was the way he degraded you in bed with that wicked grin, or how he’d always (without fail) draw a bath for you after unraveling you orgasm after orgasm. so, in those quiet moments, you’d catch yourself wondering if you meant something to him. but then you’d snap out of it. sukuna falling for you? the thought felt like a crime against reality.

he set the rules himself, in this very cafe actually, “don’t fall for me. seriously. If things start getting messy, we’re done. I’m not here to be tamed, fixed, or turned into some book boyfriend fantasy.” his words echoed in your head now, a stark reminder of the line you had crossed.

sukuna strolled through the café doors thirty minutes late, as expected. he dropped into the seat across from you, manspreading with one leg sprawled into the aisle, muttering, “sorry, got hung up with work.” his nonchalance was infuriating.

your heart pounded, nerves fraying despite the countless times you’d rehearsed this moment. you shoved the doubts to the back of your mind and took a breath.

“i think we should stop,” you blurted, the words spilling out faster than you meant. a weight lifted from your shoulders, but your chest still felt tight. “this… friends with benefits thing. whatever it is we’re doing.”

sukuna’s gaze locked onto yours, unreadable as always. he tilted his head slightly, one brow arching. “why?”

your throat went dry. you’d prepared for this, but his stare made your carefully crafted lie feel flimsy. “i’m… in love with someone,” you said, the half-truth bitter on your tongue. “it’d be wrong to keep this going.”

not a complete lie—you did have feelings, just not for some mystery person. you liked sukuna more than a friend, more than you should, and you knew better than to let it grow. you were choosing yourself, your sanity, over this reckless pull.

he stared at you, expression blank, but for a fleeting moment, you thought you caught a flicker of something… curiosity, maybe? no, that was wishful thinking. sukuna didn’t care. he was the kind of asshole who expected his partners to beg, to chase, never the other way around.

his cologne flooded your senses, sharp and intoxicating, as his eyes bore into you. could he see through you? the clink of coffee mugs, the obnoxious laugh from the table behind you, the hum of chatter all amplified, drowning out the chaos in your head.

“'kay,” he said finally, voice flat. “i should get going.” he stood, broad shoulders casting a shadow over the table, already half-turned to leave.

“wait!” the word slipped out before you could stop it, desperate and raw. you weren’t even sure why you’d said it. some part of you wasn’t ready for him to walk away, not like this.

he turned back, one brow raised, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “what, changing your mind already?”

that was how you ended up here, against all odds. the cool, hard, gridded washroom tile pressed its chill into your knees. sukuna’s jeans pooled at his ankles and his thick cock heavy in your hands as you gripped him, thumb brushing over the slick tip. you looked up at him catching a glint in his gaze—not just lust, but something softer. fuck, he was getting fond of you, your fire, your mouth... and fuck, was he thankful that you chose to stay with him because he knew he was too stubborn to swallow his pride and beg for you. he was going to keep you around longer than planned.

right now, you were knew you owed him for the little fuck-up earlier and you could tell from the way he smirked down at you that he was ready to collect.

“look at you, so eager to make it up to me,” he sneered, voice low and taunting, but with a hungry edge. you leaned in, lips wrapping around him, taking him deep, the salty taste flooding your mouth as he groaned.

“fuck, that’s it, you little tease,” he growled, hand fisting in your hair, guiding your pace.

you bobbed your head, tongue swirling along his length, earning a sharp hiss as he began pushing himself back into your mouth, hips rocking slightly. the wet sounds filled the air as you sucked harder, cheeks hollowing.

sukuna’s grip tightened, his breaths turning ragged. “shit, you’re too fuckin’ good,” he muttered, voice cracking, a flicker of warmth in his tone. he liked you, more than he should, and it showed in the way his thumb grazed your cheek.

you pushed deeper, throat tightening around him, and he cursed under his breath. “fuck, i’m—” he groaned, cutting off as he came, hot and thick, pulsing over your tongue.

you swallowed every drop, pulling back with a soft pop, catching his heavy-lidded gaze. “good enough, ‘kuna?” you murmured, smirking.

sukuna chuckled, low and rough, yanking you up for a bruising kiss. “not bad, but you’re not off the hook yet. let’s hit my place, i’m keeping you for another round.”

a sharp knock echoed from the restroom door, followed by a hesitant voice. “uh, take your time, but… when you’re done, the janitor needs to clean up in there.”

he walked away, grumbling something about how he doesn’t get paid enough for this.

[6okuto-moved]

modern au with ais where you're acquaintances, but not really friends yet, and he's sitting near you while you're blasting music through your headphones. he wonders how long it'll take for you to realize he can hear it, letting you sit peacefully for 3 songs before he recognizes one of them. it's one of his favourite bands—one coming to your city soon. so he finally taps your shoulder and doesn't hide a smile when you startle and push one side behind your ear.

"i didn't know you liked that band," he comments and lets you come to your own realization of how loud your music was.

you laugh and apologize to cover up any embarrassment, but he makes no other teasing remark. he doesn't even move, the only sign that he's thinking is when his fingers come up to fiddle with one of his earrings. "did you know they're coming to the city soon?"

and of course you know. you got a stupid notification about it that taunted you, seeming to know you had no one to go with. no one until ais smiles and says he didn't really want to go alone, and asks if you'd be free that friday night for him to come pick you up.

the thing is that ais doesn't actually mind going to concerts alone. he's gone to near a dozen by himself saying he'd rather go alone and enjoy the music than ask somebody who may or may not even know them. but now you're here, and finally, finally, with some kind twist of fate, he has a good reason to talk to you and ask you out.

[purplewhiteandgold]

Losing my mind over the fact that I just experienced the pipeline of

"this isn't written as a ship but it can be read as one"

to

"this can be read as not-a-ship but it absolutely was written as one they're just refusing to accept that"

[nnato]

darkness inside of me

Sometimes Antonio wonders what he did to deserve this, in this life or maybe a past one, when it yet again feels like he’s having the best dream. But he has pinched himself enough times during the past few years to know that this isn’t a dream. It’s real, this beautiful villa at the beach he gets to call his home, where he gets to wake up every day, next to his amazing boyfriend. But an encounter with someone from Mitch’s past reveals that Mitch might not be the gentle soul Antonio thought he is.

Mitchtonio hitman/trophy wife au || 4k || T

[fandom-trash-xl]

Mini AU: Universe 6 Spiderverse AU

((To celebrate Across the Spiderverse releasing on Blu-Ray- and me patiently awaiting my copy in the mail- I've decided to finally pop out the notes for a mini Dragon Ball/Spiderverse cross AU that I've been jotting down over time between projects since I saw it in the theater!))

SETTING/WORLD-BUILDING

Also known as Dimension DBU6 in multiverse codes. The AU is set in a more New York-esque, in true Spiderverse fashion, Planet Sadala in an equivalent Manhattan, "Sadalhattan" if you will. While the planet's population is not 100% Saiyan, a few species immigrating there, the Saiyans are still the original inhabitants and dominant demographic. Numbers wise, the population comes closer to a highly populous state versus a full-scale Earth's worth.

Ki is either non-existent or a rare and discreet skill, so there's less focus on it. The Sadalan Defense Force becomes more traditional soldier combat focused similarly to the real world rather than a pure ki-CQC combination. They recruit similarly to the army/marines at about 18.

Bonus note: Dimension DBU6 has an equivalent Dimension DBU7 in which Goku receives the radioactive spider bite, taking on the Spider-Man name due to not yet knowing his heritage.

CHARACTERS:

THE HERO Cabba aka Spider-Saiyan

"My name is Cabba. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the past (x amount of time), I've been Planet Sadala's one and only Spider-Saiyan."

Rather than being the Sadalan Defense Force's prodigy fighter, Cabba lives a more domestic lifestyle as a high school student, planning to enlist in the SSDF post-graduation or at least pursue criminal justice- at least until the spider event occurs. Cabba is the type to go into hyper-anxiety, so he's desperately trying to disinfect and treat the spider bite, all while Googling his symptoms and being none the wiser on the "radioactive" part.

He's trained in jiujitsu and is very limber and agility-focused. He also has an interest in tactile and textile skills, so his Spidey-Suit is handmade.

Design: Similarly to AtSV's Pavitr Prabhakar, his iconic Saiyan spikes stick out of the top of the spider cowl. While the peaks end up slicked down into a waved side part, his front bang remains distinctive. In terms of the coloration, the suit's color scheme reverses the color distributions in the palette, prioritizing shades of blue over reds, and adds some gold accents, particularly on the spider symbol. There is a red headband pattern along the brow resembling Bardock's bandanna. Additions to the design incorporate elements from the main canon's SSDF uniform, including a reddish x-crossed double belt, the four lavender skirt tails (unintentionally completing the "eight legs" spider theme), and ankle boots in black rather than purple.

THE GAL PALS Caulifla and Kale

Caulifla and Kale serves as this AU's equivalents to Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane Watson respectively. Close to Cabba's age and grade in high school if not in the same year. Since Cauli is the Gwen Stacy equivalent, there is an alternate DBU6B where she receives the spider bite instead of Cabba.

Having this pair in play explores the fun what-if of Gwen and MJ getting together in the end. As a result, this means that Cabba doesn't get either end-game gal and he doesn't have a problem with that- love is love.

It's debatable whether Cauli will suffer the same fate as your average Gwen Stacy- she seems the type to be able to take care of herself.

THE POLICE CAPTAIN Captain Renso

"Sadalhattan"'s resident police chief and Caulifla's older brother and caretaker due to their absentee parents. Unfortunately, if you've been picking up on the Spiderverse patterns, he ends up being Spider-Saiyan's canon event and loses his life.

Caulifla, who is normally apathetic about her brother, starts to become even more hostile and spiteful against the world. She acts particularly distrusting and vengeful towards Spider-Saiyan, putting him to blame and believing it was negligence on his part that got her brother killed.

If she's not gone completely moodily silent, Cauli will rant on and on to Cabba and Kale about her plans to bring Spider-Saiyan to justice- and Cabba just has to nod along.

Spider-Saiyan is bound to encounter typical street thugs, generic evildoers, villains of the week but...

THIS ONE The Lizard

Villains of the week and your standard commonplace criminals come to pass but Cabba's recurring villain by moonlight manifests in the form of a scaly creature known simply as The Lizard. It only appears at night and resembles a draconic reptilian with sharp horns yet is oddly humanoid in build. It's colored in shades of blue, dons a mask over its mouth, and has piercing red eyes that glow in the dark. It communicates in mainly hisses and grumbles and is rarely verbal.

The Lizard always manages to elude capture and vanishes into the night.

Who knows where this creature disappears to once morning breaks? Perhaps there is another side to the beast.

THE CLOSEST COMPANION Frost

In this AU, Frost has a more humanoid appearance, practically a human AU design. He has blue hair and pronouns tied up in a messy bun and green and hazel heterochromatic eyes, though there's reason to suspect they're contacts.

He's not a Saiyan, obviously, but he's from an immigrant species family, somewhat of an Ellis Island type situation, about second or third generation. His family lives in an area of the city similar to Chinatown.

Frost has been described as "cool as cucumbers and gay as sunshine". He's one of Cabba's closest friends and they share a high level of trust. They occasionally have talks after school, usually while Frost is working part time in his family's small-business cafe.

"Do you think if you ever had to keep a secret... about who you are... you'd ever just want to tell someone just to ease a bit of weight from your shoulder?" Cabba's hand tenses on the strap of his bag, lightweight and flowy yet heavy with problems, fingers self conscious about whether the zipper is shut to hide the Spider-Suit he quickly stashed inside.

"An oddly specific hypothetical, my dear Cabba," Frost simply chuckles a bit, yet there's an odd twinge in his throat. "Even so, there is quite the risk in doing so... could you even do it without causing yourself more stress? Putting yourself in more danger?" There's a beat of silence, Frost still smirking but the corner of his lip still twitching. "But I digress, drink that tea you ordered before it gets cold~"

However...

Due to a mysterious experimental contamination, Frost experiences almost werewolf-like transformations into The Lizard by night- though these occurrences seem to worsen as of late, triggering more frequently and at less convenient times, making it harder to track the timing. It's a wonder it hasn't happened earlier in the day- or worst of all, in public or at school. His memory of what he does as The Lizard has grown less and less hazy of late.

Frost hasn't been up for sleepovers in ages, and adverse after effects lead people to believe this kid needs serious amounts of lotion on his hands.

Further down the road, these two discover each other's identities in the least pleasant of circumstances- with events leading to Cabba catching his friend with his face half-shapeshifted...

[ulteri0rm0tives]

Now I cant stop thinking abt Arasaka using Vs engram as a guinea pig to constantly test the tech that'll move them forward in the completion of the secure yr soul program and all the experiments that come with trying to find compatibility with the bodies :(( could you imagine being given life and sentience over and over again by this God just to be killed over and over again when It deems you a failure and unworthy :(( coming back wrong, engram not properly integrated with the empty vessel/mind or in pain because, again, just being born into this painful state of constant metaphysical organ rejection :(( do you think V remembers each time? The torture of all this? Or do you think the company has the slightest bit of courtesy (and I can't even say compassion here, just courtesy of convenience to make these tests run smoother, a practical decision) to wipe these memories from V's code?

Do you think his memories become a jumbled mess like Johnny's did? Unable to discern which is from his past life compared to his infinitely growing number of new ones? Do pieces of him break off and fracture with each new test? Do they create copies of his construct for just this very thing? When the current construct they're working with degrades so grossly it becomes defective and unusable? Now faced with copies of yourself all distorted and deformed in uniquely different ways? Do you think they'll let V go once they perfected these tests? Once V's body doesn't reject his engram and for as far as the public knows his engram is completely intact with near complete accuracy? Do you think they tote him around on a leash forced to be a spokesperson for the finally completed program, a shining example of the final product, V unable to go anywhere now that his existence is all owed to the very tech saka owns? That his soul might not be, but it now owns the body he lives in? Do you really think it's only temporary the promise of becoming its property? Do you think V will ever escape it?

When u gave up yr bfs life against his wishes to the monsters that took it in the first place and u come out the other end still dying anyway so u either live the rest of ur life managing the slow mental degradation of ur mind till eventually u end up dead in a motel somewhere all alone brain leaking from yr nose or u relinquish yr life to the company allowing it to keep u locked up as property for what will practically feel like eternity in the same purgatorial cell they kept yr bf in for all those years! because they totally super prommy to give yr soul back once they find a compatible body that they can put it in! one they'll totally ethically source just like that one guy did to his son! creating this cycle of one life stealing another for another for another! or worst! If they create this body something that is finally compatible where u won't live on in a total state of constant metaphysical organ rejection and they put yr soul into it yr soul might not be their property anymore but haha that body is now! so no matter what there isn't a fate where yr escaping the debt u'll always be in to this company :) and it really just leaves u with the question, the one asking u if u could even say this was all worth it in the end, giving up the one you love for something that was always so inevitable? :)

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul animal Au.

Chapter 8:

Summary: You awake in the manor, to the horror of yourself and the delight of others. What will happen to you now..?

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

Happy April fools!!! The joke is my writing schedule!

----

You were surrounded by a cloud. Soft, fluffy sheets swarmed you in its embrace, tugged you down into a gentle slumber.

You could barely make out a few words under the haze of a fever

“..... our… mate…!” One voice whispered, a trace of devotion in its words.

“Calm… vitals………to….okay.” This voice was grounded, trying to comfort.

In comparison to theirs, your own voice was weak, muffled. But you tried anyway.

“What…?” You muttered. The faces turned towards you. You squinted.

“Who…?”

One of the faces reached out. A hand rested on your cheek, stroking it, before moving to touch your forehead.

“Increase…dose.” Was the last you heard.

----

You woke up in a daze. Everything was hazy, and it took you what felt like several minutes to regain any sense of what had happened, let alone where you were. A subtle warmth nested close to your body, like that of a teddy bear. You pulled it closer.

Your head felt like it had been stuffed full with marshmallows. It was a weird mental image, but all you could think of. You reached out, feeling the texture of bandages around your head.

Well. You thought to yourself. That's not good. Your eyes snapped open.

Swiftly, you shoved the sheets off yourself, inspecting for injuries. The only bandage on you rested on your leg. You decided to leave it alone. There seemed to be some cuts and scrapes, which was expected. They were all treated though, which was not expected.

What was even less expected though, was the teen lying next to you on your bed. Strong features were softened by the pull of sleep, from whom you could only guess was Damian Wayne. The both of you were seemingly surrounded by bats and birds. They were all there, all six of them. Wait.. six? Didn't you have seven soulmates? You turned around in confusion, and made direct eye contact with the bat that rested on a nearby desk.

Ah. So that’s where Batman’s soul form went.

You froze, unsure of what to do with this new development. The bat just stared, watching.

You didn't run. You didn't hide. It was paralyzing, that stare, freezing you down to your very bones. What could you do in the face of eyes that saw all?

In the end you decided to gently tug yourself out of Damian Wayne’s clinging arms, inch by inch. It took longer than you wanted, but the method worked. You didn't look at the bat anymore, it scared you.

Done with your self inspection, you turned forward, finding yourself in an ornate room, about twice as big as the room you lived in at home, and triple as expensive. You slowly stood up, beginning to gaze around the room.

Shelves were lined with your hobbies, your favorite books lined the shelves, hell, they were even collector editions. You picked up a plushie that was lying on your bed. You twisted it around some.

“What the…?” You whispered.

It was completely identical to the one you had at home. Every mark was identical, down to the stitches and stuffing. How did they make them the same? …Were they the same plushie?

The worst part of it all was… the room felt like you. It felt familiar, as if it was you that had put it together, that you had designed it. Every detail, down to the colour of paint, felt like it had been designed by you. Just 100 percent more expensive. Well, except for one detail.

There were golden bars on the window.

They were the darkness in the familiar light that was your room. Out of place, as unnatural as the teen resting on your- The Bed. A part of you urged to investigate, the other wary of who you were rooming with. In the end, you came to a simple conclusion. It’d be better to leave the room.

You slowly slunked over to the opulent door, inch by inch, step by step. Your heart began to hammer, increasing its beat with every decrease of distance to your salvation.

You didn't look back. There was no point.

It was only when your hand rested on the handle, ready to pull it down and escape that you relaxed. Muscles unclenching, breathing deeper.

“You’re awake.”

Only to tense right back up. You turned around.

Damian Wayne was awake.

And… so were the soul animals. Or maybe they were already awake, just watching, staring.

His stare was piercing, hiding an emotion you couldn't quite comprehend. He wanted something, something you weren't sure you could give to him.

There was only one thing you could do, at that point.

The door slammed open. Short tight breaths kept you company as you escaped, deep into the darkness that is Wayne Manor.

----

Wayne Manor was a maze. It was a giant, sprawling beast, lined with corridor after corridor, hall after hall. You'd suck into one room to check if there were any escape routes, only to find more barred windows. The next room gave the same result.

These efforts began to tire you, the adrenaline fading out, leaving you alone with the aches and sores developed by the past few days. You blinked away the sleepiness. You couldn't stop now.

Or… Maybe you could actually, as you opened the door and came face to face with what could only be Wayne Manor’s butler.

“Good Evening.” He stated, giving no reaction whatsoever to your disheveled appearance, nor your horrified face. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I am the Wayne family’s butler.”

Ah… You paused for a moment. Well that confirmed it, didn't it. Batman was Bruce Wayne. Or at the very least closely tied. For him to be telling you this…Batman must think you'll never get a chance to reveal his identity. You weren't a threat.

You're in too deep. The shallow water you were born in has finally started to drag you down.

You're sinking.

You struggle to focus on what the butler is saying, but you remember some of it. Something about lunch..?

“I.. um, actually Alfred.” You pause, thinking of the right words.

He pauses too, taking a moment to observe you. “Yes? What is it?”

“I was wondering actually, if you wouldn't mind showing me to the exit? I don't think I should be here.” You fake a laugh, as if you could just wave the situation away.

“Ah. I do think that is something you'll have to talk to Master Bruce about yourself. If you'd like, I'd be happy to show you to his office.”

His office?

“Haha….” You smile. It feels as fake as you feel. “No thanks, I'd rather just go to.. um, lunch, was it? I wouldn't want to bother him anyways.”

“I rather suspect he’ll be coming down to see you anyways, now that you're awake.” The butler replied, matter-of-factly.

“...Actually I'm not hungry.”

The butler just raised an eyebrow.

You gave an awkward smile, turning away just as an awful stomping sound rang out, and a body collided with yours.

Your name was shouted, in such a gleeful tone, arms tightening around your waist in a collapsing hug.

“You’re awake!” The face of who could only be Dick Grayson greeted you, his soul animal fluttered down to your shoulder and rubbing its face against your cheek, just as clingy as its owner was.

“Ah. Hi.” You attempted. Oh god.

“I'm so happy to see you!” You attempted to grapple out of his grip, but it was like wrestling with an octopus, he perfectly countered every attempt you made with a grin, until he managed to pin both your arms to your back with a single hand.

“I was so worried for you! You’ve always been an expert at avoiding attention, but even the Joker isn't just someone you can avoid. You aren't still hurt anywhere, are you?” Grayson maneuvered you around a bit, checking you over in all different places. Even the robin was contributing, peering deeply to look for any ‘injuries’. You put a stop to it once he attempted to lift your shirt.

“Excuse me!” You protested. “Can you please stop pawing at me, we just met! And mind you, shouldn't you be aware of any injuries given that I've been treated for them here?!”

He paused, staring at you. You continued.

“Look, I'm sorry for shouting, but I've had a really bad night, and I'd greatly appreciate it if I could just go home.” The end of your sentence turned into a sort of a plea, desperation you were loath to reveal sneaking through.

If you played your cards right, perhaps they'd let you go home. Maybe with extra security or some nonsense, but you could still remain disconnected from this hellish family. That was what you hoped.

“Oh, little one, I'm sorry.” Dick Grayson replied, even more concern seeping into his face. “But you don't have to worry any more. After all…You are home.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“Haha.” You stated.

“You meant I am at your home, right?” You were breaking down. Denial was all you had left.

“No silly!” He replied.

“This is where you belong, where you've always belonged. You were always going to be with us, just as you should be. Otherwise, why would we have your soul animal?”

He smiled. It was a brilliant, searing sun.

It burned.

You teared up. You sniffled.

“Awww, baby.” He cooed, warmly stroking your cheek. “Don't worry. You'll always be with us now. Now and forever.” Soft condescension was reflected in his eyes. You couldn't bear it.

He rested his head on yours, eyes closed with a warm grin. His hug was tight.

The bandage on your leg throbbed.

----

You were not enjoying lunch. Oh sure the food was delicious and the view inside the manor was immaculate but that wasn't that problem.

It was the company.

‘I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home.’ You silently chanted in your mind, feeling sweat go down your cheek.

You had just barely managed to extract Grayson from you, as a matter of fact he was currently sitting right next to you, chair far too close to comfort with a beaming grin.

The atmosphere was very awkward, at least you would say so, as you were currently being stared down by some very eager faces. To your relief, not everyone had shown up yet (although if the butler was to be believed they would all be arriving very eagerly for dinner).

At the table was obviously Dick Grayson, but also Bruce Wayne, and… Tim Drake.

You didn't want to look at him, to face his betrayal, so you kept looking away, although that didn't stop his insistent gaze. Unfortunately your own turning away came with a caveat that was instead locking eyes with Bruce Wayne, which was somehow even worse. You silently wondered how noticeable your shaking was. Grayson’s hand sneakily grabbing your hand from under the table told you that it was very.

You managed to dodge any questions by simply pointing to your food whenever you were asked, an effort that the butler supported you in. It wasn't polite to talk with your mouth full, thank god.

You barely managed to eat enough of the food, it's delicious flavours landing like lead in your stomach.

“I’m finished. Can I be excused? I need to use the bathroom?” And hopefully find the nearest window to launch myself out of, you silently added.

“I’ll take you!” The joint voices of both Grayson and Drake called out, to their own surprise and subsequent glares.

‘Oh boy.’ You silently thought.

“Boys, boys.” The rich voice of Wayne called out, disrupting what was the beginning of an argument. “We can all go, I'm sure it's about time we take them to their room anyways.” Great, you officially had your own room. At least that meant you'd have some expectation of privacy… right?

The walk was just about as enjoyable as lunch.

So it was horrible.

Wayne Manor was an abyss, a dark void that stretched on and on and on. How any of the residents navigated it on any consistent basis was a complete mystery to you.

What was worse was Grayson’s insistent questions and rambles, often countered by Drake’s own questions and counters. It felt less like a conversation and more like a tug of war. It even became a literal tug of war for a bit, as Grayson’s tugging at your hand prompted Drake to do the same to your other.

Thankfully, you arrived at The Room before things got too out of hand.

You stared at it. It was right beside the room you woke up in the morning. That was not a good sign.

Grayson flung open the doors, shouting out a joyous “Welcome home!” that you tried your best to ignore.

The Room was beautiful, was your first thought.

It was like some sort of bird paradise. Countless places for birds to land, pillows lining the room. In the very middle lay a gigantic bed, lined with what looked to be the softest cushions you had ever seen in your entire life.

But the windows were still lined with golden bars. Just like the room you awoke in.

And beside that bed, was Damian Wayne. But for once, a Wayne family member’s attention wasn't fixated on you, instead, it was on his arm, where a little, fluffy, bird rested.

It was a dove.

----

Reader's soul animal reveal AYOOOOO yes I planned it to be a dove from the start, isn't that cool, also the bars on the windows are golden because reader is quite literally a bird in a gilded cage, please clap.

Where was Damian during the whole lunch? Keeping Dove Reader company as well as the other birds. Bruce didn't want to overwhelm and Damian is always particularly concerned with the welfare of animals, so it's like getting two birds with one stone (okay that's admittedly an odd metaphor in this context).

Heyyyyy. So uh, I guess I took a while?

Okay I'm sorry.

I have three excuses. I'm very recently dealing with very unfortunate family matters that sucks. Also, I kinda just fell out of the fandom for a bit because I got sucked into a different one (dude why does Zelda have so many fanfics). And finally I just had writers block, I invested so much time into thinking about the journey of getting kidnapped forever that I just didn't think too much about the aftermath haha.

But! I did write other short Batfam stuff! And I really wanted to post that, but I felt it wouldnt be what everyone wants, so I held off. Now that I've updated, I'm free to! So you hopefully that's fun.

And I think I'll make a short separate post for this, but I'm not going to add any more people to the taglist. It's very difficult for me to manage, and I'll shortly be sorting out my ao3 so people can get update notifications without any faff.

Thank you to everyone who reached out, I am in fact okay, and very happy I managed to write this chapter.

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger

@sociallyakwardpanda @imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu @snowy-violets @nommingonfood @yandere-enthusiast @nb-babygirl @demonqueen-1 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @winter67890-blog

[gojover]

you, again — teaser

summary ⇢ he’s an assassin who won’t stop bleeding. you’re the medic who keeps patching him up—against your better judgement. sylus flirts like it’s a sport; you threaten him with scalpels. when a botched job entangles you in his world, things get messy fast—emotionally, and otherwise. you’d rather die than fall for a man like him. he’s already dying not to fall for you.

pairing ⇢ assassin!sylus qin x medic!fem!reader contains ⇢ romance, angst, smut, slow burn, annoyances to lovers au, assassin au, blood, injuries, violence. full warnings to be included in the fic. teaser word count ⇢ 0.36k (expected: 15k-17k)

“You okay?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head to glance down at you. His voice is quieter now, less performative.

You shrug. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” he says. “Try not to develop too many of those.”

“Too late. I already treat you like a human being.”

He laughs at that. “Touché.”

You fall into silence again, footsteps syncing easily as you cross another intersection. You’re close to home now, and the streets are darker here, the kind of dark that stretches long and holds its breath. You catch the edge of a shadow out of the corner of your eye, but it disappears when you turn to look. Maybe a cat. Maybe nothing. Still, your fingers tense in your coat pocket, brushing against the cheap folding knife you started carrying a few months ago. Just in case.

Sylus doesn’t seem bothered. But he hasn’t stopped scanning the streets. “You should just move in with me.”

“What for?” you ask lightly, though you know why. 

“I can keep you safe,” he answers.

You blink. The wind picks up between the buildings, rattling a loose sign overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks once, sharp, before falling silent.

It’s suddenly way too easy to remember that you know almost nothing about him. That all your time together has been fluorescent-lit and bloodstained. That he always shows up with new bruises and never says where they came from. You slow when your building comes into view.

“This is me,” you say, nodding towards the stoop. 

He stops behind you and doesn’t follow. For a second, you expect him to say something—maybe a joke, maybe a goodbye—but instead, he’s just looking at you. Really looking at you, like he’s memorising something he’s not sure he’ll get to see again. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he says finally. “Not these days.”

You frown. “Why? What’s happening?”

Sylus doesn’t answer. Just steps back once and gives you a tired, crooked smile. “Goodnight, doc.”

Then he turns and disappears into the dark like he’s part of it. You climb the stairs, unlock your door, and double-check the locks; then, you watch the street out of your bedroom window long after he’s gone.

a/n: hello! thank you so much for checking out my teaser! if you’d like to be tagged in the full fic, please send an ask/comment & make sure you have an age indicator on your blog. thank you, also, for 2,000+ followers! it’s insane that there are so many of you here with me, supporting my writing, and i am so grateful to every single one of you 💌

[sillyseraphie]

hi sweet seraphie! LOL im sending all my mutuals a request and im particularly excited about it!! i wanna know what its like to req 👰‍♂️

so something w phai maybe? reader had a ginormous crush on him b4 but lost feelings since he never reciprocated but hes realizing he loves them now and is trying to win them over again 🫦 cute, subtle ways!!!

kisses and hugs to u seraphie 🙇‍♀️

- cipher (sage in disguise)

“Love is never too late.”

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in which: you had a very huge crush on phainon before but long after knowing he never reciprocated your feelings, you lost feelings for him — only for him to develop feelings for you and the first thing that went inside his head was to win you over again.

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pairing/s: phainon x gn!artist!reader

au: college au!

cw: might be ooc as this is only the second time i write phainon and my third time writing an hsr fanfic! + loserboy phainon, bcs me thinks he's a loser when he's smitten! + unedited, there may be errors ahead!

others: angst+comfy

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HALO, LOVELY SAGIE!! (or cipher ;p) thank you for letting me be a part of "sending all my mutuals a request" event of yours! your idea is almost giving "she/he loved him, and he loved him/her too late" LMAO since i'm nice, i'm going to give this a happy ending!! but that doesn't mean my evil arc has ended >:)) might write mydei next based on the anime frieren(?) and on a song "multo" by cup of joe!

thanks for the sweet kissies and huggies! hyacine(disguised as seraphie) is sending u kisses as well!! enjoy reading my first longest fanfic in my life!!

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you glanced at phainon, who was laughing and teasing mydei to rile him up, as usual, then back at the page of your sketchpad that was once again filled with sketches of him.

you were never one to express everything through words as it always felt difficult for you. so instead, you poured all your feelings into sketching the man you adored.

almost all of the pages of your sketchpad were filled with doodles and sketches of phainon. some were sketches of him smiling, some were him sleeping on his desk (during class), some mini versions him, and even him as a puppy!

yet, even with all those masterpieces, nothing could compare to the real one.

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just as you were about to finish the outline, phainon leans over and takes a peek. "is that me?"

you almost jumped from your seat at his voice and you immediately turned your head to face him, only to freeze when you did and everything seemed to slow down until you snapped back to reality.

too close!

you thought to yourself as your heart gave a flutter at the proximity between your faces.

you wanted to push him away but you just sat there, not moving an inch.

"yes." thankfully, you knew how to control your expressions. otherwise, you would probably be a blushing mess right now.

phainon hummed in amusement. "you're quite talented at this, (name)! i didn't know i was one of your muses."

one of your muses? oh, how you wanted to say how wrong he was and tell him that he was your only muse but instead, you just kept quiet — as if the words were stuck in your throat — and averted your gaze to the sketch before you.

"thanks." you mumbled, shrinking into your seat, not used to receiving compliments.

phainon merely smiled, knowing and understanding that you were a person of few words who struggled to express yourself, and he accepted that.

so he reached for your head and gently ruffled your hair, making you huff under your breath and swat his hand away in response — only for him to laugh at you, oblivious to the way his touch sent a wave of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

(oh, have i ever mentioned how his laughter was always a music with the perfect melody to your ears? you could listen to it over and over again and you'd never grow tired or sick of it.)

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you plopped down to the mattress of your bed.

man, you were exhausted.

tilting your head to the side, you glanced at the plastic bag that had your newly bought sketchpad inside, which lay on the desk beside your bed.

you sighed.

this was your second time buying a new sketchpad, as the other two were already filled with sketches of him.

what am i going to do? you asked yourself. and before you knew it, your mind drifted to your feelings for him.

you never expected any of this to happen.

at first, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that would be gone in a flash for a few days — only for your feelings to last longer and bloom into something even deeper.

maybe it wouldn't hurt to confess, right?

...

yeah, maybe it wouldn't hurt.

you weren't the best at words, but you're willing to try, even if it means you'll have to face rejection— not that you weren't mentally prepared for it.

you spent the whole night thinking for the right words to confess,, some leaving you curled up in the sheets out of embarrassment.

curse the titan of romance, why must it end up this way?

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...

"sorry, (name). i couldn't return your feelings."

ah.

of course, he couldn't. you were just another friend in his eyes anyway.

you ignored the painful ache in your chest, pushing the feeling down with a laugh that sounded convincing enough for anyone to believe that it's fine.

"no need to apologize, phai. i completely understand, i wasn't even expecting you to reciprocate them anyway."

"thank you for listening to everything before saying anything else and for being honest. you may say that it's nothing to thank you for, but it means a lot to me. if you don't mind... could you at least accept these?"

you held the two sketchpads out to him, gesturing for him to take them from you and he did.

with a polite bow, you thanked him again and left.

all that mattered was that you finally confessed, and moving on would be a lot more easier for you now.

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phainon's a popular guy on the campus, a social butterfly with a charm that drew everyone in. he excelled in academics, dominated in sports, had good looks and a smile that could light any darkest room.

and you? you were just a normal, introverted student — known for your artistic achievements, but often overlooked in the crowd.

locking the door to your room, you slid yourself down to the floor with your back against the door.

you could finally move on without trouble.

you knew he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

you knew you had it coming and prepared yourself for it.

you had convinced yourself that you were okay with it. watching him laugh with friends, effortlessly connecting with everyone while you felt like a ghost in the background admiring him from afar. you told yourself that feelings like these were inevitable when you admired someone so vibrant and alive. and yet,

why did it hurt so much?

lost in thought, something warm and wet suddenly landed on your lap.

you blinked, confusion washing over you. you wiped at your eyes and noticed that your vision was blurry.

when was the last time you cried? the question echoed in your mind, heavy and unsettling. you couldn't remember. the emptiness you often felt had numbed you to every pain, dulling your emotions to the point where tears seemed like a distant memory.

as you fought to regain your composure, more droplets followed, cascading down your cheeks. each tear felt like a release, but also a reminder of the weight you carried.

you had grown so accustomed to the numbness that the sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed you, catching you off guard.

maybe letting go of your feelings for phainon wasn't as easy as you thought, but you knew for sure that you will be able to let go of them soon.

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phainon sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers tracing the outline of the sketches as his eyes fixated on the image made from pencil before him. each doodle was a glimpse into the world of someone who saw him differently, someone who captured his little moments.

he flipped through the pages, observing every expression— the way his smile lit up the page, the peacefulness of him sleeping during class, even the silly sketches of him as a puppy. it was as if each drawing held a story, and he felt his heart getting heavier on every page he flips.

as he continued flipping through the sketches, something tugged at his heartstrings. realization dawned on him that these weren't just sketches,

they were pieces of your feelings and thoughts.

he paused on the page where you had captured him laughing, the joy and lightness in that moment reflected back at him.

it was as if he could hear the laughter in his mind.

setting the sketchpad down, he lay down with his back against the soft mattress of his bed and placed an arm over his now closed eyelids before letting out a sigh.

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a month passed in a blur since you had confessed your feelings, life on the campus went smoothly as usual. well not for phainon at least.

phainon and you maintained your friendship, still sharing laughs, joining him for lunch and studying together as if nothing happened between the two of you. however, there was something different these days and phainon isn't stupid not to notice that.

while you still treated him the same, (with kindness, warmth, and respect) you rarely glanced his way like you used to anymore.

you laughed alongside him, but the spark that used to light up in your eyes when you look at him seemed dimmed.

he complimented you on your art and instead of the shy, grateful reaction he was used to, you kindly accepted it with a smile. (it felt more like a polite acknowledgement than the shy excitement he had grown accustomed to.) as if you were silently telling him that you no longer hold those feelings for him.

phainon couldn't shake the feeling that he lost something so precious. he often caught himself watching you and deciphering the subtle changes in your demeanor.

you had moved on, and while he was glad you did and you no longer have to suffer from your feelings for him that could never be returned, he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing.

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he sat there at the cafeteria with mydei, glancing at the direction where you were sitting and laughing with your small circle of friends, seeming engrossed in a conversation.

why did it bother him so much? he has always been popular, admired by many, yet he felt a pang of something when he saw you laughing with others? (jealousy perhaps?)

in quiet moments, he found himself thinking about the sketches you had created. each drawing was a glimpse into a side of you he had never really recognized — your creativity, your perspective, and the way you deeply saw him in a different light.

(strangely enough,) it made his heart ache.

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phainon found himself staring at you again, his gaze glued to you as you sat with your friends. you were in the midst of a conversation, laughing at something that had been said, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

he watched as you tuck a strand behind your ear, a small smile forming on your lips. such a simple action, and yet it captivated him in a way he didn't expect.

he couldn't help but admire the way you moved, so unnatural and unguarded.

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phainon rested his chin on his palm as his gaze fixated on his seatmate.

he took noticed of you resting your head on your arms that was placed on top of your desk, your breathing soft and even as you drited off to sleep. the calm and peaceful sight of you brought a smile to his face, and something deep stirred within him.

"earth to phainon."

mydei's voice cut him off from his daze, and phainon froze in realization. "ah, sorry. i wasn't listening, what is it?"

mydei raised an eyebrow. "you seemed to be distracted these days, what's on your mind," he paused, his eyes landing at your sleeping figure.

"or rather, who is on your mind?" he finished in a playful manner.

shoot, he got caught!

phainon rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, letting out a nervous laugh.

was it obvious or was he staring at you that long?

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phainon looked at the ceiling above him as he recalled the days that had passed. his mind flooded with memories, each memory of you now felt more clearer and meaningful.

sitting in the cafeteria, watching you laugh with your friends and feeling a pang of something he hadn't felt before. but he ignored it and instead listened to your laughter that seemed to melt his heart. it sounded perfect to his ears, bright and carefree.

the smallest and simplest things you do, like when you were sketching, lost in your world, the way your brows furrowed in concentration or how you'd occasionally tap the tip of the pencil against your lips made his heart race.

those little gestures, once overlooked, now held a beauty that captivated him entirely.

he remembered the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a simple action that sent fluttering butterflies in his stomach.

the moments you'd fall asleep during class breaks, as if you were blissfully unaware of the world around you.

is this how you felt back then? he asked himself.

each memory deepened his confusion and longing. he had always seen you as a friend, but now he felt something more these days— and it honestly thrilled, yet frightened him at the same time.

he wanted to be the reason behind your smiles, the one who encourages you in your passion for arts, and who stands by you through everything.

and yet, he couldn't shake the fear of losing you. you had already moved on from the feelings you once had for him, and phainon worried that his feelings for you might push you away.

but he knew he had to confront these feelings. if he wanted you to see him in the same light you once did, he would have to take the risk before it's too late.

the first thing that came to his mind was to win you over again, and he was determined to do it.

though, will it be worth the risk? only one way to find out.

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sigh.

phainon exhaled and his groan soon followed, his face resting against the desk. he had been trying to win your heart again these past two months, but he always ended up failing with his sudden clumsiness, and the unexpected things happening.

impressing you with his drawing skills? failed. he knocked a bottle of water over (that had its lid opened) in an accident, spilling it all over your sketchbook. he tried cleaning it up with a paper towel, only for him to smear the sketches he had already made, turning his masterpiece into a messy blur. you tried assuring him that it was fine and it was an accident, and yet that didn't stop the sad expression that formed on his face, looking exactly like a kicked puppy and you had to hold yourself back from laughing.

(cute. you thought.)

impressing you with his skills in sports? failed. while he did manage to shoot the ball, he got distracted when he caught your gaze and before he knew it, a ball flew to his way at a rapid speed and hit him right on the head, almost knocking him out.

sending you a sweet message about how much he enjoys spending time with you? failed. he accidentally sent the message to the wrong person. and worst of all, the person he accidentally sent the sweet message to was one of the professors in the campus; anaxa.

he doubts he'll even forget that memory.

he tried to pick your things that had fallen to the ground, only for both of your foreheads to bump against each other really hard.

he also tried flirting, but you were so slow and oblivious, it backfired.

mnestia, could you please be nice for once?

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phainon always had a bright smile on his face, but there was a subtle change about him lately, and everyone on the campus could see the way his eyes would soften or light up with stars, the way the expression on his face would brighten with a grin, or even the way his imaginary tail would wag furiously whenever he sees you or when he's with you. (as if he was a dog with an owner that just got home from work.)

during class, phainon would steal glances on your way while the professor was busy discussing. only for anaxa to catch him daydreaming later, staring at you instead of paying attention and taking down notes. he eventually calls him after clearing his throat to catch his student's attention, "care to share your thoughts, phainon of aedes elysiae?" and the class erupts into laughter as phainon stumbles over his words, cheeks flushed and an embarrassed smile on his lips.

you also could tell that there was something more about the way he acts around you, but you kept denying it, convincing yourself that you're just imagining things or phainon was simply being... well, phainon.

yet despite your attempts to brush it off, you couldn't shake off the fluttering feeling in your chest from the way he looks at you like a lovesick puppy (you honestly find that cute), or when gives you those bright, charming smiles that always seemed to widen whenever you agree to tag along with him, or the way he still spots you in the crowds despite blending in perfectly, or—

titans.

you were falling for him again. but oddly enough, you didn't feel scared or hesitant about it, and it felt different this time, you didn't question everything like last time, you just accepted it without overthinking and complaining.

you didn't mind that he turned you down before, those moments had already felt like a blur now. and you found yourself clinging to the small hopes that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

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phainon was unusually quiet today, but as two of your friends called out to him, his gaze landed on them first before you and the moment it did; heat crept up to his cheeks.

"how do they look, phainon?"

cipher and hyacine had just finished styling your hair (out of boredom) and now they asked him for his opinion, only for him to remain silent and leave their question unanswered.

"i told you, i look ridiculous in this. i prefer my usual hair style much more." a sigh left your lips, embarrassment washing over you as you brought a hand to the clip/pin/hair tie, trying to take it off. But cipher stopped you before you could.

"ah, ah, ah. he hasn't given us an answer yet."

phainon was too stunned to speak and he couldn't help himself from staring at you, not when you look so...

breathtaking, beautiful, stunning, lovely, majestic, adorable, charming, enchanting, divine, and effortlessly gorgeous.

i mean you've always been, but seeing you in a different hairstyle than usual was new to him, and he doubts words are even enough to describe how captivating you are.

with a hand covering half of his flushed face and his shy smile, his eyes averted elsewhere before finally giving them an answer.

"they look pretty." he muttered and he returned his gaze back to you (and only you), his voice barely above a whisper but it was enough for you and your friends to hear.

while the pair cheered, he didn't fail to notice how you seemed to freeze in your spot.

was he seeing things? he could've sworn he saw your cheeks blooming into a faint red colour before you turned your back to him.

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several months had passed since day one of phainon's clumsy attempts of winning you over, and now you stood there with him at the entrance of the amusement park, staring blankly at the screen,and holding back the frustration that washed over you as you read the message.

hyacine: sorry, (name)! we got so hungry, we had to go somewhere to eat. i'm pretty sure you'll be fine there as long as you're with phainon! o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

cipher: have fun

cipher: on your date! ;3

beside you was phainon, who was also staring at the screen of his phone.

mydei: we had been standing and waiting for so long, but since you were taking your precious time, i had lost my patience.

castorice: sorry, phainon. i couldn't stay in one place for too long. we're cheering for you though! good luck! :))

great.

they ditched us. you both thought at the same time.

a long silence followed, and phainon was the first to break it. "seems like it's just the two of us then. where do you want to head to first?"

while phainon was frustrated at the fact that the both of you just got ditched, a part of him was happy that he got to spend time with you alone— in an amusement park.

you looked around first before pointing at the rides. "the rides would be nice, i'd like to try them out." (you felt a bit childish, but you've been dying to ride the rollercoaster.)

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as you made your way through the bustling crowd, you suddenly felt a bit anxious. "hey, phainon?"

"yeah?"

"do you mind if i hold onto your arm?" you hesitantly asked him. "i don't really like crowds, and i'm afraid that i might get lost..."

phainon glanced at you, and then chuckled. "with your height, it might not be easy to spot you in all these people." he joked and you flashed him a glare. (you were offended. that joke was unfunny, sir.)

"but sure, i don't mind." he extended his arm for you before you linked yours with his (and suddenly, you're not that scared anymore).

whenever you feel overwhelmed by the crowd, your grip on him loosens. and each time that happens, phainon would gently pull you back closer to his side, ensuring your safety.

the both of you headed to the rides first, you started with the simple ones before the thrilling rides. excitement bubbled in your chest as you climb aboard the rollercoaster. the ride was thrilling and it made you scream in delight whenever it plummeted down.

once the ride came to stop, you stepped off of the ride. but when you stepped foot on the ground, your knees buckled. just as you were about to stumble, phainon caught you just in time, his arms wrapping around you securely, "woah, careful there!" he said, and both of you burst into fits of laughter.

after regaining your balance, you and phainon headed over to the food stalls to eat, before wandering over to the game stalls. (you could've sworn you saw two familiar figures with blonde and lavender hair, but before you could even look at their direction, a prize caught your attention.) you tried your luck at winning the prize while phainon cheered you on, and his encouragement was boosting your confidence.

when you finally knocked down the cans and won a stuffed animal, you beamed up at him with the plush in your arms, and he flashed you a proud grin.

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the sun had begun to set and both of you had decided to go home. (your parents told you to come home before night time.)

the excitement of the day was still buzzling in the air, and the smiles on your faces were still there. phainon had decided to take you home and everything was silent, but it wasn't the awkward silence you shared earlier— it was rather comfortable and warm.

as you've both finally reached outside your home, you weren't sure how to voice out the feelings that had been blooming inside you, but it seemed phainon had something to say as well.

before you could bid him goodbye and call it a day, your eyes widened when you saw the solemn look on his face as he muttered something under his breath and avoided your gaze.

"did i love you too late?"

it was almost inaudible, but you managed to hear the words that (accidentally) slipped past his lips.

you could tell that he was being sincere.

"what?" you said in disbelief, causing a wave of panic to wash over phainon. but before he could say a word, you beat him into it.

"and here i thought I was only imagining things." you stifled a laugh and you were now facing him entirely. "please, look at me." he did as what you have told him.

and there it is, the look in your eyes, the one he had been longing to see.

"you're never too late, phai. I might have moved on and lost feelings for a while, but somehow, my heart found its way back to you again. it's odd, but i'm not complaining. with all the things that's been happening between us, i couldn't help myself from clinging onto the hopes that maybe things would be different this time. so..."

"phainon, if you truly love me... can you promise me to hold and take good care of my fragile heart this time?"

phainon stood frozen, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. it was rare to see you express your feelings so openly, and the weight of your words hung in the air between you. He felt a sudden rush of joy, disbelief, and a slight vulnerability, all mixed together.

as your words sunk in, a bright smile replaced the solemn expression he had on his face. his eyes lit up, sparkling with warmth. you almost found yourself laughing at the sight of his imaginary fluffy dog ears perking up with excitement and his imaginary tail wagging furiously behind him.

after a moment, he finally answered, his voice steady and sincere. "i promise to and i will hold, cherish, and protect your fragile heart with everything i have."

he swore to the whole universe, that he won't let you down. and this time, he will show you how much you mean to him.

there is never too early, nor too late for you to love someone. it isn't something to rush on, as there will always be a right time for love to bloom like a beautiful flower.

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silly taggies! @sqgeism , @strawbairicake, @unabashedlyfamousprince

note/s: my tumblr was lagging when i pasted everything from my notes LMAOOO, + let me know if there's an error or you could share your opinion! (I would honestly love that, so feel free to drop your opinions, chat!) + did you all know that I based this on the things that had happened to me and my past crush? (Not entirely, it's mostly on the amusement park part and the reader's crying part LMAO)

[chrattho1]

bsf!chris x reader

backfired.

summary: just one of your car rides with chris,where you get to know something interesting yet heartbreaking about him.

warnings: none its just interaction between two friends ig

a/n: ill keep making such blurbs and texts’ until they get together guys trust🙏 also this is inspired by yesterday’s video!!!

more of this au here

you are in the passenger seat of the car that is more familiar to you than your own. the scent of weed mixed with chris’ cologne smells like everyday to you,music playing in the background,chris bobbing his head to the beat as his eyes stay focused on the road.

chris looks away from the road for a split second-just to glance at you looking at him.

its been a couple of weeks since you broke up with your ex,and chris has been there for you this entire time,getting you food in bed when you dont feel like getting up,staying over,helping you out in any way that he can-your admiration for him grew everytime he helped you out.

right now,nobody is talking in the car,but this is what you love about your friendship with chris-you can sit there in silence and just think without worrying if it will get awkward. well unless he says something stupid and breaks the silence.

you loved that about him,so much- he says everything that comes to his mind,he vocalises his thoughts to you and that makes you feel safe.

he parks at a corner,pulls the mc donalds bags’ ahead from the back seat.

“here are your fries-and your nuggets” he talks mimicking how a parent would talk to a child,you chuckle.

“what if the nugget you eat just exploded in your tummy like-boom” chris says and immediately starts cackling,you laugh with him,your head falling back and your eyes shut.

“shut up bro im fucking crying” you said wiping a tear that was developed out of laughter.

chris nods still chuckling,taking a bite out of his burger, his eyes turn to you as he smiles with his mouth full.

“how many people have you been in love with?” he asks out of nowhere,catching you off guard

“this is so random” you chuckle chewing at your fries.

“just tell me” chris groans acting annoyed

“i have definitely told you this before” you said taking a sip out of his sweet tea.

“no you haven’t” he shakes his head.

“you think we haven’t talked about this before? be for real chris” your eyes narrow,not believing that you two-probably the only two people in this world who have discussed all topics from the most random to the deepest,in detail for hours-haven’t talked about this.

“on my life-i dont know the answer to this question,why do you think i asked” he shruggs

“i think just the one time-remember i told you about the guy i grew up with back home?”you remind him

“yeah yeah him-how long do you think you were in love with him?" he asks another question.

“well lets see..” you start counting years on your fingers, giving up before answering .

“from the age of 12-maybe 11 till i was almost 17” you answer with wide eyes.

“no fucking way-i did not know that” his eyes widen at your response too,before he continues talking.

“what was it about him?” he looks up at you from his fries.

“i dont know-we were friends for so long he knew everything about me and i knew everything about him,he was just a nice dude” you said almost sounding like you were describing chris.

“so he was me?” chris gives you a smile-the smile with his entire underbite showing.

you grin,blinking at him before jokingly hitting his face to the side.

“what about you? how many times has THE chris sturniolo been in love?” you asked looking at him with a smirk,you have an answer at the back of your mind because this conversation has 100% taken place before.

“alright this backfired real quick” chris mumbles under his breath with a scoff,his gaze turning away from you hiding a shy smile. you were beyond confused.

“WHAT? YOU DONT WANNA TELL ME?” you were shocked by his response,usually chris wants to tell you everything,and knowing that you both have definitely talked about this before, him not wanting to answer this question now bothered you.

“okay i’ll flash the numbers and you just stop me when you see the answer yeah?” to your words chris drops his face into his hands and groans slightly,like he is…embarrassed?

you hold up one finger in his face,to which he pulls his face out of his hands,looking at your hand and shakes his head in disappointment.

“you think i am at one?” chris spoke his voice cracking just a tiny bit

“okay i remember now-two” you were positive that thats what his answer was,because when you first became friends he did mention being in love twice

a small smile on his face as he fidgets with the straw on his drink,he shook his head again.

“no??? three people then!?” you screamed in his face

“DONT SAY IT LIKE THAT?” he replies with a frown

“can i get a list because i feel like im missing someone” you asked him genuinely curious because you definitely remember only the two .

“maybe later” chris hummed returning back to his fries with the small smile still on his face.

“three people huh?” you speak up again.

“i just- dont have a problem being in love with someone and not doing anything about it you know?” he shrugs like he didn’t just say something that made your heart curl up into a small ball in your chest,you cared about chris so much and you know what it feels like being in love with someone and not allowing yourself to do something about it,you try to think hard about who this woman could be because the other two women chris was in love with-he did make a move on,your frown growing with each passing second.

“oh-chris” your face fell,your hand reaches down to his lower thigh,rubbing it to console him.

“eh it’s whatever” he shrugs,his eyes plastered on your hand that is on him right now,he takes a sharp breath

“anyways” chris sighs,his eyes lower than before

“wanna smoke a joint with me?” he continues,with a smirk on his face.

a smile grows on your face,you nod.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @sl4ttformattsturniolo @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrisslittleslut @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @herewegoagain-b @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @chrissturnsss @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s

[edamameimei]

always love you (megan skiendiel x reader)

"still, i'll always be there for you, how i do. i let go of my claim on you, it's a free world."

synopsis: the five times you wish megan would choose you + the one time megan finally does. tags: angst. hurt, no comfort! idol!megan x dream academy!reader au. an: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: suggestive themes MDNI! kissing, substance use. swearing. megan is kind of a meanie head in this ): wc: 8109

⏯ now playing: godspeed - frank ocean

When you first met her, you called it fate. 

To you, it was fate and everything in between because auditioning for Dream Academy seemed like a lost cause. When you first saw the announcement, you thought it would be too good to be true. And the fact that it was global? There was no possible way for someone like you to receive good news, let alone be sent a rejection. You almost convinced yourself that your audition tape would become lost amongst the thousands that would be submitted. 

But there was an urge to do it— an urge so strong you couldn’t possibly say no to the grip the Hybe x Geffen ad had on you. Also, at that point, anything would have been better than going to college. So, you took fate up on its offer. 

And surprisingly, fate allowed you to hear back months later. Not only get a response, but also earn a spot with the project. 

Moving to Los Angeles was something you never considered before Dream Academy. You were so used to your small town that the idea of packing your bags and going somewhere so daunting almost made you drop out of the project completely. But there was a reason you were chosen, and you were determined to see it through. 

Once you arrive at the dorms, your anxiety begins to creep up on you. Most of the other girls met during training and development virtually, so you felt relieved to hear you would be sharing a space with two other girls who were also new to the line-up. From what you were told, one is named Daniela and the other is Manon. You hope and pray they are decent people to be around. 

When you enter the room, you realize you’re the last one to set up your space. You walk over to the open bed, smoothing out the sheets in front of you. Your eyes begin to twitch when you hear loud voices out in the hallway, suddenly feeling trapped despite being the only one inside the dorm. The thought of being stuck with 19 other girls makes you feel self-conscious. You flinch when you hear a girl’s voice booming from the other side of the door. 

None of it feels real; the experience still feels fresh, as if you read that email just yesterday. 

There’s a desire to run and hide, but you aren’t sure where you would even go. You decide to sit down on the floor, crossing your legs. Your hands shake as you rub your face, trying to control the panic that begins to settle in your throat. You’re supposed to be getting ready for your first big meeting with the other girls, yet the negative thoughts in your head run wild, the synapses in your brain misfiring at a millisecond. 

You grip your knees when you hear the door open. 

The person murmurs, “Oh shit,” upon walking in and it causes you to look up with wide eyes. 

Your eyes meet a pair of soft brown hues that makes your mouth go dry. You feel your heart beat faster as you see a smile form on her lips and hear her giggle nervously. “Fuck– Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I thought this was Sophia’s room…”

You don’t know who Sophia is, but you really wish, in this moment, you were the girl she was looking for. The stranger looks around the room, and you can tell she’s feeling a bit panicked. Her awkwardness causes you to laugh. You wipe your eyes as the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach disappears with just her presence. 

You stand to your feet, shaking your head. “A Sophia isn’t assigned to this room, sorry…” Your voice is a bit shaky as you speak, and you can’t help but feel relieved when she doesn’t comment. She simply nods, stepping out of the room with a quick wave. “I’d say more, but I really need to find her. I’ll see you later?” You laugh again, and it makes her laugh as well, both of you finding the situation amusing. You wave her goodbye and watch as she quickly closes the door shut. 

Your heart feels full as you turn back toward your luggage, a new feeling of motivation resonating throughout your body. 

Her name is Megan, and it’s fate that brought you two here together. 

You walk outside of the Geffen building and find Megan sitting on the grass with her headphones in. She had her eyes closed, trying to find some sort of peace after another exhausting day of practice. You slowly walk toward her, feeling a gravitational pull toward the black-haired girl.

You sit yourself next to her, deciding to lie down when the exhaustion begins to catch up to you as well. You put your arms underneath your head and glance at her, watching as she opens her eyes. Megan slowly takes her headphones off, raising an eyebrow. She opens her mouth to say something, but you beat her to it.

The words come out quickly and slightly jumbled. “You’re really talented.” You can tell your sudden compliment throws Megan off guard as she chuckles nervously. She looks away, her eyes crinkling. “Thank you…” You sit up and give her a soft smile.

There is a calming energy to Megan that provides you with a weird sense of security, and as you two sit in a comfortable silence, you wonder if she feels the same way about you. 

The rest is history. 

Wherever Megan would go, you would follow in tow. There wasn’t a moment when the other Dream Academy contestants wouldn’t see Megan without you, and vice versa. You often relished in your alone time when you had the chance, but now with Megan in your life, you don’t mind the younger girl tagging along with you to an activity that was meant to be solo or coming with her on a late-night drive. 

You have grown fond of Megan’s personality. She could light up any room she walked into, her bright smile immediately putting everyone in a better mood, despite the rising tension amongst the girls most days. She’s carefree yet so passionate about her dreams. Her ambitions motivated you to work hard, to solidify a spot in the group so you can continue being by her side. 

But unfortunately, there were more days than not when you can’t seem to see the finish line. 

You sit criss-crossed on your bed, staring down at your hands in your lap. Today, you will be filming the first teaser for Dream Academy, and the thought of the project going public makes you feel sick. Your roommates have already gotten ready– their gray uniforms on and their hair and make-up done so well that you can’t help but berate yourself for not being like them. You think about how you will never be like them. Hot tears brim your eyes, causing you to click your tongue in frustration. Your throat feels tight, and the room begins to feel smaller than before. 

In the midst of your silent breakdown, you don’t notice when someone enters the room. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel a hand on your shoulder, and your bed dips slightly behind you. The person scoots closer to you, and the comforting scent of lavender and the ocean becomes more apparent. 

It’s Megan. It’s always Megan. 

You let out a breath of relief at the realization, instinctively leaning into the girl’s touch, to which the girl snakes her arms around you, pulling you close. You close your eyes and hum in content, the anxiety suddenly washing away when you feel Megan hold you in her arms. 

“I can let them know you aren’t feeling well…” Megan’s voice is soft and filled with concern. You close your eyes as you feel Megan run her fingers through your hair. She places a soft kiss on the top of your head, the warmth radiating from her body comforting you. You can’t help the flush in your cheeks when you realize how close she is to you. You clear your throat, finding your voice again. You bury your face into Megan’s neck and murmur, “No, I can do it. Just give me a few minutes…” 

She rubs your back in response and nods. She says, “Let me help you with your uniform…” You roll your eyes at the mention of the gray uniform you are all forced to wear. You sigh, pulling yourself away from Megan, pouting at the loss of warmth. However, the moment you scoot away, Megan is already reaching towards you to grab your hand and lace your fingers together. 

It’s as if you’ve done this a million times already. You’re convinced you have. 

Megan gives your hand one last squeeze before standing up, walking towards the closet with a little bounce in her step. You giggle at her slight excitement and sniffle as you watch her sift through your clothes for the uniform. Megan pulls it out and carefully carries it to your bed. She places it down in front of you with a soft smile. Her eyes stay on you, and it causes you to look away from her with a blush on your cheeks. 

“What are you looking at?” Megan shrugs at your question, sitting back down on your bed. “You have updog on your face.” She deadpans, and you snort, looking up at the Chinese girl who grins widely at you. You swat at her arm playfully. “You’re so stupid.” You say, and Megan giggles loudly, her eyes turning into crescents and her whiskers evident on her cheeks. She sticks her tongue out at you. 

“Well, you’re stupider.” She says in a child-like tone. You roll your eyes, grabbing the uniform before getting up from your bed. You take a deep breath. 

Fate brought you here. Fate put this uniform in front of you. 

 Not only is Megan your safe space, but it seems as though you’re exactly that for her as well. 

You would watch the coaches tear Megan to shreds, pointing out her every flaw and every mistake. The coaching has become harsher, much more intense, and Megan has been on the short end of it. After their tirade finally ends for the day, the Chinese girl would turn her head towards you, a pleading look in her eyes. And you would only nod in understanding. 

You’d meet at Megan’s car and go to the spot you two claimed on the beach or the pier. The drive would be spent in silence, the only thing that could be heard is either Megan or your playlist playing while the windows are down. Once you get to the shore, you both take a seat in front of the thrashing waves, and you wait for her to tell you what was going through her head. 

But more often than not, she doesn’t tell you. She simply rests her head against your shoulder and tells you something more lighthearted. Something you’ve learned about your best friend is how hard she tries to avoid expressing how she truly feels.

You never push her in fear of crossing her boundaries, but you wish you could read her mind. You wish she confided in you the same way she confides in Emily or Adela. But being alone with her on those nights felt like enough. It should be enough. 

But this time was different. 

The drive to the beach felt more tense than usual. When you get to the shore, Megan immediately sits next to you, her legs pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on top of her knees. She doesn’t hesitate to tell you about the pain she has been feeling in her ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise when she brings it up, having tried in the past to get her to understand the severity, but she always told you that everything was fine. 

But every time you saw her face contort into discomfort during practice, how she often collapsed to the ground once the routine ended, you knew that everything wasn’t fine at all. 

You adore how hardworking she is. However, it worries you how much she pushes herself. 

After listening to her speak, you place a hand on her back and rub it gently. You whisper, “You have to tell someone tomorrow, okay?” She only sighs in response and closes her eyes tightly. You watch a lone tear escape her eye. “I just… I just wanna be good, you know?” She admits, and you feel your chest begin to sting. You frown, scooting closer to her. You wrap an arm around her and pull her close, leaning your head against hers. 

“You’re already good. You’re so good.” You say quietly, and for a brief moment, Megan smiles. 

Her voice is soft as she responds, “Sometimes I wonder if this is actually worth it.” She wraps her arms around you and pulls you closer as she continues, her voice trembling, “Sometimes I wonder if this is actually gonna be everything I’d ever want.”  You sit there for a moment, letting her words sink in. This is the first time she has ever been so vulnerable with you, and you aren’t sure how to react. 

Your voice is quiet, but you hope it’s loud enough to show Megan that at least something has come out of the chaos. “I think… I mean. At least we have each other.” You look up at the sky as if you were making wishes on the stars. You continue with a whisper, “That means something, right?” 

It’s quiet. You begin to panic slightly, and you wonder if you said the wrong thing. You’re about to pull away, to ask her if everything was okay, but she only grabs your hand. She holds it tightly. It’s as if she let go, even for a moment, you would disappear. 

But you wouldn’t. You would never. 

She whispers back, “You’re my best friend, Y/n.”

A couple of weeks later, you sit in a conference room with the other girls, awaiting the results from voting and the judges. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you see you’ve earned immunity for the week. You glance at Megan, who avoids your gaze, and you feel your heart aching in your chest, scared of the events that will unfold right before everyone’s eyes. 

Soon after, it is Adela and Hinari who are eliminated first in the competition. 

You walk into the dorm with the others, the tension heavy and thick in the air. There’s a deafening silence amongst everyone, and you watch as all the girls flock to their groups, whispering. Some go into their rooms, wanting to keep their conversations private.

Before today, everyone was dedicated to each other. Now, with eliminations, it has become the real deal. There really is something worth losing in the end of all of this. 

You look around to try and find Megan, but she is nowhere to be found. You know Adela’s elimination would hit her the hardest– their friendship is close and tight-knit. So, it didn’t surprise you when you found her sitting outside the dorm, alone.

You approach her cautiously, your brows immediately furrowing when you notice she has been crying. You reach out to her to grab her hand, but Megan quickly gets up. She doesn’t meet your eyes as she hoarsely whispers, “I need to be alone, Y/n.” She crosses her arms and walks back inside, leaving you behind.

You stand there, confused by your best friend’s actions. You look around for a moment, and your lip begins to tremble, that familiar lump in your throat present. Your hands turn into fists as you finally release the sob you’ve been holding in since voting began. You want to run inside and find Megan, to find comfort. But she can’t even be around you right now. 

You wonder if this was all a mistake. 

Unbeknownst to you, this is only the beginning of what could be the end. However, you still believe in fate. You wished upon it. 

I. 

You walk up to Megan after practice one day, a small frown on your lips as you watch her pack her things. Her movements seem agitated as if she were to stay longer in the practice room, she would lose control completely. You reach out to her and gently place a hand on her shoulder.

Despite her distance from you, you know the other girl is going through so much mentally. You desperately want to show Megan that you’re there. That, just because Adela is gone, you are still in the competition. And you aren’t leaving her for anything. 

However, she tenses up at your touch, shrugging your hand off to continue her task. You pull away as if you had accidentally burned her. You fidget with your fingers in silence, unsure of what to do next. Megan zips up her bag and stands to her feet, swinging the bag over her shoulder.

When she turns around, she immediately widens her eyes, not expecting you to still be there behind her. “Y/n, what do you want?” She asks, a bit exasperated by your presence. The aching in your chest only grows tenfold at the pinch in her tone. You know she’s upset, but you also know you don’t deserve to be pushed away like this. 

You bite your lip to try and hide your hurt expression. You bite back what you want to say to her, what you want to confront her about, because you know Megan. And you know she’s hurting just as much as you are. Your eyes dart around the room to avoid her gaze and take a deep breath. “I just. I’m here for you.” You say with tears pooling in your eyes.

You shrug, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even trying. Your voice shakes as you speak again,  “I’m here for you, that’s all.” You look down at the ground and turn away from your best friend, knowing it’s best to give her the space she desires. As you walk away, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you back forcefully. 

When you turn back around, you feel Megan place her hands on your cheeks, pressing her lips hard against yours. Your brain short-circuits at the unexpected turn of events. In the back of your mind, you know you should push her away. You know that this wasn’t what you both needed, especially this far into Dream Academy. But when she pulls away and looks up at you, desperate and breathless, nothing could stop you from pulling her into another kiss. 

It was deeper this time, your lips moving against hers messily. You feel her run her hands through your hair, and if this is what Megan needed, you were more than okay to oblige. 

The other girls were relieved to see you and Megan back to your normal dynamic.

The moment they saw you two enter the practice room together the next day, pinkies linked and smiles on your faces, they couldn’t help but feel as though everything was finally going to be okay. But this time around, it felt different, more charged.

They notice the secret glances across the room, the subtle touches during evaluations, and they try not to bat an eye when one of you leaves the room with the other following suit moments later. For everyone’s sake, they keep their questions to themselves. 

But after Mission 3, when you didn’t receive an invitation to move forward in the competition, they all held their breath. Everyone’s eyes land on Megan as if bracing for the impact that would soon follow. But she stayed where she was, not even taking a glance at you as your hands turned into tight fists. They all wondered if that was worse. 

You manage to keep yourself together when you get back to the dorms to pack your things. Once you finish, you throw yourself onto your now stripped bed. You couldn’t believe that your time in Dream Academy has come to an end. You stare up at your ceiling as a million thoughts run through your mind.

Megan, at some point, joins you and lies next to you. She reaches over you to place a hand on your cheek, turning your head so you can face her, and your heart breaks when you see the sadness in her eyes. You close the space between you two, kissing her softly. 

You don’t know what this is with her. But you hope it won’t change once you’re gone. 

Megan pulls away and rests her forehead against yours. She looks at you with her brown, puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t help but melt under her gaze. “Will you still text me when you’re gone?” She whispers, and the question makes you chuckle. You nod and place a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Megan bites her lip in response, and you can tell she’s trying to contain her tears. You sigh, removing your hand from her shoulder to cup her cheeks with both hands. “I’ll call you all the time. You’ll be so sick of me.” She giggles, and it’s music to your ears. She raises her pinky in front of you, her expression becoming serious. 

“Promise you’ll call, Y/n L/n. I’m in your walls.” It’s your turn to laugh as you connect your pinky with hers, a sincere look in your eyes. You whisper, “I promise, weirdo.” Megan sticks her tongue out at you before raising your pinky to her lips, placing a soft kiss against your skin. 

She murmurs against your hand, “You’re my best friend, Y/n.” 

You have the urge to ask her if that’s all you are to her. If you two really are just best friends. But you didn’t want to risk the way she looks at you as if you were everything she had ever dreamed of. You opt for blissful ignorance despite how much it hurts to do so. 

“You’re my best friend, Megan.” 

II. 

You two sit on your spot at the pier together, looking up at the stars. Your shoulders are touching, and the proximity makes you feel lightheaded. The scent of her shampoo overwhelms your senses, and her perfume makes it a million times worse.

Usually, you welcome her company like this. But as she talks about the absolute most horrid date she ever went on, you can’t help but feel detached from her. She waves her hands animatedly as she complains about the boy she saw and how their time together just kept getting worse. You nod passively at every other word, only speaking when it feels right to do so. 

Megan notices the shift in your demeanor and rests her chin on your shoulder, looking at you with concern. “Sorry… I’ve said a lot…” You shake your head quickly, turning toward her with a small smile. “No, you’re okay. I’m just… Thinking.” She furrows her brows at your words and sits up.

She tilts her head and reaches out to you, putting her hand in yours. Megan squeezes gently. “Thinking about what?” She asks quietly. The question lingers in the air with only the sounds of the crashing waves being heard. You look away from the girl, your attention drawn to the rising tide. 

“You’re gonna be a popstar…” You hear yourself saying. What you actually want to tell her is that there has not been a day when you haven’t thought about what you two could be if given the chance. You want to tell her how your heart sinks every time she brings up a new date she went on.

There are so many things you wish you could tell Megan, but you trust that fate would make its rounds– that this is all according to plan. 

But, you do admit, the thought of your best friend becoming a celebrity runs through your mind every once in a while. After leaving Dream Academy, Megan tried her best to keep in contact with you despite always being busy doing one thing or the other. It led to many of your texts going unanswered, but she was always good about calling you after a long day, ranting about the latest thing that happened at the dorms or practice. 

But now, since officially earning her spot in the group, Megan has become busier than ever. She no longer calls you as often, and every few days, you’d receive a text from the girl, apologizing for not answering you sooner. 

It bothers you more than you like to admit, but this is everything she has ever wanted, so you’ve pushed your true feelings aside. 

She looks at you tiredly. You notice the bags underneath her eyes and how her smile doesn’t have its usual brightness. Her voice is hoarse as she speaks, “I’m gonna be a popstar… How fucking crazy.” She says the last part with a laugh, looking up at the sky. You stare at her with a worried expression. 

“Are you… Okay?” You find yourself asking, and Megan faces you again, forcing a smile. She nods, but you see right through her facade. You clasp a hand over hers, squeezing gently as if to tell her, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.” And you hope she hears every word. You sit there in silence, the sound of the breeze and waves is the only background noise. You decide not to say anything more, hoping your existence would be enough. 

God, you hope more than anything that your existence means something to Megan.

Suddenly, Megan pulls you into a tight embrace. Her hands grip the back of your sweater, and she buries her face into the crook of your neck. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her. You feel her tears against your neck, and you hold her even tighter, your head against her shoulder. You sit silently, allowing her to release the emotions she has had pent up for God knows how long. 

After a few minutes, Megan’s sobs have subsided, and you stay there in each other’s arms, not daring to let go. She keeps her grasp on your shirt as if afraid you might disappear again. Finally, she takes a deep breath, pulling away slightly to look at you with red and swollen eyes. You look back at her, helpless, unsure of how to make her pain go away. 

You don’t even think when you bring your hand up to her face, cupping her cheek gently. You use the pad of your thumb to wipe away the tears that are left. Megan leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering close. “Y/n?” She whispers. You notice how she closes her eyes tighter and her lips trembles as she continues, “I just– I– Fuck.” She struggles to get her words out. You hold your breath, your free hand resting on her knee as you wait patiently for her to finish her thought.

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. “I just wish Adela or Emily were here.” 

You retract your hand from her knee. Something about her words knocks the wind out of you. She doesn’t notice your pained expression and giggles, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I have to get a boyfriend or something so I don’t keep bothering you with my bullshit.” 

You force a smile and stand up, ignoring the way your heart twists and thrashes in your chest. “Shut up and take me back home.” You say, trying to compose yourself. You stretch your arms before offering Megan your hands, to which the Chinese girl accepts gratefully. You pull her up to her feet quickly, causing Megan to slip slightly on the pier beneath you. 

She grabs onto your shoulders tightly to regain her balance. Your eyes widen, and you wrap your arms securely around her waist, pulling her close. Your breath hitches slightly when Megan looks up at you, her brown eyes twinkling. She giggles, mumbling a quiet, “Sorry.” You shake your head in response, still looking into her eyes. Megan keeps your gaze, the smile on her face falling slightly as she realizes how close you two are.

Megan’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips for a split second, but you notice. 

It’s been months without her lips on yours, and it has been driving you crazy. 

You lean in slowly, your heart beating faster. Your eyes flutter close when Megan leans in as well, your noses brush against each other, and you can feel Megan’s breath become shallow. 

She tastes like cherries, not like the strawberry chapstick she always puts on. 

Her hands messily thread through your hair and pulls you closer. She sighs into the kiss, and it only spurs you on even more, grabbing her hips. You lose yourself in the way her lips move against yours, and you hope, in this moment, she forgets about everyone else. You deepen the kiss in an attempt to make sure she is only thinking about you. 

After a few moments, you pull away, breathless, and your cheeks flush. Megan looks at you, biting her lip. You look into each other’s eyes, and it frustrates you when you can’t read her expression. You just want, for once, for Megan to choose you. To look at you and realize you were right there, right in front of her, choosing her. 

But she turns away, skipping towards her car as if the events that just transpired didn’t happen. You take a sharp breath, feeling slightly betrayed by fate and its games. 

III. 

You find yourself being dragged to Emily’s birthday party. 

You weren’t too sure of going in the first place. After months of dwelling on a decision, you decided to enroll in a college in Los Angeles to stay close to the friends you made during Dream Academy. Now that you were a full-time student, you struggled to find a balance in your life. If you felt lost before, you were now deep in the trenches, trying to juggle school work with a social life. And to make things worse, you couldn’t help but feel as though your best friend was once again slipping through your fingertips. 

After their song blew up all over social media, it has become much harder to contact the now ginger girl. You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw Megan, despite living in the same city. With Katseye’s growing success, you knew it would bring change to your dynamic with the girl. But as the months began to pass, you started to see yourself as an afterthought to Megan. She wasn’t even the one who asked you if you were going to the party– it was Lara.

But against all odds, you decide to go. The night ends up being a bit of a blur. You decided to take an edible right before to calm your nerves, and now you lazily sit on one of the lawn chairs in front of a fire pit while everyone is lost in their own conversations. Karlee sits next to you, smoking a blunt you helped roll for her. 

You and the Japanese girl catch up with each other, giving updates on what has been missed since your last interaction. You can’t help but wonder why you never reached out to Karlee after Dream Academy. You remember her being a great friend to you, always sticking up for you when something distasteful would be said about you. 

At some point during the conversation, Karlee’s hand finds yours. She plays with your fingers absentmindedly as she complains about recent drama in her life. You listen in and out, becoming distracted every once in a while by Megan. 

You watch as she dances with Lara, Manon, and Emily. At some point, Daniela joins them, and so does Adela. But your eyes remain on the Chinese girl. You watch as the girl moves her hips to the song, getting lost in the rhythm. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch your best friend throw her head back, smiling. Her features are lit up by the fire, her ginger hair swaying along with her. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. You can’t believe how attractive Megan is, and you can’t believe how much it still affects you. 

You force yourself to look away, not wanting Karlee to pick up on your blatant staring. You’re relieved when you look back at the Japanese girl, and she’s still talking, unaware of your internal battle. You look at the blunt in Karlee’s hand and point at it. You smile lazily, your eyes slightly glazed over as you speak, “Can I take a hit?” Karlee looks at the blunt and nods, laughing softly. She is about to pass it over, but she takes it back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She speaks up, her voice teasing, “Have you ever done a blowback?” 

The question throws you off guard, and it makes you think for a moment. You look at Karlee, tilting your head with a curious look in your eyes. You decide to play into the game, however. You shrug and say, “Once… Are you asking to do one?” The statement makes Karlee look away, surprised by your question. She scoots her chair closer to you and looks back to see a smirk on your lips, still waiting for Karlee to answer the question. 

For some reason, you feel bold in your interaction with Karlee. It’s a way for you to forget Megan and her avoidance of you, but you don’t want to admit that. You want the reason to be because Karlee is attractive, and she is giving you her undivided attention. 

You watch the Japanese girl nod her head in response and suddenly, your confidence begins to falter at the realization of the many people around you. The other Dream Academy girls were only a few feet away. But Karlee moves the chair so she is now sitting in front of you. She looks at you to see if you had any hesitation in your eyes, but she only sees the lazy look in them, a playful smile on your lips. 

It causes Karlee to giggle, and you raise a brow in response. You whisper, “What’s so funny?” Karlee shakes her head, responding just as quietly, “Nothing. Just… Look at me…” You do as you are told, and you look at Karlee, swallowing when you realize what’s going to happen. You watch as Karlee takes a long hit from the blunt and immediately looks into your eyes as she places her hands on your cheeks, her fingertips warm. 

Instinctively, you part your lips and watch as Karlee leans in closer, your noses brushing against each other. Your eyes don’t leave each other once Karlee begins to exhale while you inhale slowly. There’s a tension between you two, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it. You’re sure Karlee has finished, but neither of you pulls away. You watch Karlee’s eyes flutter close, and against all rational thoughts, you close yours as well, leaning in closer. 

However, before the moment can develop even further, you feel a weight in your lap and a pair of arms looping around your neck. You open your eyes, widening them when you see Megan with her puppy eyes staring down at you. You open and close your mouth, a bit at a loss for words. 

You watch Megan look over at Karlee, who doesn’t look very happy that the moment between you two was interrupted. There’s a playful glint in Megan’s eyes as she holds you tighter. She speaks up, a giggle in her voice, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just needed to tell Y/n something…” Your cheeks redden when you feel the Chinese girl grip the back of your shirt. You wrap your arms around the girl’s waist, securing her in your lap. The action makes Megan look down at you with a soft smile and she begins to tell you about something she heard from Adela and Emily. 

You feel Megan run her fingers through your hair and you listen to every word she says. As if she is the only girl that exists. 

As if you didn’t almost kiss Karlee.

She pushes you up against the bathroom door, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. 

Your hands instinctively grab her hips, pulling her closer as she desperately grips your shirt with her fists. Her lips move against yours in a rhythm that makes you feel lightheaded. The quiet noises she makes as you grip her hips tighter fill you with the need for more. 

Suddenly, she pulls away and looks at you with flushed cheeks and desire in her eyes. “I didn’t realize you and Karlee were that close.” Her words cause you to let out a breathy chuckle. 

“We’re talking about Karlee right now?” You ask, leaning down to press feather-light kisses against her neck. She sighs, and you feel her grip on your shirt loosen. Her fingers thread into your hair as she cranes her neck slightly to give you more access. “You guys just seemed really cozy, you know?” You hum against her neck, pulling away to look at her with an amused expression. 

You tilt your head and smile at her playfully. “Does it matter?” You challenge, suddenly feeling brave due to the rising tension between you two. Megan bites her lip and shakes her head. “I was just wondering…” She trails off, leaning up to kiss you again, but you don’t give her the chance, tilting your head away from her. Megan looks at you questioningly and places her hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong?” 

You furrow your brows at her. You can’t help but think everything about this was wrong. The way she tries to avoid situations, the way she thinks she can kiss you and pretend it doesn’t mean anything. You begin to feel bitter when you remember how, before your almost-kiss with Karlee, Megan barely acknowledged your existence. And suddenly, none of this seems fair to you. 

“Admit it…” You say shakily. She looks at you with confusion written on her face. She opens her mouth to respond, but you quickly continue, finding your voice, “You’re jealous.” Megan immediately jumps away from you once she hears your words. She glares at you and whispers, “What the hell are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes.

“You’re jealous of Karlee because this means something to you.”

You stare at each other in silence. It’s as if you two were daring the other to say another word. 

“I gotta go.” You hear her say. She avoids your eyes, stepping forward and attempting to push you away from the door, but you keep your feet planted where they are. You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips as you cross your arms over your chest, looking at her incredulously. “Why can’t we have a real conversation about this?” 

Megan’s cheeks turn red as she responds, her voice raised, “About what?” 

“You know what!” You yell, throwing your hands up in the air in agitation. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Megan!” 

You feel hot tears spill from your eyes as you look at her, pleading for her to love you back. Megan bites her lip and looks down at the ground. She murmurs, “I can’t do this.” Your lips form a thin line as your hand reaches behind you, grabbing the handle to the door. You whisper, your voice breaking, “Tell me to stay. Please.” You shake your head frantically when Megan keeps her eyes on the ground. You take a deep breath, your grip on the handle tightening. “Megan… Tell me I’m not a second choice to you, please.” 

You look at Megan, a pleading look in your eyes. You don’t care how pathetic you look,  you just need to know if Megan still cares. You desperately want to know if this really wasn’t in your head the entire time, and that fate was still on your side. 

Her silence makes you slump your shoulders. Your eyes soften, and whatever fight you had left goes away. Your grip on the handle loosens, stepping away from the door so she can make her exit. She looks up at you with glistening eyes, and you simply force a smile. “I can’t leave. So, you can.” 

With no hesitation, Megan goes without another word. 

IV. 

You don’t hear from Megan after Emily’s party. You watch her life unfold through Instagram pictures and updates given by her other members. They don’t ask you about what happened, and you’re grateful. 

You felt as though you were grieving. She’s alive and happy and has everything she could ever want, and she was able to do it all without your help. 

A photo of her surfaces on your timeline, and it’s of her at a party with other influential people in Los Angeles. You stare at the photo of her mid-laugh with a drink in her hand. She seemed as though she was in her element, and you realized how far apart you were from the girl you fell in love with. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you see it’s a message from Karlee. She asks if you are free to get coffee sometime. 

You tell her that you’re always free. That coffee sounds lovely. And that you’ll see her next Thursday. 

Fate sits in a locked box beneath your bed. It thrashes and screams and begs for another chance. But you have coffee with Karlee next Thursday, and that is how it will be. 

V. 

“Y/n, is it true you’re going to Hawaii to meet Karlee’s family?” 

It’s been a year since you last spoke to Megan, and she now sits across from you with Lara, her legs crossed, and her hair is now black with pink dyed bangs and tips. You can’t help, as you look at her, that she resembles the Megan you knew from Dream Academy. The one who struggled with her confidence and didn’t feel good enough for anything. Despite everything, you hope she feels differently. 

You hope she knows how beautiful she looks. 

Karlee rests her head against your shoulder and hugs your arm tightly. She leans up and kisses your cheek softly, causing you to smile. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes, but the Japanese girl chose you, and that’s what matters the most to you. 

You nod at Lara’s question, taking a sip from your drink. You feel Megan’s eyes on you, but you ignore her as you respond. “Yeah, we’re leaving in a few days…” You hear Karlee squeal excitedly next to you. She looks at the two girls with a wide smile on her face. “I’m gonna show them everything. They’ve never been, so it’ll be fun.” Lara smiles at Karlee, then looks at you. There’s a glint in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Honestly, I always thought it would be Megan who would take Y/n.” You know it’s a joke, but you can’t help but wince at her words. You glance at the Chinese girl who seems to be deep in thought. You fight the urge to ask her if she’s okay. But you know it isn’t your place to ask– she made that clear to you. Karlee laughs at Lara’s words and takes a sip from her drink. You feel her tug at your sleeve, and you look at your girlfriend, who looks back at you with adoration, with so much love that you can’t help but feel guilty for wanting to check on Megan. 

She inches her face closer to yours and says, “Come with me to get another drink?” You nod, smiling when she gets up from the couch and holds her hand out to you. You take one more look at Lara, then at Megan. “It’s nice seeing you guys again.” Megan looks at you with an expression you’ve never seen on her face before. It almost looks like longing, but you know better than to overanalyze. You take Karlee’s hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. She kisses you softly before pulling you away from the girls. From Megan. 

A few minutes have passed since the conversation with you and Karlee, but Megan stays where she is on the couch. She leans her back against it, her mind running chaotically. She glances over at you standing with Karlee and Adela and notices a subtle sullen look in your eyes. The usual twinkle in them seems dim, and Megan wants more than anything to go up to you and ignite that light. But she knows it isn’t her place anymore. Megan made her choice, she made her decisions. 

Megan looks down at the drink in her lap, biting her lip. She thinks about how she accidentally walked into your dorm on that first day. She remembers how there was a time when it would be you and her against the world. No one saw you two separated because you were always right there with her every step of the way. You never left her, even when she pushed you away. 

She looks up again, and her breath hitches when her eyes meet yours. You stare at her for a moment before smiling softly. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, and it reminds her of the day you walked up to her outside the Geffen building. 

The voices of everyone else, the loud conversations, are all tuned out in this moment. Megan only sees you. 

And suddenly, it all starts to click. 

That day, and everything else after, was fate. 

I. 

You: cant believe u left this place wtf

You: it’s so beautiful!!!!

Megan stares at the messages from you, a small smile on her face. She can’t help but feel a bitterness starting to fester in the pit of her stomach. 

Megan: had to chase my dreams :) 

Megan: im glad ur having fun!

After Karlee’s party, she decided to reach out to you, not expecting a response. However, you welcomed the message with open arms. It was as if she hadn’t done anything wrong. But Megan knew something was different. She knew this time around, it wouldn’t be how it used to be. 

You: so much fun!! 

Megan: go surfing for me? 

When Megan first met you, she knew deep down you’d change her life somehow. But you wove yourself so deep into it that it scared Megan. She was scared of something so real and raw, something that would force her to show the sides of herself that she tries so hard to hide. 

But she would have dropped everything she had ever worked for in a heartbeat for you. And maybe that’s why she pushed you away. 

Megan: also take pics of everything bc i miss it sm

Megan: only if u can ofc

Because why does a person like that exist? A person you’d give everything up for? Why would someone do something so stupid? Especially when they’re just so close? 

Megan: can i ask u something?

Megan: it’s a weird question LOL

But no one told her she could have chosen you and have everything in between. Fate hadn’t caught up to her yet, and she could only blame herself for being a coward. 

You: yeah what’s up?

Megan: r we still like… friends? 

Megan lies in her bed that night wearing an old hoodie of yours that no longer holds your scent. She feels tears brim in her eyes as she thinks about you being with Karlee. Her heart breaks at the thought of you being in Hawaii with Karlee and not her. 

You: ur my best friend, meg. always. 

Megan: ur mine always too, y/n 

She stares at her ceiling and thinks about your hand in hers, your soft smile, the way you stay every single time. 

She wonders if fate will ever come back. She’d take it back and never leave again. 

Megan: can you call? 

You: cant rn. gonna hang out w karlee’s fam :) 

You: talk to you later? 

Megan sends a response that makes her heart ache in her chest. 

Megan: yeah, i’ll wait for you <3

a/n: im back n im making it everyone's problem >:) this was my attempt at megan angst oops i hope u all enjoyed....... i promise megan fluff soon!! <3

requests are open

[blue-jisungs]

360

[ song inspo ! ] 360 by park jihoon

[ author's note ! ] 3 6 oh zero take a shot for meeeee

[ summary ! ] when you and your husband get called as a backup, youd never guess how that 'date' would end ...

[ warnings ! ] suggestive + allusions to sex sigh SOURY!!! since its agent au theres violence, guns and shooting, blood, mention of drugs n gangsters, kidnapping n stuff, reader is nauseous, joke or two about dying (? i promise it makes sense), swearing, sliiightly angsty i guess :3

[ word count ! ] +- 4k

seungcheol watched you carefully as you wandered around the kitchen. you grabbed two cups and turned around to join him on the couch. 

just by his smug look in his eye you could tell he was thinking about something. 

you put down the steaming cups on the coffee table and crossed your arms, standing in front of it. 

“what?” you asked, a playful smile forming on your husband’s face. 

“nothing. just admiring my wife” he hummed and as if his legs weren’t spread enough, he pushed them a little wider. he patted his thigh with a boyish grin. 

“c’mere. i missed you” he whined, brows furrowing in a pleasing expression. 

“seungcheol, you remember what happened last time. i will not explain to the doctor once again how you strained your leg” you grunted, recalling the last time when you… well, safe to say, in a rush of emotions forgot about cheol’s injury. then you had to rush to the hospital, both of you almost half naked and your state leaving very little to the imagination. the doctor nagged seungcheol to slow down with physical activities and you had to shush your husband before he blurted out something that would embarrass you even more. 

“ah, i’m better now. just come here” he giggled and pulled you onto his lap. you shifted and rested your knees on both sides, not putting all of your weight on him. “it’s just us. we should enjoy the free time we got” 

“mhm. i feel like you’re getting bored rotting inside the house” you hummed, arms wrapping around his neck. seungcheol looked at you with hearts in his eyes, shaking his head. 

“no, not at all. i love having you all to myself” he replied and before you realized, he pulled you down to rest on his lap. you just rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head in disbelief. 

due to his injury, he was put aside from his duties. and you, being his wife, had to take care of him. 

both you and seungcheol were agents. your job required a lot of running and just being physical. so naturally he wasn’t able to execute it. 

time passed and he started getting better but his doctor advised to rest for another month. 

that way he also developed many new hobbies. crotcheting, making candles, pottery, baking… you could swear he tried everything. 

“i could get used to it, you know” he sighed, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. his soft locks tickled your skin as you played with the hair at the back of his neck “i love our job, i really do. but spending time together–“ 

your right one interrupted the peaceful moment, you and cheol pulling away at the same time. he looked at you shocked and you leaned back to grab the phone. his hands remained on your hips the whole time. 

“yeah?” you answered, putting the phone on speaker. 

“hi, doves. hopefully im not interrupting?” jeonghan asked in a slightly teasing voice. 

“yeah, actually. we were making passionate love” seungcheol grunted and you just smacked his arm, giggling. 

“don’t listen to this man child. what’s up?” you scoffed and just flicked his nose. 

“i know you can’t do shit but we’re running low on people. jun and hao got sent to china and we’re just helpless. we need you, y/n. it’s a serious matter” jeonghan’s voice was stern, a little pleading. 

“got it. i’ll be at the base in thirty” you said and were about to get off your husband’s lap when he took your phone 

“im going too” 

“what?!” you and jeonghan yelped at the same time. you smacked his shoulder yet again. 

“you heard me. i’m the captain, after all. we’ll be there in fifteen” seungcheol ordered and hang up. 

you saw his eyes darken a bit – you knew that. adrenaline rushed through his veins, he was itching to be back. 

“you’re insufferable” you grunted and went to change into your work clothes. 

“for fuck’s sake… and what are you even doing here?” jihoon crossed his arms, eyeing seungcheol up and down. 

“told him not to go” you grunted and didn’t even bother to look at your husband. you had to weapon up real quick “his doctor too” 

“i can run, chill out. it’s not like start breakdancing. my injury is 99% healed” cheol grunted, the atmosphere in the room already tense. 

“i’d rather have kyungmin take your spot” chan snickered, trying to ease the tension. kyungmin was his nephew who just started his training to be a special agent one day, just like him… and you. 

“hey, leave kyungmin alone. he’s my baby” you grinned. you really loved that kid, he was just like a happy virus. the sole sight of his cute face made you want to squish his cheeks and bite– 

“okay, let’s just go. y/n, you’ll lead the group. seungcheol, you’ll take her side, i’ll explain the details on the way” jeonghan massaged his temples and left the room. 

“someone’s pissed” cheol teased. jeonghan took over for the time being of seungcheol’s absence and it seemed like he already wanted to have his leader back. 

as a group of special agents, your tasks and duties varied. sometimes it would be protecting someone, sometimes taking down criminals… a new day, a new surprise. 

“okay, we got called as backup. there are hostages and they are the main priority, alright? one of them is the health minister’s daughter. the location is an abandoned factory, the kidnappers just wanted money. however, we got informed that they are the local drug gang we’ve been trying to locate ever since you and cheol got time off” jeonghan explained once in the car, eyeing you in the mirror “they are really reckless and unpredictable. there was no connection between the daughter and them and despite their illegal actions, they still decided to show themselves and kidnap her. because of that the minister sent a government group too, they’ll help us too” 

“don’t worry, i’ll protect you” seungcheol said, the buzz of adrenaline in his veins making it hard to stay still. as if himself alone could replace the whole additional group. but… 

he missed this. he missed the thrill of danger, the action, the tension. he just loved this job way too much and no amount of crocheted socks or baked cinnamon rolls could replace this. 

“take a shot for me, hm?” you hummed, cupping his jaw. seungcheol’s face scrunched in a soft smile. 

this saying was what got you closer. when you were new in the crew, you and cheol didn’t really… enjoy each other. so you two would often bicker and joke about letting the other down (which was cruel if you thought about it but on the other hand… you had no feelings towards him whatsoever. how the turn tables). after your first successful mission, you said it too when you were celebrating. so seungcheol drank a shot, holding eye contact with you. something deep about his gaze turned the phrase more intimate, turning into a promise of protecting the other with your own life. 

“you’re gonna manifest it one day and i’m gonna kill myself if one of you dies” dokyeom suddenly spoke up and you just snorted, turning your head towards him. 

“you’re being dramatic” you snickered, resting your head on seungcheol’s arm. 

“no, no. he’s right. we missed you like crazy, you’re kinda like a parental figure to me” chan stuck his head out from his seat behind you, sending you a toothy grin. 

“don’t get too used to this. this drama queen still needs to rest” you pointed at seungcheol “but, jeonghan, tell us more about the drug gang. leaders, weak points maybe…?” 

seungcheol and you left the car, not going too far. jeonghan handed you both a walkie talkie and then moved a bit away to test it. 

“coups, do you copy?” jeonghan checked. you haven’t hear your husband’s code name in a while. 

suddenly, it all hit you. you’re back in the field, gun and knives attached to your hip. your bulletproof jacket on your chest, heavy boots hugging your feet. there’s life on the scale, and you’re responsible for saving those hostages. 

a wave of nausea washed over you, bending in half. 

“fuck, y/n, are you okay?” seungcheol asked; his voice shook a bit, taken aback by your sudden reaction.

“i got nervous all of a sudden, i might throw up” you groaned, clutching your stomach. 

“hey, it’s okay” he kneeled down next to you, eyeing your pale face. rubbing your back in a reassuring motion, he didn’t notice others sending you worried looks.

“i’m fine” you muttered and took a few deep breaths, the sick feeling fading away. 

your husband didn’t take his eyes off you, nodding reassuringly. 

“do you want some water?” he asked, big bambi eyes staring at you. 

“no, thanks. i just… the realisation hit me, i wasn’t prepared mentally to come back so suddenly. but i’m fine, don’t worry” you smiled softly and patted his arm “i promise”

“you better because you come in like, in ten. you have everything? remember: hostages are the priority” jeonghan’s smooth voice suddenly boomed from behind you and you just nodded. a loud churn turned in your stomach, your breakfast suddenly wanting to escape. 

but you swallowed hardly and rushed to your spot. seungcheol followed you and before you had to head in, he pressed a quick kiss on your lips.

the old magazine was quite a messy location but luckily you were able to pass through it unnoticed if you tried enough. 

on jeonghan’s signal you went in, leading the group. dividing into small groups to locate the aim, you placed your feet surely on the ground. 

wonwoo and jun who were with you were as quiet as mice. 

“got anything?” vernon’s voice rang in your in-ear. you replied quickly, deciding to check the rest of the corridor you got and to return to one of the squares. 

it was overgrown by various plants, clearly a sign of abandonment of this place. it had a couple of benches, most of them ready to fall apart upon a small movement. it was probably an area where the workers could take a break, back in the day when the factory was working. 

it had four exits, by two of which your group came in. 

“what now?” chan asked jeonghan through the walkie-talkie and just when there was a buzz of an incoming answer, you heard seungcheol’s voice. 

“a movement at twelve, i saw through one of the windows. we’ll be there in a moment” 

in a flash you aimed your gun at the door in front of you, waiting for them to open. 

seungcheol could see the square thanks to most of the walls not surviving the test of time and simply falling apart. and also most of the windows were broken due to some hooligan’s actions.

“get ready, don’t shoot yet” you ordered, shifting the weight of your body on your right leg in a defensive position. 

and surely, the metal doors soon clinged open. 

your jaw tensed when you saw one of the gangsters, holding a hostage. and a gun to their head. it was a boy, he looked as if he could be kyungmin’s age. it made your brows furrow. 

“took you long enough. we were starting to get bored” the man grunted. they knew you were coming, they definitely had a plan. you swallowed, unsure what to say. however, the man was faster. 

“who’s the leader of this pathetic little group?” he asked. 

you proudly stepped out, not wasting a second. the aggressive man just pushed his gun closer to the hostage’s head. 

then, seuncheol entered the room, aiming at the man as well.

“drop the weapon and follow me” he snarled “unless you want my colleague to shoot the minister’s daughter” 

“y/n…” jeonghan warned you, not even sure why – he knew you wouldn’t listen. 

you slowly kneeled down and tossed your gun on the grass, raising back up with your hands in a defensive posture.

“i’m going with her” cheol’s voice boomed behind you, shortly followed by the sound of a dropping gun. 

no one noticed but the gang member realized the bligning golden rings on your fingers. a teasing smile bloomed on his face as he nodded.

“welcome” he just mumbled.

“let me see her” you ordered and the man just turned around, silently telling you to follow him. 

“don’t do anything stupid, you’re unharmed! both of you!” jeonghan hissed through the in-ear. 

seungcheol’s heart sped up and he looked at your group through his shoulder for the last time. 

“the other group has to follow them, now! use the right wing, don’t get caught. use the second exit, the one i showed you on the map. go!” jeonghan ordered.

“what’s your plan? you’re surrounded” you blurted out. the man just snickered. 

“you’re a dumb bitch if you think i’ll tell you that” 

“motherfucker” you heard cheol’s hiss and just sent him a nagging look. the man either didn’t care nor didn’t hear.

soon enough after entering and passing through some rooms and corridors, the guy lead you to a room on the second floor. 

the hostages were tied there, sunlight shining through a half broken window on their frightened faces. 

“now that was dumb to follow us all alone. we’ve got two more to our collection. well, you definitely won’t be as worth as her” the man spat on the floor next to a blonde girl, nudging her with his foot. 

“tell me how much you want. we can solve this without hurting anyone” you pleaded, eyeing the guards in the room. then, you casted an eye over the hostages. huh yunjin, the daughter of the minister. jeonghan showed you her pictures. you also saw two young boys, a man who you saw before and a woman… with her baby. 

a baby. 

your jaw clenched. your husband noticed that and only sent you a calming look.

“a woman of business. now we’re talking” the gangster huffed and followed your line of sight. he smirked upon noticing you’re looking at the small baby. 

“i see them! second floor, west side. the hostages are on the middle, there’s more or less five people. i can’t see the whole room” you heard jihoon’s voice in your in-ear - he took the sniping spot alongside dokyeom and seungkwan.

“how much do you want?” you asked, finally looking up. the man suddenly started laughing, grabbing his walkie-talkie. 

“i’ll show you something, listen closely” he smiled disgustingly and started talking to the walkie-talkie “rooftops, how we’re feeling? did you take down those ants already?” 

“on it, sir” the buzz sent shivers down your spine. they had snipers too? 

wait, rooftops?

“oh shit–!” jihoon’s yelp rang in your ear. 

“jihoon-ah!” jeonghan’s voice was full of fear and you felt your heart speeding up when your friend didn’t reply. 

you stared at the aggressors, your chest rising up and down. 

the silence was so loud, your racing heart tearing apart. should you save the hostages and remain calm or should you– 

“fucking asshole missed” 

a shaky sigh left your lips and you glared at the leader of the gang. 

“what do you want?” you hissed, jaw clenched. your hand was itching to reach for your hidden weapon. 

“see, misses… life is not all about love, money, fame. although it is fun that way” the man tsked, circling around the hostages. they were looking at you pleadingly. 

you shifted your fingers, calculating how much time you have. if the snipers could take the rest of the guards down before you reach out for your hidden knife. 

you caught seungcheol’s stern gaze, he could read you like an open book.

“don’t” he mouthed. you just cursed mentally and raised your eyes to the sky. 

“you know, we’re doing it because, well… money. but also, i got a little bored” the man spoke up, standing still and observing you two. 

jeonghan was right, this guy is a psycho. bored? he was bored and decided to give those poor kids trauma. 

“but thanks to you my game just got a whole lotta entertaining!” he opened his arms widely with a grin. you wanted to rip it off his face.

“hang on in there, we’re almost there!” jeonghan said. he could hear everything that was going on, including your rapid breaths. 

“because if i’m not mistaken… you’re married, hm? lovebirds… quite a romantic date idea” he chuckled slyly, fox-alike. 

the sound of a gun reloading made you take a step closer to seungcheol. 

fuck. 

you usually take off your wedding rings. exactly for the risk of such a situation. and also because it was more comfortable to hold a weapon with a free hand.

“so, mr. husband. choose. her…” the gang leader pointed his gun at yunjin, her eyes glossy. then, he painfully slowly aimed his weapon at you. right between your eyes “... or her” 

“fuck. where are you?” jeonghan asked the group. 

you stopped breathing, ringing in your ears getting hard to bare. 

“her, pick her” the daughter of the minister whined, almost begged. tears pooled in your eyes - this poor girl wanted to save you.

“yunjin, listen to me. you’ll live. don’t panic” you reassured her, shaking your head. 

seungcheol stayed silent, swallowing hard. in theory, the choice was easy: you; he’d always choose you. 

but he didn’t want anyone to die. especially this young girl that still had her whole life in front of her. he knew the trouble everyone could get in if anything happened to her. both you, him and his whole team. 

“come on” the gang member teased. 

“shoot me” 

you whipped your head at seungcheol, mouth falling agape. he was serious.

“cheol, what the fuck are you even talking about!” you yelled, trying to grab his hand but the loud tsk made you halt. 

“a man of honor…” the guy started.

“boss, i see a group of people approaching the room” his walkie-talkie speaking made you freeze. you’re doomed. 

“see, normally i’d make you suffer a bit more. maybe even give you time to say your last goodbye. but since your team is coming, i have no options left” the guy grinned and moved his gun at seungcheol, lowering his hand a bit.

then it all happened in a blink of an eye, your heart fuelling your limbs. 

when seungcheol didn’t feel any pain but he heard the gunshot, he thought it was the adrenaline blocking his sensors. only when your body surged forwards to cover him, it was too late for him to react. 

along with your painful yelp, the door swung open and your team came to rescue you and the hostages. 

with the rest of your strength you reached for your hidden knife and threw it at one of the guards who was getting ready to shoot. 

“hey, hey. y/n… fuck, are you stupid?” cheol kneeled down, panic in his ebony irises. he held your body, sticky blood covering his palms. he was freaking out, only being able to observe how your eyes are starting to lose their light.

“take a shot for me, remember?” you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his cheek. 

“no, no, no. that’s why he was supposed to shoot me! we… you, i… you can’t–” he breathed out, tears filling his eyes. 

he didn’t realize the fight that was going on, luckily jihoon and the rest of the snipers were taking care of your backs. the voices around him blurred out; fell silent on his ears as he was only focused on you. 

your eyelids drooping, your limbs getting lighter. he held your wrist that was cupping his cheek, the other hand looking for the wound to stop the bleeding at least for a moment.

“i love you, cheol”

the light in the room was unbearable. but so was the silence. the horrible, bone shattering silence. 

“how is she?” jeonghan asked quietly, stepping into the room with a doctor, mingyu. 

seungcheol just swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. your face was pale, your arm bandaged. he already wiped the dried blood off your cheek. most importantly, you were breathing. 

“good question” seungcheol murmured, squeezing your hand. 

mingyu looked at his papers and clicked his pen, humming. 

“i’m fine, actually” 

jeonghan’s soft gasp was followed by your husband’s yelp. he lurched forward to hug you, careful not to cause any pain to your arm. 

you giggled into his shoulder, wrapping your free hand around his back. 

“you gave us a heart attack” jeonghan snickered and the doctor just smiled. seungcheol leaned away a bit and you brushed off the hair from his forehead. visible relief was painted all over his face. 

“sorry. couldn’t let my hubby die before me” you snickered and jeonghan just tsked in disapproval “also, how…”

“everyone is alive, sound and safe. well, except some of the gang members. we captured the leader, who did manage to escape but… um, your husband put the pedal to the metal, let’s just say that” he snickered.

“good. very good. i’m glad they are all safe” you smiled and interlocked your fingers with cheol’s.

“if i may interrupt…” the doctor cleared his throat and you all nodded, allowing him to read his notes “everything is fine. you got shot in the arm, luckily above the bone. you did lose a lot of blood but everything, as i said, is fine. the baby too”

“that’s good” you grinned and halted, your smile fading. you blinked twice, furrowing your brows. seungcheol didn’t seem to understand “wait, what baby?”

now it was mingyu’s turn to frown. jeonghan’s eyes were as wide as plates.

“you’re pregnant, mrs choi. i thought you knew?” he frowned, observing the pure shock on your faces.

“i... we… baby?” seungcheol choked out, pointing at himself and then you. 

“well that’s how babies are made, right?” the doctor snickered.

“oh my god, you weren’t joking with the passionate love making” jeonghan groaned dramatically and you just fellt your face go red. 

“no! i mean… wait, how… how… which week…?” you asked, looking at your husband. he was still clearly processing it.

“ninth week. it’s normal that you couldn't see the belly” the doctor explained and just smiled softly “well, i’ll leave you alone now. if you have more questions or want to do extra check up, or usg for the baby, just let us know. and congratulations, i suppose” 

he sent you a toothy smile and left. 

you could see cogs turning in jeonghan’s head.

“so that would mean… three months, more or less… oh, ew, someone was celebrating their birthday!” he fake gagged and your eyes widened.

“you’re gross,  get out!” you laughed and he just snickered.

“i will. let me spread the news tho” he smiled and left. 

seungcheol kept staring at you, lips parted.

“cheol?” you asked softly, sitting up. his fingers traced the cold metal of your wedding ring in an absentminded motion.

“y/n… we’re going to be parents” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. 

he let them flow, smile breaking on his lips. 

“we are” you agreed happily. sure, life was messy with your job - and maybe it was a sign to change your profession to something less life risking. but during cheol’s injury you got a taste of the time alone. 

it was nice. peaceful, embodiment of love. 

and now, there’s gonna be an additional member of your small family. maybe it won’t be as peaceful as it was with just the two of you. but it’ll definitely be worth it. 

seungcheol leaned in and cupped your face, surprising you with a passionate lips. wet tears stained your cheeks and you weren’t sure anymore if they were yours or his. one thing was certain, though: they were tears of joy. 

your life will turn 360 degrees now but with your husband by your side, you know it’ll be perfect. 

svt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

[minisugakoobies]

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist 💜

 It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown. 

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate. 

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop. 

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far. 

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo. 

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything. 

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say. 

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question. 

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited? 

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone. 

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips. 

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again. 

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace. 

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?” 

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!” 

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over. 

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going? 

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous. 

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks. 

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity. 

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away. 

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo. 

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic. 

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck. 

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself. 

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now. 

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors. 

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say. 

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.” 

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache. 

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly. 

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock? 

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg. 

“Oh no, that was just for you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?” 

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence. 

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf. 

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric. 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?” 

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you. 

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all. 

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!” 

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.” 

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip. 

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”  

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs. 

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin. 

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.  

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.” 

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake. 

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind. 

“Just think about it.” 

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing. 

And oh, god, do you think about it. 

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name. 

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall). 

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs. 

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment. 

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.” 

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.” 

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority. 

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape. 

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear. 

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod. 

“And what did you decide?” 

“I - I don’t know.” 

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?” 

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage. 

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir. 

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.” 

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list. 

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs. 

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.” 

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.” 

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely. 

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?” 

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin. 

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?” 

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes. 

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger. 

Fine, then. You’re a fool. 

“One.” 

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable. 

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.” 

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.” 

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice. 

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.” 

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?” 

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking. 

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.” 

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.” 

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath. 

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.” 

“No shit. Everyone knows that.” 

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again. 

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?” 

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right. 

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?” 

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.” 

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.  

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it. 

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek. 

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move. 

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply. 

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open. 

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him. 

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.” 

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go. 

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need. 

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed. 

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated. 

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants. 

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water. 

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.” 

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.” 

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body. 

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it. 

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him. 

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.” 

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue. 

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.” 

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing. 

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.” 

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens. 

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little. 

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps. 

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands. 

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.” 

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.” 

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you. 

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life. 

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze. 

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso. 

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves. 

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between. 

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!” 

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.” 

And just like that, you feel that spark again. 

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash. 

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite. 

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation. 

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer. 

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.  

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his. 

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!” 

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.” 

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. 

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!” 

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.” 

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.” 

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you. 

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you. 

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts  your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.” 

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.” 

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.” 

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.” 

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?” 

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl. 

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it. 

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip. 

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises. 

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire. 

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need. 

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.” 

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs. 

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!” 

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him. 

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.” 

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush. 

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace. 

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content. 

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and - 

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.” 

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.” 

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?” 

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” 

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.” 

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss. 

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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

[mononijikayu]

almost like being in love — nanami kento.

“You know, baby. People are intrigued about you.” you said, voice light, teasing. “I think you’re starting to develop a fan club in my silly circles.” He looked over, one eyebrow rising the tiniest bit. “Oh really? Do share.” “After the show, a girl in the bathroom asked if you were single. I told her you were married. To your job. And possibly to me, if I ever get you drunk enough near a temple.” He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a polite cough. Hard to tell with Kento. “Was she disappointed?” he asked after a beat. “Crushed. Said you had the quiet mystery of a yakuza lieutenant and the haircut of a disappointed private school teacher.” “I’ll take that as a compliment, darling.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Actor’s AU (AU of the AU);

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Pretty Woman, Pretty Boy, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Hurt/Comfort, Age Gap Relationship (Reader is 30s, Nanami is late 40s), Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Post–Separation/Divorce, Dating, Feeling, Light–Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Soft Smut, Actor! Nanami, Comedian! Reader;

Words: 17k words.

Note: this was a fic that was once again commissioned by @nanamin-chan, so please thank them!!! this was so fun to write because this is just another continuation of the nanami au in the actor's au. this is just romance, everyone. this is just fluff. so, enjoy it!!! i love you all!!!

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the good life ― masterlist.

THIS IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND’S SORT OF PLACE. But he likes seeing you perform, more so now that you finally were a full–time comic. He told you before, together means together.

Nanami Kento meant that quite literally, and rather seriously. After all, he meant it when he said he’d be happy to be the concept of every other joke you write and make. 

The jazz bar in Shibuya was its usual dim-lit self, smelling of shochu, yakitori grease, and dreams deferred by too many company meetings. A place where lost all the poets and tired office workers gathered to forget the trains they'd already missed, to drink themselves to a pounding headache in the morning.

You were on stage for the nth time this week, by a great popular demand no less. Beautifully poised in heels you hated but wore religiously, gripping the mic felt like a second pair of chopsticks. 

It looked almost like you belonged there. You stood there like you belonged there, stood there like you were a shining star leading the way into this world. Ever so natural. Familiar. Slightly dangerous when misused.

There he was, as present as ever. Your boyfriend, Nanami Kento. Front row. Always in that tan suit, always punctual. Like time owed him something.

Your boyfriend looked expensive, as always. You didn’t know if he was wearing Gucci or Dior, though. And in some ways, it made him look out of place in such a rowdy space.

He sat with that straight–backed posture, like he’d come straight from a boardroom and not from filming some drama where he played yet another emotionally constipated genius detective.

He was sipping another shot of highball. Untouched plate of edamame. Watching you like you was a particularly intricate Noh performance.

You exhaled into the mic, smiling brightly. "Good evening, everyone. Hope you’re all enjoying your drinks and your snacks. And for the salarymen here tonight—don’t worry, I’m not about to talk about your boss with the beer bill on the company tab. That’s what group dinners are for.”

Light laughter. A few heads bowed knowingly. Kento didn’t laugh. But his caramel eyes merely shifted as much as the edge of his lips did. That was his version of clapping, you’ve learned. In public, your boyfriend has a lot of need to maintain appearances, after all.

“There’s this guy I know." you tilted your head slightly toward the front row. “Someone who comes to every single one of my sets. Every single one. Quite the dedication, no? It doesn’t matter if he’s been working for twenty hours straight or covered in fake blood from a shoot. Tan suit. Scotch in hand. Expression like a banker attending a funeral.”

The audience chuckled, and someone in the back shouted “kakkoii na!” which made you grin.

“I asked him once, ‘Why do you keep coming?’ You know what he said? ‘Because it's the only time I see you exactly as you are.’ Which is either the most romantic thing ever said in this country... or a veiled insult. Still undecided about that, folks.”

Kento raised his glass slightly, just once. A toast? A warning? Hard to say. But you do know it attracts you more to him than before. 

“But honestly….” you went on to say. “Being with someone who’s so calm, so steady, so… emotionally economical… It's terrifying. Like dating the concept of wa itself. Harmony, order, beige interiors.  It’s a whole thing.”

That got them. A big laugh, especially from the women. “You start thinking you’re the chaotic one. You drop your train card, misplace your umbrella, say something vaguely inappropriate in front of his co–stars. And he just blinks like you’re an unexpected side dish. Not unwelcome. Just… surprising.”

Now even your boyfriend Kento smiled. At least barely. The audience didn’t see it. But you did. And it was better than a standing ovation. That made you realize your set is pretty good. You tailored it to intrigue him after all.

“And yet, you should know, he’s dedicated.” you said, the laughter softening. “He never misses a show. Not one. I told him once he was my emotional support audience member. He just nodded, like I’d finally said something worth filing away.”

The crowd was quiet in that rare, good way. Not awkward. Reverent. Like they'd just been handed a small truth wrapped in a joke. You tilted the mic slightly. “If he ever does miss a show, you’ll know. Either I’ve finally pushed him too far... or he’s dead. Which, knowing him, is the more acceptable excuse.”

Roaring laughter. Applause. Even Kento laughed. Though he did so ever soundlessly, shoulders shifted once. You filed that moment away like a pressed flower between the pages of your memory.

You wrapped up the set with a joke you made up on the train and stepped off the stage. The bar noise rushed back in. The clatter of ice, the low thrum of jazz, someone arguing with the bartender about plum wine.

And there he was. Waiting, as he always did. Glass in hand. Tie slightly loosened but still too perfect. He didn’t go and immediately praised you. He never did, that just isn’t his personality. Instead, he handed you a bottle of water, gently tapped the top of your head.

He murmured to you lovingly. “You paused too long before the wa joke, you know that?”

You smiled. “It was still funny, wasn't it? You smiled!”

“Now, now, a lip ticking up isn’t always a smile, darling.”

“I’m still counting it to be one. That’s my rule!”

He shakes his head at you, finally smiling. “Little dominatrix, you.”

“As I should.” You winked at him, drinking the water.

The evening streets of Shibuya were still humming by the time you stepped outside. Neon signs flickered like cigarette lighters in the dark, and couples passed by hand in hand. You were sure some were freshly in love, others just trying not to argue before the last train. 

The night air had that specific Tokyo chill to it: clean, quiet, and filled with possibility if you let it in deep enough through your lungs. Nanami Kento walked beside you, not behind, not ahead. Beside. Just like always.

He didn’t say anything at first, and you didn’t need him to. His presence was its own conversation. You could hear the rustle of his coat as he adjusted the collar, the soft clink of the ice in his highball glass still echoing in your memory.

He was warm and quiet, and the silence between you wasn’t empty. It was full of all the things he would never say unless prompted like a reluctant contestant on a quiz show.

You reached the corner near the bookstore that stayed open too late, the one you both liked, him for the solitude, you for the gossip magazines. He glanced at the window but didn’t stop. You didn’t either.

“You know, baby. People are intrigued about you.” you said, voice light, teasing. “I think you’re starting to develop a fan club in my silly circles.”

He looked over, one eyebrow rising the tiniest bit. “Oh really? Do share.”

“After the show, a girl in the bathroom asked if you were single. I told her you were married. To your job. And possibly to me, if I ever get you drunk enough near a temple.”

He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a polite cough. Hard to tell with Kento. “Was she disappointed?” he asked after a beat.

“Crushed. Said you had the quiet mystery of a yakuza lieutenant and the haircut of a disappointed private school teacher.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, darling.”

You both turned the corner. The convenience store buzzed behind you like a cicada that didn’t know it was out of season. The conversation faded again, but not awkwardly. Kento had a way of folding you into the quiet. 

With him, you didn’t need to fill every space with words. Sometimes just walking next to him made you feel whole. With your arms almost brushing, your strides naturally in sync. It was enough to make the whole day feel worth it.

Then, after a while, he said, “You write your set differently when you know I’ll be there.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He looked straight ahead, not even a hint of a smirk. “There are lines you hesitate on. Jokes you aim directly at me. You don’t do that when I’m out of town.”

“So… you do watch the recordings.” Your brows furrowed, intrigued. “Did you subscribe to receive my content? If so, thank you for the money, baby.”

“I like to study my blind spots.”

You stared at him. He didn’t flinch. “I can’t tell if that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” you murmured. “Or the most Kento thing.”

“Both.”

You stopped walking almost instantaneously. He took a few more steps before realizing you’d not been walking with him and instead, paused a few steps away.  When he turned back, you were smiling, crooked and full of disbelief.

“I write differently because you’re the only person I’m scared to lie to, baby.” you said. “Even on stage.”

He tilted his head slightly, then stepped back toward you. Not dramatically. Just... close enough.

“I like the truth, my darling.” he said with suave. “You know this.”

“Even when it’s messy?”

He nodded. “Of course, I do.”

“Even when it’s about you?”

“I prefer it.”

You let out a breath, unsure if you were annoyed or completely undone by him. “You are quite a man.”

“I’m glad you like that.”

“Hm…You are truly….” you said, stopping yourself as you smiled, shaking your head. “You are the most frustratingly stable man I’ve ever met.”

“And yet.”

“And yet, my baby…..You’re amazing.” you echoed, stepping forward to walk again. “You never miss a show.”

He didn’t answer. Just walked beside you, as always. But this time, his pinky brushed yours. Deliberately. Barely. Like a secret. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks turn red at how tightly his touch brushed on you.

And you thought, Maybe love in Tokyo doesn’t need grand gestures. Maybe it just needs presence. Precision. And a man who never misses a show. Even when the train’s delayed, the shoot runs long, or the punchline might cut a little too close to home.

You laced your pinky with his.

He didn’t look at you.

But he didn’t let go.

IT’S INTERESTING HOW YOUR HOME HAS BECOME MORE HOMELY SINCE YOU STARTED DATING KENTO. Your apartment smelled faintly of citrus-scented floor cleaner. It was sharp and clean in that way that almost tricked you into thinking everything was under control. That tricks you into thinking that chaos was not born in your life. That there was something softer beneath it.

The ghost of the candles you’d lit two nights ago remained unsettled in the abstract goo against the current flames that burned. They’d burned down unevenly on the kitchen counter, flickering over your half–hearted bowl of instant ramen, a quiet, silly attempt to romanticize solitude. 

The scent still lingered ever so flagrantly, so still like a flower undoubtedly strident against the wind. Something so acutely warm and vaguely floral, like amber and smoke, clinging to the air like memory.

The lights were low, dim enough to soften the edges of the space, to make the piles of mail on the counter and the dishes in the sink blur into obscurity. Shadows pooled gently at the corners of the room. 

Jazz murmured lazily from the Bluetooth speaker, the saxophone winding through the quiet like a thought you couldn’t quite hold on to. Mingus, maybe. Or Coltrane. Something you’d put on because it made the silence feel less lonely.

Your shoes were kicked off in the genkan, one lying half-turned on its side, the other nudged against the wall like it had simply given up halfway to the rack. It was the kind of careless placement that said: I live here.

Not performatively. Not as a curated space for guests or social media. But really live here, feel it with all the life it could offer, all the life you could give it. With all the uneven rhythms and soft chaos that came with it, of course.  

The couch was slightly dented where you’d spent the last few nights curled up in the same corner, laptop balanced precariously on your knees, sometimes writing, sometimes watching old films you'd seen too many times before. 

A rather comfortable blanket was thrown across the cushions in that deliberate yet accidental way. It was the kind of arrangement that only looks artful when you’re too tired to care.

Kento’s coat was folded over the back of your far flung armchair, ever so meticulously, of course. You could see his suit tie was draped over the edge of your couch, hanging like it had fallen asleep halfway through trying to relax. 

He sat beside you, one arm stretched along the back of the massive sofa, a glass of Nikka whisky in his hand, fingers curled around it the way he did everything. It was quietly ever so controlled, and restrained, perhaps measured even. Just like your boyfriend’s entire person was.

You were curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked comfortably under you, your own glass resting lazily on your knee. The precious ice had long melted, leaving behind a diluted pool of amber at the bottom. The music from the party had faded into a distant hum through the walls, but neither of you spoke. Neither of you needed to.

There was a kind of peace in it that only the two of you would understand. In the way you simply were together, no demands, no expectations. Just two people sharing the same breath, the same silence. 

You could feel his presence more than see him, the quiet gravity of Nanami Kento seated beside you, close enough that the air between you seemed to pulse with unspoken words.

It started slow. Barely anything, at first. A brush of his long fingers against your shoulder. It was casual, almost accidental. Your hand slid down, fingertips grazing the inside of his wrist where his pulse beat steady and sure. 

The small, almost imperceptible movements spoke volumes, sentences of longing written skin to skin, against yours. It was too strong, too magnetic. It was something that even all the words in the world can’t explain to you or him.

Everything about your chemistry was as boundless as the deep expanse of the sea, thunderous in the world of troubles. Nothing else could matter in that, even if you were caught in the most dangerous beaconings of a troublesome storm. 

Your desire, your pleasure, your need for each other was far more loud than all of it, far more powerful than what they think they could put between you or him. Nothing could separate you, you knew that. If anything, you could only want to stay stronger, beside each other. On each other.

A glance a little while later and then it became more than that. You found him looking at you like you were the only person in the world worth seeing.  Like you were the only person that could ever be the apple of his eye. You felt your lips part for a moment, looking back at him.

In an instant, your lips melted against his in an outstanding kiss. At first, it was soft. It always starts out that way. It was like a whisper, a question neither of you had the courage to ask aloud. His lips met yours with the kind of careful tenderness that made your heart stumble. 

But the second your hand threaded lightly into the fabric of his shirt, feeling the slow flex of muscle beneath, the kiss deepened. Firmer. Hungrier. It always ends up being something that drives you both to drown in the pleasure of the other.

Like every kiss you'd shared before, it built the way an argument does when neither side wants to win. If anything, pleasure dictates that both of you must lose. In this quiet battle of rhythm and stubborn, aching affection, there must always be surrender to the wiles of desire. 

And desire between the two of you, it was subtle, magnetic, and once it started, there was simply no stopping it. That’s just how it was when two people are willing to love each other into the depths of pleasurable madness. 

Your mouth tasted faintly of whisky and laughter, the easy, sun-warm kind that only ever happened when you were around him. His tasted like patience, like something deeper and more endless than you could ever hope to name. It was smoky and sweet all at once, carrying the faint, intoxicating notes of the highballs he'd sipped earlier at the bar.

When he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further, you caught that ghost of flavor again. All too smooth, warm, and utterly Kento. You made a soft, involuntary sound against him, and he responded in kind, a low hum deep in his chest that you could feel rumbling against your palms as you clutched at him.

One kiss turned into another. And another. It was an endless loop that you both couldn’t stop. Nothing was going to stop you both from taking and taking. Each one of those kisses saying more than words ever could: Stay. Want you. Need you. I love you.

Your glass slid forgotten to the side, a soft clink against the table as your hands found their way up his chest, memorizing the shape of him again, grounding yourself in the solid, steady reality of Kento.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction of an inch, his forehead resting lightly against yours, both of you breathing each other in. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone in a silent promise.

"You’re dangerous, aren’t you, pretty woman?" he murmured, voice low and rough, sending shivers dancing down your spine.

You smiled, breathless and a little dizzy. "Only for you."

He kissed you again, slower this time, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly what you meant to him and you realized, in a quiet, resounding way, that he really did.

But you knew that it was not going to last long. But even in the dullness, you know that your boyfriend liked having something intriguing, to keep the flames of passion burning.

Soon enough, it was messy in the way only sober-enough kissing is, all too intentional, all too knowing. His hand slipped under your shirt, not greedy, just certain. Yours tangled in his hair, already a little mussed from the night. You tugged lightly. He hummed, pleased with it all. You’d forgotten the song still playing.

You could barely come up for air. But when you finally did, your faces were beautifully flushed towards each other, your breath falling into his collarbone like a confession. Your lover leaned his head back, caramel eyes closed, chest rising slowly. He was a happy, fulfilled man indeed. And you liked seeing that.

And then, just like that, he asked, “Would you like to move in together?”

You blinked. Pulled back just enough to see his face. No smirk. No nerves. Just that classic Nanami Kento stillness with a dash of nonchalant. Like he’d asked if you wanted to order another drink to be poured on his drink.

“Did you hit your head on something when I wasn’t looking?” you asked, eyes narrowed. “Because that was a tone shift.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, darling.” he said simply. “For a while. It just….makes sense.”

You sat up, heart thudding now. Certainly not from the kissing, not from the whisky but from the quiet way he said for a while. Like it had been living in him. Like it wasn’t a sudden idea, but a decision that had already been made. He was just offering it to you now, carefully wrapped in calm.

“You don’t joke about things like this, Nanami Kento.” you said, half–teasing, half–terrified. “You’re going to be talking about what my shoe closet looks like.”

“I don’t joke about something this serious, darling. You know. Especially about the shoe closet.”

You stared at him. He stared back. You looked away from him, pursing your lips as you began to daydream about what he was saying. You don’t daydream too much, for your own sake, of course. But when you do now, it consumes you.

You begin to think of what your days could look like. Your shirt was crooked, and his button–up was half undone, and the air was thick with possibility and the slight scent of his cologne. You thought about your small closet. 

His endless collection of ties. Your bright violet toothpaste. His expensive golden razor. The quiet mornings. The very occasional arguments that always ended in silence and leaning in. The space between you and him, shrinking.

You bit your lip. “If I say yes, will you be freakishly neat and reorganize my spice rack alphabetically once again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

You paused. “...And you’re sure you’re not asking because the whisky made me seem extra charming tonight?”

“You are always charming, my precious darling.” he said, with no irony. “And I’m asking because I want to come home to you. I mean, it’s nice to see you when I get home.”

You tilted your head at him, studying his face in the low light. You always did that when you didn’t quite trust the size of the moment. You held it up to the light like jewelry, trying to see if it caught the right kind of sparkle.

And then, as naturally as anything, you looked at him and sighed. “Well….you’re already always in my apartment anyway. Unless you’re sleeping in your trailer.”

That got him. He laughed. You could hear it reverberating in your ear. It was a soft, deep thing that cracked through the room like thunder far away, the kind that rolls more than it rumbles. Kento didn’t laugh easily. So when he did, it always felt like it belonged to you.

“Yeah, exactly.” he said, tilting his glass, warm caramel eyes still on yours. “It’s more homely than mine, comfortable beyond words.”

You smirked. “Homely? That’s a diplomatic way to describe the leaning bookshelf, the chipped kettle, and the constant state of sock–on–floor.”

“I like it here, darling.” he said. Simple. No room for embellishment. “It’s…..way more sunlight than my godawful apartment.”

You laughed at him. You leaned forward and plucked his glass gently from his hand, setting it down with yours on the coffee table. Then you tucked your legs under his, leaned against his shoulder.

“That's an interesting form of thought.” you said, playing with the hem of his shirt. “You’re saying all this time you’ve been camping out here like some beautifully stoic squatter, and now you’re just formalizing the situation?”

“I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial merger.”

You laughed into his shoulder. “That’s the most you thing you could possibly say, baby.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he murmured. “You have all the good coffee. And a much better pillow.”

“Obviously, I splurge on myself.” you said, chin tilted up to meet his gaze. “I have taste, after all.”

He nodded, slow and serious. “I did notice. You chose me.”

You paused. Damn him. You weren’t the romantic one. Not really. Perhaps that’s why none of your relationships have panned out the way you wanted it to. You were the wisecrack. The getaway car. The girl with the enraging punchline. 

But the way he said things, there was just enough softness behind the deadpan, like the words had passed a board meeting of his thoughts before being released and you couldn’t dodge it. It’s also safe to say that you didn’t want to. You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” you whispered. “Let’s do it. Let’s live together.”

He didn’t smile wide at those words. Kento didn’t go wide all the time, you knew that. But there was a shift in his bright eyes, a stillness behind them that deepened the more he looked at you. It was like a weight over his shoulder had dropped at anchor.

He squeezed your hand once and started caressing your fingers. Kento then leaned in, his mouth brushing yours. It was slower than the first time you’ve made out tonight. It was passionate but it was more reverent. It was like he was kissing the idea of a home rather than a person. 

You deepened the kiss this time. Not messy. Not urgent. Just right. And somewhere between the quiet of the room and the cool press of his palm against your lower back, it dawned on you now.

Kento hadn’t missed a show, he never had any intention of doing something like that. And now, he wasn’t going to miss the mornings after, either. All at once, you found yourself falling in love all over again with him. 

Later, the jazz music had slowly faded into silence, and the only sound was the rustle of his shirt as he took it off, careful, like he was folding it at the dry cleaners. He never left clothes in a heap. Even here, even now. You found that annoying once. Now it made your chest ache a little.

The two of you now laid there together on the couch soon after your joyous kissing, your legs tangled, your head tucked under his chin, the quiet holding you both like an extra blanket. This sort of silence comes ever so many times after blissful desires being fulfilled between the two of you.

“Where would we live?” you murmured, voice soft from the edge of sleep. “Here? Yours? Or are we doing the whole… new place, new life thing?”

He was quiet for a moment, long enough you thought maybe he’d dozed off.“Here, if you’re comfortable. Your place feels lived in.”

You chuckled. “That’s a poetic way of saying cluttered, don’t you think?”

He didn’t deny it. “But it’s better here despite that.” he added, looking at you tenderly. “You laugh here. And I adore that.”

You blinked, suddenly too awake. You tilted your face up to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“You laugh the most in this space, darling.” he said. “You’re yourself. You come home and sigh, and drop your keys like you’re shedding a persona. It’s honest.”

Your throat tightened, because it was true. And because you hadn’t even realized he noticed. You were always laughing, but this doesn’t mean it’s always as genuine as people think. But when you’re here in this space, comfortable and without prying eyes — only Kento’s eyes watching you, you become the truest form of yourself. 

“I can bring my coffee maker too.” he offered to you. “And we can trade the bookshelf for one that doesn’t threaten to collapse every time you breathe near it.”

You snorted, pushing lightly at his chest. “Don’t touch my bookshelf.”

“But it leans like it’s in debt.”

“It’s got character!” You defended. “Besides, I got it for free.”

“$500 dollars is not free.” He raised an eyebrow, the edge of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And so do unstable men, darling. Doesn’t mean you bring them home.”

You laughed at these words, louder this time. It echoed even towards the  other side of the kitchen walls. He smiled for real then, the kind he didn’t give to paparazzi or co-stars or anyone on set. The one he saved for you.

You shifted up to straddle his lap, your hands settling on his chest, warm and solid beneath you. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” you whispered, more a realization than a question.

He nodded. “I’ve never been more certain.”

“And what if I’m a terrible roommate?”

“You already are.”

You gasped, dramatic. “Rude.”

“But, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” he said, brushing his thumb against your jaw. “ I like that you’re my terrible roommate. And I’d rather trip over your shoes for the rest of my life than spend another night in a trailer with lukewarm green tea and no you.”

You stared at him. “You know you just tricked me into a lifelong lease, right?”

He kissed your temple. “No trick. Just a very long–term investment.”

You sighed. Surrendered. Sank into him. “You’re too much for your own good, you know that?”

“So are you.” He says, amused, eyes full of love. “But I love you anyway.”

Outside, Tokyo city central buzzed on with its neon lights, distant traffic, another weekend folding itself into the city’s rhythm. But inside, your little apartment held a different kind of electricity. The kind that came not from what was said, but from what had already been decided.

And if love wasn’t about staying through the chaos, the mismatched cups, the jokes that landed late and the ones that cut too deep, then what was it, really? 

YOU WERE SATISFIED WITH THIS CURRENT SITUATION. Finally you and Kento got a day off where your schedules aligned. So, on this random day, you both embarked onto every facet of Tokyo Metropolitan in order to go house hunting together. 

The real estate agent you got was all perfect. Too perfect, actually. Dressed in that crisp, tailored suit that looked like it came straight out of a movie. His hair was combed back like he was auditioning for a role in a historical drama about upper–class finance bros. 

You had half a mind to ask if the place came with a butler who could direct you to your inevitable panic attack. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself trying to lock in and focus on making sure you had good water heating for your showers.

“You two are looking for something cozy?” the agent asked, smiling so professionally it made you suspicious.

“Cozy and comfortable.” Kento said, cool as ever. “But with enough space to store all her shoes.”

“I don’t have that many, baby.” you shot back, nudging his arm.

He gave you that tiny, unspoken smile, one that the agent can’t see. Only you saw it. It was the kind that you couldn’t figure out if it was because he was genuinely amused or because he had found a way to subtly insult you without actually saying anything. Either way, it was frustratingly attractive.

The agent beamed. “Ah, yes, of course. We’ll aim for something with great closet space then, yes? A walk–in? Maybe two?”

You looked at Kento. “Are we living in L.A. now? Do I need to start measuring the walk–in closet for a vanity?”

Kento was silent for a beat. Then, with the kind of dry humor only he could pull off.“You could definitely use a vanity. I’ve seen your makeup bag.”

“I heard that.” you muttered.

Meanwhile, the agent was nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. A vanity. We can definitely make that happen. What about an open-concept kitchen? Something with a large island? Perfect for cooking together.”

You and Kento exchanged a look. A silent agreement passed between you. “Yes, that would be good.” Kento said smoothly, “I’ll do the cooking, she’ll do the eating. Well, when we have the time.”

“Hey!” you protested.

“I’m just saying, darling.” he continued, mirth in the corner of his eyes. “You’re more of a ‘delivery’ person.”

You threw a playful punch at his shoulder, but the agent didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy mentally planning the layout of your future life in a house that, as of right now, was just a pile of well-choreographed words.

“So, here’s the first place for you both to view.” the agent said, gesturing grandly as if he was presenting you with the last plot of land on Earth. “A beautiful two–bedroom townhouse, open space, natural light pouring in through those big windows. I know you both like that.”

You stepped inside. The place was nice, in that “too perfect, too clean, not a single imperfection anywhere” kind of way. The walls were white, the floors were polished wood, and there was one of those fancy glass showers with no curtain, because apparently, that’s a thing now. There was a room that could be a study, but you both knew it would be more of a “catch–all for all your stuff you don’t want anyone to see” room.

“It’s……interesting.” you started, trying to be diplomatic. “Very... minimalist.”

“Minimalist?” Kento raised an eyebrow, stepping into the living room. “It’s like they took everything from a showroom and put it into a place with no soul.”

The agent smiled, clearly too trained to let the comment rattle him. “Ah, yes. We can certainly add some personal touches. But the layout is ideal.”

You looked at Kento, who was already over by the window, staring out at the view like he was plotting a great escape. “It’s fine, really.” you said, but there was a hesitation in your voice. “It’s just... not us, you know?”

“Yeah, I agree.” Kento said, voice low but sharp. “It feels like someone else’s idea of a home. Not ours.”

You didn’t even have to say anything. You just knew. He knew. This was a ‘try again’ kind of place. The agent was already leading you to the next property, which was thirty minutes away from this place.

Neighborhood was quiet so far, which Kento liked. You just don’t know how they’ll like you afterwards when you make ridiculous jokes out loud to practice your sets. You were very loud after all. And that also happens more so, when Kento becomes too enamoured with you.

“We’ll have to move fast here.” he said, eager, “I’ve had quite a bit of interest in this one. A lot of competition.”

Kento turned to you, eyes twinkling with barely-contained sarcasm. “Oh good, maybe we can start fighting for it. Really amp up the drama.”

“Great, great.” you said, just as mischievously sarcastic. “I can finally get that dramatic screaming match in before we settle in. A few raised voices, maybe throw in a wine glass for good measure.”

Kento chuckled. “Perfect. Maybe the house will actually start to feel like home then.”

The agent led you to the next house, which was a bit further from Tokyo Metropolitan. But it’s not too bad. It was a slightly less–polished version of the first, but with more charm.

A real fireplace instead of the fake one that gave you heartburn just by looking at it. It felt... real in a way the last one didn’t. It was imperfect. But it had character. The kind of character you could shape, add to, make your own.

“Now this one, it's intriguing.” Kento said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “This feels like it could work.”

You walked through the rooms together, each step you took feeling a little more like it was yours. The light was warm. The space felt like it could hold both of you for as long as you both lived. It could fit your shoes, his ties, your inevitable pile of random things that just seemed to find their way into your life.

And when you looked at him, when you caught his bright caramel eyes across the room as he traced his finger along the edge of the counter, you realized something important.

You weren’t looking for perfection, that was for sure. You weren’t looking for minimalist or an open–concept kitchen with a huge island. You were looking for something that felt like it would fit you both. Something you could grow into, something that would hold your laughter, your fights, your quiet mornings.

“So, baby…..what’s on your mind?” you said, slipping your hand into his. “What do you think? Are you willing to share a closet with me?”

Kento looked at you for a long beat, then cracked the smallest smile. “I already do.”

“Well, that settles it.” you said, “I’m sold then.”

The agent looked confused, probably waiting for some big, final decision or maybe an overexcited explosion from both of you. But you and Kento were more calm about this than he probably thought. Yet you know that sometimes it’s not about the house or the grandeur of it all. It’s about what you bring into it.

You turned to the agent, smiling. “We’ll take it!”

“Do you not want to hear about the amenities—”

“Your pamphlet had the information and I read it on the way here.” Kento says, cutting the agent off with a suave look. “We’ll take it.”

“A–ah, I see….well, alright.” The agent rubbed the back of his head, flustered and confused.

You turned to the agent, who was still awkwardly waiting for some sort of real answer, and grinned. “Wrap it up for us, okay?” you said, voice as sweet as it could be. “We’ll take it. Seriously.”

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting you to make the decision so quickly. “You’re... sure?”

You nodded, a little too casually. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not perfect—but it’s good. It feels right. Right, Kento?”

Kento, who had been silently nodding in agreement for the past minute, raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure. It’s got potential. And I like that I won’t have to climb over a pile of shoes every time I come through the door.”

You shot him a look. “You’re one to talk. Your shoes multiply like they have a life of their own.”

He shrugged with that calm, nonchalant smile of his. “What can I say? I’m a high-maintenance guy.”

The agent was looking between the two of you, still a little confused but clearly relieved that you were on the same page. “Well, in that case, I’ll start drawing up the paperwork.”

You smiled, standing a little straighter now that the weight of the decision had settled into your chest. “Great. Let’s get this over with so we can go drink to our terrible, amazing decision-making skills.”

Kento leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as reality settled in. “We own a house together now.”

You beamed at him, almost jumping in his arms, giggling. “We own a house together! Oh, I’m so happy, Kento!”

“I think I’d rather make this place a home with you than spend one more minute pretending that’s what that other place was.” He says, placing a kiss on the temple of your head. “This is our home now.”

You sighed dreamingly, smiling. “Our home….”

“The packing is going to be crazy, though.” You whistled, looking around. “Oh, that’s where the bookshelves could be!”

Kento chuckled beside you. “You’re going to need a lot of whiskey for that.”

“I’ll bring the whiskey if you bring the moving boxes, baby.” you quipped, playfully nudging his side.

He grinned. “Deal. But you know, you’ll be the one organizing everything, right?”

You gave him a look of mock horror. “Are you trying to start a war, Kento? Because that’s how wars start.”

He raised both hands in surrender. “Fine. But I’ll do the heavy lifting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you say now…”

Kento’s eyes twinkled with a touch of mischief. “I’m a man of my word.”

The agent watched you both banter, clearly fascinated by the easy chemistry between you two. He cleared his throat, snapping you back to the task at hand. “I’ll get everything started for you. You’ll have the paperwork to sign by tomorrow. Congratulations, you two. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Thanks so much.” you said with a smile, “We’re excited. It’s gonna be great.”

As the agent left, you both stood in the empty living room for a few moments, letting the reality of it all sink in. “You know, baby. Half of this was a nightmare.” you said, finally breaking the silence. “When I woke up this morning, I was kind of dreading this whole process. But now that it’s over, it feels…” You trailed off, glancing around the room.

“Easy?” Kento offered, his voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah.” You nodded, leaning against him. “Easy.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next?”

“Next?” You raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’ll need to unpack. And then maybe—”

“Then maybe we can do something.” he interrupted with a soft laugh. “You know, we can  celebrate with a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine and a night on the couch, just the two of us. No packing. No organizing. Just... us.”

You looked up at him, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “That sounds perfect.”

And for once, you didn’t think about anything else. No performances, no deadlines, no next steps in the grand plan. It was just him, and the apartment, and the future you two had already started building, one whiskey-fueled kiss at a time.

“Alright, alright.” you said, looping your arm through his. “Let’s go home.”

“Home….together.” Kento repeated softly. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

And for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like the two of you were just visiting your lives. You were living them. Together. Forever and forever. 

YOU ALWAYS ENJOY VISITING THEM. Regular people will think that it’s weird that you enjoy the company of Kento’s family, especially his ex–wife’s presence. But you do, you do enjoy it. And you aren’t ashamed of it. They loved you just as much as you loved them, after all.

The moment you stepped into his ex–wife’s house, you knew it was going to be a night. Not a “pass the soy sauce and let’s be civil” night—no, this was shaping up to be a “smile through the tension, eat too much, and pray no one brings up that thing from 2018” kind of evening.

The air smelled like grilled miso eggplant and inevitable chaos. Gojo Satoru answered the door in socks that said “Sexiest Dad Alive” and a kimono robe that was 100% not his. He still looked like a beautiful man, a ridiculous man just the same. And not your type. 

But you know you can’t judge that much. You’re dating a man with a reputation like Kento as well. You smiled at him, greeting him. He grinned like a man who just knew he was going to stir the pot and was already preheating the spoon.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the power couple of the year.” Gojo declared, smiling brightly. “Come in! We’ve been emotionally preparing.”

Kento rolled his eyes so hard you heard it. “Can we go one night without theatrics?”

“You married a woman who schedules her sarcasm, Kento–kun.” Gojo shot back. “Clearly, you like theatrics.”

You patted Kento’s arm. “He has a point.”

“He spent years yearning for her too, you know.” Kento whispers.

“But you married her first, so….” You snicker at your boyfriend.

“Okay, what is this topic?”

Kenshin and Keiko were already on the couch, each with a plate of food and an expression that screamed, “We are only here for the drama.” Nanami Keiko was mid–bite with her lasagna bowl when she spotted you both.

“Oh god, you’re here for dinner!” Keiko said through a mouthful of snacks, eyes widening as you and Kento stepped into the living room. “Is this the dinner where you announce you’re getting a dog? Because I’m prepared to cry.”

“Is that how you greet your father?” Kento asked, raising an eyebrow at her, all dry patience and faint exasperation.

“Hey, it’s not too bad, Dad.” Keiko said, grinning as she brushed crumbs off her sweatshirt and stood up from the couch, “I thought it was just going to be a regular dinner, Dad. You didn’t say there’d be announcements. You’ve trained me to expect stoic silence and miso soup.”

You bit back a laugh, shrugging out of your coat as Kento exchanged a long-suffering look with the ceiling. “She’s gotten more dramatic since the last time.” he muttered. “My daughter, a doctor at the hospital but a menace at home.”

“It’s in the blood, isn’t it?” you said, grinning at him. “Just like her father.”

“Don’t encourage her, darling.” he replied, but the twitch of a smile betrayed him.

Keiko walked over and gave him a quick hug, the kind that started sarcastic but ended sincere. “How was your trip here?”

“Rather long, really.” he said, placing a hand on her back briefly. 

Kenshin raised a brow. “But isn’t the trip only one hour max? I mean, even shorter if there was a bullet train.”

“Someone on the train was watching a drama at full volume.”

“Ah.” Keiko nodded. “Yeah, Dad hates that.”

“Dad’s better than me, I would have been crashing out.” Kenshin retorted, shaking his head.

“Did you ask them to turn it down?” she asked.

“I put in earplugs, [name] gave it to me on the way.” he said flatly. “And mentally rewrote the last act.”

Kenshin raised a brow. “What was the show?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You just saw the show an hour ago!”

“Well, it was that forgettable.”

“You’re such a dad.” Keiko said with a sigh.

“I am your dad.”

“I know. That’s why I said that.”

In the corner, Gojo Satoru popped his head into the room, already holding a beer and smiling like he knew exactly what chaos was about to happen. “Is this the dinner where you tell us you’re engaged? Or moving to Okinawa to open a soba shop? I need to mentally prepare.”

“It’s not that dramatic, you know.” you said quickly, laughing.

Gojo tilted his head. “You sure? Because Kento–kun here looks like he practiced something in the mirror.”

“He always looks like that, Gojo.” Keiko said. “Even when we were kids he was like that!”

Kento sighed. “Can we just sit down for dinner like normal people?”

“Sure, sure.” Gojo said, winking as he took a sip of his beer. “Right after you make your Very Important Announcement.”

Kenshin, who had been pretending not to eavesdrop from behind his phone screen, immediately perked up. “Wait, no, no. This feels bigger. This feels like living together level big.”

Keiko gasped, dramatically clutching her chest like a kabuki actress mid-tragedy. “You’re moving in together?! That is a dog-level announcement!”

Gojo pointed at her with his beer. “Told you. I can smell news. I’ve been around press conferences.”

Kento sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can everyone please stop shouting?”

“Seriously, Dad?” Kenshin’s eyes widened. “You’re moving in together? Wait, [name], are you pregnant?”

You and Kento froze in sync like a badly rehearsed improv duo at Kenshin’s statement. You were about to say something after recovering from shock but Kento’s ex–wife, bless her well–moisturized soul, appeared in the doorway with a bowl of tsukemono and the timing of a sitcom character.

“What’s this about living together?” she asked with a smirk that said I already know but I want to see him squirm.

You cleared your throat and elbowed Kento gently. “Well, funny you should mention it…”

Kento, ever the man of zero dramatic flair, stood up, adjusted his sleeves, and said flatly, “We’re moving in together.”

You turned to all of them, with wide eyes. "But not pregnant! Just clearing this out now. Not pregnant!"

Keiko blinked. “Wait, is this serious this time? Like genuinely, seriously happening?”

Kenshin choked on his drink. “Does that mean I can have Dad’s place?”

“Absolutely not, Kenshin.” Kento deadpanned. “You have your own place.”

“Wait, wait.” Gojo said, grinning like a man who just got handed a new toy. “You’re officially cohabiting? As in, toothbrushes next to each other? As in, shared Netflix password?”

“I’ve had his Netflix password for months, don’t worry about that.” you said sweetly. “But thank you for your concern.”

Kento gave you a look. “That explains the K-dramas in my watch history.”

His ex–wife laughed, which might’ve been the most surprising part of the night. “Honestly, I’m thrilled for you. He’s less grumpy since you started dating. Which is a miracle, because I thought his base setting was ‘dissatisfied salaryman.’”

“Still is, if we’re being honest.” Gojo Satoru whispered behind his hand, then dodged a kick from Kento under the table. “That sorcerer salaryman role never left your head!”

“Did you guys buy a new place or is one of you moving in together?” His ex–wife asked.

“Well, we decided that it was going to be my place originally but…..we’ve discovered we’re two maximalists with a dream and my apartment is not gonna fit all the shoes and his ties.” You say, with a grin on your face as she laughed. “We got a new place.”

Keiko grinned. “I’m just glad you got a new place. Dad’s current place sucks, you know? It’s basically a makeover show waiting to happen.”

“You’re right, it definitely sucks!” 

“Seriously, though.” Kenshin added. “If you live in Dad’s apartment, you’ll come home one day and your books will be alphabetized by emotional trauma.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Kento muttered, setting down his chopsticks. “Can we eat without treating this like a roast?”

“No, never.” everyone, including you, replied in unison. Kento rolls his eyes as everyone giggles.

You leaned into Kento, whispering, “You know, for a guy with two kids, an ex-wife, and a Gojo in his life, you’re taking this really well.”

He sighed. “This was a mistake.”

You smiled, kissed his cheek, and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Too late. I’ve got the closet rights now.”

Gojo raised his glass. “Well, we should celebrate. Go on, raise your glasses! To shared closets and questionable life choices!”

And just like that, the tension broke. Laughter filled the room. Food was passed. Kenshin asked if he could borrow your air fryer. Keiko tried to sell you on a shared Spotify family plan. Gojo tried to emotionally adopt you again.

And Kento, stoic, stable, secretly soft Kento. He just smiled that small, rare smile he saved for moments like this. Surrounded by family, chaos, and a woman who laughed too loud and wouldn’t let him alphabetize her spice rack.

Home wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t calm.

But it was his.

And now, officially, it was yours too.

Later that night, full of soy sauce and feelings, you found yourself wedged between Keiko and Gojo on the couch like some unwilling member of a variety show panel. Gojo was enthusiastically showing you a video montage of Kenshin’s high school stage play performance. Kenshin, from across the room, was groaning into a decorative pillow.

“Stop acting like you weren’t brilliant.” Gojo said proudly, pointing at the screen where Kenshin delivered Hamlet’s soliloquy with all the intensity of someone discovering existential dread and acne at the same time. “I mean, for an information science major, this is not half bad!”

“I think I stuttered somewhere around here….”

“But that really doesn’t matter in the long run, anyway! You held off your own despite that. Good job!”

“Though, the wig looks off.” Keiko whispered under her breath. “Where did you buy it?”

You nodded at her. “Yeah, this looks like you pulled it together from the shower drain!”

Kenshin blushed. “Look, I tried to style it myself but failed!”

Meanwhile, Kento stood in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea and looking like a man watching his dignity dissolve into miso soup. His ex–wife leaned against the counter beside him, sipping her wine and trying not to laugh too obviously.

“You look like you’re regretting life choices.” she said, sipping with a knowing smile.

“I’m not, I promise.” Kento replied quietly. “I just didn’t realize how... loud everything was.”

“You always forget.” she said, nudging his arm. “Then you end up in a room with all of us and remember why noise–canceling headphones were the best thing you ever bought.”

“I guess.” 

“I’m glad for you taking this next step, you know?” She says to him with earnest eyes. “It’s good that you finally got your shit together.”

“Hm, I’m glad for that too.” He crossed his arms, whispering under his breath. 

Across the room, you were now trying to explain to Keiko and Gojo how you and Kento managed to choose an apartment without passive-aggressively breaking up at IKEA. For a moment, Kento and his ex–wife stopped what they were doing and looked at you.

“This was for the best.” Kento whispered, almost breathlessly. “I’m happy we’re friends, our kids are alright with this. And we’re happy.”

His ex–wife smiled. “I’m glad we feel all the same things.”

Keiko looked genuinely impressed. “You mean you agreed on furniture? Like, voluntarily?”

“Well, not really.” you said, “I said mid-century modern, and he said, ‘functional’ and then we bickered like children. But, we finally met somewhere between emotionally repressed and tragically tasteful.”

Gojo snorted. “So, beige.”

“Very beige, unfortunately.” you said to him.. “But with the possibility of color. Eventually. If Kento has a glass of wine and I cry about the lighting.”

Kenshin piped up from the other couch. “So basically, you guys are domestic now. Gross.”

You shrugged. “Deeply domestic. I saw him fold laundry last night with reverence.”

Kento, hearing that, called out: “Because you washed a red sock with my white dress shirts.”

“Oh please,” you said. “They’re barely pink. They're a millennial blush.”

Keiko whispered, “God, you guys are already like an old married couple.”

“We’re working on it even more than before.” you said proudly, raising your tea like a trophy. “Just watch!”

Eventually, the night started to wind down. The kids cleaned up dishes without being asked (a rare planetary alignment), Gojo offered to pack you both some leftover tamagoyaki “for energy” and Kento's ex–wife hugged you warmly by the door.

“I’m happy for you, both of you.” she said again, softer now, so only you could hear. “He’s better with you. Not different—just...better.”

You blinked, a little surprised by the lump in your throat. “Thanks. That means a lot. I really love him.”

“I know, I know.” she said. “So do I. Just... in a way that makes me happy he’s yours now.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just squeezed her hand and tried not to get weepy over pickled vegetables.

Kento reappeared with both your coats and your leftovers packed like they’d been engineered by a Tetris champion. He kissed the top of your head. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Gojo shouted from the living room, “Text me when you get home so I know he didn’t alphabetize your bookshelf while you weren’t looking!”

“He already did!” you yelled back.

Kento groaned. “You said it looked better.”

"It's not like I'm denying that, baby."

"Well, you might as well have."

You waved goodnight, stepped out into the chilly Tokyo evening, and slipped your hand into his. And for all the teasing, the noise, the unsolicited parenting advice from Gojo Satoru. This was what it came down to. Two people, moving in together. No fanfare. Just leftovers, pink shirts, and shared keys.

Home was no longer a place. It was walking down the street with him beside you, bickering about sock colors and furniture shapes, and knowing—without a doubt—you’d do it all again tomorrow.

YOUR SET WAS PRETTY GOOD TODAY. No, no. Scratch that. It was great. One of those rare, glittering Tokyo nights when everything just clicked. The mic felt like an extension of your arm, the spotlight hit you like a confession from someone you’ve secretly hoped would crack, and the crowd? 

The crowd was yours. Eating out of your hand like you were handing out free matcha Kit Kats and emotionally healthy communication. You were flying. Every punchline landed smoother than a shinkansen on a clear track. 

Your timing was tighter than your vintage Levi’s after a full wash and a late-night conbini run. Even the new material hit, especially the one about Kento’s deep, unsettlingly sexy relationship with organization.

You leaned into the mic, grinning. “So I live with this man now—yes, thank you, I know, I deserve a medal. And I’ve learned something: he doesn’t just organize the fridge. He curates it."

People start to laugh, but you shush them. "Oh, this is no joke, people. The soy sauce is labeled ‘fermented umami solution’ and it’s filled next to a vision board and a bottle of yuzu that has better lighting than I’ve ever had on a Zoom call.”

That earned a full-blown ripple of laughter. Someone in the front row clapped spontaneously, which was a bit much, but you’d allow it. You were willing to get what you were gonna get with that joke, you knew.

You pushed on. “And I opened the vegetable drawer, once—and found a mood calendar. With stickers. Stickers! Tuesday’s daikon was feeling introspective, Thursday’s was gassy but resilient. The carrots were listed as ‘optimistic but emotionally reserved.’ I haven’t touched a vegetable since. I’m afraid I’ll mess up the vibe.”

There was a sputtering sound from somewhere in the back, someone choking on their highball. You paused dramatically, then dropped the kicker. “And he doesn’t just store things, okay? He gives them purpose. I caught him whispering to a bottle of sesame oil. I said, ‘What are you doing?’ He goes—dead serious—‘Encouraging it to fulfill its potential.’”

The room exploded with that one. Even someone at the bar had to steady themselves on a stool. That has pleased you quite a lot. You giggled, moving about to reset in order to get into  another joke.

You glanced sideways, second stool from the left. There he was once again. Nanami Kento. One elbow on the bar, tie slightly loosened, whisky in hand, that signature calm stretched across his face. 

He wasn’t laughing out loud, as always, because of course not. But there was the twitch. The barest hint of amusement tugging at his mouth like a secret only the two of you shared. You’d hit the mark. The audience knew it. You knew it. And Kento? Kento knew it before you even picked up the mic.

The set closed with a bang. Applause burst like confetti. You bowed to everyone, continuing to thank them. You were glowing, buzzing, alive as you waved back away to them.  And then you saw him.

Near the exit. Holding a bouquet of slightly wilted pink roses like a man hoping flowers could make up for... well, everything. You feel like you are gonna puke. Why would he even be here? Your stupid ex. “There she is!” came a voice behind you. 

You turned to where you heard the sound, and there he stood now. Your ex, this close to you. Everything felt like this was the human version of a paper cut that never quite heals. Holding flowers, because of course he was.

You remember why he was the Ex, with a capital E. The guy who once ghosted you after introducing you to his cat like that was a serious milestone. The one who once told you your ambition was “charming but exhausting” which is exactly what people say right before they buy a motorcycle and move to Kyoto to "find himself."

He was standing there. Holding flowers. Actual flowers. Like it was a school recital or a K-drama. Roses, of course, classic, dramatic, and completely impractical. You hated how you had no way around him on this stage design.

“Hey.” he said, with that familiar crooked smile that used to make your knees weak but now just made you want to check your emotional firewall.

You blinked. “You lost? Because I know a good therapist who can help you find closure.”

He laughed. “I came to see your set. You were great. Really. Like... better than I remembered.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks…..Are you still ghosting your therapist or have you finally learned how to communicate in full sentences?”

Behind him, like a silent film villain with perfect posture, Nanami Kento was watching. Calm. Cool. And terrifyingly still. The kind of stillness that said I am not jealous, I am just evaluating the best time to throw this man into the river without disrupting public peace.

The Ex offered the flowers. “Thought I’d bring these. To say I’m proud of you. And sorry. For… y’know. Stuff.”

You crossed your arms. “Stuff? Wow. Really digging deep into that emotional vocabulary, huh?”

Kento finally walked over, not fast, just… decisively. Like a slow-motion threat in a beige trench coat. “Evening to you.” he said to the Ex, voice polite but with the undertone of someone who can fold a person like laundry. “Can I help you?”

The Ex straightened up, suddenly remembering that Kento existed and that he was, in fact, built like the kind of man who can deadlift emotional baggage and you, if necessary. Unfortunately, he is still a man who wants a woman.

“Just dropping off some flowers.” the Ex said quickly. “Friendly gesture, if you will.”

Kento nodded slowly. “They’re nice. But she’s allergic to cheap apologies and filler greens.”

You nearly choked on your laugh. But you knew you couldn’t stop it for so long. So you try to make it about coughing. The Ex looked between you two, clearly realizing he was very much not the main character anymore. 

“Who are you anyway?”

“Isn’t it obvious who I am?” Kento retorted back at him. “I’m the guy she’s using as her material. That means I’m her boyfriend.”

“O–oh….wait, you’re dating this guy? And you moved in together?”

You nodded at him, snickering. “Hm. Why, you want him? I’m sorry, he’s one of a kind. I cannot share.”

“That’s—”

“Is there a problem with that?” Kento asked, raising a brow.

“No, no…not at all……Right. Well… good luck with the whole moving-in thing. Hope it works out.”

“It already is.” you said, plucking one of the roses and handing the rest back to him. “Here. Take these home. Maybe give one to that rice cooker you never committed to.”

He walked off, bouquet tucked awkwardly under his arm like regret wrapped in cellophane. You turned to Kento, who hadn’t said much after your former lover left, but you knew he didn’t have to. His hand brushed yours, tenderly touching you.

“You okay?” he asked.

You smiled. “Better than okay. That was almost fun.”

Kento raised an eyebrow. “You call that fun?”

You slipped your arm through his. “I call you fun. That counts, right?”

He looked at the rose in your hand. “You know that doesn’t match the rest of the flowers I got you last week.”

“I know, I know.” you said, smirking. “Yours will always be the prettiest, baby.”

Later that night, after your ex had limped out of the club like a man who’d just realized he’d missed the last train of a relationship he never really understood, you and Kento were back at your apartment, settling into the warm, familiar space that had become yours.

Kento poured the sake into the cup. He poured it ever so slowly, deliberately, as if he was pretending to focus on the glass in his hand, but you knew better. You could see the slight furrow in his brow, the way his fingers were wrapped around the glass, not in their usual composed manner, but a little... tighter. A little more tense.

You raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He didn’t look at you, still focused on the sake, as if contemplating its entire existence. "I'm fine."

You leaned in, amused. "Sure? Because I’ve known you long enough to know that ‘fine’ is a word you only use when you're pretending everything's fine, and we both know that's never true."

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes. "It’s just… you’re not really the only one with an ex who’s got unfinished business."

You blinked, surprised. "What does that mean?"

He gave a half-laugh, half-grumble. "I just think it’s… interesting, that’s all. How he—" He gestured vaguely with his glass, "—just shows up like that. After everything. And, I mean, flowers? Really?"

You couldn't help but smile, trying to mask the laugh bubbling up. "Are you jealous, Kento?"

He shot you a side-eye. "No."

"Uh-huh."

He looked away again, his tone cool but laced with something slightly irked. "I just think it's... unnecessary. All that 'sorry' talk. Like he’s trying to rewrite history, thinking he can come back in with flowers and make up for all of it. It's... a bit much."

You raised an eyebrow. "It’s flowers, Kento. Bad ones too, if I’m being honest. You know the kind you give when you’ve ruined someone's day. He was just trying to do something... nice."

He paused, then, slowly, as if to measure his words, he added, "Yeah, I just… didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Like you were his."

You blinked. “You’re seriously telling me you’re jealous of my ex right now? He’s an ex for a reason.”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not jealous, okay? I’m just saying it felt… off. Like he thought he had some claim over you. And you’re mine. You’re with me."

The way he said it, in the quiet, intense conviction in his voice had all but sent a little shiver through you. Nanami Kento, the man who was always the picture of control and composure, suddenly looked... vulnerable.

You set your glass down and leaned toward him, giving him a teasing smile. “You know, for a man who’s so secure, you’re acting like a guy who’s a little nervous.”

Kento didn’t look at you this time, his eyes focused firmly on the bottle of sake as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. "I’m not nervous. Just… protective, I guess."

“Protective?” You laughed softly, though there was a warmth in your voice. “You? The guy who’s basically a walking Zen garden?”

“Even Zen gardens need boundaries, you know.” he shot back, finally meeting your gaze.

That made you pause, the playfulness fading into something a little deeper, a little more real. Kento was never the type to show this side of himself. Not to you. Not about him. But here it was, this quiet, unspoken vulnerability, wrapping around the edges of his usual stoic demeanor.

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand gently. "Kento… you don’t have to worry about my ex. He’s history. The past. You're my future. You’ve been that since the first time we walked into a room together and you didn’t even flinch when I accidentally spilled coffee all over your suit."

He half-smiled at that, the edge of tension softening. "That was a lot of coffee, and you did look very sorry about it."

"I did. But the thing is…" you trailed off, leaning closer to him, your voice soft but clear. “You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one who’s here. The only one I need to see at the bar. The only one I need to come home to. So, please don’t start getting territorial over cheap stupid bouquets. They’re not worth the drama.”

Kento’s eyes softened, and he took your hand, squeezing it lightly. “I know. It’s just… I’ve never been good at sharing what’s mine.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. "Well, good thing I’m not his to share anymore, right?"

“Right, alright….” he muttered, still a little grumpy but now, with that tiny smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t expect me to be the one handing out flowers when you’re on stage next time. I’d rather just sit there and admire you from the back of the room.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, a little teasing, a little sweet. "I like it when you're watching me. But just so we’re clear, you’re the only one who gets to see me like this. No bouquets necessary."

Kento’s expression softened, that flicker of possessiveness melting into something more tender. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And as you both settled back into the quiet of your apartment, the soft sound of jazz filling the air, you realized that maybe Kento's little moment of jealousy wasn’t insecurity at all. It was just another layer of how deeply he cared.

Maybe next time you’d share a toast to that.

SO FAR IT WAS A SUCCESS. The housewarming party was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Or, more accurately, everything you didn’t know you needed. Nanami Kento and you had put so much thought into the place. Well, mostly Kento had, with his meticulous nature and borderline obsessive attention to detail. 

There were minimalist touches everywhere, but it still felt warm. Your bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from manga to self–help books you’d never read.

There were candles, of course, because Kento liked them in a very “this is an art form” way. Even your kitchen, where you both spent more time than you probably should have lately, was a model of perfect order with an impressively organized spice rack.

Still, there was a sense of life in the place. It wasn’t just a showroom. You live here now. Together. For as long as you both are together, this was now home.The thought sent a little rush through you every time you passed by the key bowl by the door, or caught sight of Kento, elbow-deep in the fridge, reorganizing a jar of miso.

And now, you were standing in your brand new living room, a smile on your face wider than you could ever remember. The champagne flute in hand, bare feet on the cool marble, loud bright music echoing through the marble. You were surrounded by a familiar chaos of castmates, ex-co-stars, and industry friends who had somehow become real friends. Maybe even family.

Gojo Satoru, in a linen shirt so white it probably had its own lighting crew, was dramatically trying to convince Kenshin and Keiko, fresh from their busy days at their workplace, that you'd installed a karaoke machine just for tonight.

“I’m telling you, it’s voice–activated. You just say ‘Whitney’ and it boots right into I Will Always Love You.”

“That’s a lie, Gojo–san.” Keiko said flatly, sipping from her spritzer. “You know that Dad isn’t a big fan of karaoke.”

“Bold accusation for someone who couldn’t hit the bridge in ‘Chandelier’ last Christmas party, kid.” Gojo shot back with a wink. “At least I hit the high note in ‘Rolling In The Deep’ beautifully.”

 Kenshin snorted. “She did better than you trying to moonwalk in socks.”

“Hey! That moonwalk was really damn good, you know that!”

The blonde young woman snickers into her drink. “Yeah, good enough to burn your eyes out.”

A few feet away, Nanami Kento’s ex-wife, now a working chemist, was diplomatically trying to keep her boyfriend Gojo Satoru from hyping up Yaga Masamichi’s children into performing a full musical number before bedtime.

“Satoru. They just finished preschool. Let’s not start casting Matilda tonight.”

Kento himself leaned casually against your kitchen island, deep in conversation with Ayaka, your friend from college who’d gone on to become a theater critic with a cult podcast following. The two of them looked like they were comparing notes on a Shakespeare revival no one had asked for.

Meanwhile, your next-door neighbor, whom you met literally five minutes ago when he showed up uninvited and somehow on the VIP list, was explaining, unsolicited, the real top five sushi places within the Tokyo Metropolitan. Loudly. To no one.

“I’m telling you, Sushi Marufuku is good. You wanna eat fish that changes your life? You go to this little spot in Hakkoku. That’s even better! But of course, Harukata is better! The chef doesn’t even speak, he just stares at you until you cry.”

You offered a vague smile and politely drifted away. You caught sight of Kento again, now at the bar, his tall frame still and watchful, a glass of something amber in hand. That familiar, quiet smile tugged at his mouth as he scanned the room, equal parts fond and faintly exhausted.

You made your way to him, pausing just long enough to catch Gojo Satoru once again. You found him amid a debate with your older brother, who had somehow become his favorite person to antagonize at this moment. But you were sure it was because of the alcohol. Most definitely.

“What do you mean ‘No one’s seen her perform in weeks’? She’s a comedian, not a shaman!”

Your brother arched an eyebrow. “Same thing, isn’t it? Both deal in spirits.”

Gojo cackled, practically doubled over. “Okay, that’s good. Write that down. I’m using it for my new comedy.”

Finally, you reached Kento. He turned as you approached, giving you a small, secret smile. “Are you surviving this, baby?” you asked, tipping your glass toward him.

He clinked it on his own. “Just barely. Your friends are… vibrant.”

“You are about to definitely more certainly marry into it, I fear.” you teased him. “Though, I’m the same with your family, don’t you think?”

“True enough, I suppose.”

You laughed, leaning into his side as Gojo’s voice rose again, daring your brother to duet with him on Total Eclipse of the Heart, Kento’s ex–wife trying to calm him down. Keiko is trying to stay away from the drama, while Kenshin was having fun playing with the little kids of your other neighbors. 

“This is our life now, huh?”

Kento glanced around at the glittering mayhem, then down at you. “Yeah, it is.” he said, brushing his thumb lightly along the rim of your glass. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Well. Maybe minus the other neighbors, especially the one talking about the sushi.

You nudged Kento with your elbow, leaning in close enough for only him to hear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, this?” You gestured around the party with a grin, voice teasing. “All the people who’ve seen us at our worst?”

He raised an eyebrow, his usual composure settling into something lighter. “I’m fine. They’re your friends. And I’m pretty sure they like me.”

“Just pretty sure?” You shot him a look.

Kento gave a mock shrug, then smirked, his eyes softening. “Okay, I’m sure. But I’ll never tell Gojo that. He’ll start calling me ‘Best Man’ at every event and then we’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who’s already gotten my family’s approval. Can’t take it back now.”

That’s when your cue hit. You had promised a little something extra for the evening, and you’d already prepared. You grabbed the mic that you’d had set up in the corner earlier and called out to the crowd. 

"Alright, everyone! Time for a little entertainment. Get ready to experience what you didn’t sign up for!"

The room went quiet like someone hit a mute button on a particularly rowdy dinner party. Everyone turned their attention to you. The wine glasses half–raised, chopsticks mid–air, Your brother and Gojo stopped bickering, your future step–children turned to pay attention. Kento’s ex–wife was already smiling from ear to ear about this.

You glanced over at Kento, who raised his glass to you with that signature Kento nod: respectful, restrained, and just the tiniest bit indulgent. You winked at him and stepped into the spotlight, or well, the stretch of living room rug between the couch and the bookshelf that you had declared your “stage” for the night. Your mic was a pair of chopsticks. Commitment.

You cleared your throat dramatically. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here until Keiko decides we’re too embarrassing to be seen in public with.”

She booed from the couch. “Too late!”

“Alright, alright.” you said, tightening your grip on the chopsticks like they held the key to comedic transcendence. “Let’s ease into this. Like Japanese politics.”

Kenshin snorted. “This is gonna be so funny.”

“So I walked past a konbini the other day because obviously, I needed a snack, some affirmation, and maybe a reason to keep going and I saw an entire aisle dedicated to face masks. Not the regular kind. Skincare masks.” You say, motioning to it as if trying to get them to imagine it all. 

“I mean imagine it. A whole aisle. One promised to make me look like a dewy beautiful drama lead who cries aesthetically in the rain. Another one said it was infused with horse oil. Horse. Oil. I held it up and said—out loud, to no one in particular. ‘I am not emotionally stable enough to glow like a racehorse.’”

Snickers could be heard from the corner of the room, giggles being heard in small echoes. “And this obaachan is next to me. She has this full perm, orthopedic sneakers, not a hint of irony—she nods solemnly, like I had just spoken her truth. She goes, ‘Hai ne… too powerful.’”

“That feels like a fever dream!” Kenshin suddenly said, way too loudly.

“Yes, it did feel like that. I was slapping myself, trying to think about how this is just some imagination.” You immediately sprung to reply to his sudden words. “But she handed me a juice box, so it was real. So now I guess we’re friends. We didn’t exchange numbers, but I feel like if I ever get arrested, she’ll be there. Just slowly walking into the police station with a hot pack and a sense of purpose.”

A few laughs. Gojo Satoru clapped once, dramatically. Kento was sipping his wine, not laughing, but you could see the smile lurking at the edge of his mouth. Like your jokes were a private show only he had the key to.

“Recently, though, I’m gonna tell you something that isn’t a fever dream. And it’s my ex showing up to a show, you guys.” you continued. “Which I usually try to avoid mentioning, but listen, when your ex shows up to your show with flowers like he’s the emotionally repressed lead in a Taiga drama, you have to mention it.”

Keiko whispered something to Gojo and they both cackled to each other. “He stood there like, ‘Hey, remember me? I was once almost good at loving you but got distracted by kombucha brewing and fear of commitment.’ — ladies, don’t lower your standards! You deserve better than this!”

More laughter. Your brother raised his beer in salute, as if he was happy about the fact that you were trashing your ex. He does in fact hate your exes more than you did. He doesn’t think anyone is worthy of you, after all.

“And now, let’s talk about my current, well beloved boyfriend. You know who he is.” you said, pausing for effect, nodding at Kento’s direction which earns some whistles and laughter. “I live with a man who arranges the fridge like a Zen garden. Like, there is intention behind the yogurt placement. Once, I moved a bottle of mirin and he looked at me like I had kicked a bonsai tree.”

Kento’s lips twitched. The corner of his eye creased. “I’m serious!” you said. “Last week I asked him why the carrots were stacked like architectural models and he said, and I quote, ‘They deserve a sense of structure.’ I live with a man who gives motivational speeches to root vegetables.”

The laughter rolled now, warm, loving, the kind of laugh that knew you and loved you anyway. You turned to Kento, your voice softening just enough for him to hear over the ripple of joy in the room. You smiled at him.

“But here’s the thing, everyone.” you said. “I’ve never been more grateful to live with someone who takes the time to make sure everything has a place. Even when I’m a mess, even when life’s messy. Because when everything’s upside down, he’s still there, calmly rearranging chaos into something beautiful.”

Kento didn’t smile. He didn’t have to. He just raised his glass again. Ever so silent, certain, his gaze steady and full of that quiet, impossible affection that said, I know you. And I’m not going anywhere. And for once, you didn’t need a punchline.

Laughter trickled out as you glanced over at Kento. “But he’s a silly man, I should let you know. I caught him one time whispering to a bottle of soy milk. I asked him what he was doing. He looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘I’m encouraging it to taste better.’”

Laughs were echoing in the living room harder than the first time. “I know, I know, that’s going to hit hard for many of you. But he adores cow milk better. That’s my boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen. Every time I buy groceries, it’s like I’m attending a TED talk on cow milk and soy milk, which is better. And you know what,  I’m not even mad about it."

The room was laughing now, everyone relaxed, including Kento, who had an amused glint in his eyes. You leaned into the mic and continued as you looked him in the eye. You smiled into the mic and moved to the center.

"But you know what? It’s cute. I mean, yes, I could get used to it, but at least it’s not like my ex, who once called my fridge a ‘cold cave of disappointment.’ I mean, yes, maybe my ramen wasn’t art, but come on, cold cave of disappointment? I’m not keeping a shrine to my failed relationships, but if I did, that’s where he’d live. But of course, no offerings. He doesn’t deserve it—no, no, the ramen. He deserves the ramen!”

The laughter of the guests continued to spread through the room, with even Gojo cracking up in the back. You glanced over, and there he was, leaning casually against the wall, wearing that too-cool-for-school grin of his.

“But seriously, it’s great." you said, softening a bit. "This house? This life? I couldn’t imagine it with anyone else. My heart’s here. In every perfectly organized drawer, in every misused soy sauce label, in every meal we eat, misaligned veggies and all."

Kento’s smile softened, and you could see the pride in his eyes, like he was somehow more in love with you than he was five minutes ago. That look? The one that said this is everything? Yeah, it was one of your favorites.

You finished your set with a wink, your voice light. "So, that’s my set tonight, folks. I hope you like it. And if you ever need a tour of my fridge or a lesson on how to turn miso soup into a vision board….Hit me up!"

Applause rang out. The room cheered, and Kento raised his glass in your direction, a little glint of admiration in his eyes. You’d killed it and even better, you were doing it together. Your home. Your life. His subtle, hilarious quirks. Your set. It was yours.

As the cheers faded, Gojo grabbed a mic from the corner of the room, grinning wide. "Alright, alright, but can we all agree that Kento’s spice rack deserves its own reality show?"

People started to laugh and clap about that. Soon after, your brother and Gojo had taken over the high platform with their ridiculous conversation and soon enough, they were going bar for bar with their little jokes. You were certain you had to step in, but people were entertained by it. You were sure you didn’t need to go and butt in.  

The party carried on long into the night, the music louder, the laughter thicker, the drinks more free–flowing. People drifted in and out, some chatting, others getting a little too competitive over the karaoke machine Gojo Satoru had definitely bribed someone to set up.

But, in the end, it was the kind of evening that didn’t require anything more than what was already there: good friends, good vibes, and, for once, a sense of complete contentment.

You and Kento found a quiet spot near the window, where you could see the city lights flicker in the distance and settled in with a couple of fresh drinks, just the two of you. You propped your feet up on the coffee table, your glass in hand, and looked over at him. He was still wearing that little smirk, the one that said, I’m happy, but I won’t admit it out loud unless you make me.

“Not bad for our first official housewarming, huh?” you said, nudging him with your foot.

Kento looked over at you, his expression softening. “It’s perfect.” he agreed quietly, his voice just loud enough to reach you over the hum of the party. “I never thought I’d end up with a karaoke machine in my living room, but I can’t say I’m upset about it.”

You laughed, your gaze flicking over to where Gojo and your brother were holding court near the mic stand, belting out some questionable rendition of an '80s ballad. “Yeah, well, you know Gojo. He probably brought it as a gift so he could claim he gave it to us. I’m just surprised my brother’s ended up galavanting with this too.”

Kento snorted. “I can’t believe you let him talk you into letting him sing.”

“Let him?” You raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t let him. I was overruled. My brother, the kids, that weird sushi neighbor. Besides, people don’t seem to mind.”

He leaned back, and you watched as his eyes softened, his focus shifting slightly, like he was remembering something in that quiet way he did. “It feels… good, though. You know? Having everyone here. Having a place of our own.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “It really does. It’s like this little world we’ve built. I know it’s only been a few months, but it already feels like home.”

“It is home.” Kento said, taking a sip of his drink. His bright caramel eyes met yours, steady and sincere. “No matter how many parties we throw or who shows up, this? You and me? This is it.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. The kind of kiss that lingered, not out of need, but out of sheer love and comfort. It was quiet, soft, and full of the promise that came with being exactly where you were meant to be.

The sound of Gojo’s off–key singing drifted over to you, and you pulled away with a playful groan. “I don’t think he’s ever going to stop, is he?”

Kento chuckled softly. “No, I don’t think so. Not with your brother matching his energy.”

You grinned, settling back into your seat and stretching your legs out again. “Well, as long as he doesn’t try to sing the theme song from Titanic again, I think we’ll be okay.”

“Famous last words, darling.” Kento teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

But the night was still young. The kind of young that shimmered on the edge of something golden and half-remembered, perhaps even half–scripted, half–spontaneous. Outside, the city blinked against the horizon like a marquee of dreams. 

Inside, your living room was pulsing with off–key harmony and champagne bubbles. Gojo Satoru and your brother had officially hijacked the room fully and were deep into a dramatic duet of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.

Gojo Satoru crooning with Broadway flair, your brother several beats behind but making up for it in raw enthusiasm. Their voices rose and fell, mercifully more passionate than precise, echoing through the high ceilings and off the framed posters from shows you’d done, characters you’d once been, versions of yourself you’d already shed. 

You looked around for a moment. You saw the laughter, the glasses raised in mid-toast, the glittering sprawl of people who had seen you fail, fly, weep in dressing rooms, triumph at wrap parties and realized it didn’t matter how loud the music got. Or how chaotic the night became. Or how many costume changes life had in store.

What mattered was this: you were here. With Kento. With your people. In a home that wasn’t just beautiful, but real.  A home that felt like the beginning of something lasting. A home where you were truly, eagerly, happily, loved.

You turned, catching Kento's profile in the warm light. You could see his brow relaxed, his lips curved just slightly in that soft, almost secret smile he reserved for private moments. His glass was nearly empty, but he hadn’t moved to refill it. He was simply… still. Watching you.

“Kento…” you breathed, your voice so low it was almost lost in the noise.

He looked at you immediately, like your voice was a cue only he could hear. Your eyes locked with his, and something inside you lit up. Something you always felt when he looked at you like this. Like he saw you, not just the version that ended up on screen or the one polished for press tours. Just you.

“Let’s escape this little madness.” you said, eyes wide and shining. “For a little while.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, slow and sure. There was laughter in his mischievous caramel eyes now, but something else too, something quieter, warmer. He knew that look in your face.

“And what do you want to do instead?” he asked, voice low and intimate, meant only for you.

You looked away, your cheeks blooming pink under the chandelier light. “You know that already, baby.” you murmured, bashful. “You know I don’t have to say anything.”

There was a beat, a pause in the air, in your breath, in everything. And then he stepped closer. He closed the space between you like it was the easiest thing in the world. His arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you. His other hand rose gently, fingertips brushing under your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

His voice was velvet. Firm, but tender. “Then use your words, my darling.”

Time stopped. It always did, when he looked at you like that. And maybe the music was still playing, maybe Gojo was now standing on your coffee table yelling about encores while across your brother, who was banging his head, maybe someone had just broken a glass in the kitchen. But all of it faded.

Because Nanami Kento was looking at you like he already knew the words you hadn’t said yet but was going to make sure you said them anyway. He knew you too well, your lover. He knew too well that your desires for him will never change.

EVERYTHING FELT SO DESPERATE. Nanami Kento kicks the bedroom door shut behind you, his hands already tugging at your clothes. He pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. You respond eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

His mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks on your skin. You gasp, your head falling back against the wall, giving him better access. His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing, leaving trails of fire in their wake. 

Your loving boyfriend lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, his body covering yours as he settles between your thighs. You groaned at him in pleasure.

"I've been wanting to do this all night, my darling." he murmurs, his lips trailing down your chest. "To strip you bare and worship every inch of you."He looks up at you, his caramel eyes dark with desire. "Tell me you want this, pretty, pretty darling.”

"I want this, I want……" you breathe, your voice heavy with desire. "I want you, Kento. All of you."

Kento's eyes flash with hunger at your words. He sits back on his heels, his hands going to the hem of your shirt. He pulls it off slowly, his eagerly hot gaze roaming over your exposed skin like a fire burning ever so vibrantly in the moonlight. 

"You're so beautiful." he murmurs, his fingers tracing the swell of your breasts. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, your sternum, the valley between your breasts.

His hands slide up your sides, pushing your lace bra straps down your arms. He unhooks the clasp with a flick of his fingers, freeing your breasts to his greedy gaze. He takes a moment to admire them, before looking into the other diverse essence of your precious skin. 

"Perfect, utterly perfect." he whispers, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them pebble. He takes one into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the hardened peak. You arch into him, a moan escaping your lips.

Kento's mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His hand slides down your stomach, popping the button on your jeans and tugging the zipper down. He slips his hand inside, his fingers brushing against your core through your underwear. You gasp, your hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact.

"So wet already, my……" He murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. 

He pushes your jeans and underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. His fingers trace your folds, parting you, exploring you. He circles your clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm.

"Kento, my baby…..please…." you beg, your voice strained with need. He smirks, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Please what, pretty darling? Tell me what you need."

Kento lays back on the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Come here, my pretty woman." he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. 

You crawl onto the bed, straddling his hips. His hands grip your waist, guiding you onto his erection. You sink down slowly, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you completely. His fingers dig into your hips as he helps you find a rhythm, lifting and lowering yourself onto his length. 

From this angle, you can feel every inch of him, hitting places that make your toes curl. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, your hair falling around you like a curtain. Kento's hands roam your back, your sides, squeezing and caressing. 

He leans up, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The dual sensations send shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building the tension in your core. You could only feel yourself losing it, mewls leaving your lips little by little.

Kento's hands slide down to your bottom, squeezing and kneading the flesh. He helps you move faster, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you look so hot like this, pretty." he pants, his eyes glued to where you're joined. "Riding me like you own me."

His words send a thrill through you, emboldening you. You could only try to sit up straight, arching your back, your hands sliding up to cup your breasts. Moans drifted from your lips, over and over as you grinded against him. Kento's eyes widened, his pupils dilating with lust.

"Yes, just like that, pretty darling." he encourages, his voice hoarse. "Show me how much you want it."

You circle your hips, grinding down onto him, chasing your own pleasure. Kento's fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruising as he meets your movements thrust for thrust. You can feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pleasure building to a crescendo. 

Kento's movements become more urgent, more desperate, as if he's chasing his own release. His thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub in firm, deliberate strokes. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards the edge.

"Kento!" you cry out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner walls clamp down on him, pulsing and squeezing as waves of ecstasy wash through you. Kento follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep inside you. 

He groaned your name, the sound rugged and raw, his body shuddering beneath you as he found his release, every muscle in his body drawn tight before he finally surrendered to the moment. The world blurred at the edges. 

All that remained of the two of you was just heat and the desire to keep each other close to touch. It was the breathless way he clung to you as if he never wanted to let you go that felt almost like a drug to you.

You collapsed against his chest, utterly spent, your limbs tangled with his. Your skin was slick with sweat, every inch of you humming with the fading embers of pleasure. Your heart hammered wildly against his, the two of you breathing in tandem, the rise and fall of your bodies syncing like the closing lines of a well-rehearsed scene. It was all too perfect, all too inevitable.

Kento’s arms immediately wrapped around you, strong and steady, pulling you even closer, as if to shield you from the world beyond this bed, this night, this feeling. His palm found the small of your back, his touch tender now, his fingers tracing slow, grounding circles against your skin. You could hear the soft rush of his breath in your ear, feel the thrum of his heart still racing beneath your cheek.

For a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved. There were no words needed, at least not yet. Just the silent conversation of two bodies finally still, two souls finally at peace. In a little while Kento pressed a kiss to the top of your head, slow and reverent, like you were something sacred.

“You’re incredible, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice rough from exertion but so full of affection it made your chest ache. He tightened his arms just slightly, as if to reassure himself you were still real, still his.

You smiled against his skin, your lashes fluttering shut. “So are you.” you whispered back, your voice thick with sleepy warmth. 

Your face is buried in the crook of his neck. Kento's hand traces lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

You can feel Kento's heartbeat slowing beneath your ear, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He shifts slightly, pulling the blankets up over you both, tucking you in securely. His arms wrap themselves around you even tighter. Exhausted, you let him.

“I really love you so much, you know that right?”

You could feel Kento’s heartbeat slowing beneath your ear, the frantic rhythm easing into something steady, calm — like a lullaby meant just for you. His chest rose and fell in a soothing cadence, and when he shifted slightly, it was only to tug the blankets up around you both, cocooning you against the cool night air. His arms tightened around you, firm and protective, like he was anchoring you to him.

Exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but you let him do it, let yourself be held, let yourself rest in the certainty of him.

For a moment, the only sounds were the distant, muffled laughter still echoing from the party downstairs, and the soft, rhythmic hush of Kento’s breathing. The world beyond this room — the chaos, the music, the endless expectations — felt a million miles away.

Then his voice broke the quiet, low and rough with honesty:

“I really love you so much, you know that, right?”

The words were simple, almost casual  but they landed with the weight of something life-altering. You blinked slowly against his skin, your chest tightening, not in fear, but in the overwhelming vastness of what you felt for him in return.

You nodded against him first, too full to speak for a second. Then you tilted your head up, catching his gaze in the dim light and god, the way he was looking at you, like you hung every constellation he’d ever wished on.

“I know.” you whispered back, your fingers tracing soft, aimless patterns along his forearm where it wrapped around you. “And I love you, too. So much.”

A slow, genuine smile broke across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, made him look younger than his years, almost boyish in his relief. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there like he was breathing the moment in, letting it fill every empty space inside him.

“Good…..That’s good to hear.” he murmured against your skin. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You chuckled softly, feeling yourself melt even further into him. “Good.” you echoed, your voice small and sure. “Because I don’t want you to.”

He pulled you closer still, if that was even possible, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head like something precious. Like you were the beginning and end of his whole world. Like you were everything to him.

“Go and sleep now, my darling. Let them all party their hearts out.” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And you did. Because he did. As the moonlit night continued to drift into the brightness of a city that does not sleep, you both found yourselves the ones asleep. You both happily drifted off to dreamland, wrapped up in each other and the quiet, unshakable promise of everything you were building together.

[haechsauce]

THE BAG SWAP - M.RK

PAIRING: boyfriend! riku x reader

GENRE: best friends-to-lovers au, humor, fluff

SYNOPSIS: on the way to class, riku has roommate! sakuya over the phone—suggesting how they can swap leather bags after grabbing each other’s accidentally. riku can’t care less… maybe not until the latter starts to get curious about what’s in his bag.

WC: 1.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: randomly woke up with this concept on top of my head a day ago, so i thought it’d be great to make use of it （＾∇＾）

“riku, maybe you can pass by my class!” sakuya says through the phone. “let’s have our bags exchanged before my professor gets here.”

there’s noise from the young boy’s end that suggests he’s arrived to his lecture hall. besides the loud chatter and the chair screeches, there are a few voices calling sakuya’s name to probably tell him to sit next to them. it’s frankly the sound of only being a week in since the term break.

“when will you ever call me hyung?” riku manages to mutter from his end on the phone, despite being quite breathless from still brisk walking to his own lecture hall. he adjusts his grip on sakuya’s bulky leather bag. “but i can’t, saku. i’m almost running late to mine.”

unlike sakuya’s college building, riku’s is on the other side of the campus from their dorm. while that’s a pain in the ass on its own, so is living with five other boys that have similar class schedules with him this term. it’s been troublesome enough to share the kitchen and take turns in the shower for a few days now, so riku didn’t think it could get any worse. yet, he (a senior) has accidentally switched leather bags with sakuya (a freshman) as they grabbed their belongings by the door this morning.

riku wouldn’t exactly call it karma, but the fact that he got the same leather bag as sakuya when they went shopping together last month might’ve done the trick. the doodle that chants, “sakuya sakuya sakuya” in pink on the young boy’s bag didn’t even salvage riku from this moment. after all, he bought his own bag to tease sakuya after directly saying he wanted no one to match with him.

“should i pass by yours?” sakuya produces a thud, which makes riku think the young boy slammed his leather bag flat on a table. “let’s see what you have in here.”

“i actually don’t need mine for this class.” riku decides, thinking he can simply borrow a notepad and a pen from you—his best friend since elementary school, but also his girlfriend since the recent term break. he sets aside the excitement he instantly feels from thinking of sharing classes with you now, but he double-times his pace. “you need yours?”

“not really. i don’t ever need it, actually.”

“then why is it so heavy?”

“i haven’t cleaned it up since first term.” sakuya says, which makes riku produce a breathy scoff. it’s been more than half a year since the start of the school year. “yours is pretty light, but you have—whoa.”

“what?”

“you have film photos of you and your best friend printed out,” sakuya is slowly uttering his words, like he’s in the middle of a revelation. “in the twenty-first century.”

riku closes his eyes shut—mentally cussing himself for not being able to collect all your developed film photos together out of his bag. he’d been wracking his brain, wondering if some of your shots during your first date in your hometown weren’t printed out, only to find out they’re currently in sakuya’s possession. “fujinaga, close my bag.”

“there’s the sea, there’s you having dinner together,” sakuya ignores riku and only continues to sort through the photos. “and you… holding… hands… together?”

this is exactly why you and riku have decided to keep your relationship private for now. neither of you have the time for his dorm mates’ interrogation, so you both figured it’d be best to build your romantic relationship right in front of their eyes little by little instead.

riku, however, is already constructing your relationship to sakuya in good old hard-launch fashion. he clears his throat, “you know, maybe i can pass by your class right n—”

“and you kissing each other?”

as if on cue, riku hears your giggle from behind him first before he feels you kiss his cheek. “beat you to the door,” you say as soon as you block him from entering the lecture hall.

riku can’t fight the smile on his face from seeing you so mischievous, yet flushed from running your way here. he slowly walks towards you, only to buy himself more time to admire you before landing a quick peck on your lips.

you giggle again. “hi, kuri.”

riku’s smile widens, feeling the heat of his phone against his cheek from doing so. “hey, cutie.”

“ew.” sakuya says on the other line.

“ew?” riku repeats to the phone.

he detaches his phone from his ear to put the young boy on speaker. riku mouths to you that it’s sakuya on the phone, then proceeds to lift the leather bag he’s carrying to show you their situation at hand.

you mouth, “ooo” to your boyfriend before speaking to the phone. “hi sakuya!”

“well, hello!” he laughs, “it seems like you had a sweet break.”

riku scrunches his nose at this. however, he’s instantly on autopilot mode as soon as you look up to him for context. “saku saw our photos in my bag, but it’s my bad. i’m sorry.”

you shake your head with a teasing smile taking over your lips. “so much for not letting the dorm know yet!”

sakuya’s voice is heard from the phone again. “i won’t ask questions if you come over tonight to doodle on my bag and help me sort out my keychains. i think i wanna remember knowing about you both before the whole dorm.”

“oh, saku.” riku says, genuinely softened.

“then i’ll see you later, sakuya!” you say to the phone.

“yes!” sakuya exclaims, like he might be throwing a fist in the air because of this. “but, also, riku has to take my turn in dishwashing tonight.”

riku sighs so loud, that a handful of your course mates from inside the lecture hall look at where he’s standing by the door. “fujinaga sa—”

before he even gets to say the young boy’s full name, sakuya ends the call.

and, even though you laugh because of what riku has to deal with later today, he looks at you with as much amusement as you have for him. not because he finds his situation funny either, but because he likes that he’s the reason you’re happy right now.

[violenteconomics]

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)