#besides its not like my parents can make all of us happy.

[freesia-writes]

Chapter 2: School

Enjoy a riveting tale of romance, suspense, adventure, and self-discovery as Hunter finds his path after the events of TBB. Rated PG-13 for some mild suspense, suggestive talk, alcohol and drug use, and adult themes. Banner and dividers by @pinkiemme

~ Master List here ~ Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: School (Word Count: 2.7k)

Hunter winced, one hand on his shoulder as he moved his arm in a circle, trying to work out the sore spot from the morning’s wrestle with an angry bruallki that had apparently only feigned death from his shot. He’d had time to hunt, spend a few hours in his shop, and get cleaned up before heading up the hill to Omega’s school. It was a plain rectangular building on top of a grassy plain that housed students from the youngest grade levels up to young adults within its brick walls, but the island wasn’t too populated so the classes usually consisted of about 10 to 15 students each. He opened the door to the office, shifting his bag on his other shoulder as the attendance clerk looked up at him brightly.

After checking in, Hunter was free to walk the halls in search of Omega, who was late in meeting him at their usual spot in front of the school. It wasn’t unheard of — she was usually either caught up in conversation with one of the staff members she’d taken a liking to or lost in thought from diving into one of her assignments as soon as she could. True to form, Hunter soon found her in the back of the administrative wing, in a little corner office that was full of dark wooden furniture. There were a few small, warm lamps, and there was Omega, relaxing in a cozy chair in front of a plain desk with a chiseled nameplate sitting on its corner: Lyra Vetana, Records Clerk.

The woman behind the desk looked to be a bit older than him, or what Hunter assumed it looked like for nat-borns, with long brown hair that was mostly straight, a somewhat angular jaw, and smile lines around her mouth and eyes. She was currently nodding slowly at whatever Omega was sharing, and as Hunter approached, he caught her attention, her gaze soon followed by Omega’s, who piped up immediately.

“Oh hey Hunter! Sorry I’m late. Lyra was just sharing about what past students have done during their apprenticeship year. She’s got a bunch of great ideas!”

“Yeah?” Hunter answered, shifting his focus to Lyra, who shook her head with a small smile. 

“Just what the kids have come up with,” she corrected, straightening a random pile of papers off to the side. “But I apologize for holding you up.” Her voice was smooth, with just a little bit of husky texture that made it imperfectly pleasant, and it matched her humble and unassuming demeanor. Hunter could see why Omega appreciated her company; she had a steady, soothing presence, although it seemed somewhat flat. 

“It’s alright, just got some work to do before dinner,” Omega reassured her, rising to her feet and pulling her backpack out of the chair beside her. “Which I bet is steak again, right?” She aimed the question at Hunter, who exhaled through his nose as he tilted his head at her.

“Look, you should be happy that I can cook anything at all, you know…”

“I’m just kidding,” Omega said, patting his shoulder as though she were the parent. “You’re doing great, and you’ve come so far!” Hunter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, although her words carried some weight, and he caught what looked like a condescending smile on Lyra’s face. 

“I make salad too…” he grumbled, and Lyra turned a laugh into a cough so quickly it made him second guess what he’d heard, squinting at her as she turned to move that same stack of papers all of a sudden.

“Shoot! I need my interview journal; I left it in my locker. Be right back, and then we can go!” Omega announced, trotting out the door to leave Hunter standing awkwardly in front of where Lyra was seated at her desk. But then he realized a potential solution to an argument he’d had that morning with Omega. 

“Hey, quick question…” he began, looking over his shoulder before dropping into one of the chairs in front of Lyra’s desk. “I… ah… Omega’s very special, and… I know it’s real safe here and all, but… We’re still new, and I just want to make sure… she’s alright… you know. And I know she comes to talk to you often, and you have been here at the school for a while…” He rummaged in his small sling bag for a moment, finding it hard to meet Lyra’s curious gaze.

He found what he was looking for and held it up for her to see. It looked like it could have been a large button from a piece of clothing, but upon closer inspection one could see that it was a different kind of button — a small metal cylinder that could be flipped open with a raised round part to press inside. “Would you do me a favor and hang onto this? It’s… it’s an emergency beacon, and if anything ever happens, you press it and we can be here immediately. Omega refused to keep it on her, but… I just…”

Lyra regarded it, and him, with an unreadable expression, brow furrowing for a moment before relaxing. She held out her hand, inviting Hunter to give it to her, but he paused. 

“Look, I know it seems paranoid, or overly protective, but there’s a lot that I just can’t explain, and I know you’ll probably never have to use it, but it would just make me feel better if—“ 

“I get it,” Lyra interrupted reassuringly, giving him a small, serious nod as she beckoned for him to place it in her palm. He felt a disproportionate cascade of relief; maybe he’d built this up more than necessary in his head, but he appreciated knowing there were extra safety measures in place. “I don’t see her all the time, but if there’s ever an emergency, I’ll let you and her mom know.”

“No mom,” Hunter shook his head, “Just me.”

“Oh, sorry— you said ‘we’ could be here right away, so I just thought—“

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Me and our brothers.”

“Got it,” Lyra said quietly, closing her fingers around both the button and a million unasked questions. 

“Thanks,” Hunter said, nodding in finality before rising to his feet. He leaned out the doorway, peering down the hall and still finding no sign of Omega, then returned to his post just inside the door, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He was still getting used to the social situations outside of war, and truth be told, he sometimes missed the rushed simplicity of mission after life-threatening mission. Casting a glance back to Lyra, he was somewhat relieved to find that she’d pulled some other files out of a folder and was tapping away at her keyboard. He couldn’t get a read on her… was she dismissive? Standoffish? Content? Or just didn’t feel the need to force conversation? 

“So ah, what is it you do here again?” he asked, the words flowing without his permission. He cringed inwardly, hating the complexity of civilian life at times, but Lyra paused her typing and met his gaze with a patient warmth that lessened his anxious overthinking.

“I’m a records clerk, which means I have the great esteem and honor of filing away every transcript, work study application, apprenticeship offer, accommodations meeting notes, and so on. Basically, if it happens here, I record it here. And if people need any data from the archives, I’m the one to find it for them,” she answered, poking fun at the seeming unimportance of her job without the full cynicism of one who legitimately resented their duties. 

“Sounds peaceful,” was all that Hunter could think to say, and his estimation was met with a slow nod.

“It is,” Lyra agreed, the faintest smile touching her thoughtful expression. “And you? What keeps you busy on the island?”

“I’m a hunter, ironically enough,” he answered, smirking dryly. “And a butcher. I have a meat shop down in The Cobbles,” he continued, referring to the part of town just above the beaches that was the notorious center for businesses, restaurants, galleries, and city government offices.

“Ahh,” came the enlightened realization. “Yes. I’ve heard of it from other staff members here.” Hunter wondered what else she’d heard, but judging by any response he could sense, there was nothing more to it. “Not a lot of imports on the island, so everything you sell is from here?”

“Freshly blasted daily,” Hunter said with a mock chipperness that made them both snort. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite figure out, whether she was genuinely enjoying the conversation or just tolerating it, whether she had more to say or was simply killing the time they were forced to interact. But he supposed it didn’t matter much, and as they fell silent again, Hunter could hear familiar footsteps approaching.

“Well, I appreciate you being here for Omega… and all the other kids,” he said quietly, and he caught a wistfulness on her face before it disappeared instantly. Lyra smiled and nodded demurely, brightening up when she saw Omega in the doorway. 

“Ready?” the girl asked Hunter, beaming back and forth between him and Lyra.

“Ready,” he echoed, giving Lyra a polite dip of the head before taking his leave.

* * * 

The house that Hunter and Omega shared was not far from Tech and Phee’s, sitting on the side of the hills that stretched up from the beaches in rugged terrain peppered with large boulders and cliffs. The island had an interesting layout – large, flat beaches wrapping around the entire coast, then The Cobbles, an aptly-named cobblestoned street with storefronts spaced out neatly on both sides, punctuated by a few older residences, a small garden, and some town governance buildings. The entire island was fairly cut off from most everything else in the galaxy, with very few trade connections, resulting in a harmonious self-sufficiency where each person specialized and contributed to the overall good through commerce or direct trade. The business area was the one main street that stretched in a gentle upward slope from the beach to the cliffs, where it stopped abruptly.

The island topography continued to rise from there, slowly but steadily, with houses peppered across the hills above The Cobbles. There were trees and meadows scattered across the land, and the majority of the population lived on the western side of the island in small homes or flat, layered apartment buildings that were spread out above the business district. The apartment complexes huddled together around the Town Square, a large, open area full of string lights, street vendors, food carts, and an endless array of farmer’s markets, cultural events, musical performances, and so on. Single-family homes were spaced out more along the walking paths that snaked up and down the island, nestled among trees and hills. 

A few were tucked further into The Forest, which covered the eastern side of the island in a rugged, dense landscape full of trees and rivers. It was virtually unpopulated save for the houses on its western edge. Near the top of the island, above the layers of homes, lay a large, grassy meadow that stretched out in soothingly gentle slopes. A few ranches had settled around it, utilizing the perfect supply of everything they needed to raise agriculture, and off to one corner of the space sat the school. The highest point of the island was a small mountain upon which they’d built an observatory, although it was chronically out of order. Life on Xylo was a cozy, quiet way, punctuated with whatever creativity the locals could concoct. There were a few other populated islands on the planet as well, each having its own specialty and unique feel.

Hunter brushed his hands on his apron, the soothing bumps of embroidery warming his heart as he remembered Omega’s beaming face when she’d gifted it to him. It was the initial product of her first job shadow, and she’d chosen a plain gray fabric on which to hand-sew her best attempt at two large 9s in Aurebesh as well as a rudimentary copy of Hunter’s half-skull tattoo. 

The meat sizzled in the pan as he turned it, spattering hot grease in response to his prodding. He’d added some herbs this time, filling the entire house with the mouthwatering scent of perfectly-balanced flavors. Omega was chopping vegetables on the wood block next to him, chattering happily about the amazing variety of local produce that was supposed to be available at the next farmer’s market. 

It had been a hard decision when they settled on the island of whether to live together as they always had or to try to branch out into their own spaces. Phee had commandeered Tech into a home of their own, Echo was interested in the communal setup of one of the small neighborhoods, and Crosshair had found a peaceful home with Batcher in the same area, leaving Wrecker and Hunter staring awkwardly at each other. It had worked out quite well, however, as Hunter had found a cozy house in a small clearing surrounded by trees that also included a comically small additional unit across the tiny meadow that was a perfect fit for Wrecker in every way except his size. But the brawny clone had a knack for construction and had single-handedly remodeled the entire thing to be more suitable. The main dwelling on the property was a typical “cabin in the woods”, and with a few modifications had become a soothing place of respite for both Hunter and Omega, whose small bedrooms branched off the main room that boasted a large fireplace and plenty of wood-hewn furniture. 

“This is my new favorite,” Omega said, as they dug into their dinner.

“The bacon-wrapped sirloin was the best so far,” Wrecker mumbled through a mouthful. He had a knack for showing up right at dinnertime, and his presence always filled the room with even more warmth and joviality. That, paired with the fact that he almost always trundled in with his latest catch over his shoulder, had solidified his place at the table above and beyond the fact that he was family. 

“This sauce on that steak would be fun to try,” Hunter mused. 

“Oh! I’ve got a trip coming up!” Omega announced, pushing her food to the side of her mouth and waving her fork excitedly.

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, tilting his head curiously. “For what?” 

“Madame Dreyfus is going to take me on a purchasing run where she selects all of her base fabrics and shows me what to look for. Then she’ll show me which types are most conducive to different colors and types of dyes.”

“Sounds fun!” Wrecker exclaimed, attempting to counterbalance the trepidation he could hear in Hunter’s voice. 

“Mhm,” Hunter conceded, “Where does she go for that?”

“One of the other islands; I forget the name,” Omega answered. 

“Plata?” Wrecker asked, grinning at Hunter’s sharp look in his direction. He was referring to the second largest island on the planet, notorious for its vibrant nightlife and “you only live once” sort of atmosphere. 

“No,” Omega laughed, “One of the agricultural ones.” 

“Oh. Sounds good,” Hunter said slowly. “Just you and her?” 

“Us, two seamstresses, and their students!”

“I don’t know,” Wrecker said in hesitant, drawn-out syllables that made both Hunter and Omega look at him quizzically, but the thinly-veiled mischief in his eyes gave him away immediately. “I’m not sure Hunter can manage without you. How long will you be gone?” His attempt at consternation was met with a delighted giggle from the girl, who tilted her head at Hunter with a playful, motherly expression.

“You’ll have to keep an eye on him for me, Wreck,” she replied in her chipper voice. “The trip is three days long! And this whole year includes trips with our mentors, so he’s gonna have to get used to it!”

“Aaawwww, Hunter,” Wrecker fawned, “What are you gonna do?”

“I guess I’ll find a way to survive,” Hunter stated dramatically, the gleam in his eye belying his own intent. Omega’s chuckle was drowned in the boom of Wrecker’s laugh, and the three of them finished their dinners in good spirits. 

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[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.

warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3

summary: You meet their families

characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader

word count:

a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(

Riddle

Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.

Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."

Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:

"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"

It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.

"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.

"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.

"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.

"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.

Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.

"...Then do."

Trey

Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!

The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.

Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.

"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.

His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...

Cater

Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.

Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.

"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.

His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.

"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."

The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.

This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.

"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.

He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."

Ace

Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.

"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.

"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."

"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.

Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.

"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."

Deuce

His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"

Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"

She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.

She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.

"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."

Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.

"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"

Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #heartslabyul #heartslaybul x reader #twst x reader

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Green

Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Jackson believes in a green future, which includes marijuana. You like to get high. Tonight, Joel joins you and you get to treat him like he treats you. Chapter Warnings: Smut, marijuana use, soft dom reader, sub Joel, m receiving oral, unprotected p in v, riding Joel's thick thigh, you bite Joel's stomach (because it has to be done), Joel watching himself masturbate in your mirror, Joel drinks water out of your hands. Words: 5,100 Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. A/N: Happy 4/20! Wanted to give you another entry akin to Golden Walkway, a little peek into the future again of these two.

Masterlist Playlist

Times never change instead of hiding your illicit use from your parents, now you hide it from a teenager. Joel and you always going to your your house so you can get high, just in case Ellie needs something. Can’t be a bad influence.

“So you never really smoked much?” you ask as you pull the box of papers and weed out of the drawer before sitting down on your couch. You lean over your coffee table removing its contents and start to build your joint.

“Mm, never really was my thing, too risky if I got caught growing up in Texas during the Regan years. Had football eligibility to worry about ‘n then Sarah came, just never was the time for me.” Joel says as he leans back into your armchair his brown eyes intently watching your actions. You begin to crumble weed up and place it on your rolling paper. 

“Ah, makes sense. It’s good for me when my nerves really get to me,” you begin to roll your joint, “helps kinda soften the harsh lines of reality a lot. Makes my body and my mind a little freer.”

You lick your cigarette closed and admire your handiwork, welcoming the anticipation of being with Joel while you’re stoned. 

You grab a match, strike it against the box and spark your joint, rotating it in your mouth to light it up. Joel chuckles as you inhale the first hit. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask in a cloud of your smoke as you exhale.

“Nothing. Maybe I should get high. Making me hard just watching you do this.”

“Oh yeah?” You sit back. 

“Yeah, maybe I should start. Never was one for smoking though.”

“Hm, I can help. I can just blow the smoke into your mouth if you want to try it.” You lean forward wanting him to take you up on your offer.

“Sounds good sweetheart,” he nods and pats his lap. “Come sit with me, have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

You rest the joint between your lips, stand and grab the ashtray. Your bare feet pad across the plush carpet of the area rug as you walk over to Joel. 

“Hi,” you smile out with a small puff of smoke. 

“You look so cute like this, little cigarette sticking out of your mouth, eyes all cloudy and happy. Love it when my girl is happy.”

You giggle at his compliment as you lift your leg up to rest on the chair, your foot tightly fitting within what little room is left on the seat between Joel’s thick thighs. He looks up at you, his mouth slightly agape his usual furrowed brow a lot less creased, more relaxed.

“I am happy,” you answer as his hands begin to massage your calf. “You look a lot less grumpier than you normally look. That makes me happy.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yep,” you say before inhaling another hit. 

“Why don’t you make me happier and sit on my lap, that’d make me really happy darlin’.”

Turning your head to the side you blow out a plume of smoke as you place yourself on Joel’s lap, knees bent against his thighs and the armrests. You can feel the denim covered shape of his half hard cock against your cotton shorts. Your tits underneath your faded and holey t-shirt are right at Joel’s eye level. 

“S’nice,” he says staring forward at your chest. 

“My eyes are up here Joel,” you begin to laugh at your own joke, as you take another hit. You’re so high and happy, you’ve never been stoned and in love, it feels amazing.

“I’d tell you to knock it off, but your whole body’s shaking against me ’n your tits are bouncing in my face,” Joel grins as he kisses a breast through your shirt. 

Fuck, now that feels amazing. 

“Hold this,” you direct, handing him the joint. 

He takes it between his fingers and watches as you lean back and remove your shirt. His eyes widening as he concentrates on your actions, so much for relaxed Joel. He holds up the joint, still in his hands, to your lips.

“Take a hit baby,” his voice gravels out, his cock hardening underneath, “‘n lemme have some.”

You inhale and move your mouth to his, forming a tight seal between the two of you. Joel welcomes the smoke and sucks in as you blow out. 

You grab the joint from him as he exhales, a white cloud of smoke floating above the two of you. You take another pull off the joint, your body already feeling much lighter, your brain less complicated. 

“Can I have that back?” Joel asks. “Want to do the same you did for me.”

You smile a silent agreement and hand him the joint, now a short stub. He brings it up to his mouth, holding it between his thumb and pointer, his large fingers making it practically disappear save for the glowing orange embers that light as he takes a hit. He looks so fucking tempting as his cheeks slightly puff out. Everything Joel Miller does is hot, but the way he drags on a joint, his pillowy lips wrapping around the white paper, the way his broad shoulders rise as he breathes in, this might just be the hottest you’ve ever seen him. When will you ever get tired of looking at this man?

You bring your lips to his and he exhales into your mouth. Oh, this is the best way to get high. You pull away, releasing the smoke from your lungs.

“‘Bout shot, don’t you think?” Joel raises the joint up and looks at it.

“It’s shot,” you grab the ash tray from the table and hand it to him. He stubs out the joint and puts it back on the table.

He looks at you, his eyes heavier than usual, a little red and glazed. You’ve seen his eyes glazed over with lust numerous times, this glaze is a little lighter, a little happier. He sits back and you move farther up his lap so you can move a finger up to pet the smoothness of the little heart patch in his beard. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as Joel’s hands trace up and down your back. 

“Good, real good,” a deep exhale out of his lips answers. 

“Relaxed?” You ask as your finger moves to brush back and forth across his lips. 

“Mm.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this free before. A light smile, half shut eyes staring back at you, his whole face more relaxed. He looks good this way, you love when he’s happy and relaxed, you’ve never met anybody more deserving.

“Feels good,” Joel says as you rub your finger across his soft lower lip. A deep breath leaves his half parted lips, the air blowing against your finger. “Real good.”

“Good,” your hand moves to trace around his top lip, the hair of his mustache bristling against your digit as you move it back and forth. “I like making you feel good.” 

You feel the the lines around his lips rise as he smiles at you. “You’re s’good at it baby.”

“Yeah? What do you like the most?”

“Hard t’pick. Love the way your eyes always blink as you cum for me, can always tells how good you’re feelin’ by how big your eyes get right before. Love the little gasp you always make when I start fuckin’ you. Love that you grab for my hands at any chance you get, like you need to touch me as much as you can. Love that you always need me.” The last sentence coming out the softest.

“I do need you,” you confess, “all the time, not even for all of the you know, sex stuff.”

“I know baby,” he hugs you against his chest, “I need you too… so much.” 

“But, I do also really need you for the sex stuff, you know?"

Joel’s chuckle vibrates against you. “My girl’s funny, real funny.”  

“But really, what do you need tonight Joel?” You pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. You love it when he compliments you, you love it when he calls you his girl. You love that he needs you just as much as you need him. 

“I need you to tell me what you want from me tonight.  Make me yours. Talk to me like I talk t’ya.” Joel’s eyes staring into yours as they widen with his admission. “I’m yours baby.”

A bit of trepidation lands in your brain. Joel’s always the one to depend on to chart the stars of your intimacy. He’s so good at predicting what you want, you let him navigate. The thoughts are silenced once you feel his hands move along your hips and thighs. You can tell he wants you to do this for him. You want Joel to experience what you feel after he’s done with you. You want him to believe in you like you believe in him. You sit up higher on him, feeling braver and bolder. Ready to bless him for his confession. 

“Okay. I’m going to get up, walk to the kitchen to get something to drink, and when I come back, I want you to stand in front of my mirrored wall over there. Keep your clothes on.”

You’re shocked by the confidence in your voice. Joel as well, his hands pause their movement as you speak. He stares at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise. 

You rise up off of Joel, folding your arms across your naked chest. “Understand?”

“Y-y-yes,” Joel stutters. 

“Good,” you wink and turn towards the kitchen, your confident steps leaving a bewildered Joel in your chair. You’ve never acted like this, your brain swirling with ideas of what you want to do, what you want to say, how you want to make him feel. 

You grab two glasses out of your cupboard and fill them with water. Your mouth is parched, you’re sure Joel’s is too. You walk back to your living room, your courage building with each step closer. You know you’re ready when you see Joel standing as instructed in front of your mirror. 

“Hi handsome,” you walk to stand behind him, still topless and only in your shorts, his eyes moving from looking at his own reflection to your chest. You wouldn’t expect less from him, you love how he looks at you.

“Hi,” Joel whispers. You think he’s a little nervous, a little excited, he probably feels exactly how you feel. 

“I’m going to watch you watch yourself get undressed. I want you to listen to me and follow my directions, okay?”

“Yes,” his simple answer resolutely spoken as you put the waters down and turn the lamp on besides you, the light bathing both of you in a smoldering golden hue. You want to fully be able to watch Joel do what you have planned for him.

“Good, I don’t want to hear much from you, okay? I’m the one talking.” 

You like this feeling, you especially like the serious nod Joel gives you through the mirror. 

“Take your shirt off.”

You watch Joel’s hands move to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head. 

“Give it to me,” you step forward and extend a hand out. 

The soft gray fabric is still warm with Joel’s body heat as it hits your hand. You bring it to your nose and inhale his scent. “You smell so good all the time. I love the scent of you.” You take one last sniff before putting his shirt on, his smell now encompassing you.

“Wh—“ 

“Quiet,” you interrupt Joel’s protest, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you, I want to smell like you and wear your shirt while I make you feel good.” 

He looks a little annoyed, you like that. 

“Look at your chest. It’s perfect. I love how your shoulders are so wide and so strong. I love how your arms are muscular and yet they’re so soft when I rest my head against them. I love how soft your stomach has gotten meaning you’re well fed and healthy. You like the praise baby?”

Joel nods as his eyes darken hearing you call him one of the pet names he always calls you.

“Unbutton and unzip your pants, but don’t take them off.” Your pussy getting wetter at the thought of the sights that you’re about to see, all directed by you. All broadcast on your mirror. 

Joel nods, as he unbuttons his jeans, his fingers move to his zipper and pulls it down. You love that he never wears underwear when he comes over. You love how you can see the trail of hair from his belly button down to his bush. He’s the perfect amount of hairy. He’s the perfect amount of manly. He’s just fucking perfect.

“Good. You’re thirsty right?” He nods. You lean over to the table and pick up a glass of water. “Drink all of this. Want to watch your neck move as you swallow it down.” 

Joel takes the glass and brings it to his lips, his eye contact not breaking with yours through the reflection. He takes a large gulp brows wrinkling with seriousness for the task at hand, no matter how significant or insignificant it is. It’s so Joel.

“I love watching you drink. I love how small the mug looks in your hand when you drink your coffee in the morning. I love how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after downing a whole glass of water when you’re hot. I love how gently form your lips around a glass of whiskey.” You finish your praise as he empties the glass, taking it from him and placing it on the table. 

“Good. Feel better?” 

He nods.

“Take your pants off,” you think of what Joel would say in this moment. “Lemme see all of you.” 

He smirks as he starts to move his jeans down his hips, he knows you’re going to love this part. His cock springs out as it’s freed, fully erect and throbbing, you knew you’d get him good and hard with your attitude. He bends over to shuck his jeans fully off, kicking them to the side, and when he stands up, shoulders back, dick hard and ready to follow your instructions, you almost fall to your knees. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you breathe out. His smirk still remains, he knows what he does to you. 

Your eyes roam his body, he’s so large and so thick, his body screams protector. He’s your protector. He provides for you. You love that you get to love him and make him feel this way. 

“I’m thirsty, why don’t you hand me my glass?” You love how seriously he follows your commands, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. You love how powerful it makes you feel to see Joel readily do your every request. 

Joel turns towards the table and picks up the glass, handing it to you. 

“Thank you.” 

Another nod. 

You quickly drink the water down, save for the last quarter of it. “You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”

This time it’s not just one slow nod from Joel, it’s three quick nods. He’s thirsty.

“Then come stand here in front of me.” 

You’ve enjoyed watching him from a couple of feet back, standing far enough to be able to see all of him in the mirror. Now that he’s right in front of you though, this is how you like him the most. Right beside you. 

You empty the rest of the water into your mouth, your cheeks swelling out with the amount you’re holding. You bring your palms up to your mouth and cup them together. Joel begins to breathe heavily as he watches you spit the water into your makeshift hand bowl.

“Now, drink it up,” you order.

He moves so fast, so eager to please. Joel’s head quickly craning down as his brown eyes look up at you. Your heart begins to race as his tongue comes out of his mouth and begins to lap up the water out of your hand. “I love how you’re looking up at me, you look at me the same way when you eat me out.” 

Joel grunts as he leans further forward and starts to suck the water up from your hand, never breaking eye contact. The groove of his dimple getting deeper as his cheeks hollow and he sucks up all of the water.

Now you wear Joel’s cocky smirk just like his shirt. You get to know him like he knows you, you get to play with his body like he plays with yours.

“Very good.” You move your hands to wrap around his erection, the slickness of the water allowing you to easily stroke him. A gruff breath leaves Joel’s mouth, the air landing against your face. You only leave your hands on him for a couple pumps, just enough until he begins to arch his back. His eyes widen as you remove your hands, a small “mmf” is let out of his pursed lips.

“I know, I know, I know you want more. You’ll get it soon. You’re being real well behaved for me, aren’t you?” 

Another nod. Joel still hasn’t spoken a word, you miss his voice but you also like to watch him challenge himself to stay quiet. 

“Face the mirror again Joel.”

He likes it when you say his name, he’s told you so many times how he likes to hear your voice say his name. 

“Touch yourself for me Joel.” 

His heavy eyes slowly shut as he bites his bottom lip with a moan, he liked that… a lot. He opens his eyes and with a look of determination, he spits in his hand before moving it down and gripping his shaft as he looks at you for his next command. 

“Stroke yourself for me.” 

He begins to slowly pump himself, savoring and watching himself in the reflection. His gaze anchoring in on pleasuring himself.

You wonder when the last time he did this was.

“When’s the last time you made yourself cum?” His movements falter as he looks up at you and takes in your question. “Go ahead, you can talk, tell me.” 

“That last night you were painting f’me,” a half smile shows up on his face as he begins to stroke again. 

Now you’re the one who only nods, your words lost at his confession. “Go on,” you muster up. You need to hear more. 

“Went to bed that night, ’n all I could see was your pretty eyes lookin’ up at me, how you looked in those overalls, I felt like I could still feel your lips on mine.” His strokes getting quicker, his hand pausing as he twists his hand around his tip. “Was so hard for you, had to take care of things before I could fall asleep.” 

Your whole body shivers, his words making your pussy begin to drip out onto your shorts. The look of his face as he recalls his memories. Those words added to all of his others that prove to you again that you have Joel’s heart, mind and body. He is yours. 

“God. Th—that’s good,” you breathe out, your eyes widening when you watch him bite his lip as he squeezes his cock. He has you flustered, and he knows, his mouth grinning into the signature cocky smirk he gets whenever you get like this. As if his sense of self blooms whenever he makes your heart race. 

You can’t allow him this pleasure over you, you’re the one in control tonight. You remind yourself that this is what Joel wants. You steel yourself and stand a little taller. 

“Stop,” you bark out. 

He obeys, mouth slacking open in shock at your raised voice. His hand unwrapping from around himself. 

“Good job, I think you were getting a little too comfortable, weren’t you?” 

Joel just stares at you, seems he forgot to nod. 

“I can’t let you have the power tonight, can I? Acknowledge me Joel.”

“N—no,” an actual stutter from Joel Miller’s mouth. Not a grunt, not a short one word answer, an actual nervous stutter. 

“That’s right. Now, I think you’ve had too much fun putting on a show for me. Go sit in the middle of the couch.” 

He nods, his broad frame passes by you, he doesn’t even take the time to look at you. 

You follow behind and wait until he takes a seat. You love seeing Joel on your couch, in your bed, using one of your bowls to eat oatmeal out of. You love seeing him in your space, all comfortable and domestic, but seeing him now naked on your couch, his hard cock sitting straight up, his large hands sitting atop his strong thighs, shoulders taking up most of the backrest of his seat, sitting ready to listen to your commands.  This is how you really like to see him. He’s fucking gorgeous. 

“So, you had your fun with your body, I want to have my fun with your body,” you stand over him. Now your body gets to loom over his. 

You bring the collar of Joel’s shirt up to your nose, inhale deeply and moan. “Have I told you before how much I love how your smell? Sometimes I’ll be wearing one of your shirts to bed I’ll smell your scent on it and it’ll make me wet while I’m trying to go to sleep.” The sound from Joel’s mouth makes you bolder. “One night, I might just knock on your door, in only your shirt and my jacket, make you help me take care of what smelling you does to me. Would you like that?” 

Joel shudders and furiously nods.

“Ohh, had a feeling you would,” you chuckle as you remove his shirt off of you. “I’m going to do something I've been wanting to do, okay?”

A nod, a groan, and a sigh now. The more reactions you get at once, the more you know how good you’re doing. 

You pull down your shorts, and kick them aside. His fingers grip into his thighs, his forearms straining at the sight of you. He’s going through it. 

“Can you see me glisten for you baby?” You ask as you lift your foot onto the couch cushion and snake your hand down in between your legs. “See how wet I got watching you touch yourself for me?” You take a finger and run it across your folds gathering your wetness. You hold it up for Joel, his eyes glued to your finger. “Open your mouth.” 

He listens. You slide your finger into his mouth, his lips forming around it, a low moan vibrating against it. 

“Put your hands on the couch, you can’t touch me, you can only watch. Okay?” 

Joel obeys. He still sucks your finger as you straddle his thigh. His skin radiates heat against you once you place your wet pussy on it. You’ve wanted to do this since you saw his bare legs for the first time, his thighs are so muscular and yet so supple, much like the rest of his features. Joel groans as you begin to ride his thigh, rubbing yourself back and forth against his skin. 

“You like how wet my pussy feels on your thigh?” You pull your finger out of his mouth. “Answer me Joel. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes.”

“What do you like?” 

“Your wet pussy on my th— I like your wet pussy on my thigh,” his low cadence and the pressure against your aching cunt pushing you close to your orgasm.

“I’m going to make myself cum on your thigh, okay? I’m so close.” You begin to grind your hips down on his his thigh, putting the perfect amount of friction against your clit. 

Your hands splay against Joel’s chest, feeling his breaths and his moans rumble against your palms.

“I’m gonna cum on your thigh Joel.” You grab and pull on his chest hair as your climax reaches you, cresting over and spilling onto Joel’s thigh as you grind against it. Joel’s eyes boring into you looking forlorn and tortured that he can’t touch you as you cum on him. 

You rest your head against his shoulder as you catch your breath. You need to recover quickly, you’re ready to ride him. 

Joel grumbles as you stand back up. 

“Would you look at that? Look down baby, look how wet I got your thigh.” You place your hands on his thighs, a hand resting in the puddle of your slick left on his skin. You lean forward as he looks down and nibble the bare skin of his heart patch before licking your way down his neck and chest. “Should probably clean that up, huh?” You ask as your rest your lips against the plush of his belly before gently biting it. 

He groans as you move your mouth down, bypassing his hard cock to the side. You stick your tongue out and lick a long stripe up his thigh tasting yourself as you clean his skin. His breathing turns more labored as he watches you lick yourself up.

“Mm, wonder how I’d taste licking my cum off your cock?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his crotch, his hard cock throbbing against your cheek.

His hips jut as you turn your head and kiss the shaft of him. 

“You’re going to cum fast for me, aren’t you?” You leave a kiss on his shaft higher than your last one.

“I love how hard you always cum for me,” another kiss moving your way up his hardness. 

“I love the way you fuck my mouth while you cum down my throat,” another kiss.

“I love the way my name sounds as you chant it when I make your legs shake,” another kiss right under his tip.

“I love how your cum tastes as I lick it from my lips,” another kiss on his tip, tasting the precum collected on it. 

“Fuck,” he finally utters, not being able to hold back as you lick along the trail of where you just kissed him.

“Shhhh,” you silence against the soft skin of his firmness. “I think it’s about time for me to fuck you, before you get any more ideas about talking.”

Another deep exhale from him, his nose flaring in frustration. You fucking love this. 

“Put your hands on the top of your head, and don’t you dare lower them. Don’t touch me, okay?”

Joel nods raising his hands as you plant yourself back on the couch, straddling his legs. His eyes follow your body, his brows a bit more furrowed now. 

You hover your pussy over his cock, leaving enough space between the two of you that if he really wanted, he could raise his hips and stick his cock in, but he doesn’t. He wants to do good for you. 

“Open your mouth,” you angle your head forward, your lips right in front of his. Joel’s mouth opens, his heavy breathing hitting you in the face, as you lick into his mouth.

You swirl your hips over his cock slowly lowering yourself on him, you’re so soaked for him he easily slides into you. 

A long sigh escapes the back of his throat as you begin to ride him. You pull back from his mouth and rest your hands against his chest. His hands still sit on top of his head, you glance up and see how he’s grabbing at his hair in exasperation. 

He watches as you move your hands from his chest to yours, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples. 

“Like watching me touch my tits like the way you do? Like how I pinch and pull my nipples like you?”

High pitched moans and groans of frustration leave his mouth. Joel Miller is whimpering. 

“Shhhh, shhh, I know baby. Now quiet. Want to hear my wet pussy ride you, stay quiet,” you say grabbing his jaw and pushing his mouth shut. 

You begin fucking him harder, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing on him and his whimpers the only sounds in the room. You lean forward and rest your head in the juncture between his head and shoulder. You slam yourself up and down on him, the rapidness of your movements matching the rapidness of your heart as you bring yourself close to your orgasm.

Your back straightens as you place your hands on his biceps, staring in his big brown eyes as your body snaps, your pussy clutching his cock as you cum around Joel. He bites his bottom lip fighting his orgasm for as long as he can. His biceps straining against your grasp as you feel his body begin to quake. 

“Clooooose,” he husks. You slip out of him, moving quickly on shaky legs through the aftershocks of your orgasm kneeling down in front of him. His hands are still in his hair as he looks down at you, watching you seal your mouth over him. You bob your head up and down on him as he cums down your throat. 

You swallow all of him down as he chants your name. His hands lower, resting against the hollows of your cheeks as you still keep his softening cock in your mouth.

You stare up at him, his hair left awry and twisted from his hands, eyes wide and still blown out as he blinks down at you, his chest rising and falling still catching his breath. He looks at you, like you’re the only thing in this world. You are the center of his universe. 

#tw marijuana #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller ff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel the last of us

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back. 

so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

#im a lil unsure how to feel abt this piece i feel like it lost its flow pretty quickly 😔👉👈but i rlly did have fun writing it hehe #my baseline for yan!gojo is basically; a kind man who’s so in love w u that he’s willing to compromise his own morals to keep u safe #he’s not particularly possessive or even obsessive?? to him violence really is just . a necessary means to keep u happy #this is almost definitely the only yan piece ill ever write bUT im very fond of this gojo … he’s a tortured little meowmeow <33 #cw yandere #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #tw yandere

[luvhughes43]

instagram official | blake hughes au

blake hughes masterlist

blake.hughes

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, trevorzegras, and others

blake.hughes life lately :)

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jackhughes suit jacket looks a lil familiar...🧐

blake.hughes oh really?😁

nicohischier whoevers jacket it is has really nice taste! liked by blake.hughes

trevorzegras 🤭🤭

user00 wtf are u giggling about?

blake.hughes wait trev do u know?

trevorzegras yea jack called a mandatory ft a few days ago

blake.hughes omfg??

trevorzegras im happy for u goldie!

user01 BLAKE WATCH OUT!!! THERES A MAN BESIDE U!!

user02 blakes got a bf? omg im so happy for her

user03 monroes the cutest cat omfg

user04 wait can we acknowledge trevor calling blake goldie? what is that

user05 its been a thing for awhile now! he started calling her goldie after she won olympic gold! he mentioned it in an interview or something i think

user04 NICO NICO NICO

nicohischier

liked by blake.hughes, john.marino97, trevorzegras, and others

nicohischier Happy Holidays!😈❤️

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jackhughes 🔥🔥

blake.hughes 😈

user09 using the "😈" when soft launching ur teammates sister is crazy

user10 waittt who's he dating?

user09 streets are saying hes dating blake hughes! she recently posted a soft launch AND she was caught liking thirst edits of him😭

user10 oh theyre so unserious😭😭

comments on this post is limited

blake.hughes added to their story !

nicohischier posted one minute ago!

liked by jackhughes, blake.hughes, lhughes_06, and others

nicohischier the best december :)

tagged: blake.hughes

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blake.hughes :)

blake.hughes you make me beyond happy

nicohischier Du bringst mich zum Lächeln❤️

jackhughes nice but was the last pic really necessary?

nicohischer my bad

lhughes_06 does this mean I get to call you dad now?

jackhughes no

_quinnhughes no

user17 BLAKE???????

user18 OMFG ITS CONFIRMED THEY BOTH POSTED

user18 at the same time too like thats soulmatism😭🙏

user19 nicos reply in german... im gonna kms theyre so cute wtf😭

blake.hughes posted 1 minute ago!

liked by nicohischier, _quinnhughes, trevorzegras and others

blake.hughes my nico<3

tagged: nicohischier

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jackhughes … yours🤨

jackhughes pretty sure he was mine first bud

blake.hughes right but out of the two of us, who does he spend his nights with?

jackhughes WOAH?????

trevorzegras i think he’s ALL of ours

jackhughes no

blake.hughes no

nicohischier my girl❤️

trevorzegras 👽🍿

blake.hughes ok

_quinnhughes FINALLY🙏

jackhughes ?

_quinnhughes i’ve been waited for MONTHS for them to go ig official you don’t understand

jackhughes how tf did you find out so soon? Dawson literally told me like 2 weeks ago

_quinnhughes I know everything.

jackhughes alright mr. “i don’t really consider myself someone who knows what’s going on”

_quinnhughes they probably could’ve made out in front of you and you still wouldn’t have realized… mr. “I didn’t know there was a city in New Jersey”

trevorzegras Trevor ZEGRAS🧡

user20 in every pic of blake and nico hes always touching her in some way... like he loves her so bad they are my parents

user21 THE WAY BLAKE LOOKS AT NICO IM GOING TO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE THEY LOOK SO IN LOVE

user22 oh to be a fly on the wall when jack found out about the news...

user23 bro was definitely pouting he has such intense middle child syndrome

user24 MY NICO... MY GIRL??? ?OHHH ITS SO OVER THEY'RE SO DAMN CUTE

user25 i'm so glad that blake is happy after everything that happened... she deserves it the most<33

user26 NICO AND BLAKE ARE FR DATING??? WHY WHY WHY WHY

user27 ? get serious

#blake hughes au #nico hischier fic #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic

[cozymoko]

You wanted requests, right? So what if it was the other way around? Yandere Siyun Baek having to take care of his girlfriend that got sick?

(I hope this requests isn't too boring, love your blog btw ❤❤)

SIYUN BAEK WITH A SICK S/O

Manhwa: “Dreaming Freedom” ~~~~!

Note: Its perfect! Thank you for requesting! Also thank you for reading, you made my day. ♡

Pairing: Siyun Baek x female! reader

Format: Headcanons; 2nd person

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, obsession, mild spoilers

Word Count: ???

It's ALLERGY and/or FLU SEASON, and unfortunately, you've fallen very ill. Best case scenario you'll have a cold and nothing more; a high fever at the worst. But either way, Siyun isn't complaining.

You can't go anywhere? Great! You feel like absolute shit and can barely move from your bed? Oh my, even better! Besides working out, Siyun doesn't have much to pass his time with. He's lonely without you, often finding himself watching the clock, counting the minutes — seconds before you return to him.

But seeing you tucked tightly beneath the pastel duvet, wrapped in a small cocoon. Your cheeks lightly flushed a rather feverish hue, as ragged breaths slipped past your dry lips. Call him crazy but you're absolutely adorable. He could hardly keep his hands to himself!

“Y'know, you look really cute like this {Name}.”

You huffed, “You almost look happy that I'm in this situation.” With a light shove, you pushed his face away from your own for what felt like the thousandth time. Finally ditching the thick sheets, you turn away from him, welcoming the chilled puffs of air to your warm skin.

“Would you be mad if I said I was?” Siyun asked, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing his cheek into the tender skin of your own. “God, you're adorable...”

“Yes. Now, let go; I'm burning up.”

Siyun is CLINGY as it is. Therefore, you being bedridden to some degree is right up his alley. Personal space has never been a thing in your relationship, and he's not going to let a little flu stop him. Embracing you, suffocating you with his body; it's all too easy! Pressing sweet, chaste kisses along the warm skin of your neck. Sneakily, dragging his slender fingers beneath the flimsy silk of your pajamas.

In all honesty, he'd rather have you stay at his house until you feel well again. It works pretty well, convenience-wise. It stops him from wrenching your door open, occupying your home with the crying of loud unwavering hinges. Or perhaps even sneaking through your window.

You being so vulnerable excites him in more ways than he'd care to admit. He truly is a pervert. Chewing on his pink lips, even digging his nails into his milky skin, no longer seems to be enough. Though his desires are anything but malicious, Siyun can't help the wandering of his young mind to many, many impure places.

Your parents already adore him, let's be honest! Thus, convincing them to let you stay the night or week should be a piece of cake. It's almost scary, the way he speaks to your parents; so polite and dare I say perfect. It's truly no surprise that he was a former idol, a famous one at that. How could your adoring mother and father not allow such a kind man to nurture and care for your well-being?

Siyun brings your head to his chest, relishing in the heat you radiate. His hands had fallen past your waist, toying with the thin band of your thin shorts. You give his chest a weak push, as a pitiful attempt to distance yourself. But it was no use, he merely pulled you closer, much to your dismay.

“Siyun...” You breathed out, weakly clawing at his slender hands. “Stop this, you're going to get sick.”

He hummed, “Is that so?” Though his hands showed no sign of leaving your waist. Instead, they tugged you flush against his chest with a low chuckle. Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, making you tense in anticipation.

“Then I guess we're just gonna have to be sick together~!” ♡

Let's say you're a STUDENT; high school or college, it's your choice. And due to your abrupt sickness, you're bound to miss at least a handful of classes. But fret not my dear, your classmates are itching to help you out. I mean, you're dating the Siyun Baek after all, just a glance at him could send anything girl into a frenzy!

Thankfully, your teacher settled for your seatmate. A kind, extroverted guy who you got along with quite well. He had managed to get your number due to a recent project and was quick to alert you of his unexpected arrival.

[CHOI BYUNG-CHUL]

➤ Heya [Last Name], the teacher asked me to bring sum missin assignments to ur place. Is that okey with u?

SENT; 17:23

You snort at the scrambled characters, finding some charm amongst the male's easy mistakes. It wasn't something unusual as he was an infamous clutz in your class. So he was likely texting while typing, again. Your fingers hover over the luminous keyboard, before eventually sending him a simple response.

[YOU] ➤ Yeah, it's fine lol. But I'm not home so come to this address “XX XXXX Avenue/Drive/Street” SENT; 17:25

➤ Have a safe trip. :)

SENT; 17:25

While immersed in your phone, you had yet to notice a certain someone looming over you in displeasure. From lack of attention, perhaps. But you had never been one to allow technology to soak up your time, nonetheless when you're ill. So who could possibly be taking up your time? He pondered, glaring hard at the device resting on your hand.

Pulling back the covers, Siyun moved to join you beneath the spotless sheets of the mattress. The dipping of the bed didn't bother you, let alone pull you from the flashing screen of your phone. The ex-idol sighed loudly, shifting to take the pesky item from your protective grip. Only to be brushed off by a bored, dismissive hand.

He. Was. Livid.

“Babe~!” Siyun cooed, though his tone lacked even an ounce of playfulness. “What on your phone could possibly be so damn interestin—” DING DONG!

Whew! Saved by the bell.

“I'll get it.” He murmured under his breath, tossing the thick duvet to the side. The man was quick to leave in long, haste strides, but not before his eyes flicked to your stunned form one last time.

Now, Siyun had expected a lot of things, but this surely wasn't one of them. A shorter male, about five feet seven inches, no older than nineteen was at his door. His mousy brown hair was a mess, and he had a lightly tinted folder tucked tightly beneath his arm.

“H-hi, I'm one of [Last Name]'s classmates and I brought some papers to her.” Byung-Chul commenced, frantically unzipping the top of his backpack. “She — uhm, texted me this address.”

Oh, now it all made sense. The persistent flashing of your phone, snatching your attention right from his grasp. The lighthearted giggles that'd leave your mouth ever so often. Friendly, that they were. Giggles that held no sense of love; merely admiration and glee. Even so, it wasn't good enough.

One could say the latter is quite bitter. And if If looks could kill, your friend would be six — no, ten feet under! And that's being generous. But Siyun knows better than to let his bad side show. Heh, who am I kidding?

A faux smile tugged at the corner of his lips, one he was all too familiar with using. “Ah, I see. Thanks for coming...?”

“Choi Byung-Chul!” He chirped, handing the papers to the former idols' outstretched hand.

“Heh, right,” Siyun scoffs, disinterested. He lazily takes the folder from the male, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. “Since you're already here, I have a little favor for you. If you're up for it.”

“I...um — yeah, sure,” Byung-Chul stammered, looking over the time blaring from the smartwatch adorning his wrist. “I can spare a few minutes. What's up—?”

A sharp pain shot through the poor man's abdomen in mere seconds, sending him crumbling to his knees. Siyun loosely shook his wrist in the air, allowing the gentle breeze to cool the slight stinting of his knuckles. A cold, lifeless expression grazed the face of the once-beloved idol as he watched the man wither beneath his gaze.

“Stay away from [Name]. I wouldn't want anyth ing bad to happen to you~!”

#—🍁 #x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere scenarios #yancore #yandere male #male yandere #siyoon baek #siyun baek #baek siyun #dreaming freedom #dreaming freedom x reader #siyun baek x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere hedacanons #yandere manwha #yandere male x reader #manwha headcanons #manhwa x reader

[multific]

A Love Without Words

Paul Atreides x Mute!Reader

Summary: Destiny has its way to make us suffer. It gives us power but it can take it away just as easily. 

You and Paul grew up together.

It was decided at a young age that you were to become his wife when the time comes.

Lady Jessica remembered the day he took his young boy, barely two years old into the healers where you were just born. 

Lady Jessica remembered the day he told his son that the baby laying in the crib will be his wife. 

Paul didn't understand it back then. Of course, he didn't, he was too young.

You soon grew up to be a strong woman, strong with the Voice. Your power and ability to use the Voice became evident at a young age.

You loved to sing as well.

It is how Paul fell in love with you. One morning, he heard a voice, oh so sweet, singing. He knew he needed to find the person. He needed to know who it was. And he found you. Baking away as you sang. Paul was only sixteen, yet he found the love of his life.

---

But then, things turned for the worst. On your sixteenth birthday, you celebrated with your family.

Your family was attacked.

The Duke himself went to help but it was all in vain. Your parents were dead, and they found you in terrible conditions.

"My Lady, she is stable now, her vitals are good but... My Lady... she lost her voice." Paul and her mother looked at the nurse as she handed them a note.

'I tried to save them, I used the Voice but I failed. And now, I lost my parents and the Voice.'

Paul looked up at the nurse, demanding answers.

"She can't speak anymore, she had gone mute."

Mute.

Your beautiful voice.

Your songs.

Were all gone?

The voice that made him laugh and smile. The voice that talked so sweetly to him.

Was it truly gone?

Paul looked at his mother who had sadness in her eyes.

All she could say was "At least she is still alive."

But it was no comfort for Paul.

He headed into the room, finding you alone in bed, but you weren't sleeping.

He didn't say anything, he didn't know what to say.

So, he sat down beside your bed and held your hand as you silently cried.

Paul wanted nothing more than to burn the world. The world that took so much from you. 

You swore on that hospital bed that no matter what, you won't let this fully break you.

It is what your attackers would have wanted, and you weren't going to give them the satisfaction of winning.

They came into your home to kill you and your family due to your closeness to the Duke. Everyone knew about your engagement to Paul, and they wanted to attack where it would hurt.

And it hurt. 

It really did hurt Paul.

You were moved into his room, his mother decided to marry you to him earlier. Saying in order to keep your title and the power your House once had, you had to be married.

It was disgusting to hear that after the day of your attack, many nobles offered their daughters up for marriage to Paul.

But there you were, only a week after you buried your parents and your voice, you were standing in a white dress getting married. 

You tried to be happy, after all, you did love Paul with all of your heart. 

But you were still grieving.

Slowly, you started to heal, Paul and Lady Jessica did help you a lot. While the Lady tried to help you get your voice back, Paul wanted you to accept the fact that you lost it.

You felt like you were pulled in two directions.

Then the following week, during your daily training with Lady Jessica, you finally had enough.

'I don't wish to continue. I lost my voice and I'm coming to terms with it, Paul helps a lot. I understand that the Voice is a gift. Unfortunately, I have lost my gift, so I'm trying to find a new purpose.'

Read the note you handed to Lady Jessica before exiting the room.

She didn't argue. She knew she was holding onto something which she couldn't save. She knew, but at least you both tried.

Now, you needed a new purpose, and motivation to keep you going. And you found it in Paul. 

Paul was a kind soul. Attentive, affectionate and caring. He loved you like no other. 

And you loved him. You loved that even though you were only a shadow of the woman you once were, he loved you.

You often found yourself in the library, reading or by the window looking out.

Your daily routine was simple. And every day you had dinner with your now-family. The Duke, Lady Jessica and Paul. 

You never really paid attention to the conversations, it was mainly the Duke speaking with Paul 

Then, during one dinner, something caught your attention. Something the Duke said.

A child.

The Duke asked Paul when does he plan on having a child, an heir. 

It shocked you. It really did.

Considering that you and Paul only spent one night intimate. It was the best night of your life. Even if he said he didn't have any experience, you didn't mind. 

You were still rather nervous around him.

Thankfully you had your notepad with you. Everyone watched as you wrote something before a servant stepped up and you handed him the note. He read it out loud.

"It was rather difficult for my mother to conceive. It is why I am an only child. I'm afraid I might have the same difficulty, My Duke. I sincerely apologise." as he finished you bowed your head and everyone was so speechless it made you nervous. You did just admit to a flaw in your bloodline. But it would be better for them to know. You motioned for the servant who gave you back the notebook and you wrote. "I do wish to be a mother, however. But I do not want to rush my husband with such duty. My mother often said, 'It will happen when the time is right.'" 

"You are such a sweetheart, Y/N." said the Duke. "I remember your father often reminding me of your mother's... issues. I simply asked because the council was also curious. I do understand however, it is not their place to ask."

You knew that a baby could be a good purpose for you. But you also didn't want to have a baby and then have this feeling of only giving birth because you lost your purpose. You wished to have a child out of love, not duty.

While you did understand it was one of your duties. You also didn't wish the child to have this sense that you only gave birth because of that reason.

And somehow Paul understood that. But he also desperately wanted to give you more. Give you his voice in exchange for yours. He wanted to give you the entire Galaxy.

It is why he spoke up and told his father, when you two are ready for a child, you shall have one.

You appreciated Paul taking your side.

Later that evening, you were in the bath, enjoying the water before Paul would soon return.

You smiled to yourself, imagining a young boy, hair like Paul's running around, giggling and calling you Mommy.

It was beautiful.

But you knew you had a low chance. And babies are supposed to hear their mommies talk.

You will never be able to do that. And it hurt. 

You really needed something to take up your mind. You felt like you have read every book in there. You felt like you explored all rooms.

You sank deeper into the tub when your servants arrived and helped you clean and got you dressed. 

"How was your day?" asked Paul as he entered the room and sat down on your shared bed. You offered him a smile and a nod. "Great, I have a surprise for you." 

You grabbed your note, 'Now?'

"I was supposed to wait until tomorrow morning, but I can't."

He grabbed your hand and guided you down the halls and into the garden, there you noticed something in the back.

It looked like a...

Paul guided you closer. It was harder to see in the dark.

It was a green house, made out purely from glass. 

"I just thought... Mother said ladies usually enjoy gardens and flowers and I thought you might like it." you silently walked inside, looking at all the possibilities as all trays were still empty.

Paul stood in silence as he watched you looking around. You soon noticed a corner where there were sofas placed. You walked over and soon turned to paul.

'Is this for me?'

"Of course! You can decorate or plant however you like. Tomorrow a planner will come and you can tell her what you would like."

'This is wonderful, Paul.'

"I know you have been feeling lost since your voice and parents were taken from you. I hope this will give you a new goal to take your mind off of things."

You wanted to cry, you walked over to him and hugged him. Silently thanking him.

"I hope, every time I come in here I will see you smile." you pulled away and smiled at him. He smiled back. "I love you so much, Y/N."

You placed your palm on his heart.

It was your way of telling him that you felt the same, that you loved him just as much.

It might have been a love without words, but Paul understood it perfectly.

Your eyes shined every time you looked at him, your smile was always so kind and pure.

He slowly leaned down to kiss your perfect lips. 

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#Paul Atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fem reader #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides imagines #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides fanfiction #dune fanfiction #dune #dune imagine #dune imagines #dune fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine #paul atreides x fem reader #paul atreides x female reader #paul atreides x Fem!reader #x fem reader #mute reader #mute au

[greythemed]

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ lovesick ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 1936

he looked unreal, all tanned with his beautiful eyes half closed as he looked down, full lips unconsciously forming a pout. his chest was bronzed and openly displayed for anyone with two eyes and a drooling mouth.

you wanted to eat him alive.

it was supposed to be a peaceful morning at your parents' beach house on the coast but, apparently, your boyfriend chose violence that day. with sleepy eyes and a drowsy appearance, you immediately realized that you accidentally fell asleep while trying to get tanned by the summer sun in the morning. luckily, the book you were reading fell from your grip at some point and didn't leave a funny mark on your stomach for woo-jin to laugh about later.

how can one person be so beautiful, inside and out? was he even real, or will you inevitably wake up to find the space beside you empty, his presence fading with your dreams?

you get goosebumps just imagining it.

feeling your eyes on him, gun-woo looked up from his drawing, a big smile forming on his pink lips.

"you look like shit, babe".

oh wow, what a day to feel loved.

"fuck off". you grumbled while sitting up and picking the book from the floor next to you, gun-woo's eyes never leaving your bikini form. "what took you so long to get here?". you asked him pouty.

"your mother asked me to move the sofa three times so she could do her pilates session in the living room". gun-woo couldn't help but laugh at his answer, never imagining he'd be in this position someday.

it was your first family trip as a couple, and also the first time gun-woo went on a plane and traveled since his school's excursion in 9th grade to say the best. you were happy to see him happy. it was thrilling to see the man in another setting, different from the usual gym clothes or café outings you guys first got to know each other. you considered yourself a good girlfriend, providing these opportunities for both of you while so young, even if gun-woo was paying for basically everything other than the house you were staying. you were a good girlfriend, right?

so why the living hell was he acting so mean towards you?

"i'm sorry about that". you grimaced embarrassingly because of your mother. "just because you have an insane amount of muscle she thinks you're her personal guard". gun-woo laughs. that bright innocent smile that makes his eyes disappear.

fuck you kim geun-woo for being so mean.

"my mom used to say we should never neglect help from others, including offering help in the first place". he tells you with innocence, a sudden wave of sympathy running through his veins strong enough to make him vocalize his thoughts. you were too accustomed with this side of him, being together for almost 6 months. “she also used to say that we always must look for the best in people”.

he was too pure. so why could you only think other things like what was this man saying? and why wasn't he kissing your mouth right now?

you embarrassingly found yourself in this predicament more times than you could count with your boyfriend.

the sound of his voice didn't shake you out of your sleepy daze, looking up at him with eyes full of love and wonder. like a lovesick puppy whose brain didn't seem to register the spoken words, too caught up in its own reverie.

when he didn't get the reply he was hoping for, gun-woo finally put down the pen and paper and leaned closer to you, your knees now touching and you almost choked on your saliva.

you loved him too much. and he was so hot.

“y/n?” he asked softly, placing a hand on top of your lap, the feel of his surprisingly cold hands against your warm skin almost making you shiver.

"i was so worried when i woke up and didn't see you, figured you'd be reading here". his smile continued to be nothing other than soothing, comforting, and exclusive.

exclusive for you and only you.

"woo-jin tried facetiming early this morning but i was still sleeping, i kind of feel bad for him not being able to come this time". he rambles. "and i also feel bad for sleeping so late, i hope your parents don't mind it. yesterday was a good day".

of course it was a good day. it was gun-woo's first ever private flight and you couldn't put your mind around the fact that this man's whole life was a huge unfair exposure to only the bad in life. you wanted to cry suddenly. cry for everything cruel that happened to him. cry for his still pure but poorly scarred heart. cry for his smiles and goodmorning pecks. cry for his fucking six-pack and spy reflexes.

cry because he was yours. exclusively.

without saying a word, you gently pulled his hands away before wrapping yours around his shoulders in a much-needed hug, the love you felt for him overwhelming all your senses. his arms found their place around your waist immediately, pulling his body closer and pouring all his love into you in return.

it was his fault for dating such a crybaby and he knew it, because the second he touched your waist and ribs, the boxer knew you were about to cry because of your uneaving breathing.

gun-woo hesitated for a second, giving your body another squeeze before finally speaking.

"are you okay, princess?" his voice was calm as he gently stroked your hair, knowing damn well you got emotional in the mornings sometimes. his 'bedroom voice' - that's what you called, don't judge - was enough to make your eyes sting, causing you to snuggle closer to his neck with a nod.

"'m okay".

you loved his bedroom voice - again, don’t judge the name you came up with -, it was special for you. it held something ethereal in the fact that he dropped a few octaves to talk to you and only you. the intimacy he could bring only by speaking more calmly to you, everywhere you both were together and tangled in each other's arms like right now.

everything was different. the setting, the weather, the clothes - it made you realize for the very first time in the six months of your relationship that dating itself shouldn't be overwhelming, tiring, or burdensome.

dating should feel like the books you grew up reading and the movies you grew up watching. anything other than that, it didn't belong to you in the first place.

you felt so comfortable in his embrace like you were floating on a fluffy cloud as the sun was slowly disappearing, so warm and safe. it was just the best, being with the man you loved, and nothing could come close to how you were feeling in his presence, surrounded by his unconditional love and care.

fuck, you were sounding like a corny teenager and it was embarrassing.

"y/n, you're going to tell me what's on your mind, aren't you?". the sound of his concern was evident in his voice, reminding you that - even if this man's thighs were the size of your head -, he still was worried and soft on the inside type of boyfriend.

you were his first girlfriend. gun-woo didn't know how to do things usually.

without missing a beat, you looked him in the eye for the question.

"i love you, gunwoo-ya". you started to pour your eyes out for no reason. you blamed the hormones, your mom would blame the weather and woo-jin would blame the books you read but you didn't care.

the corners of his mouth turned up in response, a soft, sincere smile stretching across his face because he was also just that: a lovesick puppy.

"i l-love you too". gun-woo wasn't expecting that, you could tell. he was too nonchalant for his own good sometimes.

like who the fuck wears pink bright shorts at his parents-in-law’s beach house? WITH NO SHIRT ON.

his eyes were full of love as he looked at you, the sun making the already beautiful landscape even more dazzling as time seemed to stop once more, everything but him disappearing at that moment. not being able to wait any longer, gun-woo then leaned his head up, pouty lips brushing yours teasingly for a moment before connecting in a proper kiss.

his touch was soft and tender, brushing against your mouth as he had so many times before, your tongue darting out to meet his briefly as his arms around your waist pulled you even closer. the sudden change in height since you got up from the bench was a different angle for both of you.

a silent moan escaped your lips as your barely clothed breast brushed against his, giving your boyfriend the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue properly inside your mouth for another taste.

his hands squeezed your sides lightly, applying just the right amount of pressure to feel good, and just as you were about to pull him even closer to deepen the kiss, he slowly pulled back, making you want his lips more.

a smile appeared on his face at that, the smugness behind it pouting in response. you straddled him so your faces were on the same level and suddenly the boxer went exe.error404

"jagi, your mom-". he spoke, his hot breath hitting your face with each exhale. you smirked at him.

he was so mean.

"how can you act innocent right after sucking my mouth dry a second ago, you monster?".

"b-but-". oh no. his cheeks were red, wide eyes searching for one of your parents to pop up from nowhere suddenly, hands finding no safe spot to grip at your sides, finally opting to put them in your waist, almost engulfing its whole circumference because of the size of his hands.

when a few moments passed and you still remained in the same state, he finally relented and sealed your lips once more in a quick kiss, one of his hands moving up from your waist to gently caress your swollen lower lip afterward.

“is that what you've been thinking about all this time, baby?". he asked embarrassingly, eyes avoiding your brown ones for all that was worth.

you nodded, your eyes roaming all over his face before reaching out to move some of the hair away from his eyes, gathering his attention.

"sorry, but yes". you pouted, a small smile starting to appear on the boxer's mouth. you could tell he was embarrassed to hear you confess he occupies your mind 24/7 as if he didn’t know that yet. "and that you are so irritably sexy".

not even one second after, gun-woo's hand is covering your mouth with his eyes wide open and a laugh escapes your lips. he instantly mouths for you to be careful.

"i didn't even say anything wrong!". you defend, automatically tracing his scar on the right side of his face like you are already used to, brushing his hair at the end.

"you want sexy time, i know you!". he whisper-shouts, now completely avoiding your gaze. you laughed.

"sorry". you were not. "it's not my fault you're wearing pink shorts! you can't do this to me, you're mean!". you whined on his lap.

"you were crying seconds ago, what happened?!". it was his turn to pout, looking genuinely confused at your change of emotions. "woojin-hyung said you were crazy when you guys first met".

"aish- that old f-". gun-woo covered your mouth again, warning you. "he's lucky he didn't make it here".

this one is for my crybaby girlies i got you don't worry, gun-woo is here to wipe your tears and fuck your brains out - in a loving way. loved imagining beach!gunwoo a little too much.

#this was supposed to be longer im sorryyyy #hope you enjoyed anyways!! #woo do hwan #kim geun woo x reader #kim gun woo #bloodhounds fanfic #bloodhounds #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds netflix #bloodhounds kdrama

[hjparisian]

christmas kiss- harry j potter x reader

p: harry j potter x fem!reader w: fluff, not proofread summary: spending christmas with harry and the gang at hogwarts a/n: lil thing i whipped up, sorry its not the best. happy holidays everyone !

Christmas time at Hogwarts was one of the most gorgeous times of the year. The halls were decorated in holiday glee, Christmas trees lined the Great Hall thanks to Hagrid and the house elves. A white blanket of snow covered the grounds of the school, adding to the winter spirit.

Few students littered the halls of Hogwarts, most returning to homes to celebrate this wonderful holiday with family, but that didn't ruin the Christmas cheer.

(Y/N) (L/N) sat alone in her dorm, doing some very last minute gift wrapping. Her dormmates went home and her parents had something come up last minute which meant she would have to stay at the castle.

She didn't mind though. Especially when Harry was staying along with Hermione and the Weasleys. It was a bit exciting to be able to spend the holiday break with her friends.

(Y/N) was wrapping the last gift, which was a scarf and a broom kit for Harry. The boy had been complaining about the state of his firebolt, so (Y/N) had bought the kit to help him fix up his broom (as well as to stop the complaining). The scarf was something she knitted herself, noticing Harry's slight shiver in the colder months as he lost his Gryffindor scarf.

Harry had always been a wonderful friend to her since they started bonding in their second year. But (Y/N) would be lying if she said she just saw him as a friend. His boyish charm didn't fail to captivate her and his loyalty and kindness was something she had always admired.

Once she finished wrapping the last gift, (Y/N) gathered the rest of the gifts to bring to the Gryffindor common room. After speaking the current password to the portrait of the Fat Lady, (Y/N) spotted the trio.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" (Y/N) announced to her friends.

Hermione was the first to greet her, taking the gifts from her arms before wrapping her arms around her in a hug.

"Merry Christmas (Y/N)!"

Ron came up and greeted her in a hug as well. Harry was last to greet her, but was the best. His hugs felt like home.

"Where's Fred, George, and Ginny?" (Y/N) inquired, noticing the absence of three red heads.

"They're all outside in the snow," Ron told her. "We told them we'd meet up with them in a bit."

(Y/N) nodded. "Well, I have your guys' gifts if you'd like to open it," she said as she began handing them their respective gifts.

Ron did not hesitate to rip the wrapping paper off his, revealing sweets from Honey Dukes, a winter hat, and a poster of his favorite Chudley Cannons Players.

"This is wicked, (Y/N)!"

Hermione unwrapped her presents with care. She received a planning journal and a book of wizarding history.

"Oh, (Y/N). I love it!"

(Y/N) knew Ron and Hermione would enjoy their gifts, but she had a bit more worry on what Harry would think of his. Maybe Harry expected something more. What if he hated his gift?

Finally, Harry unwrapped his present. The corners of his lips turn upward upon seeing what he got. The sight began to put (Y/N) at ease, but her worries still consumed the back of her mind.

Harry grabbed the scarf, feeling the texture between his fingers.

"This is lovely, (Y/N). Did you make this scarf?"

The girl smiled, glad Harry enjoyed his gifts. "I did. Took a while to get it to look perfect."

"Well it look stunning. Thank you (Y/N)," Harry said to her, wrapping her in another hug.

Ron coughed, causing them to break apart. A sly smile appeared on his face.

"Hate to ruin the moment, but I think my brothers and sister are waiting for us."

"Wait, but (Y/N) hasn't opened any of our gifts," Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, but I left yours in my room."

"It's fine Hermione. I can open it later." (Y/N) reassured her. "Besides. I'm ready to go out in the snow."

The four of them went to meet the twin and Ginny out in the castle grounds, where they found them making a snowman.

"Finally," Fred said. "We've been waiting ages for you lot."

"Thought we would have to drag you here ourselves," said George.

"We didn't take that long," Ron huffed at them. "Besides you guys w-"

A snowball hit Ron in the face, stopping his sentence. He wiped the snow off his face, revealing his now slightly red face.

"Oi! What gives?" He said before another snowball hit his shoulder.

"How about less talking," George began.

"And more snowball fighting," Fred said before he and George ran from Ron.

Ron groaned. "Oh alright. Come on guys."

Hermione shook her head. "You guys can go ahead. I'll help Ginny with her snowman."

"Suit yourself," said Ron. "Let's go Harry, (Y/N)."

Ron, Harry and (Y/N) joined Fred and George on their snowball fight. The twins mainly threw at Ron since they thought it was funny, but didn't fail to make an aim at each other or (Y/N) and Harry.

(Y/N) had caught up to Harry, who stood back watching as Fred and George used their wands to cast a pile of snow onto Ron, who began to spit curses at them while digging his way out to chase after them.

"So how has your break been," Harry asked the girl.

"It's been good," she told him. "It's a bit sad I can't celebrate Christmas with my parents, but at least I'm celebrating with you."

Harry flushed a bit. "I'm glad to be celebrating with you too."

"So," (Y/N) began. "Do you really like the scarf?"

Harry nodded. "I love it. I can't believe you made it for me."

"I'd do anything for you, Harry," She said truthfully.

"Anything?"

(Y/N) nodded, feeling her face flush. "Of course. You mean the world to me, you always help me with anything so why wouldn't I do the same?"

"Then you wouldn't mind giving me a kiss?"

(Y/N) was taken back by Harry's words.

"A kiss?"

Harry nodded his head, suddenly feeling shy despite his bold words.

"A kiss. But only if you want to," he quickly said. "It's fine if you don't, we can just forget I even asked. Honestly it's probably silly for me to-"

Harry's tangent was cut off by a pair of soft lips on his. He was a bit shocked by it, not expecting it. He gave in, kissing the girl back.

Unfortunate for him, (Y/N) was the first to pull back, the warmth of her lips leaving his. The two stood in brief silence, staring into each other bright eyes.

"That was."

"Nice," (Y/N) said. "Really nice."

"Yeah, really nice," Harry agreed.

"So, does this mean you like me?" (Y/N) asked. Her heartbeat was racing and it felt like the snowflakes around them were floating in her stomach. This was either going to go good or bad.

"Depends. Do you like me?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) responded. "I do."

"I like you too, (Y/N). Like you for a while actually," the boy admitted.

"Me too." The girl felt herself smiling.

Clapping sounds distracted the two as they turned to see the twins, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all with grins on their faces.

"Finally," Ron said to them. "I thought you guys were never going to tell each other."

"Thought we were going to have to do something about it, you know maybe a love potion." said Fred.

"Fred!" Hermione scolded him.

(Y/N) laughed a little. "Well I think I'm ready to head back in. Hot chocolate anyone?"

Everyone agreed and began to head back inside the castle. Harry and (Y/N) were at the ending trailing behind everyone, enjoying each others presence. Harry gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Christmas, (Y/N)."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #hjp #hjp x reader #hp fanfic #hp imagine #harry

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Child reader who hates physical touch and I mean absolutely despise it but sometimes clingy to poe and akutagawa too feel comfortable because of their social anxiety

No pats

Self-Aware! Platonic! Edgar Allan Poe x GN! Child! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Description: You are the cutest kid ever. Such a shame, that you don't like pats and hugs. Or, do you?

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

_____

🧥🦝 It was quite a surprise for BSD Cast, when they learned, that you are a child.

🧥🦝 They were a little bit worried. You are a kid, and you have read about some dark stuff in their manga. Aren't you too young to read about mafia, criminals and cities destruction?

🧥🦝 Well... There is nothing they can do about it. Besides, this revelation won't change much for them. They still adore you.

🧥🦝 How could they not adore you? You are sweet and cute child.

🧥🦝 After a little friendly competition between adult characters of an "acceptable for being an adopted parent", you were officially adopted by Bram.

🧥🦝 Bram is your guardian de jure. De facto you are adopted by every member of BSD Gang.

🧥🦝 BSD Cast do everything to make you feel happy. But, there is one little thing. And it makes them nervous.

🧥🦝 You hated any form of physical affection.

🧥🦝 Every time, someone tried to give you a head pat, you either froze or tried to dodge. And, while less tense, you didn't like, when other kids touched you.

🧥🦝 It made everyone feel puzzled and nervous.

🧥🦝 Were they scarring you? Has someone hurt you in the past? Maybe, they have rushed things, and you didn't want to be adopted by them?

🧥🦝 They decided to deal with the possibility of you being hurt in the past. Your medical records didn't show much. You were a healthy baby and healthy kid. But, documents can be forged.

🧥🦝 They needed to hear about your past from someone from your past. Teachers and people from orphanage.

🧥🦝 Time to call for Mushitarou's and Ango's abilities.

_______

"I swear, I didn't do anything bad! Please, don't hurt me!" Orphanage's director begged, trying to get away from Akutagawa.

Akutagawa's grip became stronger. Mafioso hissed. Rashomon slowly raised its head above Akutagawa's shoulder.

"I don't believe you. Why [Y/N] is so nervous, when someone are touching them?"

Director mewled, sobbed and lost consciousness.

Akutagawa rolled his eyes and lose his grip on Director. Man fall down on the floor, like a bag of potatoes.

Akutagawa stepped away and left the Director's office. He hopped, that Man-tiger could find something.

________

🧥🦝 Meanwhile, Poe decided to simply talk to you.

_______

You were enjoying your cake. Poe, who sat on the opposite side of the table, observed your movements. Karl was sitting on your lap. You wanted to give him a piece of your cake, but Poe warned you not to do this. Karl could become sick because of the cake.

"[Y/N], can I ask you something?" Poe's voice was warm and shooting. You nodded, silently chewing the sweet treat. Poe smiled. You looked like a hamster.

"[Y/N], are we scaring you? You always freeze, when someone tries to give you a head pat. Even when Q and Elise tried to hug you, you jumped away from them."

You swallow and shook your head.

"No! No! I love living with you. I just don't like being touched!"

Poe thought over your answer and asked another question.

"That's it? We won't be angry, if you feel nervous around us. It's okay to feel nervous in this situation."

You shook your head again.

"That's it. I always hated to be touched."

Poe just nodded. It's fine. He must tell others about it. So they won't make you upset anymore.

_______

🧥🦝 Akutagawa, Atsushi, Ango and Mushitarou didn't learn anything new about you. Everyone called you a sweet, quiet child, who have never got into troubles. At least, they've proved, that you weren't hurt in the past.

🧥🦝 When they returned home, Poe told them, what he has learned about you.

______

🧥🦝 Everything were fine.

🧥🦝 All of you slowly learned to be a family. You became more talkative. You started spending time with BSD Cast more often. You still didn't like physical affection. BSD Cast respected it.

🧥🦝 One day, something interesting happened.

🧥🦝 When you and Poe were getting groceries.

_______

The grocery store was almost empty.

As usual, you were walking close to Poe. As usual, weren't holding his hand or grabbing his sleeve. Poe kept a close eye on you.

Everything went fine. Until you two reached the candy aisle.

The bunch of kids, same age as you, were discussing their favorite candies. Kids were quite loud. But not loud enough to be asked to leave the store.

Then, Poe felt it. Two small hands grabbing his sleeve, and a child's face being pressed against his arm.

Poe looked at you. You looked nervous, glancing at the kids from time to time. You looked anxious.

Poe knew, too well, how social anxiety looked like. He carefully put his free hand on your head. You didn't move. You looked slightly grateful for having Poe's hand on your head.

"Want to leave?" whispered Poe. You nodded. Poe freed his arm from yours, took your hand, and went to the cash register.

You kept holding his hands. You let it go only when Poe and you almost reached home.

______

🧥🦝 You became more open in Poe's presence. You sent time in his room, playing with Karl, doing homework and reading books. Sometimes, you cling to Poe, when you felt nervous about school festivals/class gatherings.

🧥🦝 Soon, you found second person to be as open as you were with Poe.

🧥🦝 An unexpected one.

_____

You didn't like excursions. So many people around you makes you feel anxious. You take a deep breath. It didn't help to lessen your anxiety. So, you decide to move to the next step.

You clung to Akutagawa, who was accompanying you today.

Mafioso looked at you. He was slightly puzzled. But, after noticing your expression, unbuttoned his coat, hiding you with it.

"Thanks..." whispered you, clinging to Akutagawa's side.

"No problems," shrugged Akutagawa, giving you a headpat.

_____

🧥🦝 Now you have two people you go to, when you feel anxious. You liked to spend time with Poe and Akutagawa. Sometimes, you let them give you a headpat.

🧥🦝 Maybe, one day, you will cling to more people.

🧥🦝 For now, you have Older Brother Poe and Older Brother Akutagawa.

🧥🦝 And they will always be there for you.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic #edgar allen poe bsd #poe x reader #edgar allan poe x reader #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd poe #Self-Aware Edgar Allan Poe #Self-Aware Akutagawa Ryunosuke #akutagawa x you #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #bsd aktugawa

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Editor’s note: This hypothetically open letter was originally posted by its anonymous author on Medium and was rapidly removed as “hate speech.” We found it to be a refreshing dose of honesty, a charming and relatable open letter from one parent to other parents (not to the child, obviously!) about dealing with a challenging and dangerous moment in raising children, especially “weird” adolescents who search for their identities harder than others and risk making life-damaging mistakes in a way never before possible. We are reposting it here on New Discourses with the permission of the author.

--

By: Donna M.

Published: Mar 5, 2021

My dear, sweet, son,

I’ve got to break it to you: you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

This seems like a cruel thing to point out right now. Clearly, you are struggling and feeling pretty awful about things. I can see that you are in a rough patch, and one of the first rules of parenting is to not pile on. The world is pretty heavy on your shoulders. You’re fifteen. There’s a pandemic going on. But here I come anyway. I’m about to throw more on you.

When you were two ­– a happy, chubby, little tyke in pull-ups, you watched the world with wary eyes behind the thumb in your mouth. You leapt with joy in the rhythm of the toddle music classes. You chattered and shared stories about your stuffed animals. You loved your little sister. Enjoyed cookies and finger painting. That was all pretty normal.

But you also started to count to one thousand on our walks. And you started to call out the store names as we drove around. And you preferred reading books rather than playing with the other two-year-olds at preschool. And you hated sitting in the circle when instructed. And you hated the feel of blue jeans. And you threw big tantrums when you lost any kind of game. In other words, you started to show signs that you were… weird.

The grandparents were the first to notice. They said gentle things like “You oughta keep an eye on that one,” and sent us links to Wall Street Journal articles about child prodigies. And then the other parents in the play groups started to comment; “He’s pretty intense, huh?” And the teachers were on to it pretty quickly. They started to use fancy terms like “asynchronous development.”

By third grade, we realized you were different, but we still didn’t realize you were weird. Truthfully, we’re used to people like you. Our family is full of engineers, artists, musicians, computer programmers, and a lot of “free-thinkers.” Family gatherings always have chess, political debates, and quartets around the piano. That’s just us.

And besides, you had a small but solid group of friends. There was Pokémon, then Minecraft, then Magic, then Dungeons and Dragons, then Catan. You were never in the center of things, but you weren’t alone.

But then, in middle school, things started to change. By 7th grade, school finally started to require some effort, and it turned out you were pretty disorganized. People kept calling you smart, but the teachers were annoyed at your humor, and frustrated that you wouldn’t or couldn’t follow the guidelines for assignments. Classmates didn’t appreciate your frank (if accurate) descriptions of their efforts. I’ll admit, we got pretty frustrated with you, too.

And then puberty arrived, with its triple curse of acne, braces, and bizarre growth. The girls appeared to have it all together (I know they don’t, but they do appear that way). And the popular boys seemed to know exactly what to do. They can talk sports to each other, they brag about their romantic exploits. They never get in trouble for stupid reasons like forgetting an assignment three times in a row. Your anxiety started to kick in, and it seemed like you got smaller. And some of your guy friends moved on.

So you drifted over to the weird-o crowd. Well — I’m not sure what you call yourselves, but that’s what we would have called you back when I was in school. At different schools these are the geeks, or the theater kids, the math team kids, or the artsy-fartsy kids. This used to be where the gay kids ended up, but I think they’re more dispersed now. You get some kids whose parents are going through some rough times. Some girls with anorexia. A few boys who are edgy and angry. Kids with a great sense of humor and big hearts.

And some of these kids are really passionate. Just full of righteous anger about the injustices of the world. And some of them are dramatic. And truthfully, that looks pretty attractive to you. Because you share some of that confusion and anger about the world. And though you may not be sure what you think or what you feel, you are certain you don’t want to be on the bad side. You certainly aren’t like those popular boys with their suave charm and dominating manners. You’re not like them at all.

You’re actually more like those vibrant girls who can speak for hours about their ideas. Well, you would be if you could find the words to speak. And there is something so fascinating about those girls, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’d never think about talking to those girls anyway, because that’d be weird. Because you are weird. You’ve never been good at chit-chat, or eye contact. Or girls. And besides, you wouldn’t want them to get the wrong impression. You understand that your peers are starting to date, but you really don’t see the point. Sex is still gross and weird to you. It’s better to just call yourself “asexual” or “pansexual.” It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card that helps you avoid the whole mess. And your group of friends tell you that you are super cool and brave for being able to say that about yourself.

But you’ve fallen into a funk. Anyone can see that. But computer games help. And there’s always trying to beat the speed record for that one game you’re kinda good at. And that one guy on reddit always has good tricks. And the people on that message board seem to get your humor.

So when one of them posts a meme about trans rights, it makes sense that you’d check it out. You’re curious! You’re a free thinker! You’re not like the normies. And the web quiz hits home. You do feel discomfort with your body. You don’t like sports. You do wonder what it would be like to be a girl. You’ve always felt like something was different about you.

You’re right. There is something different about you.

But you’re not trans, you’re just weird.

So we’re right here for you. We’ll always be here for you. But those online folks who urge you to “crack your trans egg” and rush to hormones and surgeries don’t know you at all. They don’t know that gifted kids and ADHD kids and Autism kids and Asperger’s kids are slower to develop emotionally and sexually. They don’t know that sexuality takes time and experience to figure out, and that the majority of trans teens seeking medical treatment haven’t even masturbated or kissed someone yet. They don’t know that 80% of trans children end up becoming comfortable with their birth sex if you just give them time. They don’t know that there are increasing numbers of desisting and de-transitioning people in their twenties. They don’t realize that hormones permanently stunt your growth, decrease your IQ, and can cause sterility. They don’t know that these hormones are prescribed off-label and there’s no research on the long-term outcomes. They don’t even know that the most recent research shows that short-term outcomes are clearly worse.

They don’t realize that you’re weird. But I do. You’re weird, kiddo. You’ll figure that out in a year or two. But that’s okay. We are all weird. And I love you anyway. You’re going to be just fine.

==

You always hear stories and justifications like, "she never liked wearing a dress," or "he always hated having his hair cut." This is post-hoc confirmation bias. Not only does this confirm everything critics say about this being a movement based on gross stereotypes, but they always leave out things like, "she refused to eat anything yellow," and "he was obsessed with elevator and crossing buttons and would cry if he wasn't the one to light it up."

It's okay to be weird.

#Donna M #gender identity #gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #trans egg #it's okay to be weird #it's ok to be weird #normalize weird #religion is a mental illness

[anadiasmount]

jude and you being childhood bestfriends but your parents are also super close. Your parents always suspecting yous both like each other and constantly teasing yous about it. But you’ve both been dating for a like a year in secret cos yous both don’t know how to tell your parents and one day they just find out cuz they come home u expectedly when you and Jude are cuddling and everyone’s just all so happy for yous 💗

- your writing is amazing btw x

thank you lovely, means so much! 😣🤍

“we should tell them soon… my mom has become very suspicious of me lately. she followed me to the grocery store! the grocery store jude!” you laughed, feeling as he chuckled on top of you. “do you think we did wrong in not telling them? well besides jobe because he got us here in the first place…” you wandered off asking, jude’s head coming up to stare at you.

“i personally don’t think so baby. look at us, a year strong, and so many memories spent together. i wouldn’t change it for the world, because it means i have you all to myself,” jude says softly, while your finger fixes his brow that had been messed up. “they would understand. both of our families. they know how stressful and hard our jobs are, so who can blame us?”

“nobody.”

“exactly my love. how did you want to tell them?” jude asked, snuggling closer to you and placing kisses all over your chest. you laughed and tried to sway away but with his bigger frame he pinned you down. “i was thinking of just telling them today, maybe at dinner or when we play games?”

“whatever you decide i’m right there,” jude replied, falling asleep in less then 10 minutes.

while you hated being separated from jude, he unfortunately had to go back to his house to get ready. you slipped into a dark red dress and left down, your hair parted to your preference, making sure to apply a red lip and gold jewelry. the heels made you look taller which is what you wanted.

after grabbing the cupcakes and chocolate covered strawberries, you and your family were headed out to his house were you’d host christmas. you greeted everyone, asking how they were a wishing them a merry christmas eve.

jude almost choked on his drink as he saw you walk in. he was in a trance, his eyes roaming up and down your body, his lips and throat becoming dry at your figure. for a second he got slightly jealous as he observed you talk to one of his moms friend son, which clearly he took a liking.

he scrunched his brows and cleared throat, his mom coming next to him, “you okay jude? y/n looks so pretty doesn’t she,” his mom taunted his head more to which jude snickered. “she always looks beautiful mom,” he did his attempted wink, and walked over to the living room leaving her with a brow raised.

a warm and larger palm touched your shoulder, making you jump, and look down shyly as you stood next to jude. “hi max, you good?” jude pursed, clearly bothered by the interaction which left you confused.

before max respond could respond, jude cut him off “thats good, gonna borrow this one really quick,” he pulled you aside to the kitchen where it was alone. your heels clicked on the grown still holding the cupcakes. “jude slow down,” you warned him.

as you set the tray down, jude double checked the doorway, and strides to where you were. you giggled at his pout and frown. “it was driving me insane. you talking to him? while you look so sexy in this dress? jesus it’s gonna drive me crazy all night. you look beautiful darling,” jude rambled, his hands roaming your sides and placed firmly on your ass.

“thank you baby, you look handsome yourself,” although you were still wearing heels, you had to lean up, and jude lean down to catch your lips in a quick kiss, that then turned into three pecks, “i left lipstick all over your lips jude,” you tried to wipe it away but two gasps had you standing still.

“WE KNEW IT! OH MY GOSH! ITS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!” said your mom, her hands covering her mouth as she smiled huge. jude’s mom just smirked and walked over to the two of you, “care to explain jude?”

jude still had lipstick on his lips, which made you laugh as your wrapped your hand on his right bicep and muscles. his cheeks slightly went red, embarrassed at being caught, “well we’ve been dating for a year… and she’s the woman i’m gonna marry,” he said confidently.

“A YEAR? YOUVE BEEN DATING FOR A YEAR? john grab my glass this is worth to celebrate,” your mom fanned her face dramatically before joining jude’s mom next to her. they have the two of you warm and tight hugs, scolding you for keeping it hidden for so long.

“we’re so happy for the two of you, i’m glad the two of you found each other and are able to start a relationship! we love you guys,” his mom said. after a quick conversation, jude pulled you into the bathroom, he took a quick selfie of his marked red lips and posted it onto his story, captioning it with “merry christmas to all 🤍🎄”

you cleaned his lips and tried to remove every red mark. walking back out to being faced with everyone looking at you, the two of you chuckled nervously, jude’s hand finding home with yours as everyone continued to stare.

“congratulations on finally making it officially,” jobe teased everyone cheering, which made you hide your face onto his chest.

#judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine

[blossom-works]

Home for My Heart: At His Happiest

Almost a whole year of Kylian getting to experience one of the happiest times of his life with the woman he loves the most. 

Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, descriptions of vaginal birth, vomiting

---

With a big smile, you watch your husband do a celebratory dance. He still has your pregnancy test in hand, and Kylian’s dimples are on full display. With two big steps, he goes back to the white box and silently squeals at the crochet cleats and ball. While you cannot entirely see his face, only the side of it, you know that Kylian is thinking about the child that will one day be here. He places one of the cleats into the palm of his hand, and you watch as Kylian marvels at its size. It barely fills the length of his palm. Kylian puts everything back in the box and magically appears in front of you. His hands cup your cheeks and he plants one of the biggest kisses he can on your lips. Kylian’s passionate kiss is a bit too passionate for your liking. He is starting to hurt your cheeks with how hard he is pushing against them. 

You pull his hands off your face and your face away from his. “I’ll take it that you’re happy.” 

“Chérie, c'est la meilleure nouvelle que j'ai jamais entendue ! Nous allons être parents ! Nous devons le dire à nos familles !“ You have to flinch at how loud Kylian has gotten. Honey, that's the best news I've ever heard! We are going to be parents! We need to tell our families!

Now it is your turn to cup his cheeks. “I know you’re excited, but I want us to hold off on telling people.”

“Huh? But why?” Just what in the world is holding you back? This is probably the best thing that has happened to you two. Why not celebrate it with your friends and families? 

Putting on your serious face, you say “Look, I’m just as excited as you are, but the first trimester is the most crucial. I don’t want to freak you out or make you worried, but about eighty percent of miscarriages happen during the first trimester. I don’t want to get everyone excited only to-” you say the last part in a whisper. “Lose the baby.”

Your talk of reality brings Kylian down from his high. Hearing what you have to say, Kylian nods his head and kisses your forehead. Hugging you, Kylian tells you that you two have nothing to worry about and that he cannot wait to tell everyone that you will be parents. The box of goodies sits on the table while you and Kylian fantasize about life as parents. 

“What do you think it’ll be?”

“I would have to say boy since your family has a lot of boys.”

“But your family has a lot of girls.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who gives the last chromosome. X or Y.”

Kylian shrugs his shoulders to your truth. His hand has not left your stomach. If anything, that one spot is getting a bit sweaty. You tried to move his hand, but Kylian swiped your hand away. 

“What about names?” You ask. 

“Mmmm...Kylian Jr.?”

You lift your head at him and raise a brow. “I refuse to let my child be named Jr.”

“What? Why not? Kylian is a great name.”

“No, you’re just fueling your own ego. Besides, I will refuse to have sex with you if your child has the same name as you.”

Kylian looks at you like you just grew two heads, but the more he thinks about it, the more your outrageous statement makes sense. He grimaces at the thought and agrees that Kylian Jr. is off the table.

“What about football? Would you want our kids to pursue a career in it? Especially if we have a son.”

Your husband hums. “I would like them to at least love the sport, but if they have a passion for it like I did, then I would want them to go after their passion.”

“And what if they don’t like football?”

“It would break my heart.” He tells honestly. “But I can’t force it on them. Especially when they get older.”

You and Kylian talk more and more about your future with kids. Going over all the “what ifs” your heads can think of. The more you guys talk about the baby forming in your womb, the more excited Kylian is. He has always been good with children and has always wanted kids of his own, but he chose to focus on his career. When Kylian got older, the urge to settle down and have kids grew. He is lucky that you wanted kids just as bad as he did because if he had to wait any longer, Kylian may just end up going crazy. When you were just dating, Kylian saw how you treated your nieces and nephews. You loved and doted on them as much as you could, but you would also scold them if they got into trouble. Kylian just knew you would make a great mother, and he only hopes that he can be a greater father. 

A Couple Weeks Later: 

(Bold dialogue in quotations in this section means that someone is speaking in Spanish)

You let out a loud sigh as you close the lid of your water bottle. When you made the appointment to visit the clinic, the woman on the phone told you that you have to drink at least thirty-two ounces of water an hour before you get to your appointment. You thought that it would be easy since your water bottle is thirty-two ounces but drinking it in a limited time is a lot to ask. Especially when you cannot use the bathroom until after the appointment ends. You hear your husband laugh at how annoyed you are. 

“Vous vous amusez la bas?“ You glare at how much fun Kylian is having at your expense. Having fun there?

“Shut up. I can feel my bladder expanding with water alone.” You say as you fix your posture to make yourself as comfortable as you can. “If I pee on myself, I’m gonna send the the bill from the cleaners to the clinic.”

“Ha ha ha! We’re almost there. I’m sure your bladder can wait a couple more moments.”

The more you grovel in your water misery, the slower Kylian is driving. After wishing and wishing for traffic to move faster, your wish is granted. Kylian reverse parks the Mercedes. Thanks to his reputation, the owner of the clinic agreed to do all of your appointments before they open to the public. Of course, it came with a higher bill, but it was worth it in Kylian’s eyes. He does not want the media to get a hold of your pregnancy just yet. Since front window tinting is illegal in the country of Spain, Kylian has to be extra careful on the road to avoid unwanted attention. He calls the front desk to tell them that you guys are here, and when the receptionist sees his Mercedes, she hurriedly unlocks the door. 

“Welcome! Let me show you to the room. Your OB should be there shortly.”

A fact that you forgot in your agony of water, is that the OB clinic you are at is part of the hospital you work at. It is at a different location, but under the same board or management. It is the reason why you and Kylian were able to make this request so easily. You also know how the entire establishment works so trust is a big player.

Kylian thanks the woman as she leads you down a hallway. She stops at the third door on the right and motions for you two to enter. She tells you to sit at the exam table and reminds you both that the OB will be here shortly. 

“Did you finish drinking you thirty-two ounces of water?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Alright. I’m just going to take down some basic information and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Once the lady finished jotting down said information, she closes the door to leave you and Kylian alone. Being the nosy person you are, you get down from the exam table and snoop around the cabinets and drawers. 

“What are you doing?” Kylian asks you in disbelief. If you remember correctly, this is the first time Kylian has been in a clinic room with you, so he does not know that you like to prowl the room before the doctor comes in. 

“I’m a curious person.” You shrug like it is no big deal. Most if not all the clinics you have been to have the same materials in it, but there may be that one time where something weird is discovered. Kylians shakes his head at your antics, but lets you continue. A knock on the thick door interrupts your snooping and you hurriedly sit back down on the exam table. Sending Kylian into a laughing fit. 

“Come in.”

The OB closes the door around her and greets Kylian and you. 

“Hello! I’m Alejandra Sanchez and I’ll be your OB for the rest of your pregnancy. Now before I start the exam, have you had any symptoms? Pregnancy related or not?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And you have no known allergies, correct?”

“Uh-huh.”

Once the OB has everything she needs, Alejandra asks you to lay down on the table and to lift your shirt to your chest. The clinic had asked you to wear loose fitting clothes so the water-based gel does not ruin your clothing. She also asked you to wear a sports bra in case the underwire interferes with the sonogram. Alejandra uses a clean towel to roll down the waist band of your pants enough to expose your entire torso. The waistband is now where your pubic bone is. 

Alejandra warns you that the gel is cold before applying it. Kylian scoots his chair so he can sit right next to you, but out of the OB’s way. She places the transducer on the gelled area and starts searching for the peanut of a baby. You see Kylian pulling out his phone to record the upcoming moment. Alejandra starts pointing out the different organs the machine is picking up. She puts a bit more pressure where your uterus is. She moves the transducer left, right, up, and down and there it is. Your baby. 

“Here we go.” Alejandra says as she points to the white shaped peanut. With her free hand she explains that the black bubble your baby is in is the placenta. She then uses her free hand to check the baby’s growth, and that is when she plays the most beautiful sound a person can play. 

The rhythmic beat of such a small heart is truly a blessing to hear. Unknowingly, you and Kylian’s grip on the other’s hand has loosened. Too in awe at the sight and sound of your child. Your first child. Kylian’s camera perfectly captures the screen, but it does not do the scan justice. 

“Your baby is growing just fine, and their heartbeat is regular. It looks like your baby is about six weeks old. Meaning-” Alejandra does some quick math. “Your baby should be due sometime in August of next year. Would you like me to send a recording of the heartbeat to your email?”

Kylian immediately agrees and gives her the appropriate information. Alejandra thanks your husband and leaves you two to enjoy the moment with each other. Neither of you say anything. Not that anything needs to be said. You two could look at the scan for ages and never get bored of it. The sight may be insignificant for some, but that is just because they do not understand the wonders of it. Knowing that this baby is to grow inside of you makes you selfish. A big part of you does not want to give birth to this child and have them all to yourself. 

Neither of you realize that about ten minutes have gone by just staring and listening. Alejandra’s knocking brings you both back to reality. 

“Excuse me, I’ve sent the recording to your email Mr. Mbappe. We also have about twenty minutes before we open to the public.”

Alejandra then wipes the gel off your stomach and hands you a copy of today’s scans. She tells you when your next appointment is and that they will open their doors a little earlier for you. Your OB thanks you and Kylian for your time and congratulates you. She informs you that the lady who lets you in (her name is Fernanda), will be the one to check you out. 

Once you get yourself ready to leave, Kylian turns you around by your waist and hugs you to his chest. When you look up to him, he has a gentle smile on his lips, but eyes are the window to the soul. Through Kylian’s eyes you can see how happy he is. Happier than when he wins the World Cup, happier than when he scores a goal, and happier than when he married you. You can see how much he is looking forward to holding his child in his arms for the first time. You can see how much he is imagining his life as a father. You know that he cannot wait for the near future. 

Two and a Half Months Later (Approximately 15 Weeks Pregnant):

Moaning in agony you flush the toilet a third time in a row today. It was the beginning of the month when you started to feel the hormonal changes happening within your body. You started feeling nauseous around certain foods and you catch yourself going into emotional fits (after they are done). Most importantly, your body is rejecting almost everything you put in it. You have been heavily reliant on the prenatal vitamins you have, but those can only do so much. The only foods you can keep down are rice, cucumbers, and eggs (that have to be cooked a certain way or else you throw up). 

There was an instance where Kylian was cooking lunch for you two and you threw up due to the smell. It was not even appalling to the normal human nose, but your hormonal body said “no”. So anything Kylian wants to cook something for himself, you have to lock yourself in the bedroom and wait for the main floor to be aired out. This part of your pregnancy, not being able to have a meal with your husband, sucks the most. To try and normalize your change of behavior, you have opted to FaceTime whenever Kylian eats his meals. 

“Chérie, j'ai laissé ta bouteille d'eau sur ta table de chevet. Je vais préparer un dîner. Voulez-vous votre habitude?” Kylian calls out, semi-worried. He has sort of adjusted to your pregnancy symptoms, but he still worries about your overall health. Especially when you can only eat three types of foods. He just hopes that your symptoms will die down soon. Honey, I left your water bottle on your nightstand. I'm going to cook dinner. Want your usual?

You groan out a yes before you hurl into the toilet bowl for the nth time today. Who knew that a baby, who is the size of an apple as of right now, can make you barf your guts out so much. After one more round, you feel as if your body has nothing left for you to throw up. Ripping some toilet paper off its roll, you wipe your mouth and flush it down the toilet with the contents of your stomach. You spit into the sink before vigorously brushing your teeth. For good measure, you use extra-minty mouthwash. Satisfied with your clean and minty mouth, you gulp down some water, wincing when the water intensifies your fresh mouth. Knocking on the door, Kylian comes in with your meal in hand. He hands it to you while littering your forehead with kisses. 

“Comment vous sentez-vous?“ Kylian asks as he sets the bowl of food on a nearby surface to pull you in a hug. Since you have been sick, you have been losing some weight and that worries Kylian. He asked your OBGYN if they can do anything about your nausea, but they told Kylian that he will just have to wait for it to pass. The prenatal prescribed to you should help alleviate the sickness, but every pregnancy is different. If the clinic upped your prenatal dosages, it may end up causing harm to the baby and you. How do you feel?

Exasperatedly you say, “Like a demon wants to crawl out of me.” 

Kylian laughs and plants a kiss on the top of your head before kneeling down to your stomach. 

“You’re not even born yet and you’re already causing your mom trouble.” Your husband lightly flicks a random spot on your abdomen. Punishing his child for their wrongdoings. “I’m gonna eat and clean up, okay?”

Not a beat later are you rushing back to the bathroom for another round of hurling. 

Three Months Later (Approximately 29 Weeks Pregnant):

You and Kylian knew that you pregnancy can be hidden for so long. Especially when you are shopping for your baby’s arrival. Online shopping is wonderful but when it comes to the big supplies like cribs, strollers, bouncers, and highchairs to name a few, it is best to shop in person. So, Kylian pulled out his celebrity card and called a few shops a week before to ask if they could close their store for a certain time frame. He also hired a bigger than usual security team for the day. 

When you and Kylian arrived at the local mall, you were greeted by a group of journalists, photographers, and fans (word gets out quick). To keep face, Kylian smiles at his fans and waves at the reporters. All of which you sort of ignore as your husband told you to do. It takes you two about ten minutes to get to the first store. Not because it is deep inside the mall, but because you had to fight through the crowd. As soon as you entered the store with three security guards, the rest stood in front of the store entrance. 

“Regarde ça! Seuls deux de mes doigts peuvent rentrer dedans! Allons s'en approprier!“ Kylian calls out to you while showing you his amazement. Look at this! Only two of my fingers can fit in! Let’s get it!

You take the adorably tiny shoes and look at the tag. “Kylian, these are meant for newborns to four months old. The baby won’t even be able to walk, let alone crawl at that age.”

“Mais bébé ~” Kylian whines. Sternly, you tell your husband “no” and drag him over before he can sneak it to one of the employees. But babe ~

“You still have the list of what we need to buy, right?”

Kylian hums as he pulls out his phone and clicks on the “notes” app. Out of the corner of your eyes you spot something that you just absolutely need to buy. Your pregnant self pushes your husband out of your way as you run towards the item. 

“Babe! Look what I found!”

You pull the item off the shelf and proudly show it to your husband (and everyone who is watching from the display windows) with a big grin. 

“Oh, come on.” Kylian laughs. 

In your hands is a fluffy rug in the shape of a sea turtle. The head is stuffed while the rest of its body is nothing but soft fabric. “It matches the theme of the nursery! We have to get it!”

“But don’t we already have a rug in the nursery?”

“So? The rug can have a rug. You can never have too many rugs.”

“You’re just saying that cause you put rugs in every room you build in the Sims.”

“Yeah so?”

Kylian touches the rug and holds it up in front of him. “It is a cute rug.”

With doe eyes you say, “I know! And we can always use it in the living room for tummy time. It’s multi-purposeful!”

“Tummy time?” Kylian asks confused. He is still learning about baby terminology so something like “tummy time” is still foreign to him. 

“Yes. You know, when you put the baby on their stomach for a while.”

“Oh ouais. Pourquoi les gens font-ils ça de toute façon ?” Oh, yeah. Why do people do that anyway? 

“It’s to help the baby build their neck muscles. Et si un bébé reste trop longtemps sur le dos, sa tête prendra une forme irrégulière.” You show Kylian a comparitive picture of a baby’s head. One side is a baby that was allowed to have tummy time, and the other shows a baby that was always on their back. And if a baby stays on their back too long, their head will take on an irregular shape.

After Kylian hands the rug to an employee, together you look for a suitable playpen and a portable crib with an attachable changing table. The more you look at the different options for a pen, the more you two agree that you will wait to get one. It will be a while before the baby even starts to crawl. On top of that, where will you put the playpen, and how much will you have to buy?

“We’ll just change them on the ground or the couch. We should get a bouncer instead and have a corner or something for baby supplies.”

The two of you spend a total of four hours at the mall. All of the bigger items that Kylian bought he asked the employees to send them to your home. Smaller items like clothes (and the shoes Kylian dearly wanted) were in the shopping bags in his hand. When you two get home, there is a package on your doorstep. Since your home is privately gated, anytime someone needs to make a delivery, the driver must call either you or Kylian to get the gate open. Happily, you take the box and barge into your own home and run to the dining room table. 

Squealing, you take out the cushioning and throw it onto the floor to reveal the handcrafted item. When you hold it up by the top look, you look at the craft in awe. On Etsy you ordered a sea turtle themed mobile. Your heart clenches at the thought of it one day, being the first thing your child sees when they wake up. 

“Look Kyky! It’s adorable!” 

Your husband smiles as he puts the shopping bags on the table. Kylian stands behind you and holds you close by your waist. Slowly, he starts to say your bodies. 

“It’s perfect babe. You did a good job picking it out.”

The mobile has three turtles per your request. Two big sea turtles and one baby right in the middle. The baby turtle is on its back while the parents surround their child. Different shades of blue, felt balls are attached to the top of the strings to make it look like the family of turtles are swimming in the open sea. Kelp and coral hangs from the bottom from various heights. If you look closely, one of the turtles has lashes on it. The mommy turtle: you.

“Le bébé va adorer.” Kylian says. He gently turns your head to the side and softly kisses your lips. Peck after peck he kisses you. Each lasting a second longer than the last. Kylian does not know what was going through your head during today’s shopping trip, but in his, the reality that he is going to be a father is getting closer. Waking up in the random hours of the night is horrible, but getting to hear his baby’s laugh outweighs the con. Becoming the world’s best football player has always been Kylian’s goal in life, but being a father came close. Now, both goals in life are about to come true. The baby will love it.

One Month Later (Approximately 34 Weeks Pregnant):

Humming, you have a finger on your chin thinking about where objects should go. Everything has to be perfect or else you will not be able to sleep. Meanwhile, as you are taking your marry time, your poor husband is standing next to the crib. Awaiting your orders. Kylian is shaking his right leg while he tries to regulate his breathing. He knows how meticulous you are with objects and their assigned places, but damn. Can you please make up your mind? First you wanted the dresser next to the crib but then it seemed cramped. Then you did not want the crib directly in front of any windows cause you are scared the sun might blind your baby. Then Kylian had to keep scootching the rocking chair a little bit further from the corner so when you rock, the back does not hit the wall. 

“I think it’ll be easier to put the crib there and the dresser across it. The cubbies can go over here. What do you think Kyky?”

“I think this’ll be the last time I’m moving anything.” Kylian grumbles as he swipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt. 

Feeling bad, you cup his cheeks and kiss him. Giving him a couple of pecks in hopes that it will completely erase his annoyance. “I’m sorry. I just want everything to be perfect when the baby comes.” 

Kylian sighs and this time, kisses you. His bigger and slightly sweaty hands caress your belly from under your (his) shirt. Your baby has been an active one and definitely takes after their father. Every time the baby kicks your uterus, you want to slap Kylian each time for passing on his genes. The first time Kylian felt the baby’s kick, he would not stop touching your belly in hopes of feeling the baby kick again. Unfortunately for you, whenever the baby kicks, it feels like you have to pee. First you spent all your time in the bathroom throwing up, and now you spend all your time to pee, and sometimes you do not even pee! 

“Je sais bébé, mais peux-tu s'il te plait finaliser là où tu veux tout ? Tu me tues ici.” Your husband begs. You happily nod and tell him where to put the furniture, promising him that this is the last time. Taking your word for it, Kylian puts the dresser on the opposite wall of the dresser and the cubbies underneath the window. He makes sure that the rug is nice and centered. You hand him a leveler, and everything is nice and even. Kylian insisted on putting the furniture himself and not hiring people to do it for him. You were a bit iffy since Kylian is not the best with tools, but you did chaperone him. Your dad taught you all about tools when you were growing up, so you are more than experienced in this department. You have to hand it to Kylian, he did a good job once he knew what tool was what. You do have to dock some points because Kylian refused to read the manuals and even wanted to open every pack of screws and bolts at the same time. I know baby, but can you please finalize where you want it all? You are killing me here.

Happily, you thank Kylian with a big kiss on his lips and tell him that you will get him some water. He thanks you and watches you waddle into the hallway to go downstairs. Finally having the time to relax, Kylian sits down on the rocking chair and leans back into it. The more he sits in silence, the more real this room feels. This room is for his baby. His baby that is currently growing in your womb. During the first few months the baby will be sleeping in your shared room, but after that, they will be getting their own room. This room. The one that Kylian had to rearrange four times. He looks at the cart where most of the baby essentials and your breast pump are at. Just two weeks ago you two traveled to America and had your baby shower. 

Baby showers are not as popular in Europe as they are in America, and it would be easier for your family if you had the party there. It was a joyous time and with how high strong your hormones were, you did cry a couple of times. While your baby has yet to be born, they are surrounded by love throughout the world (and the internet. Kylian’s fans have been guessing what the name and sex of the baby is). Feeling reality hit him, Kylian wipes his hand over his face as he looks at the crib he struggled to build. His baby will one day sleep there and he or you will have to make your way into this room in the middle of the night for feedings and diaper changes. The dresser will double as a changing table and the cubbies are for the books you were gifted at the baby shower, and for the different knickknacks you two bought. 

“You okay?” Your voice and the way you caress his shoulder knocks Kylian out of his daydream. He takes the water and chugs it down before telling you he is fine, kissing the hand on his shoulder. 

“Je vais bien. J'ai juste hâte que le bébé arrive.” I'm doing well. I just can't wait for the baby to come.

“Me too.” You whisper. “Now help me get these pictures up, and we’ve gotta set the mobile up. Oh, and help me fold the baby’s clothes. They just finished drying.” You list more to-do’s after another in what Kylian believes is a never ending list.

...Shit...

One Month Later (Approximately 38 Weeks Pregnant):

About a month ago you started your maternity leave. It was great in the beginning since you got to sleep in and do whatever you want, but it got boring soon after since you would be home alone. That only lasted a week though. When you two found out your due date, Kylian had a long meeting with the club’s management department about taking leave for a few months towards the end of your pregnancy. Luckily, they ended up agreeing but it would mean that Kylian’s contract would be extended for a few months to make up for his absence since your baby will arrive during the season. 

Kylian bought the large property not just for its privacy, but the yard space it offered. When you two were in a long-distance relationship and things were getting serious, you frequently talked about wanting a large backyard space for your future kids to run around in, and maybe a dog or two. When you two were house hunting, Kylian kept that wish in mind. He even requested the retail agent to only show them houses with a large yard. You two had fun viewing multiple houses and had even more fun re-designing your home. European fridges are small and while you got used to them, you wanted your big, American fridge back. While you mainly focused on the inside of the home, Kylian focused on the outside. The yard space was big enough to have a fully sized football field installed, a pool and a patio with a built-in grill, a bon-fire pit, and more than enough empty space for little kids to run around in. This is truly where Kylian and you will raise your family. If you had to one day move, Kylian may have a hard time selling this place. 

While doing the dishes you felt a bit more uncomfortable than usual but brushed it off and focused on getting this pain in the ass food off this plate. Honestly, you feel like SpongeBob that one time he could not get that gunk off the plate at the Krusty Krab. Where could you find a laser and tank without alarming the feds? After you successfully cleaned the plate, you took off the silicone gloves and cleaned off the counter and sink. You then took it upon yourself to sweep the floors and vacuum the rugs and wipe down any dirty surface. You then went into one of the storage closets to get your cleaning bucket to clean the bathrooms. This house has about seven full bathrooms with two half sized bathrooms. Now, you do not plan on cleaning all of them, just the ones that are frequently occupied and inspecting the ones that are not. 

When you are satisfied with your handiwork, you check on the laundry that you put in the dryer before you started cleaning. You fold yours and Kylian’s clothes and put them where they belong and go to the bathroom to collect your skincare, shampoo, and conditioner. You place the products in a small bag before mentally checking to see if you need to do anything else before leaving. Your double and even triple check but nothing comes into mind. Bag in hand you go downstairs where Kylian is playing on his PS5 with Hakimi. 

“Honey!”

Kylian’s eyes are focused on the screen in front of him while his fingers are busy pressing different buttons in a sequence. “Huh?” he yells out.

“We gotta go.”

Confused, Kylian tells his friend to hold on and takes off his headset. “Go? Where are we going?”

“The hospital, I’m in labor.”

From your perspective, it looks like Kylian’s mind is buffering. Like you can physically see the wheel spinning. The Frenchman quickly throws his headset off and rushes past you to get the car keys. 

“C’mon cherie!”

Instead of walking out the open door, you sit on the couch where Kylian was occupied not long ago and put the headset on. 

“Hakimi? Hey, it’s nice to talk to you too. Listen, Kylian will have to leave the game because he has to go. The hospital. No, everything’s fine, I’m just in labor. Yeah, it is exciting. I’m a little scared. Thank you! Yeah, I’ll tell him to Facetime you when the baby comes. See ya soon!”

You exit the game and turn the gaming station off and put the controllers and headset away. Getting off the couch was a bit of a struggle since your center of gravity is off, but you managed to do so. 

“What are you doing? We need to get to the hospital!” Kylian is absolutely confused at why you have not left the house yet. You are about to have his baby for crying out loud!

“Hold on, Ky. I gotta put the dishes up.” 

“What!” Kylian chases after you and tries to coax you to get into the car. “Why are you drying dishes?”

“I can’t come back to a dirty home. What will the baby think?” You justify it like it is the most obvious thing in this world. 

“The baby won’t even be able to see!”

“Alright, well I still don’t wanna come back to a dirty home.” You say as you grab a clean rag and dry off the semi-wet dishes while putting them into the cabinets and drawers of the kitchen. “Some women put on their makeup before going to the hospital. This is my equivalent. Now if you want, you can help me out so we can get to the hospital sooner.”

Completely dumbfounded, Kylian shoves the keys into his pocket and grabs a rag. He takes dish after dish off the rack faster than Speedy Gonzales and tosses them wherever they belong. 

“Careful! I don’t wanna have to sweep the floor again.” 

Huffing, Kylian is a tad bit careful when putting the dishes away while still maintaining his speed. Thanks to his help, the dishes are dried and put away. Kylian tosses the rag on the counter and pulls the keys out of his pants.

“Can we - What are you doing now?”

“Relax hysteria. I’m just putting the rags away so they can dry properly.” As soon as you put the wet rags on the oven handle, Kylian drags you out of the kitchen and towards the car. “Wait! I need to check to make sure nothing else needs to be done!”

Kylian unlocks the door and practically shoves you into the passenger seat and snatches the bag of bathroom products out of your hand and chucks it into the backseat. “Chérie, je me fiche que la maison brûle. Vous êtes en travail. Je t'emmène à l'hôpital.” Honey, I don't care if the house is burning. You are in labor. I'm taking you to the hospital.

You pout while putting your seatbelt on while Kylian does the same. “I don’t get why not. I entered labor while doing the dishes.” You mumble.

“Quoi!“ Kylian shouts. 

“Yeah, I felt some contractions while doing the dishes.”

“You finished the dishes like two hours ago!” Kylian swears that his brain is about to explode from how nonchalant you are acting. You mean to tell him that you have been in labor for two hours and did not tell him!

“I know.” You shrug. “I was just following the 411 rule. I had to make sure that the contractions were about four minutes apart, last for a minute, and for the duration for an hour.”

Kylian cannot believe what he is hearing. An “error” sign might as well pop out from behind him. Instead of continuing this argument, Kylian ignites the engine and drives off. 

“Wait!” You yell at him. Kylian stomps on the breaks and asks what is wrong, panicking, thinking that the baby is already trying to come out of you right now. 

“Did you lock the door?”

Dear God, you are lucky that Kylian loves you or else you would be walking to the hospital. 

At the Hospital:

When you two were admitted to the hospital, you were given a private room and a hospital gown to change into. After you got hooked up to different machines and stuck with needles, Kylian left the room to get the duffle bag and the skincare you packed from the car. A couple of days ago you packed one of Kylian’s duffle bags with clothes for you, him, and the baby along with some essentials. When Kylian got to the car, he made sure the car seat was stable before going back to your room. Since you got to the hospital, your contractions got a bit more uncomfortable but not painful. You described it as having to take a solid poop. Your words, not his. 

Six Hours Since Arrival:

You ended up getting an epidural when the contractions got worse. Originally, you wanted an as natural birth as possible, but the pain was just too unbearable. You even cried from how bad the pain was. Kylian has never felt worse than he did. He could not do much but just watch and let the nurses do their job. Kylian tried to put on some smoothing music to help you relax but it just annoyed you. All you wanted to do was lay on the hospital in silence. You did not even want to be touched by anyone. When you got the epidural and slept for about half an hour, you felt a lot better and apologized to Kylian. 

“It’s fine, babe. You’re about to give birth to our baby. You can practically get away with anything.”

“Then~ Does that mean I can slap you and blame it on labor?” You joke. 

Kylian laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. Besides, you’re numb from your waist below so you can’t blame the labor pains.” He kisses you on the lips. 

You ask him if he has eaten anything, and he said that he ordered some food from a local restaurant. He ordered it under a pseudonym and asked the staff to watch out for it. Kylian did not want the media to get a whiff of what was happening. The nurse understood and asked her co-worker who is at the front desk to call her when the food arrives. You are a little jealous that your husband gets to eat but you are stuck with crappy jello cups. The doctors said that the clear foods and drinks should minimize complications but all you heard was that bread and rice is off the table. 

Echoing in the room is a heartbeat, your baby’s. Your baby is doing fine but you were warned that it will take at least twelve hours for the baby to arrive. Since this is your first birth, it is going to take your body a while to get the hang of things. Currently, you are only four centimeters dilated. 

Kylian lays his head on your chest, just at the top of your stomach and caresses the engorged abdomen. Heartstrings tugged; you caress Kylian’s head as you two listens to the beat of your child’s heart. A sound so soothing that both of you fall asleep to it. 

Sixteen Hours Since Arrival:

Your legs are propped on stirrups and people are crowded around you. Kylian is by your side to offer his support. Your anesthetic dosage was lessened so you know when to push. You are supposed to push during contractions since it will be easier for the baby to travel down the birth canal. You can only know when to push if you can feel your vagina being ripped in half. When it comes to actually pushing the baby out, you were told to use your core. A popular misconception is that when giving birth, you push like you would when pooping. The truth is that you use the same muscles when giving birth, but the right way to push is by tightening the muscles in your abdomen. 

“Está haciendo un gran trabajo, Sra. Mabppe. Puedo ver la cabeza de tu bebé.” You're doing a great job, Mrs. Mabppe. I can see your baby's head.

During your baby shower, your sisters told you to refuse the opportunity to be medically induced. With their experience and the words of their friends, it only makes birthing harder since the body is not naturally ready to deliver the baby. And it should take fewer pushes to deliver the baby. 

The doctor wiggles his hands between your vaginal walls and the baby’s head, lightly pulling the baby out. You tighten your core again and the baby’s bloody head is slowly coming out. The doctor encourages you to keep pushing and keeps gently pulling on the baby. 

“Tu vas bien, mon amour. Encore quelques essais et nous aurons notre bébé.” Kylian whispers to you as he squeezes your hand. The feeling of excitement and anxiety while playing during the final game of the the World Cup does not compare to the excitement and anxiety Kylian is feeling in this very hospital room. He does not realize it, but his entire body is shaking, and his eyes are dilated from how focused he is on you. You are doing well my love. A few more tries and we'll have our baby.

With his gloved hands, the doctor reaches further inside to turn the baby, so their shoulders are parallel to your vaginal opening. With a good grip and a last push from you, the doctor catches the slippery baby. The doctor turns the baby on their stomach to smack their back to get rid of any remaining amniotic fluids. With a couple of hits, the baby shows the room just how powerful their lungs are. 

“¡Él está aquí! ¡Diste a luz a un niño sano!“ The doctor congratulates you as hands your baby to one of the nurses to be cleaned off and examined after Kylian cuts the umbilical cord. A wave of relief washes over you and Kylian when you hear your baby’s cries. This is it. You two are parents. Your baby is born. You take deep breaths as two pairs of eyes are looking at the corner of the room. He is here! You gave birth to a healthy child!

“Aún no hemos terminado.” We’re not done yet. 

“¿Eh?“

One Hour Since Birth:

Your baby boy has been laying on your bare chest for about an hour now. An hour full of bliss as you get to finally hold your son after nine long months of waiting. One thing you have learned so far is that your son is a wiggler. He cannot stop moving his body until he deems himself comfortable. He loves to attempt to lift his head, but since he has not built up the necessary muscles, his head falls back onto your chest. It took him a while to stop crying when the nurse laid him down on you. Looking down at his head of black hair, you fall deeper in love with him. 

Matthew Mbappe Lottin. Born August XX, XXXX at 6:42 am. A weight of 3.7 kilograms at birth and forty-three centimeters long (about eight pounds and 16-17 inches long). 

When you and Kylian were deciding on what to name your son, you agreed to give him an English first name. Matthew has a Spanish and French version of it: Mateo and Mathieu. When your son gets older and is able to absorb more complex concepts, you and Kylian will teach Matthew his alternate names and how to spell them. 

Kylian has non-stop been taking pictures and videos of you and Matthew. For some unknown reason, you two have been whispering. The nurses and doctor told you that it would be better to talk in your full voice so the baby can get used to your voices, but you just cannot help yourself. Matthew is just so small and delicate that whispering is a go-to. Kylian sent a picture of Matthew to your families and close friends, letting them know of the joyous day. Ethan was the first to respond since he is usually up around this time. He has been spamming the group chat, demanding Kylian to Facetime him so he can meet his nephew. Your family lives on the east coast so it would be around midnight for them. It will be a while until they start demanding you to Facetime them. 

Being the big brother he is, Kylian completely ignores his younger brother’s request and puts his phone on “Do Not Disturb”. Your OBGYN told you that you can give Matthew to Kylian after the first feed. Every ten minutes or so she will pop in to see if your baby is ready to eat. A cue that most babies do when hungry is when they purse their lips. 

With your index finger, you repeat the same coos you have been telling your son while caressing his fuzzy and chubby cheeks. “Hey there little fellow. You like to sleep a lot, huh? Just like your dad.” You rub his slightly wrinkly back under the blanket that was placed on you two. One of Kylian’s hand is cupping the back of Matthew’s head while his thumb rubs it. 

“He’s so small.”

You jokingly scoff. “You try saying that after pushing him out of your vagina. I felt like I just birth a freaking watermelon.” Kylian laughs at your joke (you were not really joking though. Seriously, your cervix had to open wide enough to birth a damn watermelon). 

“Thank God I don’t have a vagina then.” He jokes back.

The nurse peeks her head back in to check on you and the baby. During the birthing process, you lost more blood than the doctor would have liked so they have been keeping an extra eye on you. She peeks over your shoulder and her eyes light up. 

“Parece que están listos para alimentarse.” She takes Matthew and asks you to sit up, Kylian aiding you. When you get situated, Matthew is placed in your arms as the nurse starts to massage your breast to stimulate it, preparing it for lactation. She tells you that after this feed, she will show you how to use a breast pump. Bottle-feeding Matthew will show how much he is actually eating. It seems that they are ready to feed. It seems that they are ready to feed.

After feeding and burping Matthew, you asked Kylian if he is ready to hold his son for the first time. Excited, he quickly takes off his shirt and holds his arms out. Laughing, you show him how to hold Matthew, making sure Kylian holds his tiny head up. Kylian awes as he shifts his arms in a more comfortable position. Your husband sits on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes on his newborn son. This time, you are the one who is taking pictures and videos of Kylian and Matthew.  

Kylian holds Matthew close, the baby’s chubby cheek being squished against his father’s chest. You hand the new father a swaddle blanket so Matthew will not get cold. Like second nature, Kylian shifts Matthew, so he is laying vertically on his chest and then drapes the blanket over. In Kylian’s mind, no World Cup is a better prize than holding his child. 

Three Months Since Birth:

It has been an absolute blessing to witness Kylian being a father. From the poop explosions to spit ups, Kylian has been there for all of them. He only has a week left before he starts being an active athlete again. So, Kylian is savoring the time he has with you and Matthew. Speaking of Matthew:

“Awe~ You’re just having the best time of your life, huh?” You coo while recording your son. 

Contrary to your words, Matthew is not having the time of his life. In fact, he hates this. Tummy time absolutely sucks to him. He wants to be held by his momma and pappa, not laid on his stomach on some green and gray surface. It does feel nice on Matthew’s supple skin though but come on! He wants to be held! Matthew cries and yells while pumping his limbs in the air like a starfish, begging for you to pick him up. You record Matthew for a little longer, before you put your phone away and give the boy what he wants. 

You hold him up by his armpits and stand him up on your lap. Happy that he is being held, Matthew bends his legs in an attempt to jump or hop. He shoves his little fingers in his mouth and sucks the life out of them. While singing some nursery rhyme, you lift your son up in the air while making him dance a little. 

When Matthew first came home, Kylian took a picture of his little toes and posted it on his Instagram. So many fans and Kylian’s friends congratulated you two on becoming a family. Many of Kylian’s fans have been begging him for more baby content, and sometimes Kylian will indulge them. To keep your family’s privacy, Kylian has not and will not post a picture of Matthew’s face nor will he release the name of his son for a while longer. When Kylian introduced Matthew to the world, he wrote how happy he is to be a father and how well you did and are doing. Kylian never fails to brag about how awesome of a mother and a wife you are. 

You yell out to Kylian and ask if he can hand you a burping cloth so you can wipe away Matthew’s drool. Honestly, this kid drools more than a hungry mastiff. Instead of handing you the rag, Kylian picks up Matthew. 

“Babeas demasiado, ¿sabes? ¡Mancharás toda tu ropa y no te quedará nada!“ Your husband jokes. Matthew takes his hand out of his mouth and starts to shake them in the air, flicking his drool onto Kylian. You two laugh and while Kylian is cleaning your son up, you get a swaddle blanket ready. It is almost Matthew’s naptime, and he needs to eat beforehand. Kylian loves putting Matthew to sleep. He can see his little boy drift off to dreamland, safe in his arms. The only thing is that Kylian sucks at swaddling Matthew. He swears that it is easier to do a hat-trick than wrapping his baby in a blanket. You drool too much, you know? You will stain all your clothes and you will have nothing left!

You warm up the bottle and when you hand it to Kylian, Matthew immediately reaches for it. He loves holding his bottle, but Matthew does not have the fine motor skills to keep it upright, so you and Kylian have to assist him. As Kylian focuses on feeding Matthew, you focus on watching Kylian. At the beginning of your pregnancy, Kylian wondered if he would be a good father. With his busy schedule and all. You kept reassuring him that he will be a wonderful father to your child, and that he is worrying over nothing. You told him that while it might be hard for Kylian to balance work and family life, you know Kylian will do his best to be the father your child needs him to be. Besides, Kylian has you with him. You will fill in for when Kylian falls short just like how Kylian will fill in for you when you fall short. 

In a soft voice you can hear Kylian telling Matthew how much he will miss his son when he goes back to training. Sure, he will only be gone for only a few hours a day, but for those few hours Kylian will be away from his little family. Kylian tells Matthew that during games, he will dedicate two goals to Matthew. Each of the two people Matthew has brought great love to. The rocking motion puts Matthew to sleep. A habit of his that both you and Kylian love is that whenever Matthew sleeps, he likes to pout his lips. Lifting his son up, Kylian gently kisses his son’s pouted lips before putting him down in the bassinet set up in the living room. 

Relaxing in the quietness of your home, you and Kylian cuddle on the couch. A good thumb of rule is to try to nap whenever your baby naps. Peck after peck two pairs of lips lightly smack together. After a final kiss from Kylian’s lips, you both try to fall asleep. Like Matthew, you go to sleep knowing that you are safe in Kylian’s arms. Matthew may look like an example of CTRL-C, but you both share the love of feeling protected in Kylian’s embrace. 

#kylian mbappe #mbappe x reader #fanfiction #x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #football #mbappé #pure fluff

[4am-enha]

hiii I love your writes🫶🫶🫶

Can u write one where Heeseung is carsick during a trip to y/n's house. He has a fever when arriving there and it gets worse( it was more than carsickness) and y/n and the members take care of him ( he has a high fever during 2 nights)

I'm addicted to sick fics if u could write it I'd be so happy ❤️

cabin fever.

note: this idea was adorable, i had to write something for it. thank you and i hope you enjoy! muah xoxo.

description: basically the ask above! y/n and the guys go on a week's holiday at one of y/n's parents vacation homes far in the forest, but their plans become complicated when heeseung falls sick, hours away from home. comforting ot7 sick fic one shot.

genre: comfort, fluff, sprinkle of crack. maybe a little romance?👀

pairing: OT7 best friends enhypen x female y/n

warnings: mentions of illness and fainting, pills, strong language.

wc≈ 3.7k, ot7 one shot.

The trip had finally made its way out of the group chat.

After months of planning and anticipation, the beginning of their getaway together had now arrived. Nobody could wait- excited for the once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable memories they would soon make together.

Y/N, Jungwon, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki, had all come together to go on a week’s trip away from this all-too-familiar town, and into the countryside. Luckily, Y/N’s parents owned a few vacation homes here and there, making it easy to find a place where the entire group could stay.

The plan was simple; a week away into the forests of the countryside while staying at one of Y/N’s vacation homes together. A chance to reconnect with nature and each other. And, if something did happen to go wrong, there was a small town five minutes or so down the road where they could find everything they could possibly need.

Early this morning, everyone gathered at the two cars that they would be taking to get to the house. After a lot of arguing and rounds of the game ‘rock, paper, scissors’, it was decided who would be in each car. In car one, there was Y/N, Heeseung, and passenger Jungwon up front alongside Jay, who would be the one driving. In car two, there was Jake, Ni-ki, passenger Sunoo, and driver Sunghoon.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving things into the car, but it all fit eventually. Well, after everyone tirelessly convinced Sunoo and Y/N that they did not need multiple bags full of non-essential things each. Everyone had been on the road for a few hours now with a couple of pit stops here and there, but now they were down to just 30 minutes left on the road trip until they would finally arrive at their destination.

Everyone had managed to keep their energy up until now, except for Heeseung. Currently, car one was doing carpool karaoke, but Heeseung was not joining in at all.

Y/N turned to Heeseung, who was sitting beside her with his arms crossed and head slightly tilted back, “Hey why aren’t you singing with us? Do you not like the song?”

“Yeah man, If I gotta sing, you have to as well. Don’t make me do it alone with these weirdos,” Jay joined, looking at Heeseung through the car mirror.

“Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying it Jay,” Jungwon huffed, leaning against the car window and watching the trees blur by quickly as they drove forward along the lengthy straight road.

“Can we just open a window? I’m hella motion sick right now,” Heeseung grumbled in response.

Y/N grabbed the closest water bottle and handed it to Heeseung, “drink some water, it’ll help. We should have had Hee sit up front.”

“That helps?” Jungwon questioned.

“Yeah, I mean that's what my parents told me whenever I asked to sit up front. They said they got motion sick in the back of the car,” Y/N shrugged.

Jay laughed, “Sounds like they were just trying to make up something so they wouldn’t have to sit in the back.”

“Whatever, they wouldn’t do that,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“First stage, denial,” Jay continued to joke.

“Be quiet. Anyway, I wonder how the other guys are doing,” Y/N laid back into her seat again.

Jungwon pulled out his phone, “I’ll text them.”

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Meanwhile, Ni-ki and Jake were doing some intense thumb wrestling matches in the back of the other car, pulling each other around aggressively; the pair of them were very obviously cheating at the game. Sunoo peacefully scrolled through his phone up front, glad to be a little bit away from the mad duo in the back.

“Can you guys quit?” Sunghoon kept his eyes on the road as he scolded them.

“What?” Jake sassed.

“Quit bickering for the love of my sanity. You’re actually now making the car sway,” Sunghoon complained.

“It’s Jake's fat ass tilting the car,” Ni-ki snapped back.

“What ass? He has an ass?” Sunoo added, eyes still on his phone.

Jake threw his arms in the air, “I have an ass it's just not fat alright? AND I’M NOT TILTING THE FUCKING CAR!”

Ni-ki was in a fit of laughter, almost wetting himself right then and there.

Sunghoon shook his head, “seriously guys stop.”

Sunoo turned up the car volume, “Yeah shut up, my song is about to play.”

It was a cutesy song to which Sunoo somehow knew all the dance movements.

“Get Sunoo off of aux RIGHT NOW,” Ni-ki yelled in horror, covering his ears as if it was physically paining him. He reached up into the middle to grab Sunoo’s phone.

Sunoo began screaming, “LET GO OF ME, YOU CAN’T REACH UP HERE!”

Sunghoon suddenly swerved sharply for a half second, making everyone sit back and go silent in fear, “Is that seriously what it takes to get you all to shut the hell up?”

“Wait, Jungwon texted me,” Sunoo opened up his phone again after seeing the notification briefly light up on his screen, “apparently Heeseung is super motion sick or something. He said Heeseung really doesn’t look too great.”

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

Heeseung had been asleep for a while now. The music had been turned down in order to let him rest for the rest of the drive. His head slowly fell softly onto Y/N’s shoulder, still sound asleep.

“Oh my god, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. He’s so warm,” Y/N whispered with a shocked tone to the two that were still awake.

Jungwon looked to the back of the car where Heeseung was with a concerned expression, “I don’t think that’s a normal symptom of motion sickness… maybe he should take some medication.”

“Shit, I left all the first aid and medication with Sunoo in the other car. How much longer until we arrive?”

“It’s just over there, I can see the house. I just need to pull up,” Jay answered.

As Jay pulled up to the vacation home and parked the car, Y/N slowly detached herself from Heeseung- gently propping his head back up to a natural, comfortable position. He was definitely one of the deepest sleepers amongst the friend group.

Everyone exited the car, reuniting with the other half of their friends who were getting out of the other car a few spots behind them. Niki and Jake came out of the car trying to headlock each other, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. In fact, you could probably get rich from betting on it.

Sunghoon approached Y/N and the others, looking absolutely drained.

“Oh my, what happened? Are you alright?” Y/N scanned him with worry that another one of her friends might be unwell.

“Now you listen to me Y/N. Don’t you ever leave me with them two ever again,” Sunghoon pointed toward the culprits, Jake and Ni-ki, who had finally let go of each other?

Y/N giggled, “So sorry about that. I forgot how they are when they’re left together for more than five minutes. I’ll rig the game of rock, paper, scissors for the journey home and make sure they’re separate.”

“Thank goodness,” Sunghoon sighed in relief.

Sunoo joined the conversation with wide eyes, “where’s Heeseung? Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the car. I didn’t want to wake him ye-“

Y/N paused when she looked toward the car again, spotting Ni-ki quickly approaching the car door, swinging it open while snickering, and taking goofy 0.5 pictures of Heeseung asleep. Then he started tickling him.

Heeseung woke up and swung at him, in which Ni-ki had only just avoided by luck. Heeseung grumbled grumpily at him, swearing under his breath.

“Caught you slacking,” Ni-ki teased.

“Just you wait,” Heeseung mumbled back while unbuckling his seatbelt. He took barely two steps out of the car and began to stumble over. Luckily, Ni-ki caught him before he made friends with the pebble-infested floor.

Everyone gasped and rushed over to help quickly, “Get him inside, right now.”

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

A little while later, Jay came rushing back into the house with a doctor from the city down the road. He had left almost immediately to get some help for Heeseung.

The doctor placed his bags beside the couch where Heeseung was lying down, surrounded by everyone who looked worried sick for their dear friend. The doctor then knelt down beside Heeseung and took his temperature. He did some general checking, making sure Heeseung’s vitals were good and everything like that.

“Tsk, he’s got a fever alright,” the doctor examined the thermometer, “he will be okay though. He’s just got an aggressive cold right now. Just make sure to keep breaking any spontaneous fevers that may come back and make him rest a lot. Oh, and give him these,” he handed a bottle of specific medication to Sunoo as he stood up, “just call me if anything worsens, or if anything happens that you’re not sure about.”

“Thank you so much,” Jay guided the doctor to the door and waved him goodbye, thanking him one final time before the doctor left.

Y/N took the medication from Sunoo and took two pills out into the palm of her hand. She sat down beside Heeseung with a glass of water in her other hand, “You gotta take these Hee.”

Heeseung weakly sat up with a little bit of help from Ni-ki. He then leaned toward Y/N with his mouth slightly agape, who then placed each pill carefully into his mouth and helped tip the glass of water into his mouth.

Jake approached with some random bags of frozen things that he found last second and placed them against Heeseung to help him stay cool. Initially, the cold made Heeseung flinch a little, but he accepted it, “really? Frozen cranberries?”

“It’s all there was man,” Jake apologised, making Heeseung chuckle lightly.

Jungwon had run upstairs but shortly returned with as many pillows as his little arms could hold. Ni-ki and Jungwon worked together to make sure Heeseung was as comfortable as lying on a couch could be.

Muffled quarrelling could be heard from the kitchen. It was Jay and Sunghoon.

Jay was trying to make some comforting and healing food for Heeseung with his own cooking knowledge, meanwhile, Sunghoon made laps around the kitchen looking at his phone, and reading out overly fancy complicated remedies and recipes. He may have been trying to be helpful, but Jay had to deny everything he suggested and constantly remind him once again they ‘do not have the ingredients for that shit.’

After everything was more settled, everyone left Heeseung to sleep peacefully on the couch while they went outside the back and started setting up the campfire.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Hours later, Heeseung awoke to the faint sound of obnoxious laughter and shouting from outside which travelled through the windows of the house.

He sat up, still drenched in sweat that his fever had graciously gifted him. He looked around for a few moments, processing everything. His eyes trailed across the empty glasses on the table beside him and a bowl filled with soup that had gone completely cold. He felt bad- Jay must have left it for him to eat when he woke back up, but he had slept far too long.

The sound of his friends having fun and enjoying themselves made Heeseung jealous. He was envious that everyone except him was getting to have fun and make the memories he so desperately waited for the second the plans were made. He couldn’t stand being so vulnerable, so he got up even if his body wasn’t ready yet.

Heeseung made his way outside the back, and toward the campfire where everyone sat casually talking about anything and everything that came to their heads at the moment.

“It’s your turn- oh, Heeseung’s up,” Jungwon announced upon seeing Heeseung approaching.

“You’re not supposed to be getting up and walking around yet Hee,” Y/N lectured him.

“I’m feeling fine,” Heeseung lied, taking a seat next to Sunoo, “what did I miss?”

Heeseung lasted about fifteen minutes before he began to feel lightheaded again, his body slowly tilting backward involuntarily every now and then. Except suddenly, he couldn't keep himself upright anymore and the next thing he knew, everything went black.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

When Heeseung awoke again, he was greeted by Y/N leaning over the bed he lay in, caressing his hair, while sitting in a random chair she had pulled up to sit beside him.

“How did I get here?” Heeseung sat up, taking in the room he was unfamiliar with.

“Well luckily for you, it isn’t a hospital room. We’re just in one of the spare bedrooms,” Y/N explained.

“Oh. Did I faint?” Heeseung couldn’t recollect any memory from just before he had passed out until now.

“Yes, you did,” Y/N sighed heavily, “and you gave us all a heart attack. You could have fallen forwards, straight into the fire Heeseung! You could have died, we could have lost you,” Y/N scolded him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean to yell at you as soon as you wake up, but it was really scary. Promise me you won’t get up and do stuff when you’re not actually better,” Y/N calmed down a little.

Heeseung felt incredibly guilty, “I promise. I’m really sorry I put you guys through that.”

“As long as you keep your promise Heeseung. If anything, I’m partly responsible. I shouldn’t have left you unsupervised like that. I’m sorry,” Y/N shook her head in self-shame.

Heeseung reached for Y/N’s hand, holding it gently, “Don’t blame yourself.”

Y/N stuck by Heeseung’s side for the rest of the night, falling asleep upright in her chair, slumped slightly over herself uncomfortably.

︵‿︵‿୨🍵୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Heeseung awoke to Jungwon and Jake by the side of his bed rather than Y/N whom he had seen in that spot last. It took him by surprise, making him jump a little.

“C’mon bro, Jungwon ain’t that ugly,” Jake joked.

Jungwon slapped him on the arm harshly, “I change my mind, I don't need you in here.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Heeseung asked curiously, ignoring them, and wondering where Y/N had disappeared to, and if she had spent the whole night there in the chair that was still placed beside him. He hoped that she had not sacrificed her sleep for him.

“She went grocery shopping about an hour ago. She should be back soon,” Jungwon answered.

“Yeah, and she put us on babysitting duty,” Jake added, throwing a slight verbal dig at Heeseung.

On cue, Y/N returned loudly through the door trying to carry all the shopping bags inside in one trip, “I’m back!”

After some time spent putting away the groceries, Y/N made her way into the main room where Heeseung was already sitting on the couch waiting. Jake and Jungwon had gone outside to join the others on a nature walk. Y/N decided it was probably better not to tag along- she would much rather hear about the chaos of a walk they created when they return, rather than have to be a part of it.

“Good afternoon Hee, how are you holding up this morning?” She sat in the chair opposite him.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, “Did you stay in that chair all night?”

“Is it a problem?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do that,” Heeseung sighed, feeling guilty again.

“It’s okay. If I would have left, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry I’ve basically ruined the start of this trip,” Heeseung hung his head in disappointment.

Y/N sat up with an angry expression, “Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined a thing.”

Heeseung began to cough a bit concerningly, earning a worried look from Y/N.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” Y/N pointed at her eyes and then back at him as if she were warning him that she was watching him.

She rushed around in the kitchen and returned after a few minutes with two mugs, one in each hand, and a packet of Heeseung’s favourite snack hanging from her mouth held by the clench of her teeth.

“What’s this?” Heeseung took the mug from her carefully.

“I got some of your favourite snacks while I was out shopping,” Y/N pointed to the mug in his hands, “and that’s tea with a spoonful of honey. Trust me, it helps when you’re sick. Drink up!” Y/N took a sip from her own mug, sitting down next to Heeseung now.

Heeseung smiled at her and copied her, taking a sip from his mug; he widened his eyes with the pleasant taste, humming in enjoyment.

“It’s good right?” Y/N watched him eagerly.

He nodded enthusiastically, and they both giggled.

︵‿︵‿୨🩹୧‿︵‿︵

Later that evening, everyone gathered and agreed to do something in which they could include Heeseung this time so that he didn’t feel left out like he had felt the night before. Plus, the guys really missed him during the day. It just felt so empty when they weren’t all together, all the time.

It was decided that they would all do a movie night. It was a great idea, something everyone could enjoy, and something Heeseung could join without having to get up from the chair or out of the blankets the other guys had earnestly wrapped him up in.

They watched a few movies: comedy, horror, action. For the final movie, they put on a romance movie. It didn’t take long for almost everyone to fall asleep during it. Arguably, it was very late. But Y/N complained that she was the only one interested enough to not get bored and drift off to sleep.

Sunghoon was out like a light in the singular chair on the furthest side of the room. By his feet were Jay, Jake, and Ni-ki who had collectively fallen asleep together all huddled up in a shared blanket on the floor, knackered from the amount of yelling they all did during the horror movie. Light snores could be heard, but it wasn’t clear who was the one producing the snoring. It was probably Jake.

Sunoo and Jungwon shared one side of the couch. Jungwon’s hair was flopped all out of place, twinning with Sunoo’s hair beside him which was doing the exact same thing. They looked like two little pom-poms together.

On the other side of the couch were Heeseung and Y/N. Heeseung was fast asleep and had fallen asleep first out of everyone. It was excused though, because he must have been exhausted from the horrible illness fighting his body right now.

Y/N on the other hand, was wide awake. Her eyes threatened to close a few times here and there at the sight of all her best friends asleep so comfortably, but alas her eyes stayed glued to the TV. She refused to let the movie go to waste.

Beside her, Heeseung began to shuffle around and mumble to himself. From what Y/N could tell, he was still asleep. He must have been dreaming. She found herself staring a little at him, noticing his eyebrows furrowed together as if he were in pain. Before she could even tap him, his eyes fluttered open, meeting hers.

Y/N looked away quickly as if she wasn’t staring, and then looked back at him, “Are you alright?” She whispered, cautious not to wake the others so closely located to her.

“I’m alright, why are you still awake?” Heeseung asked, sitting up properly.

“The movie hasn’t finished,” she pointed to the TV.

Heeseung laughed, “How did we get to romantic movies?”

“It was my idea.”

“I mean,” Heeseung scanned the room of sleeping bodies, “I think I can tell,” he teased.

“Oh, whatever. It’s a good movie,” Y/N scoffed, diverting her attention back toward the TV.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” He whispered after a few minutes.

Y/N shrugged, “It’s not awful, but a little I guess.”

Heeseung grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her towards him, “come closer then.”

“Oh okay,” Y/N felt herself get a little shy at the sudden gesture.

Heeseung adjusted the blanket, snaking his arm around her and pulling her into the blanket with him, and smiled.

Y/N smiled back, “Thanks, Hee.”

Eventually, the pair fell asleep with their heads against one another.

︵‿︵‿୨🌡️୧‿︵‿︵

“Shut the fuck up you’re so loud.”

“You’re gonna wake them up.”

“Move, I want to take a picture too.”

“Ni-ki stop taking selfies with them, that’s just plain wrong.”

Heeseung’s eyes opened to the sight of the other guys hovering around him with their cameras in his face, giggling mischievously amongst themselves, “What the hell?”

Then it became clear as he felt someone’s arms suddenly move slightly around his waist. It was Y/N. They must have fallen asleep and somehow ended up holding one another on the couch. How it actually happened, he had no recollection of.

And because of Y/N’s reaction when she had finally sat up fully awake and realised- it was clear she probably had no recollection of this either.

“Oh my god that’s embarrassing,” she held her flushed face in her hands.

“Ni-ki I know you ain’t laughing like you weren’t all snuggled up with Sunghoon’s feet last night,” Heeseung teased defensively.

“WHAT THE HELL NO I WASN’T,” Ni-ki yelled back, clearly offended at such an insult.

“Don’t bring me into this,” Sunghoon rubbed the sides of his head, annoyed.

“Anyway,” Heeseung interrupted, “good news. I think I’m healed.”

“You better not be lying,” Jake squinted at him suspiciously, not believing it.

“No deadass, I feel so much better,” Heeseung beamed.

The guys cheered and jumped around in excitement, “We can finally start off this trip properly.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Jay asked amongst the sudden chatter.

Just then, a nasty-sounding cough came from beside Heeseung. It came from Y/N, and everyone looked her way immediately. She looked like she hadn’t even slept, even though she most definitely had.

Heeseung placed his palm against her forehead. It was very warm. She must have caught the sickness from him.

Heeseung laughed in astonishment,

“Actually guys, I think we got some other work to do first.”

🤒 end!! 🤧

note: all feedback is encouraged and any interaction is appreciated! thank you so much for reading! i enjoyed writing this. if there’s mistakes, pretend you ain’t seen NOTHIN. i got lazy with proof reading >< please let me know what you guys thought of this. was it okay?? also kinda unrelated but guess who got txt tickets for december! 😽 (it’s me)

#enhypen #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #kpop #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #sunghoon #heeseung #jake #jay #niki #sunoo #jungwon #ot7 enhypen x reader #ot7 enhypen #ot7 enhypen x yn #enhypen x yn #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #female y/n #sickfic #enhypen sick fic #enha #enhypen reactions #enhypen one shot #ot7 enhypen one shot #fluff #comfort fic

[probablyhuntersmom]

I hadn't spotted these a year ago:

Oh my god, guys???!!! Parallels:

2. These are the same face - the Depression Face.

It tugs at my heart like nothing else, because...

3. Oooh never paid attention to this:

4. These lil' guys were moving and animated while sleeping here, aww:

5. The screenshot below, to me, is foreshadowing that Hunter may have expressed his wish to study at Hexside...but once that wish is actually granted, he too is gonna be depressed - at school, specifically - for months, and frustrated that he simply cannot be enthusiastic about classes the way he initially hoped. He'll push and push himself and judge himself for why he "can't even" enjoy lessons he's supposed to be excited about:

6. Do you think they took Hunter to the zoo's bird hall, before he carved Waffles (I personally view it as a good element of exposure therapy)? :

7. People usually put the S1 screenshot of Luz drawing light glyphs, next to the one with Flapjack fading away...but I saw this too:

It makes me wanna chew extra recycled cardboard about Luz and Flapjack parallels, specifically. Because of what they both offered to the world, if you think about it:

8. If Camila went through an outfit change like this in her nightmare:

Imagine the mayhem of Hunter's many nightmares with his many outfits :S

9. A really good reference for how Hunter healed pre-timeskip, is this sequence, where the order has been altered a bit below:

(who knows, maybe Willow recorded a lot of vids of him on her scroll T___T)

10. Wow this sums up the show doesn't it:

11. Ugh you can't tell me that...they wouldn't have had a similar-ish mirror scene with Waffles and older Hunter to these, if we had a full S3 or more seasons:

Him approaching a mirror with no palisman beside him...I can't imagine how that was in those horrible months. (Maybe he does this before heading out to conduct a Palisman Adoption Day)

12. I feel really happy, confidently believing that he unlearned this body language:

in the presence of adults, especially his new parental figures. Coercive control wasn't a dominating theme in his life anymore. And while we didn't see it onscreen, he would've found the space to even initiate connection via physical touch with his parents, like what Luz naturally does here:

I say "physical touch" specifically, because to quote @idlescree's amazing video analyses, Hunter's own physical body - not just his mind - was the ultimate and most intimate battleground for Belos to exert control, by possessing Hunter and using him as a puppet in the most direct way possible. So for Hunter to get physically close to family to express love after Flapjack's death, in spite of terrible spooky thoughts that he might still gravely injure others...that isn't a small feat at all.

13. I think his casual sweater is a plain gold colour, and his cosplay outfit has its yellow colour: because he's still influenced by Belos.

The black of the wolf tee and in the cosplay, feel to me like foreshadowing of his post-possession grief. Even after Flapjack is gone, Hunter still thinks about Belos and is still walking around in the same cosplay outfit. His newfound freedom and healing is reflected in his timeskip design (calm midtones of orange and blue): when Belos has no more hold on him via a painful history. We would see a progression from the predominant darkness of the black colour to those peaceful midtones on his clothing.

14. Best one saved for last! It's a headcanon, but I draw a few connections. @childlikegoblinqueen and I were talking about him likely returning to the place where poor Flapjack was slain, even if it takes a number of years before he can do so. Waffles will be with him.

Imagine...instead of running frantically in the night:

he calmly strolls during a beautiful Halloween evening, with autumn leaves blowing in the wind once again:

There are no horrors awaiting him, and very importantly, he can believe that.

And he visits the spot at the lake, and puts his hand to his chest:

but for once, he can smile while doing that specific gesture. All the times that he has put a hand to his heart in the show, he wasn't smiling (link). He then leaves and then returns to his family (walking in the opposite direction of the portal above) to have an actually joyful Halloween celebration.

#for flapjack #Thanks to Them anniversary #the owl house #thanks to them

[writingmochi]

cast: trainee!niki ✗ seatmate!fem.reader (ft. &team's taki (takayama riki), p1harmony's soul (haku shota), niziu's nina (makino nina), and xg's cocona (akiyama kokona))

synopsis: graduation is such a melancholic concept, happy to finally be able to escape school, but sad that people will separate to their own road. it is no different for riki. on his graduation day, he spends one last day with his seatmate of three years before he pursues his career across the sea

genre: melancholia, hurt/comfort, coming of age, slice of life, trainee au, high school au, fluff, angst

based on: music hindia's "besok mungkin kita sampai" (2019) (genre: indie pop)

word count: 13011 (13k)

warning(s): blood, some curse words, mention of bruises, pretty heavy life stuff even for a high school age

message to the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life. (y/f/n) = your full name!

i had to open up my japan 2020 trip memories to remember the whole atmosphere + adding a bit of my knowledge and experiences too. i have to post this in april since it is the right momentum for it and riki’s graduating class is THIS YEAR! i wanna thank @oiwxa for her insight into a japanese high school graduation and its rituals (especially since you rb the og riki as a regular hs student hc like that is very useful) and my friends who indulge in japanese culture for helping with additional insights :D this is also part of my milestone now closed collab "discover: 200" which you can check out! hope you enjoy!

masterlist

what does one think about when they hear the word “foam”?

a child will imagine a white porcelain bathtub, the one they are sitting in with most of their seated body underneath the water that fills from the bottom of the tub. bubbles made from the mix of the running water and the poured liquid soap to create a magical concoction of science. more and more fill the tub until it overflows and splashes outside, landing on the tiled floor. one can pick up childish giggles as the bubbles caress the skin before it pops, creating a ring of soap on the skin nearest to it. one could imagine their parent beside them following their giggles, helping wash them up after playing in a grassy park and falling on the dirt patch chasing a squirrel. but the child was having too much fun trying to make their hair stand up from their scalp to care about the suds that clean away the dust and soil.

a person who visits a beach will be reminded of the white foam that flows to the coast, pushed by the tides to escape the blue waters. froths created from the combination of nature’s rhythm on the breaking of seawater and dissolving salt or tiny planktons. one can walk to the edge where the land meets the sea and meet the foams by themselves, letting their leg submerged into the wet sand before the incoming wave tries to push you away with its natural force. the water tickles above the ankle as foam created from the physics of it before receding into the ocean along with more grains of sand. the image of it pairs with the familiar crunchy sound of the waves that instantly show up in the head and from the popping of the tiny bubbles.

for riki, it was both of them and one more.

his hand is full of white fluffy foam. the boy's eyes stare at it before turning to the mirror in front of him. he sees the visual of a makeshift white full beard made from the tiny bubbles on the surface of his skin, all of them spread out to the jaw, cheeks, and even around the top of his neck, making him look like a younger version of father christmas if he ever goes to meet the children in spring—a season too late for the tradition and years too old for him as he knew about the truth of his parents being the “mythical man” that gave him gifts by the bed. the boy opens the tap.

the water runs down and cleans his hands, letting the residue drain down the hole before he picks up the item that he’s been learning and still is learning to adapt to at his age. the shaving razor he had that is in the same color as his toothbrush.

the razor glints under the lights beside the mirror. his hand grips its handle, following the steps his father had taught him. the older man told his child that facial hair grows in different ways depending on where they’re located, and how he has to shave it the other way for the most efficient result.

“if it’s on the cheek, then you have to shave it diagonally downwards to the corner of the lips. if it’s above the upper lip, then you have to shave it outwards from beneath both nostrils.”

riki recollects the words accurately as he imagines the visual vividly. how he can see himself in the mirror as his father when the boy remembers he stood beside him, a razor in his own hands as he teaches his son how to shave the facial hair he might not want to own—right in front of the same mirror he stood across now.

shaving your own facial hair seems to be a rite of passage for a boy who is nearing the end of his puberty days. their growing plates are still growing as riki still remembers how he was slightly shorter than his father when he was taught his first lesson in shaving facial hair. now he is taller than his father, either from how many times he has to jump along with the moves of a choreography or run along with a rolling ball on a grassy field.

riki can definitely feel and see the difference. his lanky body now shows more prominent muscles from the physical activities he does, notably his bigger calves from moving on his feet so much. the baby fat on his face has burned enough that his bone structure sticks out as he notices the apples of his cheekbone protruding on his facial features. his voice also deepens as he can still remember how itchy it is, dropping step by step until he can perceive the vibration of his neck’s skin from the moving larynx; a voice that screams baritone or bass, even reaching vocal fry level if he wants to learn the technique.

all of that happens in the three years of high school. if middle school him could witness him now, he wouldn’t believe that that is what he’s going to look like. so many things happened in the past three years that month by month—even day by day—he can feel himself changing physically and mentally.

and today, his three-year journey in high school ends. his graduation day from being a high school student. also, his last day home before pursuing his dream in seoul, south korea.

riki has always been an active kid, but there are two constants throughout his activities in his 18 years on earth: soccer and dancing. one may look at both of them differently, but he has always found a resemblance between the two. the agility of dancing helps control the ball if it’s in his possession. the stamina training he had done to run from one side of the field to another helped him practice longer, thus making him learn the choreographies faster than the other kids.

his hopes and dreams are tied between the two of them. he even wants to continue it to his adult. many of the kids were always asked “what you’ll be when you grow up?” and their answers will be different years later. yet, riki’s stayed the same. always between the two of them.

but he has to choose one to pursue even further, to focus on even in the hardest times he might get in his life.

after seeing korean idols on stage performing in front of thousands of people, he chose to dance. he wants to be like them one day.

yet, that doesn’t mean he’ll let go of soccer that easily.

soccer is still there for riki as a hobby. but he decides to push his dream of being a soccer player behind to train more for his dancing: learning between the street dances and contemporary ones he is still lacking in, yet determined to improve on. it sacrificed him hours of rest time to nail each of the basics in each study, peaking his figure to one of an all-rounder dancer who learned multiple branches of the certain performing arts.

his fruit of labor comes at the right time and moment when he joins an open audition for a big label in south korea that is hosted near here. riki rubs his hand on his pants as he sees a tv playing in the waiting room of a live performance he watched with his own eyes. his figure between all the visible moving lightsticks that decorated the arena, resembling a starry night. they all gave their best to show their craft on stage where people had encouraged them so much to achieve their dreams until that level. it tugs little riki so hard on his heartstrings that he can’t think of his other activities that can bring him the same sense of joy and pride at the same time. soccer seems to be the nearest one but what if he falls out of love and wants to retire early? being a performer means he could also explore other avenues of performing arts if he wants to experiment. though there is a school for it, art is the outlet for human creativity. and each person has their own way of interpreting what they want.

the audition process was nerve-wracking for him; fear flew and crowded the room as riki saw the people he had to compete with. getting tunnel vision from his anxious self, all he could think about when seeing them was how better they were compared to himself. even the lone camera on a tripod makes him nervous as he knows the implications of the recordings being sent to the highest of the higher-ups who have the choice to make his life change forever. as the person before him steps aside, he takes their place and introduces himself like what he practiced. the words flowing out of his mouth smoothly before he let his mind back to when he was alone in the dance studio he called his second home: his actual home is the first and the school’s soccer field is his third.

the fluidity of his body lets him perform the routine he practiced countless times, a routine he trained with his dancing coach that highlights his greatest strengths in performing arts. riki feels how his eyes droop down, letting his movements and muscle memories do the work for him, something he allows as he has been practicing with the lights out.

“when you lose one of your senses, another sense grows to complement it,” his coach reminded him.

riki didn’t even break a sweat when he listened to the unfamiliar song. he just freestyle danced to the rhythm as best as he could to the song he used as a lesson. one has a faster bpm than the other, so he has to adapt with how many milliseconds he has to let his arm stay in the air. in his consciousness, he is confused as to why none of the judges stopped him like the other contestants. many of them were better but stopped earlier that they didn’t even reach the end of the choruses for songs, making his eyes tremble more behind his eyelids. yet, he continued until something stopped him. well, the music does as it fades away.

the process was rigorous when he had to sing and do body shots in another room—alone from the other contestants with people he assumes are higher in the recruitment process. when the papers of the contracts were placed in front of riki, he was halfway through his high school career. a contract to be a trainee in south korea, the place where the performers he saw reside. the headquarters of the leading asian pop culture in the world. riki has to be there to feel it himself.

he had his mom beside him as she read through the contract, a small smile on her face as she tried to understand the best of the contract with the formal and legal lingo that is used alongside the translator they hire for this and her family member who is a lawyer. he had already met up with the trainers before—the judges he auditioned to and more through video calls—and they agreed that riki has the potential to be something more.

he signed the paper that seals the next chapter of his life, agreeing to move to korea when high school ends.

riki returns to the mirror when his hand is unconsciously shaving the foamy area; following a set routine of the parts he has to shave and what section is next. that’s when he sees the thin foam turn pink. eyebrows raised, the sting comes too late as the soapy substance meets his open wound. he instantly flipped the tap open and cupped the water in his palms, brushing the soap substance away as fast as he could, gritting his teeth when he felt the cold liquid caressing his skin. blood flows along with the water as he smoothes the skin down, not recognizing any more slippery base substance when he gently dries his wet area. turning his face, he sees the long thin slit on his clean cheek, right under his cheekbone and going horizontal above the jawline, almost like a secondary of it. the razor he holds is placed under the running water when he sees the translucent crimson color flow down the drain hole.

placing the razor away, he opens the cabinet door for the first aid kit he had always picked up. being such an active kid doesn’t mean that he is immune to injuries. open or close wounded, he has scars of his injuries all around his body. the nasty scar on his right kneecap from when he tripped on himself while playing soccer on an asphalt road, bruises on his forearm from when he slammed himself too hard on the dance studio’s floor, and many more. he once feared that red color flowing on his skin layer, but seeing it so much and its purple-ish-blue companion, he throws that fear away and lets it sink into the ocean that is just a walking distance from his abode.

the first aid kit is filled with the most essential items riki uses to heal himself. his mom always told him to treat his injuries as soon as possible so no nasty virus or bacteria could infiltrate the atoms that encompass his functioning body and destroy it from the inside. and make him worse instead. he always thought the scars he got litter on his skin would disappear one day. time goes on as it denies his assumption. he learned this from biology class where the teacher mentions that the cell tissues of skin cannot get rid of scars because the injuries are being repaired by the same cells that create a scar. the cells in those areas are ever-healing; never going to stop healing because it has been injured before.

another scar to tell, i guess. he sighs as he dabs the wound with the red-brownish antiseptic on cotton all along the opening before he grabs the bandage and sticks it on the wound. pressing it down gently, the bandage nearly blends in with his skin color as it creates an abnormal diagonal patch on his somewhat clean yet acne-scar-filled skin. a minor bump rising because of the white pad on the sticky side. brushing his black hair away from its place that fallen on his forehead, he closes the distinct naruto-themed bag of his first aid kit and brings it to his room.

the navy graphic t-shirt he wore has droplets from the water but not of the blood from the small rectangle mirror sticking on his wall. on his bed lays the final piece of his gakuran as he picks up the suit jacket. riki pushes the golden buttons through the holes in an order, leaving the last button open right at the top so that he looks cooler—and so that he doesn’t get easily choked. his eyes scan his nearly clean room where items are still cluttered here and there. that is until he sees the large suitcase at the leg part of his bed. all the clothes and essentials he has packed to be used in korea are already in there. his flight is tomorrow morning; flying from haneda airport. the open duffel bag of his is still on his bed as he puts the naruto-themed first aid kit inside.

“riki!”

“yes?” his hand on his chest from the surprise calling of his name passing by the barrier of the wall.

“we have to go. we don’t want to be late.” his mom’s voice calls from outside the room. the boy lets the bag rest on the mattress before he picks up his trusty backpack and saunters to the door of his room and opens it, seeing his mom cleaning the dishes and dad slurping on a cup of ramen on the small dining table after leaning almost half of his body. both of them are in an outfit he isn’t used to seeing. only in times of graduations, weddings, or funerals.

“i made one for you.” riki followed his mom’s eyesight to the steaming cup of ramen across from his dad. “your sister has left for school earlier, but you don’t want to be late for your assembly.”

the boy’s long legs reach the seat where the cup of ramen is. its familiar smell enters riki’s senses as he picks up the folding plastic fork and scrumptiously enjoys the hot noodles. he felt the tangled noodle warming up his esophagus while his dad was pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. as riki looked at his dad, he could see himself in him. his dad’s feline-like eyes—combined with his mom’s—make riki’s signature aggressive-looking eyes, like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey. his sisters are also like him but softer as how biology designs feminine features. but, all of them didn’t expect riki’s growth to spurt as he entered high school. he definitely thanked his genetics but also the nutritious homemade food mom made for him full of the omega-3 of fish and the glutinous yet small grains of cooked white rice.

the sunlight enters through the window of the dining and kitchen area where he sees a small garden that is full of little plants and flowers. the beam highlights the light brown of the wood from the last time his family renovated the house fully. small, quaint, yet architecturally smart; with hidden compartments for storage and changing furniture. he can describe his newly renovated home as one of the best things japanese architecture offers. his father learns so much about architectural innovation from watching renovation shows while his mom has the say in interior designing—picking the type of wood to use, placement of the furniture, and others. his new room became his favorite place in the world, with the floor-to-ceiling cabinet and wardrobe combo to put his childhood things he couldn’t bear to let go. though small, he’ll miss his room and the window that overlooks the small one-lane road filled with houses of neighbors he knows.

his nimble fingers expertly pick up the narutomaki along with the noodles from his seafood cup noodles with his chopsticks. the orange-reddish broth colors the inside of the cup as he stares at his phone, scrolling down the news of his favorite player transferring teams—a player exchange that costs millions of US dollars, a japanese player. the player was pretty new for his time, but riki can relate to him so much as the player enters such a big league at such a young age. in a way, riki lives his soccer player dreams vicariously through him. now, as he sees the familiar name transferring from playing in the Premier League to La Liga, his lips pursed as he can imagine the player playing in matches with the likes of many of the skilled players he idolizes in his life.

cupping the cup, he drinks the remaining broth as it warms his stomach, accidentally burping as his dad lets out a giggle in front of him. both of them wait for mom as she finishes up and walks to the shoe cabinet. riki picks up his beaten shoes—his favorite shoes since he bought them in his first year of high school. he remembers how his father agreed to pay him for the pair of shoes before realizing that it’s too big for his feet. yet now, his feet are grown to match their sizes, making them fit him perfectly. he uses those shoes all the time, especially for dancing and soccer. he wore the exact same pair of shoes when he auditioned. but now, he looked at its battered shape with seams ripping from the sole. nevertheless, he wore it to celebrate his and his shoes’ journey every day from when he went to school and the dance studio. riki rather see these shoes break because of his activities than never use them all because of their fragile state.

something he also has to let go like the life he has here to continue to live.

-

climbing up the last stair to the train platform, riki could see the coastline of the beach that is a five-minute walk from where he is. there’s a chugging sound of the moving train from the rails behind him going in the opposite direction of where he will go. behind the curtains of the three and more story high-rises, he can see the light yellow patch of the beach before gliding his eyes to a long grey platform of the small harbour. even with the distance, he can hear the sound of the crashing wave meeting the land. his eyes slowly relax as he stares at the neighborhood and city he calls home and the ocean in its background. the ultramarine spectrum healing his vision along with the lightly cloudy sky as specks of black dots are far at the edge of the horizon. the fishermen fishing for the catches to then be served in the most fresh condition possible in a large franchise sushi restaurant of a small mom-and-pop sashimi booth. the small taste of saltiness in the air because of how close he is to the source.

even with the small islands in his view, he still couldn’t believe that the body of water he was seeing was leading to the largest ocean on this blue rock. how the nearest landmass from japan is the united states with hawaii placed near the middle of the pacific. it always blew his mind whenever he realized how big the world is when he always saw the scaled-down version of it in a map app. he didn’t realize how big japan is when he realize that sapporo is near russia and the western and southern parts of okinawa is nearing taiwan or the phillipines. maybe, the vastness of the unknown world beside his city, the cities he visited, and the little buildings where people he knows do their activities is the one making him rub his palm on his pants so much.

the walk to the train station was short as he viewed people living their lives behind his parents’ footsteps on the clean sidewalk. entrances to office buildings opening one by one, the large signages of buildings that house pachinko machines stay idle as the mini convenience store below it shuts much of its fluorescent light after leaving it on for the night, and sparse numbers of motor vehicles running down the two-lane streets as bicycles are being dominated by workers. riki also found kids his age roaming the sidewalk to their nearest school. some of them wearing their uniforms just fine, while others were still shivering from the leftover winter wind—wearing puffy jackets to conceal them. he could recognize students from the neighboring schools just from the uniforms they were, some wore gakurans but others also used a more modern prep school uniform he has seen looking like the korean ones he found on the internet.

the sound of the distinct train station melody flies through the air as he watches the chugging commuter train on its way to the platform. his head stands out of the crowd as his height helps with easier detection when he identifies the small sliver of color that corresponds with the train line it is. from the outside, he catches a faded reflection of himself with a few people inside; people wearing masks to cover themselves from the flu because of pollen and the cold while others let their faces open as they can smell and inhale the clean spring air. the white LED lights illuminate the train car as he steps in—ducking his head cause he feels like he could slam into something hanging on the ceiling anytime. he turns to stare at himself from the glass’ reflection, how the corner of his mouth turn a bit downwards, which created a slightly intimidating frown. riki knows about what his friends call his resting bitch face, so he mostly gives a small thin smile after wetting his lips, which he did when he notices it on the reflection. his fingertips rubbing against each other to warm himself up before touching the backpack that is hanging by the straps to keep it safe in his arms.

the train is chugging down on the rail as the view outside moves with relativity. riki sees the familiar passing billboards he has seen time to time, changing its every advertisement from new ramen flavors to new animation movies to new j-pop album releases. yet the distinct enormous billboard hangs near a pedestrian crossing of a larger station that he always goes by. people walking about to their destination as the melody sounds every time the train stops at the station, spoken in both english and his native japanese. riki’s being is alert as the sound calls the name of the station near his school, eyes looking at the screen on top of the door as the train stops at another elevated station. the boy could sense how the train wobbled beneath him as he and the others stepped out of the cart. tapping his card at the gate, riki strides along the familiar pavements towards school.

approaching the building complex that has housed him for three years, riki sees the recognizable sailor uniform the girls wears—the same uniform hung outside of his room for his little sister to bring into her room—as he steps forward with every step. calls of names are spoken between one another as he walks closer, some are calling his name which he gives different greetings while others are gathered with each of their friends. in a cautious state of mind, his eyes scoured around to see the groups of parents crowding around their children; some stood up like skyscrapers compared to them. he sensed the bandage on his skin a bit heavier than before when he turned to face his dad, who was staring at him. mom is out of his sight as he watches his father’s hand caressing his injured cheek.

“from shaving…” riki replies after letting out a light hiss, widening his eyes so he wouldn’t turn away. his dad lets out a small giggle as he pats his cheek, making riki actually retreat and copying him with his own giggles. the smell of the distinct flowers and leaves crowds around him as the sakura petals fall down on the paved road of the school that is surrounded by cherry blossom trees. but different flower species are also showing up in the number of bouquets the graduating class has on their hands. the sakura pinks being the background contrast with the whites and yellows in the bouquets. that is when he found a single person who has purple flowers in their bouquet. lifting his head to see the owner’s, the corners of his lips rise just from identifying the familiar face.

you are clutching the ends of the bouquet your parents have surprised you with. your own backpack hangs on your shoulders as you hug your father, seeing a little red panda wearing a graduation cap on the top as your mother asks one of the parents to help capture the picture. posing in between your parents, you let out a wide smile as you hear the familiar clicking sound a few times before you drop from your tippy toes—something you always unconsciously do when taking a picture. you admire the way the white and purple flowers makes the bouquet looks grand yet still screams you—purple has always been and will be your primary color.

seeing the bouquet and the many students makes you wonder if your friends are here or not. you raise your head and chin up, curiously looking at the stream of students and parents gathering at the front of the gate and school buildings before the graduation ceremony begins. that’s when you see the familiar tall boy who was always sleeping on the table beside yours whenever both of you were in class.

“riki-chan.”

he can follow your mouth’s movement, grinning when he picks up even a small sample of your voice on the other side of where he is. your voice calls to him like a siren as he takes one step forward. that is when he felt a hand slapping his back as riki could already guess who it might be.

“shota! i almost choke.”

riki hears shota’s infamous giggle as he turns around, finding him with his eye smile as he wraps his arm behind the boy’s back, “come on, niki. don’t be so serious. we’re graduating today.”

“i know,” he replied. he wanted to return to your presence once again when he let his eyes squint and something flinch to grow on his lips. riki watches his father approaching him with his mother as he takes a peek at the yellow-flower-full bouquet she is holding, knowing that it will be for him as he sees his parents trying to conceal it—even though they failed by how flustered they are to see their son already has his eyes on them.

“ta-da!” his parents proclaimed as he saw the bouquet in close detail, seeing a few white petals scattering the bouquet as the yellow slowly became softer in his eyes. creating a more pastel yellow than the ones that shock his eyes with how bright the yellow is.

“thank you, mom and dad,” he replies as he carefully picks up the bouquet and cradles it in his arms. his father greets shota as he asks the boy questions on where his parents are while his mother finally notices the bandage on his cheek, hearing her clicking her tongue as she tries not to laugh at how clumsy her son was.

shota helped in taking photos for the family, even though his sister is there but it was so hard to reach her when she was already with her friends. he glances at the clock on top of his screen after seeing his chat with his younger sister when he realizes it’s almost time for the graduation ceremony. riki reminds his parents of where the parents will gather as he slowly places the bouquet under the care of his mother. waving and saying a “see you later”, he and shota go to the crowd where the graduating students are—dividing into each class crowd as he is letting the memories of the graduation ceremony replay in his mind from the rehearsals..

shota greeted most of the class students as riki stayed behind, letting the guy feel the fame once more as he couldn’t help but grin at seeing another boy in their usual circle of six—walking towards them with his own grin on his face.

“taki-chan.” riki calls for taki as he did their bro hug. his hand playfully ruffled his dyed locks as he commented, “you’ve already bleached your hair?”

“yes, let’s just say that it’s my graduation gift from my parents. i have to look stylish when i moved to germany for university. how about you, niki? why do you even have a bandage on your face?” taki playfully poked riki’s face as he turned his head, wanting to bite the finger like it was a clawing game for making him sense the reminder of the pain of the cut skin.

his circle of six has two rikis in them. so, to differentiate them, they use their first syllable from the last name as their new nickname during their high school: creating the unstoppable taki-niki duo. taki is also part of riki’s dance studio, but he’s doing it more as a hobby than a career like what riki is doing. shota, on the other hand, frequents the arcade during their high school times. in the nearest arcade from school, he has a high score in playing the arcade’s taiko no tatsujin; even having a pair of specialty gloves he said could help with the grip of the drumsticks. his love for rhythm gaming also shows in school when shota showed riki his device when he plays osu!—the game that successfully gets taki actually after he is numb to it by dancing to hip-hop and b-boying.

“there you guys are!”

the three boys all glanced to the side to find the three girls had completed their circle of six. kokona stands in the middle as he catches her pouting face with her hands on her waist; one part of her hair is already highlighted and even riki can notice she is wearing a slight faint of eyeliner on her eyes. beside her, he sees you with your wide eyes-small smile combo, and nina who is playing something on her phone.

kokona is the musician of the group—"a born-to-be musician" as she likes to call it—as riki has always found her making lyrics upon lyrics, from the most poem-like to outward disses as he knows she can beat him in a rap battle if he wants to. nina is the brains of the group. having mixed parents like shota makes her able to speak in four different languages, but she is also academically smart as she is always representing the school for a social science olympiad and she spearheaded the economics club in school. and, you. you are the artist of the group. every time riki meets you in class, you always have a manga on one side and your sketchbook on the other as you try to read and draw at the same time, making the characters in the manga you are reading on the sketchbook in your own art style.

riki is lucky to have his circle to be as creatively well-versed and supporting each other’s endeavors. they were the first ones to know that riki is now a trainee for a label in south korea. and they couldn’t have been more proud as shota even gifted him his old korean language 101 books for him to start his language learning early; even adding a few korean terms the boy learned from his mother as riki tried to familiarize himself with them.

his homeroom teacher, mister terada, reminds them to stand in line according to their last names instead of seatmates, making all six of you scattered as riki stands with a boy in front of him and a girl behind him. he could hear the coordinator’s voice slowly letting the classes in one by one into the hall where he has seen his parents are in—seating at the bleachers at the top that are lining around the open middle area. riki could sense his legs being numbed as he didn’t know how long he had to stand up when he felt your touch on his wrist as your line was beside his, holding him up as you let out a pout. when it’s his time to enter the hall, he basks in the large space to see the parents sitting in the bleachers surrounding the students. said students all sit at their assigned seats from the rehearsals as riki recalls his path when he'll be walking to the stage to get his diploma.

the assembly finally started and both the boy and girl beside him started to chuckle when he had to cover his mouth to let out a huge yawn. the tiredness of packing his stuff for his later flight last night got into him as he just wanted to be his class’ turn so he could get his diploma and maybe take a few minutes of a power nap. he could hear nina asking for him a few seats away, watching her discreetly pushing her hand out. he reached his own as he felt something on his curled palm. opening it up, he found a small wrapped mint candy that he recognized as a staple of nina's as their “awake pill”. the spicy mint taste makes his nerves alive and aware as he sees the first few classes already getting their diplomas. he had to remind himself of all the rehearsals he had done after the exam for the past two weeks—the correct place to stand while waiting in the line, the etiquette and who to shake hands with, and where you pose for your graduation photo.

riki graciously stands up and stretches his tired body from sitting too long as he walks to the path he had track with his eyes and is currently in the line awaiting his turn. he spots kokona already sitting down with her diploma and also shota who is walking to sit down on his seat. step by step as more and more names are being called, he is now one step away from the short flight of stairs to getting his diploma.

“nishimura riki.”

his name is called as he puts out a smile he has been learning while walking across the stage, bowing deep and shaking the hand of the principal before meeting mister terada who he gives another bow to before he receives the diploma with both of his hands. he turns towards the end of the stage and poses for the camera at the end before sitting down, looking up at the bleachers as he can catch his parents’ voices, cheering for him.

yet, for him. finally, it was time to get a nap as he awaited the last homeroom of his high school career.

-

thud.

thud.

thud.

that’s what riki picked up before he leaned down to grab his usual drink from the vending machine’s slot at the bottom. his backpack has been placed once again on his back after he met up with his parents when the assembly was done. he really had a pretty good nap before the boy beside him shook him to wake up when the ceremony comes to an end with the last hurrah from his juniors—seeing his younger sister too as riki chuckles when they both catch each other’s eyes. too many people were crowding the floor when the mc said it was over over, but he knew he will reunite with his friends once again after fulfilling the parchedness of his esophagus.

straightening his back, he felt the weight of the bouquet fall down and rested on the bottom of his bag alongside his diploma as he awaited for the final things to do here: cleaning up his shoe locker and one last meeting with the homeroom teacher about his career sheet. his parents had long gone home and he had already done the nearly complete family photo with his younger sister. riki glanced at the view behind him as he saw a few kids playing soccer in their 30-minute recess time—he could see himself in them as he either helped in attacking towards the goal or defending it against his friends. 30 minutes that seemed like a lifetime when he was there to feel it himself now appears so short as he sees it from an outsider’s perspective.

“boo!”

riki turns around in a whiplash, almost spilling his drink from the bottle before he pauses and calms himself to stare at you. your purple backpack sways alongside your own movement as you laughed—even making you nearly folded yourself to get a grip on your knees because he was too funny. your laughter dies down as flip your backpack around to put your diploma inside the main pocket.

“thought you’d be here,” you mumbled, pulling out your wallet from the bag as you approached the vending machine. the backpack hangs only on one shoulder as you plunge the coins in and press the button of the drink you want.

“you always get a drink when you’re sleepy.” you then added, making riki chuckle.

it’s a habit of his he had always overlooked but, somehow, you remember. once in class, he had been taking a huge nap during japanese history class as he let the thick textbook cover him. he had a very late practice session for a choreography because he hadn’t nailed each move—maybe because it was near the exam time or whatnot. yet, no one seems to wake him until the end of the period. lifting his head up groggily, he looks at his classmates who are eating or talking with each other. that shock coming from him made the thick book fall as he heard a snicker coming from one of the crowd. riki sheepishly smiled as he wanted to crouch down to grab the book when he finally noticed the light-colored soda on the edge between his and your desk. the brand is his favorite, yet he thought it might be yours. but with the way the bottle sits behind the line between yours and his desk, he knew that it must be for him as he unconsciously swallowed his saliva; picking up and cracking the bottle lid open as he sipped the soda before going to his usual hangout place with the rest of the six.

he picks up the familiar set of thuds as you lean down and grab your purchase—the same brand yet different flavors. he watches you as you playfully shake the bottle, seeing the foam forming from the chemical reaction as he remembers what you say: “i like the soda fizzy.” but it is also like you that you are not careful when you open the bottle, seeing the pastel-colored foam flowing out of the cracks and landed on the pavement before you instantly gulp nearly a third of the bottle.

you let out a huge aahhhhh as you felt the coldness of the soda trailing down into your stomach, looking behind the color-glazed bottle to catch riki with a small smile on his face, but no movement in his eyes, gazing at you—making blood flow towards your cheek.

“hello? riki-chan?” you waved your sticky soda-stained hands in front of riki’s face before he seemed to snap out of it. that’s when you finally notice the little bandage on his cheek, spread wide right underneath his eye and cheekbone.

“what happened?” you softly poke your finger against the bandage, making riki back off as he looks away, eyes moving so rapidly before he lets out a small smirk.

“pressed my shaving razor too hard. it bleeds, so… yeah. gotta have to be reminded of that whenever i see my graduation picture now,” he told you in such a nonchalant manner, making you let out your own chuckle.

“you look like those bad boys i’ve seen on high school animations… you just need your lollipop and done!” you tuck the closed soda bottle beneath your armpit right after you say that.

“aren’t i a bad boy, though?” he raised his eyebrows, mimicking those bad boys you described by poking the tip of his tongue towards the inside wall of his cheek—as if there is a lollipop there.

you scoffed, “you? nishimura riki? a bad boy? bah…”

laughter falls out of you because you can’t seem to see him in the bad boy role. sure, he being a former soccer player and a dancer makes him popular with other people. you remembered near valentine’s day this year that many girls—including your juniors—asked you about his favorite candy or chocolate brand and flavors so that they could give that to him. some even leave gifts to you so you can give them to them and you are obliged to give them because you don’t want to experience the wrath of a teenage girl; you know that feeling too much yourself. yet, riki seemed to be more nonchalant about that, dividing the chocolates into the rest of his circle and not really giving anything back on white day—except for giving you, nina, and koko-chan different popin’ cookin’ sets you recognize costs money.

maybe he is a bad boy after all because of that. but, to you, that is his charm. riki doesn’t seem to be someone who is trying to please what society asks of him. he should’ve felt proud to get so many gifts for valentine’s day, but he doesn’t, and he is not afraid to show it. he has this sense of agency in him to know of what he is seeking even at such a young age, and to him, it is dancing.

“we don’t want to be late.” you get a last glance at him when he nods his head, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as he leads the way toward the locker area.

riki views some students replacing their outside shoes with their indoor slippers as he had done the same, tucking in his battered-up shoes inside his locker as he had to remind himself to bring the slippers home instead of putting them in the locker. or maybe it can be a gift for the first-year junior who is going to be assigned his previous locker for their shoes. that’s for him to think more about because he still sense he has time to think about it—the day felt both fast and slow at the same time.

the hallways are as clean as ever as he and you climb up the flights of stairs toward your homeroom class. his eyes gaze at the ever-changing properties hanging on the wall, yet he can definitely remember what it looked like when he was first here.

the newly painted wall now has chips of paint fallen off to show the dried concrete. the bulletin board where each club is advertising their project changes with every new administration. some plants he had first seen as sprouts now grow into a beautiful shrub. with a few of the existing shrubs died because of various reasons. yet, the look of the hallway still is the same as he could pinpoint places he had touched before: he had leaned his body against those set of windows, he had taken a peek inside one of the classrooms as he awaited taki to come out of the class, and he had also sat down on the floor there with his circle to their bento boxes because their usual hangout place is being renovated.

riki reached the handle and slides the classroom door as he is greeted by some students already sitting there, hearing the same roar as you step inside behind him. his eyes landed on the seats where you and he had sat for the past year, empty and inviting to both of you as you gazed at your classmates with their own bouquets (if they have one) and definitely their own diplomas as you watched them still admiring it. your eyes gazed to see the rest of your circle already in the classroom as you placed your backpack to hang on the seat and immediately walks towards nina, asking if she has any wet tissue.

“what took you so long?” riki heard shota’s scolding from the seat in front of him as he placed his own backpack beside his desk.

“didn’t expect for all of you to be here already. so (y/n) and i took our time,” he answered so honestly, hearing taki’s snicker beside shota as he was eating a snack. riki sits on his chair as his hand reaches for the cupboard underneath the desk in front of him, tapping his palm against the surface to recognize if he has any leftover items he hasn’t brought home. that’s when he felt sheets of paper that were united by a paper clip. he pulled it out, seeing the dusty paper of what looked to be a musical notary for his music class exam.

he remembered it was a final group project for the music class, and he had to do it with all six of the circle. riki remembered all the music lessons he had learned from his brief training with the trainers as he helped the group create their own song. shota in the drums, taki on the bass, nina on the guitar, and you on the piano whilst kokona and riki sing along with koko who uses her lyricist prowess to make a song that is seemingly about friendship and farewells. if riki hasn’t been accepted by his south korea agency, he would definitely pitch the idea to all of you to create a band. maybe all of you can be the latest sensation japan will meet on those shibuya crossing’s digital billboards.

yet fate says otherwise.

riki’s nose itches as he dusted the paper as the specks of dust floated towards the ground, looking at the clear version of the notation and even his own scribbles as he remembered how kokona berated him for not being able to match her melody—"i’m a dancer, koko-chan. not a singer." “but you’re an idol trainee. surely, you can sing.”—before carefully tucking it into his bag as he pulled the bouquet out of the bottom and let the bag open because he just knew that his whole backpack would smell like it if he kept it close.

looking towards the surface of the desk, riki sees a shadow standing menacingly in front of his desk. the shadow slides the glico’s pocky box in his vision. his head shifts upwards as he sees nina holding two more boxes of different flavors, making him look to his side to detect both you and kokona already having your own pocky with your own differing flavors.

“my gift to you all because i know i won’t be able to see you much in america.” nina says after putting the rest of the boxes in front of taki and shota. he could hear the two boys coo and send her gratitude before grabbing the boxes and opening them to ravage them for themselves. riki finally took a closer glimpse of yours as he finally noticed how both of your boxes are green-colored.

“did she give us the same flavor?” he mumbled to himself, yet he mumbled outwardly, making you shift your head and face him.

“i think our flavors are similar, let me see.”

you gently grip the wrist he is holding the box with and bring it beside yours. riki examines how his box has a dark chocolate gradient on it while yours is fully green, trailing his eyes down to read the flavor name on the front of the box.

“see, yours says green tea while mine is rich matcha.” you say what you observed as he can’t help holding back a giggle as you seem to unconsciously play around with your lip after you say the word “matcha.”

though purple is your favorite color—matcha is your favorite flavor. you have always been seen with matcha-flavored everything if you are given a chance. matcha lattes whenever all six of you visit a cafe, matcha mochi whenever you buy mochis, or matcha roll cakes when the gang is trying to buy something inside family mart. it’s no surprise nina gives you that, but why did she give him a similar, lighter version of it?

whatever, let’s just eat-

the sliding door opens and behind it, the figure of the class’ homeroom teacher appears. everyone, including riki, is applauding him—slightly drops the box on the table as he didn’t get to rip it properly. mister terada slowly steps inside, a surprised face on his face as he slowly walks to stand by the table in the middle of the class. he is carrying a large box with both of his hands as the holler continues, which is followed by whistles before he places it down on the table. mister terada raises his hands and slowly pushes it down as the volume follows.

“settle down kids. this is our last homeroom meeting.” mister terada says as riki gazes at the open box, knowing that it’s probably the yearbook that he had shot the photos for in january. he remembered that day cause it was still cold as heck. many of his classmates brought their own properties for the shoot, yet riki only wears his gakuran with a loose button and his trusty shoes—the black and white soccer ball is being lent by the committee because he has and wants to represent soccer on some sort so that he won’t forget.

“today, i’ll be giving you your yearbooks and also recapitulate your career sheet to see how each has progressed. i’m sure by now you have picked to focus on one of the three choices you made from those you picked in your first year to pursue.” mister terada stated as he started to call each name in the student's list, starting with the class president.

the giving off of the yearbook is also followed with a mini consultation of each student's progress. yes, right in front of the class, which can lead to embarrassment if they can’t keep up. but so far, everything still goes according to their plan, some even find themselves straying from their primary focus to explore something new or getting caught in something that becomes their infatuation.

most of his friends that have come forward and got their yearbooks have spoken about the same thing that they have spoken about just between the six of you: kokona is going to music school, nina is going to america and studying macroeconomics, and shota is pursuing game development. then, it was time for his turn as he heard the calling of a certain nishimura riki.

“that’s our idol!” he picked up taki's shouted words as the rest of the class laughed. everyone knows just how much riki likes to dance. he had shown his skills numerous times in the school’s talent shows either alone or with taki as the riki duo that they are. so it isn’t also a surprise for his classmates to find out he had been accepted into a label in south korea that has been throughout his school—courtesy of taki, as he is the one that always spills it.

it even created a whole discussion on why riki picked a korean label instead of japanese one, but one thing is prevalent in the discussion: the korean idol industry will see his dancing skills as more valuable than in the japanese idol industry. it’s just the way those industries goes honestly. but riki also wants to appreciate the korean idols that inspired him to be who he is right now; especially with the existence of japanese people in the korean idol industry and how the numbers are still going up.

the class seems to unanimously sing yoasobi’s idol as riki playfully does the gesture in the viral dance challenge as he now stands in front of mister terada. bowing down to greet him, he picks up the yearbook with two hands as the teacher asks, “how is it with your idol training?”

“it’s going good. i’m actually already planning to move to seoul after graduation so i can train better and have a higher chance of debuting.” yet, riki didn’t mention he will actually move tonight.

“well, we can’t wait to see you on the world stage, riki-kun. i love how consistent you are with it and i sure hope that your consistency could also inspire the juniors to follow their dreams.”

“thank you, mister terada.” he bowed his head once again before returning to his desk as mister terada called for the name after his. he playfully opened the yearbook and skimmed it before landing on his class. his fingers flip the paper to finally open to the page where all six of his friends are—because they shoot their pictures together. riki’s photo is the one where he had all the gakuran buttons off from their respective slots and he is holding the soccer ball against his hips.

“look at that, a very bad boy of a manga.” he could hear his thoughts speaking to him in your voice as he wished you acknowledged that. he also moved to the superlative pages as he could remember his same-year peers and juniors him in the running. he didn’t expect to win most changed by his peers. maybe it is because he has his growth spurt as he could tell that he might even grow 10 centimeters whilst in high school. but also with how his voice changes because of puberty and how his style changes to accommodate his interests, including more exposed yet baggy clothing and the clip-on earrings he likes to wear.

“(l/n)(y/n).”

riki heard the scrapping from the chair beside him as he watched you standing up and walking towards the front of the class. though you haven’t fully spoken about what you wrote on your career sheet, being a mangaka is what everyone knows that you wanted to be. your illustrating prowess has always been shown in the festivals the school made yearly, whether it is when you helped with the class’ food market by creating brochures and banners or when you even opened an illustration service where you drew students and teachers alike for them to have. it seems that you’ve got your life in line alongside him. and that’s why it shocked him to listen to what you’ve answered to mister terada’s question.

“yes, my progression with my university application is great. i’ve been accepted as a student in the international relations major in kyoto.”

riki’s eyes enlarged because he can’t believe what he is hearing. he turns his head towards his friends who are also looking at each other in quick succession, all of them having confusion on their faces before returning to you who is smiling like you didn’t even feel the quake that shook your friends’ beliefs about you. as you walked to your chair and look around at each of your friend’s face, you give them a tight-lip smile. yet, all of them hesitate to ask you why you choose international relations instead of design or art school. they have to respect your choice just like any of their classmate's changes.

the revelation shocked riki the most as he thought that you had trusted him enough to tell him everything. he has been your seatmate for three freaking years and you have grown up together since the first year. he had always seen you drawing in sketchbooks you bring in class, even ignoring some lectures so you can focus on drawing and reading manga. sure, he can see you must picked studying social science for a reason but he thought that—maybe just like he is as you both are creatives—you just don’t want to do math and natural science like he is.

the number of students without the yearbook dwindles as every desk has one on top of it. mister terada stares at the group he can call his kids while mumbling, “i’m so proud of all of you. hopefully you can continue to grow and be impactful towards society-“

“wait, mister terada!” the class president shouts as she scrambles to get something underneath her desk to then watch her pick up a new bouquet. “this is our gift to you so you also have your own bouquet alongside us.”

riki remembered when the class treasurer suddenly asked him if he wanted to contribute to gifting a bouquet to mister terada during the class’ yearbook photoshoot. he gladly accepts it as mister terada is the nicest homeroom teacher he had throughout high school. some of his other homeroom teachers are unnecessarily harsh towards the students and even shamed for not following through with their career sheets—knowing that teenagers also can get stressed too in doing so. mister terada is the only teacher riki can comfortably consult about his choice of being an idol. at that time, he was contemplating if he should audition for one or just focus on becoming a professional dancer. yet, mister terada’s push also helps contribute to him filling in the audition form.

mister terada received the bouquet from the class president as he stared at it, his eyes glimmering before saying, “thank you so much. could we get a class photo with all of us?”

the students are standing up as they try to set their places. one of the student’s parents, who is watching the class outside from the hallway window, steps in to take the picture. riki stands beside you, taking a peek to see you already in your pose as he can’t help but put his hand on your shoulder. what’s wrong with friends of the opposite sex being touchy with each other anyway when he had seen all the different hugs and leaning against shoulders between the six of you?

as the click of the phone camera taking the picture rings and dissipates, it’s followed by a chorus of thank yous being thrown around as some students hug each other. he is busy too, as some of his classmates are trying to take a few last selfies with riki before he becomes famous—making the rest of the gang just snicker from the side.

“i’m going to miss you guys,” shota spoke as all six of you were huddled in the group hug. one last warm hug before all of you are going to your separate ways. riki also should go back home to rest up as he will go to haneda airport later but when the hug separates and all of you six are promising to catch up and communicate in your line group chat, he is trying to keep up pace with you who is tidying up your purple backpack.

“(y/n)-chan.”

“yeah?” you looked up from the backpack after zipping it up, wanting to grab your drink and the pocky that you know you’ll be eating on your way home. yet, with the way riki is looking at you; you know he is trying to let something out.

“do you wanna hang out on the rooftop? for old time's sake, as it is our last chance.”

you held down your smile, knowing that you also didn’t want today to end so early.

“yes. let me text the others in the group-“

“just,” his voice cuts yours, “just the two of us.”

you watched as his glittering eyes told you something, telling you to follow him as you could definitely feel that something was hanging that you had to speak about. and you knew it was about the changes in your plan for the future, especially as you confide with riki so much of your dream in creating your own manga series.

putting the straps on your shoulders, you point your chin towards the door and say, “ok.”

-

the breeze comes rushing in even if you stand behind riki’s figure, blowing your hair as his figure turns into a silhouette when meeting the afternoon sun. you step out onto the concrete ground as you glance at the half wall circling around the perimeter, seeing a few chipped-out paint coming off from said walls before you turn around to be greeted with the rooftop garden. the rooftop that you and your friends have always been on since your first year.

the rooftop is a somewhat famous destination per se, but only the people who are brave enough to trudge against the ever-changing weather could remain here even within the three terms. so that’s why only a handful of people can call this rooftop their hangout place—other than the back of the school or the cafeteria. you glance at the shorter half wall near the garden, the place you and the rest of the six usually hung out at; ate lunch at, doing homework at, and spending your free time at. you can even remember when you initiated the circle’s “logo” as you write your name in an arch, making the others write their own to create a full circle following the curve.

you’re going to miss this place when you’re in kyoto. you’re going to miss the friends that you meet here.

stepping in front of you as you follow, riki approaches the short half wall that is also acting as a multi-use bench, eyes taking a glimpse at the garden’s chlorophyll coming back after winter has frozen them up. insects that seemed to be brave enough to fly this high are visiting here, carrying the pollen for the plants to grow faster. you follow his movement as you sit beside him, gazing at the beautiful view behind the half wall of the sky as the sun is on the way to setting on the west horizon.

riki reaches for his pocky as the sound of the box ripping is heard beside you, making you take your own opened one as you finally rip the plastic packaging open that separates you from the delicious cream on a biscuit stick. yours were more green than riki’s—hence the “rich matcha” flavor nina gave you. silently, you both take a bite of the stick that you pull out. your taste buds are overwhelmed by the combination of the matcha-flavored cream with the matcha-flavored biscuit stick. you look between the front of where you’re sitting to peeking from the corner of your eyes as you see riki doing the same, making you hold back the chuckle before awkwardness comes to remind you quick, making you finish your whole biscuit as your hand reaches inside the aluminum bag for another one.

“you said you want to be a mangaka?”

the breath that you are holding is slowly dripping out, knowing that your intuition is right as to why he brought you here.

“i thought we were gonna fulfill our dreams together…” riki’s voice seemed so cold—even colder than the leftover winter wind in spring.

your facial muscles twitch, maybe it’s because of the sudden sensitivity your face felt the breeze or is the answer that you don’t wanna think about suddenly popping into your mind. yet, when you turn your head—forcing yourself to be brave—you find riki already staring at you. his piercing eyes making goosebumps rising on your skin as, even through his eyes, you can read what he is telling you. you’ve drawn and seen characters in those eyes, but feeling it in real life feels different. much more hurting. much more loathing.

you try to think of the words that you remember you discussed with your parents as you talk about the future, as they’ve reminded you of how dangerous that industry could be—"many animators are crunching their hours. we don’t want to see you like that."—and the fact that they knew, they knew you couldn’t be creative under pressure makes you rethink it. and here you are, trying to explain that to your number 1 supporter, just as you are to him in his dancer-now-future-idol career.

“i, i don’t know if it’s viable for me…” you started, glancing between the pocky box you’re holding and him as you let out a sigh.

“then choose something else other than an illustration, like, i don’t know, painting? graphic design? you like those, right?” you can hear the way riki’s throat is getting hoarse as he speaks, how he is gritting his teeth when saying those words before he takes another stick from his pocky box and takes a bite. the muffled crushing of the biscuit is much louder than when you both are eating it.

“i have to think about my future, riki. you do know i like history and geography and international relation calls to me the same time as a career as a mangaka.” you said in nearly the same tone, not wanting to hold back as you can’t believe just how one-sided he seemed to think of you. that you’re not more than just an art kid in his eyes. “just like how you pick between being a dancer and a soccer player.” you said the last sentence, voice getting lower until the sentence ends near mumbling. but you know riki’s listening.

this is now the correct time for you to pour why you hid your choice from him.

“don’t you know just how dangerous the animation scene in japan is? people are overworked to churn out season upon season nearly every year. being an independent mangaka is also hard when you have to fight against the big guns in the industry. though i’m good at drawing, i don’t know about my writing skills-“

“you’re writing skill is perfectly fine.” he cuts your tangent, pivoting his head back towards you, still not stopping you from continuing.

“okay, but people are suffering there and if i join that system, i know i’ll be suffering too.” you rub the bridge of your nose near the corners of both of your eyes, pressing down on it as you don’t want a single tear out. not right now when you are trying to defend your choice. you’re willing to let out different words just to try to make him understand.

“and if i’m going to school in international relations, that doesn’t mean that i’ll be giving up on drawing. maybe i could join an organization or event there that needs someone to illustrate stuff. maybe i could try doing freelance whilst also working part-time in some convenience stores near tourist spots in kyoto. that doesn’t mean i’m going to easily give up on that dream, it’s just i’m taking the longer way.”

riki held his breath as he heard your reasoning, the way the look of your eyes seemed to dwindle but also increased in sparkles as he couldn’t figure out what feelings you were trying to say. anger? sadness? satisfy?

but when he felt your hand reach to hold his, he knew that you now want him to, at least, believe in you.

“you don’t know just how frustratingly messed up my thoughts are when you said you are accepted to a korean label and to fulfill your dream as a k-pop star.” your thumb caressed his pinky finger, “because i know that it’s going to be hard for me or for anyone in our circle to reach your level of success this young and to talk to you in general because you’re either going to be in korea all the time or you’re going to be layers behind bodyguards when you’re not there.”

you gulp down your saliva, “i’m glad one of us is going to fulfill our dreams faster.”

the last sentence hits riki so much that he has his life’s perspective turn in some random of degrees. he had heard of his parents talking about his older sister who is now in university, about just how different her childhood dream is compared to what she pursued whilst growing up. the same goes for riki, who wanted to be a soccer player before becoming a professional dancer and now being an idol. you must be facing the same thing. he recall how you mentioned you wanted to be a chef during your childhood, how it changed to your love for drawing, before seeing yourself as a diplomat, yet that could definitely change given you have four years of university.

life is definitely much more mysterious than what riki has been accepting. people’s wants and needs change given the situation, from the farthest to the nearest. dedicated people are there but the environment and instinct seem to tell them to change paths. he definitely realizes more that one person doesn’t have a definite answer to what is their purpose in life. is it like him to perform on stage? is it like what he thought you’d do in making a best-selling manga? all of that is a possibility, but that is not definite.

now he knows that the purpose of life is to live. every change of heart is there for a reason that is at the same level as every dedication. that, in life, anyone can define themselves as plural, like his mother who is also a businesswoman, and his father who is also an engineer. like you, who may become a diplomat and an artist. or even maybe him, who can be an idol but likes to play soccer. he had felt that he was erasing one dream for the next. but actually, he is just changing priorities to the one he is focusing on. that is his idol career for him and the international relations major to you—because that dream is still there, now lying dormant.

“you can fulfill your mangaka dream too, (y/n).” your ears perked up at what he was saying. your hand rests and is idle on top of his as you can feel his hand underneath yours flipping unto the other side. “what you said is true. that you can still have drawing as a hobby to help relieve you from school stress, that you can make pocket money out of it. that the place is still there for you even if you change your destination to try something else. and i’m sorry for not realizing that.”

his fingers move to be in between yours before curling in, making you look down at them before at his face, “i don’t know when we will arrive at the place that we want to go. maybe never. maybe someday. maybe even tomorrow.”

riki let out a tremendous sigh.

“but i believe that you can still get there. i believe that you, me, and our friends will eventually reach there,” he spoke his mind, making him turn away his head because of how his hand is randomly holding onto yours.

before he turns his back, he felt your fingers also curling to meet his hand, locking both of your hands as the sky is turning from a blue to an orange, letting you know just how much time you have with him as he had told you, and only you, that he’ll be leaving tonight.

“thank you.” your sentence of appreciation is enough to lift a smile on his face as it reflects on yours.

the scribble on the half wall remains there as you hoped some school officials wash it or paint it some months after today. the sunbeams shining through the window to the hallway where students are finishing cleaning up their class so they can return home. the green grass on the field creating short shadows beneath them as the sun starts to sink. your hand remains in riki’s as you both step out from the school gate for the last time—seeing your juniors, giving you a sad look to see you for the last time, but also a cheeky look after finding your connected hands.

you and him stood in front of the gate as you faced each other. both of your houses are on separate ways as you slowly let go of his hand, letting out a shrug whilst also having a small pout on your face.

“so, this is a goodbye, then? i can’t even contact you anymore because you’re going to be busy,” you spoke out the truth—knowing that k-pop trainees aren’t also allowed to have their phones most of the time.

“more of like a see you later because i know that i’ll be giving you and the rest of us six tickets if i someday hold a concert here,” he replied, holding onto the strap of his backpack as you find his pocky box peeking out from when the water bottle is supposed to be placed—mirroring your own self.

riki’s eyes seemed to glimmer with something as he reached to the buttons of his gakuran, tracing his fingers on the thick gold button as he reached the second from the top, easily popping it off as he pushed it towards you. you looked down and up at his face, not wanting to show the shock on your face as you reached for the button, pinching it between your fingers before you placed it on your palm and instantly curled it up to keep it safe.

his body got knocked back as he felt the arms wrapping around him. his arms are in a pause before he naturally lets go, raising his hands to rest on your back as he tugs you in closer. his mouth beside your ear.

“promise me you’ll remember me,” he whispered, sending chills running down your spine.

“i promise and i hope you do the same,” you replied, sensing a single tear falling out of your eyes as you wiped it away with his uniform.

“of course, i do,” he spoke back. his body seemingly not wanting to let go of you as you pull yourself back, feeling him holding onto your upper arms as you let out a tight-lip smile.

“go on. you have a flight to catch,” you smirked and took a few steps back when you sensed his grip loosen. your curled hand with the button in the grip is resting by your heart while you see riki’s wide smile as he steps backward opposite to where you are going. flailing his arms as a wave of goodbye as you just want him to go back fast so you can finally shed the tears that are wetting your eyes.

you raise your own hand as you wave a goodbye when riki looks at your figure getting smaller and smaller with every step he takes backwards, wanting to run back to you to give you one last hug because he knows he’ll be missing you so much. he hopes that you’ll arrive at your dream tomorrow, but he will always give a word of encouragement to you in his mind even if he is training in the dance studio in seoul starting tomorrow.

he hopes you keep and take care of his second button, just like how you have supported and encouraged him to pursue his dream. and he is now more determined than ever to make you and everyone who knows him deep down proud as he closes this chapter of his life and opens up the next.

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