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ruershrimo · 4 months

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like it’s the old love. | part 1 FINALE: section a | "merry christmas"

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features albedo (literally just him this time lol)

warnings: like in every other chapter the reader is fem!reader, there's a little bit of swearing, lots of cringe, perhaps a bit of angst and this chapter is COMPLTELY TEXT (sorry!!), but it's mostly okay in terms of not having anything that bad (please lmk if there's anything that warrants any warnings, though!)

notes: merry (extremely late) christmas, everyone! I meant to finish this before christmas so I could time it all together, but between writing for the event, travelling overseas and my poor planning, I wasn't able to finish it in time. I'm so sorry if it feels rushed! (this was also probably the chapter that I struggled with the most-- you'll understand once you read it, haha.)

summary: you finally want for things so passionately that you'd run for them instead of holding yourself in place again, and he's what you're running for. now you know for sure that you won't let go.

For the next few days everyone eagerly prepares for Christmas. Every few days Alice takes chunks of time out of her schedule to shop for gifts with Klee, while you and Albedo stay in spending time with each other, watching movies, doing housework or adding more decorations around the house, or spend time outside instead, eating at restaurants or cafes.

“Do you think there’s anything else we should add?” you ask him with your hands in your pockets, the two of you standing before the front gate. Compared to the densely packed apartments or bleak streets back at home, their house is an idyllic thing, like something from a Christmas movie. Like always there’s snow piling up on the sidewalk and the porch— which was an extremely rare occurrence back at home— and all the other houses on the block are caked with snow like frosting on a cake. The sun has begun to set, and the lines of lights on every picket fence and every door brighten up the street like glowing fairies. You anticipate the glow of the stars from behind the chimney overlooking the roof and the porch, clusters of falling snowflakes flanking each side.

“Not really,” he replies, “This is alright.”

“I think we did a pretty good job,” you say, hands rested on your waist in a mix of satisfaction and jadedness, “I don’t think we’ve ever really done everything on our own, so I thought it wouldn’t go as well as other Christmases, but I think I’ll just say that this’ll be one of the best Christmases ever. —Okay, I know that sounded over-confident, but— it’s not over-confidence or anything, it’s a fact!”

He’s staring at you with mirth in his eyes, and there’s nothing you can do but do the same to him, like there’s forces pulling you together and it’s so simple, you wonder why you hadn’t realised you weren’t in love with him before.

You really want to be selfish— you’d already done it before, roping him into this arrangement. To demand more time from him, more loving gentleness and tender care in each gaze and hand. But how could you? Even if he loves you too, would he ever say it? If he knew would he ever tell you, and if he’d known why hadn’t he? Was he scared like you? Had you made him wait?

Could you really risk telling him that, aloud, if it could ruin things like it did before?

—

On Christmas Eve, he takes you out for a walk on the beach.

It sounds a little silly, really. In the past it would just be a simple hangout, but now that you were together, it was a date he could take you for.

The change was so simple, and although nothing really changed on a superficial level— not the jokes, or the conversations, or the giggles or the calm unchangingness of his tone— things still felt different, somehow. (Or maybe it was just you.) You were a couple, now. It was silly that you were still trying to wrap your head around it, even if you were the one who suggested it: the two of you went on dates sometimes yet still continued on with rituals like hot chocolate and winter beach walks that you had before, so now everything's at once different and the same.

It was confusing, to say the least. As if you were crossing a tiny little bridge from Point A to B, but you weren’t quite there yet, and you were still considering if you should go back to Point A or whether Point B truly was supposed to be the destination for the both of you.

“Merry Christmas,” you cheer as he stops the car, “Woo!”

He opens the car door for you. What a gentleman, really— so you’d really been this lucky knowing someone like this for so long, and not realising you’d fallen in love with him?

Or were you just too scared to? If so, what changed?

“Merry Christmas,” he chuckles.

The two of you walk side by side as the wind blows through our hair again. You can feel the chill of winter again, tickling your ears and every time you try to face the cold again you’re only hit full-force by its numbingness, sliding your face back into the collar of your fully zipped jacket for a sliver of warmth. When you take your hands out of your pockets for a while, you feel like you’re soaking them in iced water.

Your hands bump against each other apprehensively with touches so faint you can barely feel them on your numbed skin, but you can tell that, though it may just be an illusion due to humans’ innate body heat and how cold everything feels, his hands feel warm, and it’s as if they get warmer with every light graze against your hand that there is. You’re not looking— if you did, your chest would constrict ever so slightly, yet in the most comfortable way possible. If you had a tail like a dog’s, looking at the proximity of both of your hands would cause it to wag uncontrollably.

It’s not like how it felt before with everyone else, when you’d constantly be red-faced and you could sense your emotions slipping so painfully yet so easily out of your control like sand from the gaps between your fingers. Being with Albedo isn’t masochistically thrilling like that— it’s comfortable, even if a part of you feels as if you could fall from the gap between Point A and Point B at any moment. Because although it seems scary, there’s something like a harness that secures you in the end and tells you that you’ll be fine, even though you know there’s a high chance you won’t be; even though you know that some few eight letters and your own insecurity can be enough to end things and send you plummeting down into an unforgiving torrent of snow as seventeen or so years of friendship and closeness can only crumble. So as scary as it feels, a part of you wants to hold on to that harness— hold on to him— and survive.

Then like puzzle pieces your right slips into his, and he doesn’t let go.

His hand is warm, so unbelievably warm.

This is the happiest you’ve felt in your entire life. The past few days of your life have been the happiest you’ve ever been no matter how bleak you know things will be once you’ll be back at home in Liyue.

This is the simplest (though maybe the edgiest as well) way you could put it: every year you’d live feeling like you were a shell of a person watching another’s life through the screen, putting on masks and switching them for others with every door you closed and every day that passed, no matter how many people you’d known from school: if you feared being hurt by envy or your own love for them, they would never come close, or at least not close enough. The only end to it was winter and your holidays spent with Albedo, Alice and Klee. Whenever you stepped into their house, despite how cold everything would feel, you’d feel invigorated, like you were living your own life again.

“So why the sudden date?” you question, your face warm and the sand devoid of anything besides seashells and prints of the two of your shoes’ soles, “This is probably our first official one.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

About something good? Or something bad?

You hope it’s something good. You don’t want this moment to end.

“...what is it?”

“I…” he pauses. So he’s nervous, which means it’s either something terribly good or terribly bad. “I wanted to ask if this could be permanent. …or if we could solidify things, I suppose. I mean that we could try to be a couple, an actual couple— like one that isn’t bound by a one-year arrangement. But then again, it’s hard to define this when there was never that much of a difference to how actual couples are like, anyway.

“I think it’s just that…” he says, voice uncharacteristically abashed, and it takes every bit of strength and control in yourself to dart your eyes to the ground in avoidance, “I think I’ve loved you for quite a while and realised that I should finally say it.”

At that moment it’s like your heart stops, almost flatlining. And now you’re scared and you don’t know what to do, you want to think but you want to answer, you’re going to regret what you say next but you’ll say it regardless even though you know what you need to say isn’t want you will say, oh god—

You suppose it’s in your inborn nature to ruin everything, because as he continues to stare intently at you, you open your mouth and say words that were already filled with regret long before they were uttered.

“… I don’t think I can do that.”

“…you don’t? I… I understand, I’m sorry. But…—but please just think again, [name], I’ve always wanted to say this.

“I think I’m going to go back in the car for a while.”

Damnit. You ruined it. You ruined it all.

Thank god there wasn’t anyone else there, because you don’t think you’ll be able to handle this without the absolute lack of any other’s presence.

He heads back to the car on the same path that the two of you came from, and as you watch his quick footsteps and how unrelentingly fast his back— the only thing that’s facing you— fades into a smaller and smaller silhouette, you feel like all you can do is stand there and cry and watch him leave like everyone else.

Like there’s a phantom force holding you by the legs, never letting you walk, never letting you change this for once.

In all your years alive, you’d fallen in love with countless people, had your heart broken countless times without them realising, never wanting to take a single step for others because you were scared. Because you didn’t think you could do anything at all. And you hated it. You hated those feelings, hated how you tried all you could only for your efforts to go unnoticed in the faces of people who only truly recognised the best.

But not now, not again, not when this is the happiest you’ve ever felt; when this makes years of unrequited feelings from others and school years spent with that inexplicable, unmoving loneliness that never left even when you’d befriended those people all worth it. Even if you were blessed with a good background, with a brother who cared despite not understanding you, with parents who were busy but only so that you and your brother could have good futures, this felt like one of the only things that really did make you happy. This felt like a blessing you’d claimed yourself; one that you had to chase after, and maybe that was what made it all worth it.

So you run after him, leaving sole marks on the sand again, telling your legs to move no matter how much you wanted to fall back, head giddy with all sorts of emotions that screamed for you to just sprint after the one good thing you wanted to keep as the strands of your hair flailed about and you felt the wind howl viciously at you, at your face, everything.

You know you’re a coward. You know you have a life that sucks. You know you’re too scared of changing it. But you’ll stop; you hope to whatever god who exists that they’ll let you keep this. You hope to yourself that you can have this because now you know even if you’re a coward you’d fight tooth and nail to have it always, to have someone love you the way he does.

—

When you’re there his tone has changed, slightly less controlled, slightly more helpless and your heart twinges in so much pain when you hear it:

“I’ve loved you for so long, but you run away from everything you’re scared of,” he says, and the sadness tugging on his tone is almost tangible, but it’s full of conviction and you’re not sure what makes it hurt more: you being forced to hear the truth you denied and refused to believe from the one person you expected not to hear it from, or you being fine with it if he’s the one telling you this?

“You run away from not being the best, you run away from things that you want because you’re scared of failure and rejection and change.

“Please, [name]— rejection and failure aren’t as horrible as they sound. You think of the life you have after all of this as death, and you don’t question whether you can have a future you enjoy or not because you’ve hammered into your own head that your only two options are trying things which can only lead to inevitable failure, or sticking to what you think you have to do to survive, no matter how much you hate it you’d rather stick to it out of your own fear.”

His words hurt and feel comforting at the same time, inundating your senses to no end like sweltering hot chocolate burning your throat and tongue, or like an embrace that chokes you and only makes you want to dissipate into it and cry. You barely even notice your quivering lips and the tears running down your cheeks the same way rain falls when the sky opens up and weeps uninhibitedly. It feels like the pot that’s had water in it for about all of your life has boiled over and overflowed.

“Please, just say something. I don’t know if I was wrong, but if I were then maybe I never knew you at all, and I’m sorry if that’s the case.”

You shake your head and scramble for words only to find none for you to say.

“Please just be selfish. Please, for once, stick to the things you want. Please just hold onto things no matter how scared of them you are.”

You squint your eyes in pain and even more tears flow down to your chin.

“...please, do it out of love.”

Then you snatch your hand away from his and jump to him, your arms wrapped desperately around his head. Even they don’t want him to go while every part of you is pressed flush against him without a second thought and ignoring how there’ll be an ache in your upper arms if you’re ever pulled apart after comes as easy to you as breathing.

“…no— I’m sorry, Albedo, I’m so so sorry! You’re right, you’re fucking right, I’m just a coward, I—” you ramble, the words pouring out of you like gushing water without a single moment of respite for you to catch your breath— “I wasted all of your time, I played with your feelings even though I knew how you felt but I was selfish all along for that because I never wanted to ask if we could be anything more, I was just— I was too scared of it all so I took advantage of you like that, but—!”

He holds the back of your head and pulls you nearer to him as if you weren’t ever near enough.

“Every year, Albedo, every year when I stayed here because I had no one else to spend time with, it was with you! And every year, god, every year, I cried to you and wasted your kindness as I only kept crying about my own problems and never helped take care of yours, I just kept viewing each year as one hell after another, I—”

In your slight haze you notice how he’s crying, too, ever so quietly, you can barely hear it as his low cries reach your ears.

“—I love you, Albedo, I love you so much. Sometimes it hurts so much and that makes me scared. And my life sucks so much but even trying to change it makes me scared. So I’m useless, just useless and selfish, I—” you gasp for air.

“—so be selfish, why don’t you? Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about being a burden,” he almost shouts, then gets softer again, “Because you are, at times. But you’ll never be some stain on my life like the way you view yourself as. I’ll listen to you cry each time— don’t care about me like that, put yourself before me, please,” he pleads, “It’s better for the both of us if you put yourself before me. And try to be “useless” in that sense for once since you never were in the first place, why don’t you—” he says between tears and shaky inhales, “Be selfish and feel what you want to feel, feel what you have to feel. If you need to, use me as what you can lay your back on after everything. It’s horrible but I’ll do it regardless, so just let me help, please, I don’t want to watch you continue to hate yourself and your life like this!”

And then you cry and cry and cry for what seems like an eternity, as if years and years of feeling like you aren’t living your life, of feeling useless and unnoticed to the people around you, just spill out so simply and turbulently. He just continues crying, crying for you despite how lonely he must feel from his own experiences, from a mother who never cared much for him unless when he was impressive or could keep up with her in all things related to the sciences she loved more than her own son; from the impossibility of him ever being able to be on the same playing field as him in terms of intelligence and curious thinking in the same way the mother who left him did.

You don’t know how you’d never thought of it before, that small child the same size as you being sent to live with his aunt his whole life when his mother who could have taken care of him merely chose not to due to her work. But then the two of you weren’t so different, no? Yet he was so different, so wonderfully different, an inspiration to you that you envied yet placed on a pedestal more and more through the years. Did it ever make him feel lonely, then? Did he feel as happy as you did for the past few days you were together, partly because both of you rarely mentioned how he was “perfect” and how you weren’t? Did he ever look at you and wonder if he could be like you, the same way you wanted so much to be amazing like he was, did he ever look at you with envy?

How could he ever envy you, though? He was so good, so blindingly, painfully good. A good son, a good friend, a good person.

…why are you so good, Albedo? You choke out through tears after a while, “Why do you have to be so good to me? Why, why? Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I don’t even know,” he replies, softly, his mouth buried into your hair as if he’s using your head to muffle himself, “I’ve been doing it for years and I want to do it forever. I don’t know anyone who can know you like I do and not want to do the same.”

“I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll try to be selfish from now on. I’ll try to learn to want to have things for myself again.” Just let me have this.

You hold him tight and cry into his shoulder.

Everything’s quiet. The grey exterior of his car seems so serene when illuminated by the stars that twinkle despite the tarry, black colour of the sky, and so is he, his moonlit blonde hair in your peripheral vision, the relaxing slothfulness of his breaths, the droopiness of your eyelids as you rest your chin on his shoulder. Everything’s calm.

Yeah. You’ll be alright, you think. You’ll be able to have this, to keep this.

You’ll be just fine if he holds your hand through it. And then maybe you can hold his, too.

—

“I’m happy,” you whisper on the drive back. It just felt natural to head back home after, anyway. And maybe sleep in the car once it was parked in the driveway instead of coming back inside. Then maybe tomorrow you could go on for real this time, watching movies and making hot chocolate and having conversations at the foot of his bed, and at that moment you think that’ll be all you need to be content for your whole life.

“Hm?” His head turns to you for a moment before turning back to face the wheel.

“I’m happy I have this,” you say, “Even if my eyes are going to be swollen on Christmas Day.”

One of the numbers on his satnav’s digital clock changed. 12:00, it read.

“At least you’re not alone in that aspect,” he smiles, and you lean your head against his so that it’s touching him ever so slightly. “Merry Christmas, [name].”

“Merry Christmas,” you say back, “I love you.” You really, really do, and you’ll say it every chance you get to do so now as compensation for all the times you hadn’t said it before.

“I love you too.”

You close your eyes and sleep.

(When he returns to that sleeping neighbourhood, he turns off the engine, but doesn’t leave the car. The next morning, when the sun’s rising and you open your eyes to lines of houses adorned with reds and greens, you hold his hand and snap a picture of his sleeping figure again. You hope he won’t mind when he wakes up.)

end notes: and that's the start of part 1's wrap-up! the next chapter will probably be mostly fluff that'll take place during new years, and that one will probably be really short, too. I hope that that way, we can end this series and this year on a high note! part 2 of litol will be coming out in the first half of next year :).

taglist: @sn1perz , @n3r0-1417, @kika-a, @chalksdreams

(please send in an ask if you’d like to be in the taglist <3!!)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #albedo smau #genshin smau #genshin impact #albedo #ruer writes #litol 💿.#fem!reader #fem reader #real talk though if you relate to the reader in this fic #if you ever feel like your life sucks. you have to try to change it because there will be people who can help #but sometimes all they can do is make you want to help yourself #so don't lose hope #the sun will shine on the next day and you just have to try as much as you can to live happily #also the confrontation is so dramatic lmao people don't act like that in real life #so cringey...#may rewrite this in a few years' time maybe

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thesafecafe · 3 months

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Femdom February Masterlist

Thank you to @nirvanawrites111 for hosting this writing event! Y'all know the drill, MDNI, and if you wanna be tagged, have your age in your bio and let me know!!

Banners made by @cafekitsune and @saradika

Mirrors - Chanhee (Day 2)

TBA....

Taglist: @frenchkisstheabyss , @wisejudgedragonhairdo , @grandlightcandy ,

#fdfeb2024 #the boyz #the boyz smut #ateez #ateez smut #x black reader #x black fem reader #x black plus size reader #x chubby reader #monsta x smut #nct smut #seventeen smut #oneus smut #shinee smut #x poc reader #kpop x black reader #kpop x poc reader

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hunterwritesstuff · 1 month

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Same anon who requested the linzer fic and it was so cute I adored it!!! Should make an anon name for myself....snow anon maybe? Or maybe something else? Idk! Btw saw your introduction post and I'm also autistic so I understand need for detailing and I usually try to pack detail into something unless my brain battery is low lol! But for now...I got another request for ya!

Autistic female reader x Shining glitter and I got 3 scenarios cooked up! I'll let you choose or maybe we can do multiple in seprate requests if you end up wanting to do more than one and I can request it again or idk...sorry if this is weird to offer, i just find em all cute....all are possible things Shining glitter comes home to when they come back from a tour that they don't take y/n on because they know y/n would probably get overwhelmed:

1. Shining glitter coming back from a tour to find that y/n stayed up late to welcome her home and is very drowsy so Shining glitter has to put them to bed despite y/n wanting to welcome them home with some time to spend together...maybe Shining glitter has to sing them to sleep in order for them to be unable to fight the eepiness anymore!

2. Shining glitter comes home to y/n greeting them like an excited puppy, happily stimming and rushing at them with hugs and cute couple stuff ensues...maybe involving Shining glitter singing to calm y/n down if they think y/n is getting a little over excited since their singing always calms them down.

3. Shining glitter surprises y/n by coming home earlier than they expected and surprising y/n with their favorite food, favorite board/card/video game set up, and just watches as y/n comes out from their room to see the surprise! Happy stims ensues and happy girlfriends have fun together!

Hope you like these and have fun!

Of course! Snow anon totally works! Gonna throw these into a blender and make something outta it, hope that's okay! :D

You sat on the couch, having put the dinner you cooked in the microwave as you waited tiredly. Your girlfriend was coming home, so you wanted her to have a warm welcome! She'd been gone a while, so you wanted to make sure she felt welcomed!

You almost started to doze off before you perked up, hearing the sound of a pair of familiar keys turning in the door's lock. The door opened and your girlfriend stepped in. "Honey, I'm-" She was cut off as you tackle-hugged her.

"Oh! Hello! How long have you been waiting for me, love?" She asked, laughing softly.

"Since you texted!" You smiled tiredly. The smell of dinner wafted through your shared apartment and Shining Glitter Cookie sighed in relief.

"Mmm....something smells good...what'd ya make?" She asked, picking you up and carrying you into the dining room with her.

"Your favorite! Hot Jelly Stew with bubbly boba to drink!" You smiled. "The food is in the microwave, the drinks are in the fridge!"

Shining Glitter set you down in your typical seat, going to grab your dinner. "Yours is the one without the pearls, I'm guessing?" She asked.

"Mhm, you know me! It's a sensory sensation I can never really handle, ha ha..." She dropped your dinner off, kissing the top of your head.

"That's okay! I know it isn't something everyone can handle!" She giggled. The two of you ate dinner together, occasionally making small talk, which was mostly just you asking how your girlfriend's tour went.

After dinner, she carried you into your shared bedroom, you giggling and basically infodumping about how much you loved your girlfriend's music and how if and when you got married, you wanted to see if the music played could be hers.

Eventually, it got to be bedtime, but you were still going. Shining Glitter loved you, but she wanted sleep, so she just sorta...pulled you under the covers, singing softly to get you to calm down, eventually getting you to calm down enough to fall asleep.

"Goodnight, love~" And she kissed the top of your head, falling asleep with you.

Hope you enjoy! :D

#shining glitter cookie #shining glitter cookie x fem reader #shining glitter cookie x autistic fem reader #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #Idk if it's just me but the boba pearls are a sensory NIGHTMARE for me-#snow anon #I ALMOST TYPED 'BOOBA' TWICE WHILE WRITING THIS BTW

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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burnin for you pt two | stranger things ; g.emerson

A/N ; So uh... I swear, this is not the chapter I intended to write when I sat down earlier but... I really wanted to give Gareth a moment or two to shine. And I personally feel like he definitely gets mean/mouthy and has anger issues, hates to see people being picked on. So... I guess this chapter stemmed from that. So if you wanna see a grumpy drummer get protective over a 'princess' type.. That is this.

ALSO OMG Y'ALL HAVE ME CRYING RN HAPPY TEARS BC LIKE... i did not think anybody would even look at this when I posted it. The fact that people did and they actually seemed to want to see more, like.. fuck, I'm blown away. emotions, man. Thank you thank you thank you so much you don't know how much it means to me. The feedback and stuff really does help and you don't know how much it inspires me.

Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x Sweet!girly!rich reader.

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ;

pt one - two - three - four found by clicking since tumblr can't be trusted to show my shit in the tags and it's hit or miss..

set in season four but none of the unholy terrors of the upside down will be happening here. eddie will not be dying. huuuuge note here. Gareth's actions within stem from my own personal headcanons about him having anger issues. And being v.v protective -especially when he's close to someone. Reader, i'll remind you is sweet!girly!rich fem reader. With soooo much insecurity, i s2g. There are reasons for this that are hinted at -will be hinted at. This is gonna be a bit of a slow burn with heaps of sexual tension starting from the next chapter, most likely. Not an intense slow burn but it's not racing towards the finish line either. A jog. that's what this is.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @hcloangcls @krys-orion @rampagewriting --absolutely ignore if you prefer bb and @scoobiessnacks are the only ones I have to tag bc they're on my taglist. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; the jocks. they are the warning. there is a confrontation. There is a fight. There is the teeniest mention of blood/injury. There is a v.v. insecure reader. more internal pining on both sides but no real... romantic type stuff... yet.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

“You.” your nose wrinkles with disgust as you tilt your head slightly and shield your eyes from harsh sunshine above. Mason Allen is standing there, but he’s not alone. No, he’s got two of his idiot friends with him because apparently, stupidity and being an actual creep are spreading diseases. You swallow hard as the three of them step closer. Surrounding you.

“Relax.” Mason’s voice is quiet. His eyes drag over you longer than necessary. Long enough that you pass over from discomfort to real fear. He steps closer to you. Gently guides your chin up to make you look at him and he’s giving you that plastic fake grin when he does it and you just feel so sick… You shove his hand away with disgust and this only makes him step even closer. There’s an angry gleam in his eyes. It’s scary as hell.

“I’ll scream…” you trail off, eyes darting around yet again and finding no one, “ I bite.” you mumble quietly.

And you will. You do. But you’re hoping to fuck that whatever this is, it doesn’t come to that.

Your stomach does a lazy flip.

“You’ve been hanging all over that fuckin little freak like a bitch in heat since you got here. It’s disgusting. I just wanna know what he has that I don’t, sweetheart.”

You rub the bridge of your nose. Now there’s annoyance mixing in with your fear and neither of those are emotions you handle well at all. They both tend to make you mouthy as all hell. And this is not a good time for that to crop up.

This could go very,very badly if you get mouthy.

Before you even have a second to stop and think about it, your eyes are scanning the parking lot a third time, searching for anybody who looks even a little familiar, a little safe.

You’re mainly hoping to find Gareth but you’re pretty sure he was gone the second the bell rang. He doesn’t usually hang around after school for no reason. Except on Hellfire night and that wasn’t tonight. And given that you don’t know for sure what he drives just yet, you can’t tell if you’re right or not.

“C’mon, doll. Answer the guy. We’re just curious. Y’know Carver beat his ass once, right? Last year, actually.” Mason rubs his chin thoughtfully, gazing at you. That stupid fucking pervy gleam in his eyes the entire time. “You really want a pussy like that, doll?”

Carver. That prick. The one who gave you an entire ten minute lecture on those ‘satanists and their fucking cult’. The one who seems to be something of a wannabe cult leader himself. He pretends to be one of those white knight types but there’s something about him that just makes you a little afraid of the guy. The only jock that you’ve met lately that you’re not afraid of at all is the kid Lucas, you babysit for his mother regularly.

But then you stop and think about it, you’re afraid of a lot of things. Insecure as hell.

“Why would you want that when you can have this, hm?” Mason gestures to yourself. And you’re trying so,so hard to bite your tongue, to keep the sarcasm in check so this doesn’t go off the rails somehow.

“ He’s not an asshole who likes to gang up on somebody and scare the living shit out of them, for starters?” you list it off. But you’re in full blown panic mode, so naturally, you don’t stop there. Between the anger and the fear, your mouth is about to land you in serious shit.

Or so you think.

“You’ve been with him almost two weeks. You gotta be gettin tired of the freaks by now. How do you know you don’t like me, hm? You never really gave yourself a chance. You were under him from the word go.”

“Better him than you.” you mumble.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he asks, clenching his fist.

“You’re ugly,deaf and stupid? Damn. Somebody really pissed in your gene pool, didn’t they?” you retort and somehow, while you’re feeling feisty enough to do it, you shove him out of your way and you’re running.

Your only goal is to put as much distance as you can between you and Mason Allen. In the process of running away, you collide with Gareth, who was coming around the side of the building from the shop class on the back side.

“You know I’m right, buddy. You know it, Gare.” Jeff insists. He catches sight of you in a full on blind run and he’s about to nudge Gareth. “Case in point… Do you really think she’d keep seeking you out if she didn’t like you at least a little?”

“We both know what’s going to happen.” Gareth insists, still totally unaware of you, approaching at break-neck speed. He’s looking down at writing covered sneakers. “Just leave it alone, damn it.” he snaps calmly.

“Yeah, I know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna keep being weird around her til she just leaves you alone. Look, she’s not exactly the most confident… Kinda like somebody else I know.”

And then, it happens.

Gareth glances up to look around, see if he can spot you in the parking lot anywhere and he sees you alright, you’re running straight for him, full-throttle like you’ve got the hounds of hell right behind you.

You collide with him and before he can brace himself and keep you upright, you’re on top of him and his back is against the ground. And he bites back a groan because this is… Not going to help him and the situation he’s in with his little dumb crush on you and he knows it. The way you fell straddling his hips is going to haunt his memory for a long time. Even after you’ve come to your senses and abandoned him and the guys for a chance to be popular.

“C’mon. Run, now.” you’re stumbling over your words as you scramble to pull yourself off of him and trying to pull him off the ground too. Gareth is looking at you with a brow raised, taking in the way you were just running like your life depended on it, the widened panic deer-in-the headlights look on your face, all of it. And he just knows.

Somewhere at the bottom of it all, Mason Allen is involved. The guy’s been sniffing around since your first day. Popping up. Watching you. It’s creepy as hell, it never fails to piss Gareth off and his rants and tangents since this all began and Mason developed his odd fixation on you are nothing short of legendary. It’s just a matter of time until no amount of telling himself this is not his business won’t be enough anymore.

Gareth has been diligently telling himself that this is not his problem and sooner or later, you will wind up among the popular kids and hell, you might even date Mason at some point, pretty girls always go for his type, don’t they?

But seeing you so freaked out. The shake he felt as it raced through your body when you ran into him, nearly knocked him down just now, it starts to sink in.

You’re actually terrified of the guy. Of a lot of people in general, come to think of it. You disguise it with disdain, disgust and sarcasm but the fact remains.

And the anger he’s been telling himself he doesn’t have a right to feel because you’re not his girl, that all comes rushing to the surface real quick.

When this happens, he pretty much decides to hell with running. If the guy scares you this fucking bad, maybe it’s time to put a stop to the him.

Drumsticks and Gareth’s notebooks are shoved at Jeff in haste. “Keep her over here, alright?”

“Gare, wait. There’s fucking three of them, idiot.” Jeff tries to reason but Gareth isn’t listening. He’s probably hit that black out level, the one where he’s not thinking, he’s just angry.

“Keep her over here.” his voice is deathly calm when he turns around to look back at Jeff.

It hasn’t been this calm since way back in sixth grade, right before he completely messed Jason Carver’s face up. What’s surprising is that everyone seems to have forgotten just how scary an angry Gareth Emerson can actually be since then. He’s calmed down a lot since. He tries so hard to avoid fights. Even to a point where he just let Jason beat him up last year.

Jeff sees you about to make a run for it and go after Gareth but he swings his arm out in front of you. “Oh hell no. You’re not going back over there, alright?”

His tone is firm. You swallow hard and nod.

Eddie makes his way out of the back of the school and as soon as he sees what’s about to go down, he rubs his hand over his face. When he spots Dustin, he whistles to signal him over.

“There’s three of ‘em. Me and Jeff need to go help Gare, alright? Gare told Jeff to keep her,” he glances at you, “over here. You’re gonna do that, alright, Henderson?”

“O-okay.” Dustin nods, a little worried because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. His gaze settles on you and you’re biting the edge of your thumb, you look freaked out. “What happened?”

“Stupid fuckin Mason. Again. I… I collided into Gareth and tried to get him to run but he stormed over there.”

Dustin grins to himself.

The way Gareth protests to anyone who will listen in Hellfire about the two of you not being a thing, this is only proving everyone else right.

“I need to go over there. This is my fault. And like.. He’s the only friend I..” you’re upset, you’re scared and you’re disgusted with yourself because this is completely your fault. There is no mistake. You’re about to lose the only friend you really have, all because you were too pathetic to stand up for yourself.

,, This is precisely why no one ever stick around.” the thought comes and it doesn’t help. Not a bit.

“It’s not your fault. I mean if you were egging it on, I’d say I agree but you’re not. Also, he’s not your only friend, okay? I’m your friend too.” Dustin answers quietly.

“It is my fault. If I would have just been brave enough to deck the guy in the first place..” you glance over just in time to see Gareth put his entire body into Mason’s which sends him sprawling back and doesn’t stop Gareth. Not even a little.

Gareth is straddling him now, he’s got him pinned. “You’re gonna leave her alone… Right, Mason?” he asks, snarling the words as he holds onto the front of the other guy’s shirt. Mason is about to flip him but Gareth uses the fact that he’s actually got muscular legs and more strength in them than anyone really seems to realize to his advantage and he grips Mason’s sides, keeping him from flipping them. “You’re always talkin about us… You guys are the creeps. Not us.” he spits when he says it. “Pickin on somebody who can’t do anything because that’s so manly, right?” he lets go of Mason’s shirt and lets him hit the dirt of the schoolyard.

Jeff and Eddie went over to help out, but so far, Gareth has kept the upper hand. Ducking punches thrown, coming up with his own harder ones, a stray punch or two landing with him but he doesn’t seem to notice.

They’re shocked because the last time Gareth got this angry was all the way back in middle school and it took years for any of the jocks to even consider pissing him off again. Some of them who haven’t forgotten the whole thing still keep a pretty wide berth when it comes to Gareth.

Two of Mason’s buddies act as if they’re going to go help and triple team Gareth but Jeff and Eddie grab hold of them and hold them off with a smirk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, hm?” Jeff asks, smirking at the one he’s got hold of. Eddie chuckles. “No, no no.. Three on one, that’s not fair, right? You’re gonna stay right here, buddy.” he tells the one he’s grabbed and holding back. “This is gonna happen, bud. Just accept it.”

Gareth happens to look up just as you come running over to try and stop it from getting out of hand and this is what kind of calms him down a little and brings him back to reality. The angry haze begins to clear out and he pulls himself up off of Mason, wiping the back of his hand across his bloodied mouth. “Don’t even look her way again.” is the last thing he tells Mason Allen and Mason waves his hands defensively when he doesn’t answer quick enough and Gareth looks like he’s going to punch him one more time because of it. “Okay, alright. Fuck. I won’t even look at her.” he insists, but at this point it’s as if he’s pleading more than anything, there’s a slight shake to the jock’s voice that has Eddie snickering and Jeff chuckling quietly with amusement.

With the potential that the fight was seen, the jocks scatter away, retreating to the gym. Gareth’s taking deep breaths to calm down. “Dude, you want your emergency inhaler?” Jeff asks when he sees Gareth trying to catch his breath. “Just to be safe, man. I’ll go get it.”

“Yeah.” Gareth answers, panting, digging down into his jeans. He tosses the keys in Jeff’s general direction and Jeff bends down to scoop them up then he takes off towards the truck Gareth drives. You make your way over, wincing and grimacing as you catch sight of the busted lip and the bruise on his cheek.

And you’re conflicted because seeing him get that angry was scary, but on the other hand, if you’d been braver, if you’d stood up for yourself to begin with back around the third day when Mason made this a pattern, it wouldn’t have happened.

You’re worried about him. He could have gotten seriously injured if things had gone just a little differently.

“You didn’t have to do that.” you mumble softly. “I should’ve.. I should’ve done something.”

Gareth shrugs. He really doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

But you have to do something. You untie the pink silk scarf tied into your ponytail and you step up to him cautiously, holding it out. You wince and you gingerly press the fabric against his mouth. It’s not ice, but it’ll get some of the blood off.

“Dustin?” you motion the younger boy over.

“Yeah?”

You nod to your own bag discarded on the lawn because it was too heavy and you needed to run fast and get the hell out of dodge minutes ago. “There’s a dollar in the pocket. Go get me something cold out of the vending machine, please?”

“On it.” Dustin makes his way over to the dropped bag and picks it up, finding the money. Then he takes off for the gym.

Gareth’s breathing is back to normal and he’s calming down, but he’s kind of thrown for a loop because you didn’t see everything you just saw and run like hell. Or decide that maybe giving in and just hanging out with them was the better idea.

As it sinks in for him, he’s staring up at you.

“I can go if you want.” you mumble quietly, your stomach twisting as you say it.

This has to be too much for him. It has to be.

“No. It’s fine.” he mutters quietly.

You nod. Dustin comes running back over with a cold drink and you hold it against Gareth’s lip. “You shouldn’t have done that. I..I should have done something about it myself.”

“Do what, exactly? He would’ve had his friends waiting. That’s how those assholes operate.” Gareth answers quietly. Hissing at the cold against the heat in his busted lip. Trying to cringe away a little because of it, only to have you step a little closer, just enough that he’s slightly towered over you and your body’s just barely grazing his. The cotton candy scent of your perfume gives him something to focus on and he breathes in and out slowly.

“I know, just..” you take a deep breath. “It’s my fault.”

“But it’s not. You didn’t ask the guy to be a fucking creep.” Gareth states quietly.

You shrug. But you don’t say anything because you don’t know what to say. You only know what you feel and you feel like this is all your fault somehow.

“He didn’t… do anything, right?” Gareth asks, tensing up.

“No, no. No. I ran.” you reassure him. You back the cold drink away from his mouth and grimace, shaking your head.

“Good.” he takes a deep breath or two, relieved. Wincing because his lip is throbbing and he feels like shit after the adrenaline has started to wear down. He’s eyeing the aluminum can in your hand and you pop the tab, holding it out to him. “H-here.”

When he takes it, his fingers brush your hand and for the millionth time, it feels like someone’s just dragged a live wire over him. He takes a sip of the drink and holds it out to you.

You don’t realize how big this is yet. Gareth’s not the one who shares everything easily. The fact that he’s sharing a Dr. Pepper with you right now is definitely a bigger deal than he makes it seem or that you even realize it is just yet.

“Did you drive here?” he asks quietly. You shake your head. “Uh uh. Walked.”

“Do you uh… Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly.

You nod. If he takes you home, you can at least get him cleaned up a little better.

“Yeah. Only if you don’t mind and it’s no trouble, though.” you stumble over your words. You’re relieved because you know at least two of the jocks happen to live out near the same area as you and you always see them driving past when you’re walking.

Gareth steps closer because something else is starting to sink in. You’re never outright asking for anything nor will you say yes to anything without tacking on “Only if I’m not bothering you” or some variation of it at the end. And he’s starting to realize that really, really bothers him too. Makes him want to find anybody who ever made you feel like you have to make yourself small or whatever it is you’re trying to do and show them how it feels.

And he realizes finally that he can’t just continue on keeping you at an arms length. And he really doesn’t want to, either. Even if all he ever gets is friendship, it’s better than nothing, right?

He decides then and there that yes… yes, it is.

“Hey, Emerson.. We’re going ahead to Grants. Just come by when you get her home.” Jeff calls out and as says it, he nudges Eddie. “Doesn’t have a crush on her my ass, right?”

Eddie laughs, nodding. “Cmon. I gotta stop by Reefer’s on the way.”

– ( an hour later )

“You’re sure this is okay… Right?” you ask him for the third time and Gareth chuckles quietly as he nods. He brings the truck to a stop behind Eddie’s van at the curb of Grant’s house. You’d cleaned out his lip and fussed over the bruise. More than once during the amount of time he was in the house you live in, he got the feeling that you were alone there a lot.

When he asked you about it, you told him your parents were always away with your dad’s work. You acted like it wasn’t a big deal at all but he could tell it bothered you. So, he’d asked again if you wanted to come with him and watch the band practice in Grant’s basement. He’d had to really convince you that it would be fine, that he wasn’t angry about everything that happened in the schoolyard, that no one was, but he managed to and you’d agreed to come back with him.

After changing of course. And if he thought the little soft sundresses in their varying pastel hues were something of a distraction, he had not prepared himself at all for the sight of you in a pair of shorts and a soft pink sweater that hung off of one shoulder with the sleeves hanging over your hands slightly.

Because he’d damn near forgotten to breathe when he saw you.

Your hair was out of it’s usual ponytail and bow and it was loose, a little wild.

He was still trying to decide which way he liked you better.

Distracted as hell and nearly turned down the wrong damn street when he got to the part of town Grant lived in just because you were sitting in his passenger seat.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. C’mon.” he chuckles quietly and you nod. He gets out and makes his way around to help you out of the truck. The two of you make your way into Grant’s basement via the door on the side of the house and Grant’s immediate response is to grin and high five him and say that he wished he hadn’t missed the whole fight.

Gareth shrugs it off.

Eddie smirks and nods to you. “Decided to come with you finally?”

“Yeah.” he answered, glancing back at you where you’re sitting on an old sofa in the corner. He drags his hand through soft,curly hair and shuffles his feet. “Don’t start shit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Gare.” Eddie laughs, giving the shorter boy a friendly shove. “C’mon. Let’s play.” he tells the others as he picks up his guitar. You watch as Gareth takes a seat on his stool behind his old drum kit. Scooting forward on the sofa a little more as they cue up a song you haven’t ever heard before, but it’s a little catchy.

You’re bouncing your foot with the music and smiling.

You feel a little more relaxed for once. Hopeful.

Maybe if nothing else, you can finally make friends again…

But there’s that nagging doubt in your mind too… What if you push him away too somehow? What if he’s not what you’ve got yourself thinking he is and the same shit that happened to you before, in your old school, happens again?

All you can do is see where everything goes. Carefully.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction #// all i can say is.. i uh.. have no clue where this came from + say that this is my own personal interpretation of the character so... yep #// fight #// jocks being jerks #// jocks being creeps #// protective!gareth #// goddamn it my boy deserved his moment to shine so here we are.

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onsunnyside · 1 year

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space dork bf mace who takes you to the planetarium and then fucks you in the bathroom

OMG YES PLS HE IS SO CUTE 😣

🌟 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

space dork bf!mace has missed you so bad, he hates when his internship (at NASA) takes up all of his time !! so he makes up for it by planning out a whole day for the two of you, starting off with breakfast at your fave place, then to the planetarium: Mace tells you all about space, the solar system, the big bang, and the theories about extraterrestrials:

"Yeah, and we'd just drift off into space, drawn to a new centre of gravity and the temperature would drop and we'd freeze to—" Mace finally looks away from the projection screen, "Oh, I probably shouldn't talk about... dying today." He laughs stiffly, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"No, I totally want to hear about turning into a lifeless icicle."

He snorts, nudging your cheek with his nose. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. Sleeping isn't the same when I'm not in your tiny dorm bed." His apartment is so lonely too (his internship provided him with housing), and he misses sneaking into your dorm room back on campus.

You giggle, gently cupping his jaw and tugging him close. "All that matters is that you're here right now."

He smiles into the kiss, catching sight of the last people exiting the small theatre. The ending credits of the short video play on this screen as the lights slowly get brighter, and an idea pops into his head. "You wanna have a little fun, baby?" His voice lowers, his warm hand sliding up your bare thigh. "Next viewing isn't for another fifteen minutes... and I've been holding back all fucking day."

#i took two astronomy classes it is finally my time to shine #pun intended #sonny drabbles #mace loving hours #james mace #james mace x reader #james mace x fem!reader #james mace fanfic #james mace fanfiction #james mace drabble #mace x reader #underrated daddy party

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thedarkcircuswritings · 26 days

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Teddy anon here aaaaaand I got another request for ya

....decided to experiment with some comfort so here is a one shot request for ya!

Shining glitter x female reader (bonus if she is autistic...since irl I am...but if ya wanna do girl only, I'm chill with that too!) Where she decides to take her lover on tour but this is sorta her girlfriend's first time well...touring and traveling so Shining glitter comforts y/n as y/n is nervous and not sure what to do...maybe they turn it into a fun game like if they take a tour bus around...they turn it into a game of eye-spy or do something to make sure y/n is fun and doesn't get overwhelmed with traveling! Making sure y/n feels safe, secure, and like everything is gonna be fine.

"Just keep holding my hand, okay, my star?"

Admittedly, you were nervous. No, not just nervous, you were very overwhelmed. You never traveled this far from home before, and there were a lot of new sensories, from sound to smell to touch... The only thing barely keeping you from having a meltdown was Shining Glitter, who held your hand and kept you comfortably close as you two sat next to each other on the bus. Touring was always stressful, but Shining Glitter always seemed to find a way to help you through it. She had always offered that you could stay someplace more comfortable, but you always wanted to support her, so that's why you kept sticking around despite your discomfort. Shining Glitter always makes sure to keep a pair of noise-canceling headphones on hand for you, and when in hotels, she makes sure your weighted blanket and stim toys are around for you to find. She does her best to distract you from getting too overwhelmed. Her favorite game to play with you would have to be eye-spy or apples-to-apples! No matter what, Shining Glitter will always do her best to help you.

#🎭shadow writing!#🤡request clowns!#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #y/n cookie #reader cookie #shining glitter cookie #fem!reader #fem!y/n #autistic!reader #autistic!y/n #shining glitter x reader #shining glitter x fem!reader #shining glitter x autistic!reader #shining glitter x fem!autistic!reader #cookie run oneshot

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xotaemintol · 11 months

Text

𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙸 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙷𝙾 𝚇 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺 (𝙵𝙴𝙼) 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁: “𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙽-𝙱”

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Plot: After teasing Minho while he was out, he comes home and takes what he's been thinking about all day. (Mostly just smut though, this is the plot that implied but there is really only smut)

PRONOUNS USED: None, heavy implications of reader being female, terms like ‘good girl’ and ‘princess’ used.

TWS: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), poly relationships, mentioning of sex with more than one person, vulgar language, creampie/breeding, sight nipple play, and multiple orgasms (2 fem receiving)

WORD COUNT: 3334

<<𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝙱𝚢 𝚁𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊...>>

As you crawl onto the bed your heart pounds with excitement, the way Minho’s eyes followed your body made you anticipate what he'd do when he finally got his hands on you. You roll over and lay on your back, looking up at him you smile and bite your lip. “Aren't you cute?” He teased as he put his hand on his belt, “If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you were trying to seduce me.” You spread your legs a little and shrug your shoulders, “Maybe,” you said. Although you were the one teasing him, the way Minho looked you up and down made you throb, he had just gotten home from a photoshoot and you decided that it would be a good idea to take pictures of your own to send to him while he was out. Needless to say, it had him itching to get home and see the real thing.

Minho was more than pleased to see you dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown and a pair of equally as thin underwear, the sight of your brown skin against the Pearl colored silk material made his mind run wild, and the sight of your legs spreading and the soft fabric sliding up to your stomach, exposing your smooth thighs made his heart rate speed up. As he looked at you he thought to himself that he'd go crazy if he didn't touch you, so he did, as he took off his belt and threw his black blazer aside he joined you on the soft bed. The way he kissed you showed just how badly he wanted you, his hands were restless against your body, sliding under your nightgown with ease as his tongue rolled around with yours.

Your back arched as he groped your breasts, palming them slowly. Your breathing speeds up, and you become breathless as he pulls away and begins kissing the side of your neck, he trailed down from your jaw to your neck, making his way down to your slightly exposed shoulders. The feeling of his soft lips on your skin made your body burn, and the throbbing between your legs became so strong that you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing them together to create some sort of friction, his slow and careful teasing was driving you mad. Completely pushing the thin fabric up Minho takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth while softly rolling the other between the pad of his thumb and index finger, you gasp and put your hand in his hair, and tingles form on your skin making you shiver at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mhmm...Minho...” You moan lowly as he looks up at you, the feeling of his tongue rolling and tracing around your nipple makes them almost painfully hard, but in a way that makes you feel even wetter. “You sound so excited,” He says before switching his attention to the other, he makes sure to pay close attention to your body, taking note of the way your body trembles just a little with every flick of his tongue, the sounds of your heavy breathing make him want to please you even more. Finally, he takes his attention away from your now sensitive nipples and begins kissing down your stomach, leaving wet open mouth kisses between your breasts and on your stomach as he makes his way down to your lower waist. The cold air on your wet nipples makes you shiver, but the sight of Minho between your legs makes you feel ten times more sensitive from the arousal.

“Are you okay Princess?” He asks, “It's not too much already is it?” But as he slowly removes your underwear, you can tell that he'd like it if you were already so turned on from just kissing him and being toyed with that you couldn't handle it. You shake your head though, biting your lip as the soft underwear roll and slide down your thighs, “Good, I wouldn't want you to tap out early.” You curse to yourself, rolling your eyes as you get a vivid memory of the last time you had to tap out, the thought makes every second of your underwear coming down feel like torture, you just want him to take them off already. “Minho...” You whine, he looks at you with a cheeky grin, completely stopped leaving your underwear right above your knees. “What?” He asks as he kisses right above your pussy, “You can't wait?”

Your eyes flutter closed as he licks up from your pelvis to your stomach, “Just be patient for me baby, I'll give you what you deserve.” His soothing and comforting voice makes you buzz with excitement, and you smile a little. Even when teasing you Minho has always been a sweetheart, “Just lay back for me, and relax.” You follow his instruction, take a deep breath, and lay all the way down on your back, “Good girl.” Finally, he removes your underwear completely, tossing them to the other side of the bed without care. You don't usually feel shy when you're with him, out of the five of them, Minho, Jonghyun, and Jinki have always been the three you've never struggled with shyness with, and it's not to say that Taemin and Kibum don't make you feel relaxed, you love the time you spend with all of them equally. For some reason though, the way his eyes feel on your exposed body makes you want to close your legs and look away.

It was like he could tell too, that shy look on your face was one only you showed when you were with all of them, the way he softly caresses your legs and kisses your inner thighs with a tenderness that makes your heart melt tells you that he can see how you feel. “You're so pretty,” he says while continuing to kiss all over your soft skin, “Do you know how pretty you are baby?” You inhale deeply as he inches closer to your pussy, you don't even bother responding since you feel too wrapped up in him to even think of how to respond. You can feel his soft breaths on your wet core, it sends chills down your spine, and when he finally licks up the wet folds you let out a heavily sexual sigh, “Oh my god...” You bite the inside of your lip as you wait for more, you don't have to wait for long though, in second Minho’s tongue is diving between your lips.

He licks up and down making sure to cover every inch of your pussy before he focuses on your clit, he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, closing his eyes as he practically latches his mouth around it. You gasp for air while gripping the covers, breathing heavily with occasionally loud moans slipping out as you try your hardest not to completely fall apart at the seams, but Minho wanted you to do exactly that, so, he pushed your legs back and moved down to your now dripping slit. The moment you felt his tongue slip inside of you it felt impossible to keep your voice down, your legs shake as you throw your head back and press your hips into the mattress, and your back arches as your toes curl. The sound of your heaven-like moans fuels him more making him drive his tongue as deep as he possibly could inside of you.

The feeling made you scream, “So...So good!” You could never get enough of this feeling, but it was making you crave more, and that feeling of warmth beginning to form in your lower stomach told you that you were getting close already it doubles as he snakes his arm around your thighs and rubs your clit with his thumb. You almost scream from the feeling, his movements quicken as your voice becomes louder, a clear indication to him that you were getting close, the feeling of his tongue inside of you and his thumb against your clit makes your vision blur, you curse loudly as your hips uncontrollably buck against his face. “M-Minho! I'm...I...Im so close!” You cry out, gripping the covers so hard that you could feel your nails through them. He didn't stop for a second, he kept going, speeding up the movement of his thumb and putting his all into the way he moved his tongue inside of you.

The feeling drives you wild and a coil forms in your stomach, tightening so much that it felt like it was going to snap, your breathing becomes uneven and frantic as you moan loudly, and chills flow over from the tip of your spine to the back of your neck, you're entire body feels stimulated as he goes even faster, and when he applies just a little pressure with his thumb to your clit the coil finally unravels. A wave of intense pleasure washes over your body as you cum into his mouth, your clit throbs, and your body spasms, you fall almost silent beside the sound of a few deep gasps. Finally, he pulls away, licking up all of your arousals, but he leaves his thumb on your clit, rubbing it as he pushes you through your intense orgasm.

“Such a good girl,” he says, “you look so pretty cumming for me baby,” his praises make your brain feel like soup, and as he kisses the side of your neck you almost explode. “My pretty girl...” He whispers in a low tone, his voice making you whimper, “You taste so good...wanna see?” You nod your head right away, pouting as he grabs your face with his dry hand. As he kisses you he pulls his other hand away from your sensitive clit, focusing completely on kissing you. The taste of yourself on his lips and tongue doesn't faze you one bit as you roll his tongue around with yours, in fact, it only excites you more. You weakly wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, soft breaths, and moans escape both your mouths as you struggle to feel him more. He could feel you becoming impatient as you tried to rub yourself against him, it made him smile as he pulled away.

“Calm down baby, I'll give you more,” He pulls away from you and leans back on his legs, “Just wait.” His voice sounds lower, it lingers in your head as you watch him remove his shirt and throw it to the side. You fight the urge to run your hands all over his toned body, licking your lips at the sight, you follow his hands as he slowly trails them down his abs to tease you. You unintentionally spread your legs as you watch him discard his belt, you could already see how hard he was through the black dress pants, and when he finally removed them you almost moaned at the sight of a small wet spot at the tip of the large bulge in his pants. “You look like you could eat me alive,” You look up at his face and smile a little, “I could,” You respond in a cheeky tone. He shook his head with a grin as he started to get up to grab a condom, but you stop him.

“Can we do it without one?” You look up at him with a devilish grin too cute to ignore, “Please?” You know that you don't have to beg him to go raw, you've never had to beg any of them to, they are all more than happy to fill you up, but they all agree that no one is ready for a child and you do too, but you've always loved the feeling of them cumming inside of you. “You're going back on the pill,” He joins you back on the bed as you giggle, happy that he was quick to agree. As he positions himself between your legs he takes off his underwear and throws them aside the same as yours, the sight of his cock standing proudly makes you throb. A small bead of precum drips down his thick shaft, it makes your mouth water, his dick is so pretty, with eight inches, a few pretty veins, a thick shaft that matches his tan skin, and a tip that matches the color of his lips, Minho’s cock would make anyone devote themselves completely to being nothing more than a hole.

“Are you ready for me baby?” You nod your head, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he doesn't give in to that easily, instead, he puts his fingers in his mouth and slowly presses them against your already slick opening, you hold your breath as two of his thick digits slowly enter you. There is little to no stretch at all, you could thank Kibum for that, “Should I add one more?” You nod, despite your many sessions with Minho, he always asks questions, and he makes sure to take note of every reaction so he can provide the best and the most pleasure possible. As he slips a third finger in you wince just a little, but the pain quickly fades, as he moves his fingers in and out of you slowly you begin to moan softly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, I need to be inside of you.”

You bite your lip as he removes his fingers, Minho lines himself up with your hole and rubs himself against you, teasing you for just a second before finally slipping inside. As just the head of his cock slides inside you gasp and brace yourself, looking him in his eyes as he slowly fills you with his length. When he finally bottoms out inside of you, both of you stay completely still, breathing heavily as you stare into each other's eyes. Every inch of him fills you, your walls engulf him with so much warmth that he could melt, the sexual look in your eyes makes him shiver and bite his lip. You feel like heaven. “Is it okay?” You nod, letting him know that it didn't hurt at all, as soon as you did you could see something in him snap. Right away he grabs your hips and pulls you closer before beginning to slowly thrust inside of you, his cock drags against your walls so heavily that it makes your whole body tense up from the pleasure.

Minho grunts and folds your legs down to your chest, rolling his hips perfectly and hitting your G-spot with ease, you immediately became a mess. Moaning loudly underneath him as you threw your head back into the pillows, your eyes rolled back and your toes curled, you couldn't form a thought if you tried, all you could do was feel. “Fuck, you...you feel so good...” His moans make your stomach swirl with heat, your whole body melts as you cry out in pleasure. “Oh! Oh god! Minho! Oh fuck!” You cover your mouth and grip the pillow behind your head, he takes your lewd reactions as a sign to go faster and when he does you lose it. Your body trembles uncontrollably as you leak onto the covers, your walls convulse around him and throb. As he continues to build up to a faster speed you turn your head from side to side, arching your back.

“Whose my pretty girl?” Minho moves your legs to his shoulders and leans down to kiss you, “Huh? Who's my pretty baby?” You whimper helplessly as you pout while looking up at him, the blurry sight of him staring back at you with a wickedly sexual grin and half-lidded eyes is intoxicating. “You sound so good to me baby, you like being fucked like this?” You nod your empty head, as you cry out “That's right, you love this dick, don't you? You love it when I fuck you, say it baby, tell me how much you love it.” You scream in pleasure and throw your head back, babbling nonsense about how much you love the feeling of him inside of you, “so good...so so good...feels like...so oh fuck...so deep...I love it! I love it so much! Oh god, Minho! So fuck...so yes!” Your words slur as you become drunk off the feeling of him, he lets your legs fall to the sides of his hips and grabs your face.

As he kisses you he moans into your mouth, trying his hardest not to break from the mind-splitting pleasure, but as you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist he can't stop himself from moaning out loudly, his voice cracks as he pants. “Shit...You...Oh fuck...” His eyes roll back and he bites his lip, slamming into you harder, knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust, you go completely silent as he fucks himself into you as deep as he possibly could, the sound of your skin slapping together and your wetness spreading fills the room, creating almost pornographic sounds. “M-Minho! Oh fuck! Oh my god!” You gasp and look up at him with desperation in your eyes, tingles rush down his spine and his head feels almost empty. Looking into your eyes as you soak him makes him struggle to keep his composure, and when your eyes roll back it becomes impossible.

“You're so...fuck...you're so pretty...so pretty...” He pants as he goes even faster, you could tell he was getting close from the way his thrusts became messy and wild, but he wasn't going to cum alone, so he slipped his hand between your thighs and began massaging your still-sensitive clit with his fingers, kissing you sloppily as you both moaned into each other's mouths, as you tighten around him and hold him tighter your nails dig into his back even more. As he pulls away he bites down on your bottom lip lightly causing you to let out a soft moan before going down to your breasts, latching his mouth onto one, and moving his fingers even faster, he could feel his stomach tightening and with every movement, he became more and more stimulated. “F-Fuck! So good!” You push against his shoulder but continue to trap him with your legs, “I-I...gonna cum...fuck so close!”

That was all he had to hear, as soon as he heard this Minho quicken his fingers and pulled your hips closer to his body, he pulled your legs up so they were straight against his chest and held them there as he pounded into you like a madman. Your body felt like it was on cloud nine and as you look up at him and try to catch a glimpse of him, you feel that same intense wave of pleasure crash over you. Before you could even tell what was happening, you come undone around him, the feeling of you cumming breaks him. With only a soft grunt as a warning Minho presses his body against yours after letting your legs go and cums inside of you, the head of his cock bumps against your cervix as he fills you up with his warm cum. The feeling makes you want to cry, it feels so good.

As he moans into your ear your hips buck into his, and as you both slowly come down he stays completely still. Allowing you to recover, you stay like this for a second, until you finally feel as if you could make a coherent sentence, “Fuck that was amazing,” He chuckled a little as he slowly pulled out of you, the feeling of both your excitement dripping out of you makes you shiver a little, “Let's get you cleaned up, I'll ask Jinki to bring a plan b.”

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sope-and-shine · 2 years

Text

Feelings In Major - Part 3

-> PAIRING: PIANIST!YOONGI X VIOLINIST!READER -> SFW(PG-13) // FLUFF, ANGST // S2L -> WORD COUNT: 10.8K -> SUMMARY: IN A KINGDOM WHERE MUSIC RINGS FROM THE LOWEST DUNGEON TO THE FARTHEST MOUNTAIN PEAK, IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT EVERYONE WANTS A CHANCE TO PLAY FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY. HOWEVER, ONLY ONE CAN BE CHOSEN, AND THE ROYAL MUSICIANS WERE THE BEST OF THE BEST. THE ONLY OBSTACLE THAT STANDS BETWEEN YOU AND BEING ONE OF THEM, IS YOUR COMPETITION AND YOUR STAGE FRIGHT. IT WILL TAKE A MIRACLE TO GET YOU ON THAT STAGE…OR JUST A GRUMPY PIANO PLAYER. -> WARNING(S): FEM READER, MILD LANGUAGE, MILD VIOLENCE, IRRATIONAL MEN, READER HAS IMPLIED THOUGHTS OF SA TOWARDS YOONGI’S INTENTIONS AT FIRST(YOONGI IS A GOOD GUY - THE BEST GUY - NO WORRIES, NOTHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS), SELF DOUBT, YOUR DAD IS A BIT OF A DICK

a/n when I started this idea over a year ago, I did not anticipate actually getting to the part where I post it. I still have 6 of these to go, but I’m honestly really proud that I’ve actually done this.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Masterlist

Most brides when they see the white of their dress think of the new chapter in their life they’re about to begin. They think of this light washing over them that greets them into the world of marriage. They think of all the possibilities the future holds in store for them. But you don’t think of any of those things. You can only think of one thing when you see the color of your dress.

Piano keys.

You can see them laid out in front of you, playing along to a melody that has only seemed to become softer as the days go on. They’re played by long, slender fingers your hands have become so used to holding. You think of how soft they are, how they envelope your own. You think of the way they write on parchment, discarding one sheet after another.

You think of him.

Yoongi.

The man who you’ve slowly fallen in love with.

The man you’re not marrying today.

“Alright, the guests were finally able to make it through the square. We’ll give them a few moments and then we’ll join them.” Your Father explains as he enters the room. He’s wearing his best, and he stops as soon as he sees you dressed and ready to go, “Oh, you look beautiful.”

He places a hand on each of your shoulders with a proud, adoring smile, but you don’t even recognize your reflection in the mirror. The lace gown is only just nicer than regular formal wear, something your parents splurged on for your big day. It’s collar just shows off the top of your chest, a simple, ornate necklace on display. You can see it just through the veil that’s been drawn over your front. You look exactly how a bride should look on her wedding day, but you don’t feel how a bride should. You should be beaming and jumping in excitement, but you aren’t.

Nothing about today is for you.

“Thank you.” You try your best to seem happy and content, but it’s hard when you’re only moments away from sealing the rest of your future. Your Father can see right through you.

He moves a hand to your face and moves a stray strand behind your ear, “Dear, you’re getting married. You should look happy.”

“I am happy.” You assure him, but your words are empty.

He shakes his head, “You don’t look it.”

“Well, I’d be much happier if I wasn’t being forced to marry someone.” You mumble, intending to keep it to yourself, but he heard you.

“We had a deal-” It’s not the first time he’s tried to defend his decisions to you in the past month. He’s started a million explanations this way, and you’re tired of hearing him try to win your favor! You’re tired of him casting your feelings aside! You’re tired of him acting as though he did nothing wrong at all!

“-and you broke that deal the minute you broke my violin!” You interrupt, blowing up in anger. Your Father takes a step back, surprised by your outburst. You’ve never been one to outwardly express your anger, and even when you have in the past, it’s never been this extreme. You’ve always been soft spoken and precise, saying what you needed to and then remaining neutral. But there’s only so much one person can handle, “You didn’t even give me a chance…”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, “We gave you plenty of chances. You didn’t take them.”

“You didn’t listen!”

“You were fooling around with a man who wasn’t your husband, like some harlot! He wasn’t even courting you!” He scolds, reminding you of the position you put yourself in. At least in his eyes, that’s the way it seemed.

“He was helping me!” You argue, a defense you’ve been pushing ever since that day they found you and Yoongi. But he hasn’t listened to you yet, and he won’t be starting now.

Your Father scoffs, “Oh, it looked like he was helping you, alright.”

You say nothing in response. You always lose your words when it comes to him, because no argument you make will ever be good enough for him to ever listen to you. And what hurts more is that he won’t even take your character, one he’s watched grow since you were a baby into account for everything. He’s thrown your happiness out the window, and he’s throwing you out with it as well.

He takes your silence as a win and sighs, “I’m done talking about what’s in the past.” He reaches for the veil atop your head and pulls it over your face, “You’re getting married to Lord Kang, and then you can get over this.”

“So, my happiness means nothing to you anymore?” You ask, your numb gaze barely hidden by the curtain he’s placed between the two of you. A symbol of the wall he continues to create to push you further and further away.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. Instead, he fixes his posture, “I won’t hear any more nonsense from you.” He takes your arm in his and pulls you to his side, holding tightly to your arm as if he’s afraid you’ll run away at any given moment, “Now, I better see a smile on your face when we make it to the church.”

“Whatever you say, Father.” You answer in a monotonous tone, casting your head to the door and your eyes to your feet.

The way to the church should be happy. It should be exciting and leave you giddy because you’re just teeming with excitement to spend the rest of your life with someone you love! But the walk from your home to the church feels like a walk to the gallows. You feel as though once that ring is placed on your finger, you’ll have the carpet ripped out from under you. What makes it even worse is the joyous cheering from the competition. You can hear the crowd as they cheer and clap, and you listen as they welcome their next performer. You listen as the song starts, and it’s the 5th selection. It’s the piece you’d wanted to play so badly at first, but Yoonig forbid you from playing it. He said it was too easy, too safe, and too expected. He said that too many people would play it, and it didn’t matter how beautiful it was. He said that after hearing it so many times, the crowd would dull like a blade. And with every step, you come to realize just how right he was.

It’s repetitive, plain, and boring. It doesn’t give life or variety. It’s just a simple melody that everyone knows. It’s something familiar that you enjoy, but it’s nothing new. Even when someone else plays it, it’s still the same melody and adds nothing to the selection of musicians. It’s a safe option, but it’s not the best option. But it’s far too late to back out now.

For you and the performer both.

Part of you is glad that, at least if you’re being forced to do this, that you at least have your Father to hold onto. You still have him there to keep you grounded, even if you’re still furious with him for the choices that have led you both here. It’s hard holding back your tears, but they threaten you with every step you take towards your fiancé. With every step, you leave behind the life you want for a life that you can never get rid of.

“And who gives this woman away?” The priest asks when you make it to the end of the aisle.

“I do.” Your Father answers. He reaches out for Lord Kang’s hand and pulls you toward him, bringing your hands together for him to lead you the rest of the way to the altar.

“Very good. You may all be seated.” You hear everyone move to sit behind you, your Father joining them as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we gather here today to join these two in Holy Matrimony. Now, before we begin, if there is anyone here with reason as to why these two should not be wed, then you may speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You hold your breath, knowing that if you let it out too soon that you may be the person to object your wedding. You instead busy yourself in the silence of the room, waiting eagerly for someone to interrupt it or for the priest to make it end. Outside, you can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd dying down as the next musician begins to play. It’s one of the more exciting pieces from the competition list. Your second choice that Yoongi was a bit more understanding of, but it still didn’t please his taste. Oh, what you would give to play it now.

“If no one has any objections, then we may proceed.” The priest announces after giving everyone ample time to come forward. You let go of the breath you were holding, but it gets caught in your throat again, “Lord Kang, please repeat after me: I, Lord Kan-“

“STOP!”

You turn as soon as you hear his voice, gasps leaving the crowd behind you. Jogging up the aisle, dressed in his performance clothing of the Royal Musicians with his hair combed back is Yoongi. It’s a bit messy and he’s out of breath, almost as if he ran all the way here. At his side, he carries a case. He stops just at the steps of the altar and takes a deep breath, “Stop the wedding. Please.”

The priest takes a hesitant glance between you and your betrothed and Yoongi, “Sir-“

“I object this wedding!” Yoongi interrupts, eyes so fierce with determination, he even takes you by surprise.

Lord Kang scoffs next to you, “On what grounds?” He looks Yoongi up and down as if he’s a child, looking down on him. He doesn’t seem convinced that Yoongi has any reasonable grounds for objecting. And he has good reason to be skeptical, because Yoongi has no ground to object.

Yoongi sees this and his lip quirks in a smug grin. He meets your eyes and points to you with his free hand, “On the grounds that this woman is already married to me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, knowing very well that you and Yoongi never once uttered any marriage vows to each other. You look to your parents to see their reactions, and they look just as shocked as you feel. Your Mother seems almost heartbroken, and you can’t even begin to imagine what must be going through her head. Much less, you can’t imagine what’s playing behind your Father’s eyes.

A strong hand grips your bicep, Lord Kang pulling you towards him. His eyes are like daggers as he scowls at you, “What is he talking about?”

In this situation, what are you to say? That you don’t know why he’s talking about and continue on? To accept this as a sign of fate and run away? You have no good explanation for what Yoongi’s doing right now. Much less an idea of where to begin with them throwing you on the spot.

You shake your head and try to pull yourself out of his grasp, “I-“

“Get your hands off her, at once!” Yoongi demands, storming up the small staircase and pushing himself between you and your betrothed. He stands tall with his back straight, his arm thrown over your arm that’s been grabbed. He acts as a barrier between you and Lord Kang, ensuring that even if he were to pull you, you’d still bump into him before he could run off with you.

Lord Kang cranes himself over Yoongi, attempting to intimidate him with his size, “You dare try to stand between me and my bride?”

You grab onto the back of Yoongi’s coat with your free hand, scared that Lord Kang really will attempt to pull you from behind him. Or worse, he’ll try to hurt Yoongi just to get to you. But Yoongi doesn’t falter.

The musician remains tall, mustering every bit of confidence he has to stand his ground, “We got married in secret 2 months ago by a warlock. The Royal Librarian to be more specific,” He emphasizes, dropping a hint of his own importance and status. It startles Lord Kang enough for Yoongi to remove his hand from your arm and move the both of you back a few steps. But he makes sure to show no visible signs of retreat, “His magic is binding and that makes this woman my wife.”

Lord Kang looks furious, and he turns to your Father for an explanation as the crowd begins to mutter around them. You pull at Yoongi’s coat and whisper furiously, “Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He turns around, finally able to face you for the first time in months. His hand gently raises to cup your cheek, “I’m buying you time.”

“Yoongi, we’re not married.” You remind him.

“If you still have any faith in your dream-! If you have any faith left in yourself, then please come and play! Please don’t sign yourself away when you can still perform for the Royal Family.” He pleads, keeping his voice hushed so others won’t hear his plan.

“Winning won’t stop my marriage. He already has my dowry!” You explain.

“Then you can pay it back to your parents with your winnings!” He argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I’d have to win first, and I’m not even on the list! I don’t even have an instrument to play either.”

He shakes his head, “Yes, you are. And yes, you do.” He drops his hand and lifts up the case he’s been carrying, making quick work of the latches to open it up.

Inside is a violin, brand new and polished. It’s body is a lighter color, and you can’t tell if it’s made out of rosewood or spruce. But you couldn’t care less about the wood type when you’re completely distracted by the Larches carved into the skin. They decorate the outline of the body, acting like a chain. Everyone is detailed and softly etched so it won’t disturb your playing. Something like this must have cost a fortune.

You softly trail a hand over the etching before you look up at the brave pianist in disbelief, “Where did you get this?”

“I made it.” He admits sheepishly, his ears turning a soft shade of red. He averts his gaze to the piece in his hands, “It took quite a bit of work, but I stayed up for days just to finish it for you. I even made sure to put you down for a time that we can play together.”

This time, it’s you who reaches out to cup his cheek, lifting his chin so he’ll meet your gaze. You search his eyes for anything, wondering what he must be thinking at a time like this, but all you can see is his sincerity. Thinking back on the first time you met, to end up here seems almost asinine, “You did all of this for me?” You ask.

“I-“ He opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself. It’s like he’s contemplating in his mind what he should say or how to explain his actions, but nothing seems good enough. He sighs, “We both have worked too hard to let this chance just slip away. You can still live out your dream.”

“You really think so?” You ask.

“I do.” He says. He takes a quick peek at his watch and his eyes go wide, “But if we want this to work, then we need to go.”

He starts to close the violin case, but you’re still left wondering what will happen here if you leave, “But the wedding-“

“Will be postponed until they can prove I’m lying.” He reminds you, that smug grin from earlier returning.

It takes you a second to realize that he’s right. They’ll have to get in touch with the officiant that orchestrated your ceremony, and that will still take days to finalize. If all works out, you’ll have already won the competition by then. Yoongi really did think of everything before he put his plan in motion, and you’ve never been happier to know someone like him. You can’t help but smile just thinking about it, “You really are a genius.”

“I know~” He teases, “Now come on.” He takes you by the hand and once again puts on a brave face for the crowd as you attempt to leave, “My wife and I will be going now.”

“Now, just you wait a minute!” Lord Kang steps in front of the two of you, putting a hand out to stop him. He tilts his head back, nose pointed upwards as he looks at Yoongi like he’s beneath him, “Her dowry has already been paid for! I’m not just going to let you walk away with her, nor will I give it back.”

“Then keep it. Unlike you, I can afford to marry a woman without treating her as a trade and still take care of her financially.” Yoongi assures him, “She’s my wife, so that’s my responsibility, but she’s not staying here with you.”

The Lord’s eyes narrow. It’s not hard to tell how entitled he is,especially when he gets face to face with Yoongi, “Who do you think you are?”

“I can be your worst nightmare if you don’t back off.” Yoongi answers, remaining strong despite his distaste for confrontation. He can feel you shaking behind him, and he squeezes your hand to comfort you. He doesn’t want to subject you to this any longer, so he takes a deep breath to ease his own nerves, “Keep the money you’ve been given. Just leave us alone.”

He pulls you behind him once again to go around Lord Kang, but the man makes no attempt to stop you this time. You think Yoongi’s actually done it when you hear your Father call from behind you, “(Y/n)-!”

Both you and Yoongi stop, looking over your shoulders to see your Father standing in the middle of the aisle, he seems angry, saddened, and embarrassed. You can only think of how this must have tainted your pride, and a part of you hates that you’ve put him in this situation. But it’s Yoongi’s comforting hold on your hand that has you remaining strong and resilient.

He gently tugs at your conjoined hands, “Let’s go. We can still make it.”

You spare one final moment of attention for your parents, before you turn on your heel and pick up the front of your dress to follow Yoongi out of the church. He stops just outside to help you grab enough fabric to keep you from tripping and holds it between your palms as you make your escape down the steps. You follow him down the cobblestone road, your heels clicking with every step you take. The wind tousles your pinned hair, a few pieces straying from where they were. But you pay them no mind.

You continue to let Yoongi guide you behind a large crowd, a contestant currently playing with another pianist accompaniment on stage at the very front. You can see her Lady and Prince Seokjin on their stand, watching the performance front and center. You can already feel the nerves building in your stomach, but you try to push it down like you and Yoongi had worked on before you were torn apart.

He leads you to the side where kingdom guards keep watch over the contestants. One of them seems to recognize him and moves to let him through, “Yoongi! There you are! What took you so long?”

“I had some convincing to do.” He simply says.

The guard turns his attention to you, doe eyes looking you up and down before he turns back to Yoongi, “Is this her?” He asks.

Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens and you can see red rising to his cheeks once again, “We can do introductions later, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi pulls you along, Jeongguk waving after you. He drags you all the way to a tall man with brown, messed up hair standing by the stairs. A pair of wire rimmed glasses rest loosely on his nose as he stares down at a clipboard. A woman stands behind him on the first step onto the platform, resting her arms on his shoulders to read its contents.

The woman notices them approaching first, her eyes lighting up when she sees the two of you, “Yoongi!”

The man looks up as well, scrunching his nose to push his glasses further up. He smiles, “Hey! So, I’m guessing it actually worked?”

Yoongi looks to you and then back to the man, nodding, “Min (Y/n), please.”

The woman immediately starts looking over the list, running her finger down the participants while Namjoon reads over them. Both of them seem very unfazed, but you’re taken aback, “Min?” You ask, feeling a bit of heat rushing to your face.

“We’re married, remember?” He teases, shaking your intertwined hands. The simple action makes you smile, and you can’t help but giggle with him.

“Oh!” The woman roughly taps her finger against the paper, “She’s next.”

“I’m next?!” You ask in shock. You turn to Yoongi in a panic, “Yoongi-!”

He’s quick to set the case down and grab you by both shoulders, making sure to look you in the eyes, “Stop, okay? You can do this. I know you can do this, just as we practiced.” He does something you would have never expected from him, using one of his hands to pull your head towards his and press your foreheads together while the other rests against your waist. He holds you tenderly against him, eyes closed, “It’s just going to be you and me up there.”

You’re left locked in his embrace, eyes staring at his calm facade. He’s done everything he told you he hates doing all in one day. Confrontation, causing a scene, showing public affection, and even running. He’s done it all just for you. And even after all of that, he still stands here trying to comfort you enough to break free from your troubles instead of taking a moment for himself.

He makes you feel safe.

You ease into his embrace, your fingers grabbing onto the fabric of his coat at his waist. You accept the comfort he offers you and take a moment to relax. You think of all the advice he’s given you so far, and all the wonderful memories he’s helped you create up until this point. You want to win and continue creating memories like those, but everything will be for nothing if you lose.

You squeeze your eyes in frustration and pull him closer, “Yoongi-…what am I going to do if I lose?”

“I guess I’ll have to cough up the money for your dowry and you’ll just have to be married to me for the rest of your life.” He says. You open your eyes and find he’s already looking at you. He seems content with the idea, and he smiles when he sees the shock written across your face, “Think you can handle having someone as grumpy as me as your husband?”

You don’t know if it’s because you’ve become friends or if this is all a part of one grand gesture, but you couldn’t care less. Not if he was offering himself to you, “I think I could learn to manage.”

The music on stage stops and the crowd breaks into applause, and you pull back just enough to look. The man and the woman who’d checked you in take that as their cue to head up on stage themselves, but not without wishing you good luck over their shoulders.

“Here-“ Yoongi leans down and opens the case, making quick work in removing the violin before you really do have to go on. He hands it to you, “-Just remember that it’s only you and me, and no one else, okay? Just play for you and me.”

You nod despite the anxiety building up in your system. Then suddenly, an important realization hits you, “I haven’t even tuned!”

“First of all, you don’t need to tune. Even without tuning, you’d still play beautifully. Second of all-“ He flicks your arm, leaving a small sting behind as he feigns offense, “How dare you assume that I - Min Yoongi - would give you an instrument in a time crunch and not tune it!”

“Let’s give him another round of applause!” The man encourages the crowd, clapping her hands after the boy coming your way. Behind him, the pianist that was accompanying him also makes his way down. He makes eye contact with Yoongi, and he nods.

“Let’s welcome back to the stage, Royal Pianist Min Yoongi!” The man announces, clapping his hands for everyone to join along.

“I need to get up there. Just breathe and I’ll see you on stage.” He assures you. He lets go of you and makes his way to the stairs, going up halfway before turning around, “I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. He just continues on to the stage, waving to the crowd as they applaud for him. You watch him from backstage with your violin in one hand and your bow in the other, seeing him disappear to his piano just like that. He’s sitting down at his piano to play with you.

And you’re going to join him.

“And for our next contestant…Min (Y/n)!” The two cheer together. They look to you from their spots on stage and you feel the air leave your lungs. Every part of you wants to run, but you know you can’t. You can’t run forever.

So you close your eyes.

Take a breath.

And you make your way up the stairs, holding your violin and bow in one hand and your dress in the other. Looking over the crowd from the stage, it looks like there are far more people than you anticipated. You cast your gaze over the Prince and his Lady, taking note of their watchful eyes. You hope no one minds your attire for today, though you can’t hear any protests over the sounds of the cheering. You glance at Yoongi and he offers you a comforting smile.

The man and woman wave you towards them, bright smiles on their faces. The woman offers a comforting hand on your elbow, “Miss Min, what piece will you be performing for us today?” She asks.

You try your best to refrain from looking down, mustering up all the courage you can to look at her as she speaks to you, “The 7th piece.”

“That’s the hardest one! Only 3 other contestants have played it for us today.” The man says, making your heart drop.

It’s not that you weren’t aware the piece was hard, you just haven’t played the piece in a while. What if you forget what you were meant to be playing and you throw Yoongi off? What if everyone else did 10x better and you’re left looking like a fool for even trying. You’d disappoint everyone.

You’d disappoint Yoongi.

“I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hearing you play it.” The woman assures, squeezing your arm. She taps your elbow, drawing you out of your thoughts and offers you one last smile, “Please, do your best.”

You nod and she turns back to the crowd, “Min (Y/n), everyone!”

She, the man, and everyone else cheer once again, the two slowly backing away to exit the stage. They leave only you and your violin, and Yoongi and his piano. They leave the timing up to you, but you can already feel the nerves kicking in.

The eyes staring at you, the whispers finally reaching your ears. Even your own intrusive thoughts begin to sink in, and it makes your skin flare up like there’s a fire beneath you. It isn’t too late to back out. You’d just be the weird contestant who fled from her wedding just to flee from her other responsibilities as well.

You turn to eye your exit when you catch Yoongi’s stare from the corner of your eye. He sits with his back tall, hands ready on the keys, and waiting for you. He remains calm, and his eyes are only on you. He doesn’t look to the crowd, he doesn’t adjust his music, he barely even blinks. He just waits for you with a soft smile, like he knows there’s a war going on inside your head and he’s waiting to triage the broken parts.

You shake your head, squeezing the life out of the neck of your instrument, ‘I can’t do this…’ You mouth, your voice coming out in a hushed whisper.

You expect him to frown. You fully expect him to shake his head and tell you to go, but he doesn’t. He remains seated with that same, calming smile, “It’s just you and me.” He assures you.

That mindset is easier said than done.

He takes a deep breath. He emphasizes the intake and the release, trying to get you to mirror his actions just as he’s done before. He does it again and you try your best to mirror him, taking a few solid breaths of your own. He nods to your hands, and you get the message.

With a slight tremble, you gently separate your bow and your violin. You rest the body on your shoulder, tucking it underneath your chin. It eases the shaking of that hand, but the hand that holds your bow still trembles with uneased nerves.

Yoongi checks over his hand position once more - as he does start this piece - before he looks back at you, “The music. Fuel the music.”

He’d said that to you before, the day he’d dressed you up for his own personal enjoyment and sent you out to the streets. He’d said that if they can’t see you, then they can’t really say anything good or bad about you.

“But it’s not you that they’re judging. It’s the music and how you perform it. If you perform well, then you’re not bad. You might just not be the best, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

You try to let those words sink in, allowing the good memories to ease you. Everyone had cheered for a you they didn’t know. Everyone danced to a song they didn’t know was played by you. If they could do that, then maybe they’d do it again. And maybe it doesn’t really matter if they do or not. Even if you’re the worst performer today. Even if you perform so badly that they have to kick you off the stage, you’ll have done it. More importantly, you’ll have performed with Yoongi in front of the royal family just as you’ve been wanting to.

It’s now or never.

You straighten up and let your shoulders roll back, tightening the grip on your instrument to end the trembles. You give a firm, curt nod to Yoongi, letting him know that you’re ready.

He nods back and adjusts his position one last time. He meets your gaze one last time, lifting his head up and softly counting off for the two of you before dropping his head and striking the keys.

You count with him, listening as he begins the soft ballad. You only rest for a few measures, and then you’re to join him for everyone to watch and listen. You don’t want to turn around, but you know you’ll have to actually perform if you want any chance at winning.

So, you close your eyes. You let yourself feel the tempo. You try to imagine that you’re not on a stage in front of hundreds of people, but back in your clearing in the woods. You try to picture the night sky and the stars above you. You try to imagine that the wind blowing through your hair is the same cool air that kicked leaves into your hair and crunched under your feet. You try to imagine a Yoongi that doesn’t play the piano with you, but sits on a log with his own eyes closed as he listens to you play.

And then it is your turn to play.

Yoongi’s lone melody echoes in the air at the hold in the music. He looks to you, trusting you to continue on as it’s written in the piece. He knows you’re nervous, and he knows that this situation is quite literally a make or break for you. But he knows your talent, and he knows deep down that you want this more than you’re willing to let your anxiety rule your life. He knows that you can. He knows that you’re going to be just fine.

And then, the sound of your first note rings out as you drag your bow over the strings. Your eyes remain shut, but your face is relaxed in pure concentration as you focus on the music and not the crowd. Yoongi plays along with you, adding his own part to help guide and support the music and your thoughts.

And his playing puts you at ease, the familiar clacking of the keys furthering your mental paradise. It reminds you of his escape in the woods, a cabin where he can create without any disturbance. You can see the warm glow from his candles illuminating his face as he plays, head bowed as he lets himself feel the music that he’s creating. You can see his pleased smile when something comes together. You can see him so perfectly.

You don’t even notice yourself turning around, playing for the audience instead of only playing for Yoongi. You don’t pay attention to the hushed praise or the eyes that linger over you. You think of only one set of eyes that would bore holes into your head if he ever caught you out late at night. A pair of eyes that belong to the raven-haired, piano prodigy that plays alongside you as - not an acquaintance anymore, but - a friend.

Perhaps, he is much more than just that as well.

The thought makes you smile, and you want nothing more than to see the real thing for yourself. No more imagining Yoongi as he plays, but you want to see him. How could you miss such a wonderful opportunity to make a great memory when it’s right in front of you?

So, you turn back to him, leaning into the music and opening your eyes. You watch him as he plays along with you, his gold buttons and trim shaking as he performs. His movements are intense, but the music is nothing but graceful. The way he strokes and fingers the keys, making each note just as important as the last. He’s completely invested into the music, and it makes you smile to see him painted this way.

For a moment, he looks up to watch you as well, and he catches you looking back. He’s shocked at first, glancing between you and the keys, and wondering if you’re actually playing with your eyes open. But as he continues to play, and he continues to catch your stare, he can only beam with pride.

No one misses the smile that grows on the usually cold pianist's face, and they don’t miss the bright smile that adorns your own when you finally turn back to the crowd. Even as you continue to perform for the audience, you still have moments where it looks as though you’re only performing for him. And in your own way, you really are only performing for him.

But it’s because he’s encouraged you to perform for yourself first.

Your piece finally comes to an end, both you and Yoongi nodding to each other at the cut off. It’s clean and precise, and you can still hear it echo in the wind as people begin to cheer. And it takes you by surprise to hear their applause. You spent most of your performance focused on Yoongi, that you forgot you were performing for a real crowd.

You let your eyes roam over the crowd, taking in their pleased expressions. You take in their smiles and their words of praise. You look to the Prince and his Lady, and you swear it almost looks as though the Lady has tears in her eyes as she politely claps her praise.

“Wow! What a performance?!” The man from earlier cheers, clapping his own hands as he makes his way to you with the woman right behind him. He stops on your left and motions for everyone to calm down and waits until they’ve eased enough, “I think we can all agree that that was quite the show!”

“Very beautiful, indeed~” The woman agrees from your right, “Why don’t you take a bow?”

She and the man take a step back, leaving you to bow on your own. But how can you bow on your own when you didn’t perform on your own?

So you turn back to Yoongi, finding him preparing the bench for the next pianist. You wave to grab his attention, nodding for him to join you at the apron of the stage. He hesitates for a moment, knowing that this is your moment and that being the accompaniment is all he’s meant to be, but you insist.

He leaves the piano to join you front and center on stage, blood already rushing to his ears. He steps between you and the woman on your right, looking just as nervous as you probably do. You move your belongings to one hand so you can grab his, but he stops you. He gestures to you, smiling at the crowd as he patiently waits for you to bow. You oblige, placing your free hand on your chest as you bow to the crowd in front of you. And when you come up, it’s your turn to gesture to Yoongi for his own moment of recognition. You can tell he’s not used to being in his own spotlight, but he still has more performances under his belt than you. And when he finishes his bow, it’s him that makes the grab for your hand. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, before leading you into a bow together.

The crowd cheers you on, and when you stand up again it’s the man that announces this time, “Thank you both for your performance today!”

You bask in the moment, hand-in-hand with Yoongi for just a second longer before you both make your exit off stage for the next round of performers. As soon as you make it off the steps and back to the performers tent, you immediately drop Yoongi’s hand to throw your arms over his neck. It takes him by surprise, but he accepts it nonetheless.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You cry, holding him tight.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you, letting his arms wrap loosely around your waist, “I was happy to do it.”

“No, you weren’t. Not for all of it.” You remind him, making him chuckle. You pull away just enough to look at him, and you cup his cheek with your free hand, “You helped me make my dreams come true today, Yoongi. That means so much to me, and there are only so many ways to say thank you. How else can I show my appreciation?”

He ponders for a moment, seemingly hesitant once again. Only this time, he says what’s on his mind, “Maybe, you and I can continue to be married even if you win?” He asks sheepishly, a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Is that a marriage proposal? A real one, this time?” You tease, adding to the redness that’s already spreading over his face.

Even with the embarrassment he feels, he doesn’t let it stop him this time, “It is.”

You feel a mixture of happiness and embarrassment of your own at his answer. Of course, you’d love to marry him! You’d rather marry him than the man you were going to marry. You just can’t help how flustered the man makes you.

You use Yoongi’s hold on you to your advantage, loosely returning to his embrace and hiding yourself in his chest. He chuckles, but it’s cut short when you whisper for only him to hear, “Well, then I accept.”

Yoongi lets the news sink in, pulling you tighter against him and hiding his face in your hair when it finally hits him. He can’t help but smile, “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back again, moving one of his hands to push back a stray piece of hair. He lets his hand rest at the back of your head, meeting your gaze. His eyes flicker to your lips, and you let out a sharp intake of breath. He studies you, your eyes and your face for any signs or refusal, but you don’t show any. If anything, you want to find out just as badly as he does.

He leans in, slowly inching closer to your face until you can feel his lips in front of yours. He hesitates, and you know he’s trying to give you one last chance to back out. But you don’t need a way out anymore. You lean forward, making the move to press your lips against his. You grab onto the nape of his coat, but it’s short lived.

“Yoongi-! Oh…” You both pull away, turning your heads to see the man from the stage tight-lipped as the woman taps his arms.

“Namjoon!” She scolds, obviously upset that he interrupted a moment.

“I’m sorry, Nari.” Namjoon apologizes to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He looks to you and Yoongi and bows his head, “Sorry, you two…”

“It’s fine.” You assure him.

“Yeah, no harm done.” Yoongi agrees. He takes a step back and grabs your free hand before you can pull it back all the way, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it like a promise. He lovingly smiles at you, looking through his lashes, “We have time.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks and you try to push it back down, but it’s almost impossible to push down the pride you have in this moment. You both have grown so much in the months that you’ve come to know each other, and that’s something you never thought would be possible. Even more so, you never thought that you would both fall for each other after the history you’ve created together. But you’re happy that you have.

“Miss Min!” Jeongguk calls. You both turn to the guard as he approaches, slightly worried, “There’s guests here to see you, Miss Min.”

“It’s Mrs. Min.” You correct, taking Yoongi by surprise. You notice and laugh, “Don’t give me that look when you just proposed to me!”

“So, you two admitted it!” Nari cheers, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“We did.” Yoongi confirms, squeezing the hand he still holds. He turns to Jeongguk and nods in the direction of the tent entrance, “Who wants to see her?”

“Her parents.” He answers.

You tense at the mention of your parents. You’d done so well putting the wedding, the crowd, and everything else behind you that you forgot about the consequences entirely. You can only imagine what they have to say to you. Even worse, what they may do to you after learning that you “married” without their knowledge, and left the wedding they arranged for you. You can only imagine the amount of trouble you’re about to be in.

“Hey-“ Yoongi shakes your intertwined hands, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We’ll talk to them together. I got you into this mess, and I’ll see that you get out of it one way or the other.”

“Here, I can take that for you-“ Namjoon offers, reaching out to take your violin out of your hands. You move to accept his offer, but both Yoongi and Nari try to intercept it before you can successfully hand it off to him.

Nari brings it to her chest, turning to Namjoon with a gentle smile, “I think I should take this one, Joonie.”

Her smile does nothing for him though, as he’s still very offended, “I’m not going to break it!”

“I’d rather not take the chance.” Yoongi says, making you giggle.

Namjoon scoffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s not like I can’t fix it.”

“We know, Joonie, but it’s probably for the best if you stick to your books.” Nari pats his arm. You know she means to comfort him, but the poor man doesn’t seem very comforted.

He pouts, “I feel very targeted.”

Yoongi chuckles and turns to Jeongguk, “Why don’t you lead us to them, Jeongguk? We probably shouldn’t keep the in-laws waiting.”

Jeongguk nods and turns to lead the way, Yoongi following after him with your hand held tightly in his. Before, you had both run away hand-in-hand from the danger your parents were bringing you, and now you’re walking towards it.

You see your parents just outside the tent, your Father waiting patiently with his arm over your anxious Mother’s shoulders. Though, their mannerisms switch when they see you approach with Yoongi. You try not to shrink when you see them, but you know you can’t help but feel smaller after everything that happened with them. You can only hope that Yoongi is still just as resilient as he’d been earlier.

“Here she is, folks. A very talented daughter with her very talented husband.” Jeongguk announces, moving the small wooden barrier so you and Yoongi can exit the tent to properly greet them. He doesn’t seem to notice the tense situation, but you, Yoongi, and your parents don’t make a mention of it. He smiles, “Make sure to be back before your next performance, Yoongi.”

“Will do. Thank you, Jeongguk.” Yoongi nods. He exits the tent with you, keeping you close now that you’re in front of your parents who don’t seem very happy to be there. He bows to them as his greeting and nods to a clear space just a bit further away from the crowd and the performances, “Should we move somewhere just a bit more quiet?”

“Of course.” Your Father agrees, deciding to remain civil.

For now.

Yoongi leads the way, holding your hand through the crowd. You do your best to stay with him, but it’s hard to walk with people stepping on the back of your dress every now and then. One tug has you almost tripping onto the cobblestone beneath you, and it’s a good thing Yoongi has a tight grip on your hand to keep you from tripping entirely.

“Here-“ He drops your hand in favor of grabbing the train of your dress. He bunches the fabric up in his hand until he has enough that it won’t get stepped on as you walk. You try to take it from him, but he keeps a tight hold on it. Instead, he wraps an arm around your back and places his hand on your waist to keep you close. His actions have the heat rising to your cheeks once again, and you can feel lightness in your chest just from having him take care of you.

You make it to the open area and Yoongi stops, turning you both around so you can properly speak with your parents. He doesn’t move his arm, nor does he drop your dress. He waits for them to speak.

Your Father stands tall, your Mother’s arm locked in his. His expression is stern, one you’ve become accustomed to in the past few months. Your Mother seems conflicted herself, but your Father’s expression is almost unreadable.

“I have almost no words to describe how I feel at this very moment.” Your Father says. This is how most of his “disappointment” speeches start, showcasing his own emotions to make you feel even worse. Where most men would find their emotions to be a weakness, your Father always managed to use his to his advantage. Especially if it meant he could sway a decision of yours. Only this time, there’s nothing he can sway anymore. This time, he’s the one that’s been swayed. “I’ve been humiliated in front of the public, taken advantage of by some swindler who bed my daughter, and lied to by my own kin. Have you no shame for what you’ve put me through?”

Shame.

That hits you hard.

You’d never planned to bring shame to your family name. Only pride and honor. You’d wanted to be the best violinist in the kingdom, not the worst daughter a set of parents could ask for. Not when they’ve given you so much. But you couldn’t afford to lose yourself either. You had an opportunity for you, and you took it. And while it may have been a selfish act wrapped in chivalry, it was still something that you’ve planned to do since the beginning. Something your parents had encouraged at one point as well.

“Father I never meant to hurt you-!” You try to explain yourself, but your Father raises his hand.

“I’m not finished,” He spits. You shrink back into Yoongi’s side, and he squeezes your waist. Your Mother gives your Father a pointed look, but he ignores her, “You’ve tainted my pride. I’m very likely going to be scorned for years because of your reckless actions!”

He’s not wrong. Everyone may be distracted by the competition today, and maybe even a few more days after that! But it will fizzle out, and then the vultures will come looking for something to tear into. They’ll tear into your parents, they’ll tear into you, and they’ll even tear into Yoongi. While his actions have brought you together and granted you an opportunity you didn’t think you’d have a second chance at, it’s created a domino effect. And sooner or later, all of the pieces are going to come crumbling down.

Just the thought of what people may say or do rattles you, and you can only hope that you win this competition. Otherwise, you’ll be defenseless for years to come. Forced to hide behind another to shield yourself from their tyranny. And your parents won’t have anywhere to hide.

Your Father’s anger is justified, but it doesn’t take the sting of his words away. Nor does it coming into the open help to dissipate his shaking voice, “And what’s worse is you’ve gone and done something so remarkable! How can I be mad when you’ve finally taken a stand and put your fears behind you?!”

It takes you a moment to process what he said. Had you heard that correctly? You turn to Yoongi, confused, but he’s just as confused as you are. You turn back to your Father in hopes of clearing the air, “What…?”

It’s your Mother who finally pipes up, a content smile on her face, “(Y/n)…you played so beautifully up there!”

“You watched me perform?” You ask, shocked to hear they’d been in the crowd. You hadn’t seen them from the stage, but you weren’t really looking at the crowd. You were far more focused on other things than scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

“Did you think we’d let our daughter run from her own wedding and not follow her?” Your Mother laughs. You’d thought that they’d disown you the moment you left the church. You thought after everything that happened, that they’d be more than willing to write you off and take their chances with the loss. But you never thought they’d come and follow you. “We watched the whole performance. Everything!”

“Though, I didn’t anticipate your husband would be up on stage with you.” Your Father grumbles, eyes glaring daggers at Yoongi. He didn’t know everything Yoongi had done for you. They still didn’t even know the truth behind that morning they found you with Yoongi. It isn’t right or fair for them to judge him on a lie! And if he’s to be your husband from here on out, then they’d need to know the whole truth.

“Right, about that-“ You start, but you’re stopped by Yoongi pulling away from you. He drops your dress, and you’re confused until he drops to his knees and lowers himself onto the ground.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, bowing as low as he can possibly go.

“Yoongi-!” He’s showing respect to your parents on the basis of a lie, and you can’t let him apologize for something that isn’t entirely his fault. But Yoongi doesn’t let you stop him.

“I should never have encouraged her to marry me so soon and without your blessing,” he continues, “I had hoped to court her properly, but I couldn’t control myself with a woman like her. Someone so kind, so beautiful, and so talented. Please, forgive me.”

Your Father eyes him, his demeanor unchanging. You look between the two, and you’re honestly worried your Father might take the chance to kick him while he’s down. But he’s much too prideful a man for that.

“Get up.” Your Father demands. Yoongi does as he’s asked, standing up once again in the face of your Father. He stares Yoongi down, thoughts racing through his mind that you wish you could hear. But they only come to you in the version of skin meeting skin. A harsh slap being brought down against Yoongi’s cheek.

“Father!” You cry. Your arms move to comfort Yoongi, but his right comes out to stop you from coming any closer. The pianist keeps his head held high in the face of your Father, but he doesn’t retaliate.

Your Father sees his resilience and sighs, “Let’s make one thing clear, Min Yoongi. I don’t like you. I don’t approve of you marrying my daughter, I don’t appreciate you going behind my back with her to do so, and I don’t appreciate you making me look like a fool in front of a family with such a high status.”

Yoongi nods, “I understand, sir.”

“But I can appreciate the confidence that you’ve helped her build and the encouragement you’ve given her to do her best.” He admits, much to your surprise. He seems almost accepting, despite what he’d said. He sighs, “And I suppose I can’t ignore the fact that you do take care of her.”

“He really does!” You assure him, placing your hands on Yoongi’s arm.

“Will you really pay back her dowry?” Your Mother asks.

Yoongi nods, “It’s my duty as her husband to do so. Down to the last copper piece.”

“If you do that and you continue to care for her and you make her happy, then-…” Your Father extends an open palm to Yoongi, “I suppose we’ll learn to accept this less than agreeable situation.”

Yoongi shakes his hand, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around your Father, “Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” You cry. You pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “I promise, I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will.” He assures you, leaning down to place a kiss against your temple.

Your Mother squeezes in for her own hug, squeezing you tight before she returns to your Father’s side, “Go on. You shouldn’t loiter around here when there’s more performances to be had.”

“Right.” Yoongi agrees. He bends down to grab the fabric of your dress again, “We’ll come find you when she wins.”

“Yoongi! We don’t know that I’m going to win.” You remind him, cheeks hot with embarrassment from his praise.

“I’m confident you will.” He argues, a teasing smile on his face. He wraps his arm around you as he’d done before and bows to your parents, “Until later.”

“Until later.”

The two of you make your way back into the crowd, leaving your parents behind. Of all the ways that conversation could have gone, you didn’t think it would end like it did.

“All things considered, I think that went very well.” You say to him, relieved that your parents weren’t entirely cross with you.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, “I’m not dead, so I think it went pretty well.”

“Does your cheek hurt?” You ask, remembering that he didn’t let you check after your Father hit him.

He shrugs, “It stings, but that will go away before dusk.” He pinches your waist and you look at him, seeing a mischievous smile on his face, “I’ll have you for much longer.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your first reaction is to elbow him out of embarrassment, “Don’t be so cheesy! It’s weird.”

“Why not? How is it weird?” Yoongi laughs, chuckling at your expense.

“Because it’s you!”

He scoffs, “Am I not allowed to woo you? And here I thought you liked my charming wit.”

You roll your eyes, letting your arms cross over your chest, “There’s no need to woo your wife.”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi argues. He comes to a stop only a few feet away from the performers tent and pulls you towards his front. You gasp in shock, and he smiles, leaning down to place his forehead against yours, “You just wait until this whole ordeal is over with, then I’ll sweep you off your feet and show you just how charming I can be~”

“Yoongi-!” You scold, hitting his chest for being lewd in public.

“I meant proper courting!”

—-

As soon as it started, the competition finally came to an end. Many contestants performed, having traveled the kingdom from far and wide just for the occasion. Everyone did their best, and you can only hope that your best was enough for you. You stand patiently in front of Yoongi, brimming with nervousness and excitement all at once. Yoongi does his best to keep you calm, but even he’s anxious to know who would win.

The only people on stage are Namjoon - who you’ve come to learn is the warlock that “officiated” your marriage - and Nari. They talk to the crowd and entertain them as the Royal Family makes their decisions, Namjoon’s magic being what helps them to amplify their voices.

“Just remember, even if you lose, you still did exactly what you said you would.” Yoongi reminds you, hands rubbing up and down your arms as if he’s trying to warm you up.

“I know…” You try your best to listen to him, knowing that he’s right. But the sting of losing will still hurt in the end with or without him.

“Oh, what’s this? Thank you, Sir (name).” Namjoon suddenly says, his voice cutting through the hushed chatter of the crowd and the performers, “It would seem a decision has been made.”

“Here we go!” Someone squeals behind you.

“I’m so excited!” Another voice chimes in.

“I can’t wait to get up there when they announce my name.” Another boasts, making your breath hitch.

Yoongi pulls you into his chest and rests his head against yours, “Just breathe.” He encourages.

You do, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against his. No matter what happens, you’ll still have Yoongi either way. You’ll still have your parents, you’ll still have the confidence you’ve slowly built, and you’ll still have your violin. Losing will hurt, but maybe you’ll be okay.

“What am I going to do if I lose?” You ask, working to keep your breathing steady. It’s just so hard now that everything is starting to come together. And with it all coming in at once, it’s so easy to lose it all as well, “I’ve spent so long dreaming of doing this, and now it may not even happen.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around your front and sighs, “Then we’ll find a new dream for you.”

“With much insistence from Lady Yeeun herself, our new Royal Violinist is…” You can hear Nari pause, adding to the suspense of the moment. It almost kills you inside just waiting for her to call the name of someone that isn’t you. You just want her to rip off the bandaid and get it over with so you can get on with your life and find a new dream.

“Min (Y/n)!” Namjoon yells.

You can hear the crowd burst into applause, and the claps and whines of those around you. It takes you a moment to even register that it was your name they announced until Yoongi starts to shake you from side to side in excitement.

“You did it! I told you, you would win!” He yells, squeezing you and jumping up and down.

“I won?”

“You won!”

“I won!” You repeat, the realization finally sinking in.

You turn around in Yoongi’s arms to throw your arms over his shoulders, squeezing him just as tightly as he squeezes you. All of your hard work paid off. Every stupid exercise, every extra minute spent awake, and every painful moment of disappointment finally got you to where you want to be.

And he was there for all of it.

“Why don’t we get our winner on stage with us to take a final bow?” Nari asks the crowd, earning more cheers and hollers.

“C’mon-“ Yoongi pulls back and takes your hand, leading you to the stairs that lead to the stage, “They’re waiting for you.”

You hesitate, “Just me?”

“Go!” He encourages, picking up the front of your dress and offering you a nudge in the right direction.

You grab the front of your dress and do as he says, walking on stage once more, but as a winner this time. You can see the Royal Family standing just off to the far side of the stage, Namjoon and Nari standing in the center and waiting for you. They welcome you in between them at center stage.

“Please, take another bow!” Nari encourages, she and Namjoon stepping to the side to let you have your moment.

You do, allowing yourself to emerge in the feeling of the applause and the cheers for your win. After years of practice and dedication, you can finally say that you’ve accomplished your goal.

You stand up with a shy wave to the crowd, Namjoon taking this opportunity to slide in next to you, “Congratulations on your win! How do you feel?”

“Speechless.” You answer, truthfully unsure of what else you could possibly say. There was no word to describe everything you feel, “I really have no words for how I feel at this moment. I’m just so overwhelmed with emotion.”

“Well, perhaps you could provide us with a song that will describe your feeling to us?” Nari suggests, opening the stage to you for a final encore. The crowd seems to enjoy this idea as well.

“Can I really?”

“You can.”

You turn to the stage stairs to grab your violin, but Yoongi is already 3 steps ahead of you. He’s already walking up the stairs with your violin in hand to bring it to you, a proud smile on his face. You accept it from him, but you grab his sleeve before he can let go.

He knows what you want without you saying a word and frowns, “This is your moment.”

“I want to share it with you.” You plead. Had it not been for Yoongi, you would have never gotten this far. Had it not been for Yoongi, then you would have went through with your marriage today. Despite all of the personal progress you made to get where you are now, you would’ve have it if not for Yoongi. “We did this together.”

He smiles, feeling a bit bashful. It’s hard to ignore your request with you looking at him like that. He can’t help but give in, “Which rendition would you like to play then, Mrs. Min? Major or Minor?”

“I think…” You ponder which version you like more. The version you heard forever ago, once upon a time. Or the version you and Yoongi have added onto in the years that you’ve grown. A minor key invokes those emotions that play at ones own heartstrings but a major key? A major key makes you feel light and airy, as if you’re on top of the world. At this moment, you feel as if you’ve ascended into the stars, shining brightly above with the rest of them.

There’s only one answer to give him.

“I think - Mr. Min - that I’m feeling major.”

~ Fin~

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hoshigray · 6 months

Text

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | toji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader is around their mid-30s - Tsumiki (age 11) and Megumi (age 9) - mutual pining - kissing/makeout sessions - unprotected sex - Daddy kink - breast sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - spooning + mating press - cervix fucking - breeding kink - praise - clitoral play (pressing and grinding) - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - you and Toji have been divorced for five years - cameos: Gojo, Utahime and Mei Mei - mention of drool/spit and tears - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k (....dawg.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: happy Halloween, everyone!! so, randomly missed writing ex-husband! toji bc it's lowkey my favorite, soooo yeah, this is what we're doing to celebrate the end of the month! anywho, happy October, beautiful ppl, and tysm for reading my works!! Alsooo, ty for 2.8k!!!

“Trick-or-treat!!”

“Gasp—Oh my goodness!”

“We came to celebrate Halloween! Also, Megumi forgot his toothbrush here again.”

Opening your door to children at the sunset of Halloween day isn’t out of the ordinary or anything special. However, it’s always a pleasant surprise when it’s two kids you hold dear to your heart. You greet them with a hug, two siblings you know too well to say you’re acquainted with. If anything, you’re practically family.

The raven-haired brother, referred to as Megumi, speaks up. “It’s not my fault! Dad was rushing me last time.”

“Because you had to bring your stuffed animals last time, holding us back for your baseball practice.” Tsumiki, the older sister, snapped back. The two argue amongst themselves in front of you as you try to mediate. It’s no avail until another voice comes to the fray.

“All right, chill out, you two.” The voice belonged to the person approaching the porch stairs, your eyesight capturing the familiar figure walking up with two duffle bags. The one standing tall before you was the father of the children, Toji Fushiguro. Who’s also known as your one and only former husband. “Get inside and finish y’r homework, or else we’re goin’ back home.”

The siblings stop bickering and head inside, taking off their shoes at the foyer and walking upstairs. Now that they’re gone, you turn to the man with the jet-black hair, his viridian orbs focused on you. The weather was chilly, so the man wore his usual dark denim jacket over his plain black sweatshirt, matching his jeans. “You look good, big guy. What’s in the bags?”

He greets you with a curled lip, and the scar on the side of his lip lifts. “Picked them up from their after-school sports, so it’s their sports gear and costumes for tonight. Mind helpin’ me here?”

“Hmmm,” you merge your facial expressions to that of faux pondering, turning your back to Toji. “Nah, can’t. Got dinner to finish making.”

“Hmph, should’ve known.” He makes his way through between you and the front door. “Wouldn’t wanna break your pretty nails carrying heavy shit, huh, princess?”

You glare at him using the nickname, hating his patronizing gaze. “From what I remembered, you would never let me carry the heavy stuff because you thought I was too fragile and easy to break. So how about that, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Really? I don’t remember sayin’ all that before. You must’ve put me in a spell.”

“Probably, I’ve been told I’m quite cute~.”

“Mmm, nah, more like an old hag of a witch.” Toji barks a laugh at your offended reaction, and he immediately ducks and heads for the stairs when you throw a sandal at him.

“At the very least, say I’m a cute witch, fucker.” You say the final word under your breath, grabbing the sandal you threw and heading back to the kitchen.

To say you and Toji were acquainted with one another would be the biggest understatement of the century. The two of you met a decade ago, fell madly in love, and married within a year of the relationship. When you tied the knot, Tsumiki had to have been two years old, and Megumi just turned one year old. You two had been together for four years after that, and you could confidently say those were one of [if not THE] best years of your life. You often second-guessed yourself being in a relationship with someone who had children, fearing that they wouldn’t like you or ignore you.

However, those worries were blown right away as the days went by. Every time you spent time with the children brought you three closer than ever; it was to the point that they saw you as their mother. How sweet! And there’s no denying that Toji loved you. The man would break someone’s nose for you — yes, it happened before, and it wasn’t pretty — for you were his sweet little thing that kept him going.

Well, if it was so great, why the divorce? Let’s just say you weren’t Toji’s first love. That title would have to be awarded to the Megumi’s mother. Even in her unfortunate passing, you can tell that Toji loved that woman like no other. It didn’t make you jealous or anything, seeing the man you love still mourn for a dead woman. Hell, you’d probably do the same if you were him. But, you can’t lie; it felt like you were cast over a “shadow” when it came to her influence. It was damn near suffocating to bear, especially in those four years of marriage. So, for your sake and his aching heart, you pulled him aside and suggested a divorce. And Toji didn’t fight you on the proposition, signing the papers and setting you free from the thick air.

Although things ended between you two, that didn’t mean things stopped being what they were. If anything, it was as if nothing happened at all. Even if you still don’t live under the same roof, you still make time to hang with the Fushiguros, whether invited to some occasion or exchange phone calls or texts to check up on them. Even now, five years after your separation, it warms your heart knowing that you get to interact with the people you care about.

There are moments you find yourself missing living under the same roof with all three of them and living alone can be pretty lonely. But all in all, as long as they’re comfortable and trust you enough to be around, there’s no need to change things up again. Like right now — the four of you sit at the dinner table eating before the kids go off trick-or-treating.

“Are you going to trick-or-treat with us, Y/n?” The brown-haired child sitting next to you asks while finishing up her dinner.

“Sorry, not this time, gotta be at a Zoom meeting for my job in a few minutes. But I do have someone else to take my place. Gojo will be here at around—Why are you two making that face?” You stop mid-sentence to notice Megumi and Toji at the other side of the table, displaying disgusted facial expressions at the mention of the white-haired other’s name.

“Why him?” They said in unison.

“Why not??” You question their irritation.

“He’s so annoying…” Again, in unison. Proof enough that they’re father and son.

You sigh as you get up to take your plate to the sink. “Oh, come on, you two, it’s not like he’ll be with you guys the entire night. He has a party at a friend’s he’s going to later.”

“Isn’t he too old to trick-or-treat?” Tsumiki questions, noting that Gojo is way past his undergraduate years.

“He is, but whatever gets that prick any free sweets,” Toji answers his daughter before getting up to put his dish in the sink.

You exit the kitchen, head into the living room, and sit on the couch. The laptop you had placed there was ready to open and unlock, and you clicked on applications and windows to look through before your meeting started in the next three to two minutes. He should be here about—

DING-DONG!!

Now.

Right on cue, you motion for Toji to grab the front door, and he follows your command. “Kids, Gojo’s here!” You shout out to the two kids who still sit at the table. “When you’re done eating, you can go upstairs and put your costumes on. But whoever finishes last has to do the dishes.” You can hear commotion from the table as the brunette rushes to put her dish in the sink and dash for the stairs. Megumi groans to himself; you giggle when you hear him mutter an “Aww man…”

You pull out your headphones to connect to your laptop, put them in their respective ears, and prepare yourself for the meeting. Ignoring the faint passive-aggressive tones of your ex-husband when greeting Gojo at the door…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes flutter open, noticing the lighting change around the living room. The orange sunlight no longer decorated the space, substituted with the gradual darkness that overtakes you. The only source of light you can figure out is the flashing from the television screen.

Aside from the TV, there are no other signs of life. There aren’t any signs of Tsumiki or Megumi around playing or causing a raucous. It could only mean the two are still trick-or-treating with Gojo.

One blink, two blinks. I must’ve fallen asleep after the meeting… You hum while sinking to the couch, burying your face into the pillow.

But…since when did your pillow act like it was breathing with a heartbeat? And…I smelt that cologne before…How?

“Ya awake now?”

You raise your head, realizing you are not lying on your couch. Technically, you were; however, you were lying on something else on the furniture with you – more like someone.

It’s then you realize that you were lying on Toji during your entire slumber, him leaning on the end of the couch, one leg spread to make room for you to sleep on him while you sit on the other. And you can guess that you had your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warm figure. He looks at you with his green eyes now darkened by the room, yet you can see their glow from the television light. And that small smile he gives you, the scar on the right side of his lip lifted upward. The familiar butterflies in your stomach flutter like before. Like old times sake…That must be embarrassing, huh?

You frantically try to get off of him, “Sorry about that, I thought—“

“No, no,” Toji places a stern hand on your back, keeping you from moving further. “You were comfortable.”

You stare at him for a few seconds until your face contours to a look, and a smile starts to creep up while you situate yourself back to your original position, pressing your face back on his chest to listen to the beats of his heart again. “I recall having this couch all to myself not too long ago, so where’d you come from?”

“Well, I wanted to watch some sports highlights, but I figured you’d kick my ass if I pulled you off and had you sleep on the floor instead.” With the click of your tongue, he chortles. You bet your ass I would. “So, I decided to have ya sleep on me while I watch TV.”

“What’s wrong with the other side of the couch? It’s quite vacant and enough for a big guy like you.”

“True,” his hand rubs circles on your back, an old habit he did when he used to have you like this. “But then I’d be lonely.”

You titter. “That’s big for someone who said he thrives on being alone.”

“I thrive being alone when I’m working.” You’re glad he can’t see your eyes roll; he’d probably grab you by the cheeks like a child. “Besides, why would I wanna be alone when I have you for myself.”

And there it is, your cheeks begin to warm up. Or was it because you’re so close to him that his heat is transferring to you? That’s probably it, yeah. Let’s change the subject…”How long was I out for? I remember the kids left around 7:30-ish.”

“Mmm, it’s going to eleven right now.”

Three and a half hours? Damn. “It’s past their bedtime.”

Toji scoffs. The abrupt motion of his chest rising is satisfying in a way that makes you even more comfortable. “You still think they’re gonna sleep with all that sweet shit they got?” He snickers some more as you shake your head.

“They know better. When you guys get home, be sure to put their candy bags on the top shelf of the closet for the morning.”

“Still traumatized from that one time?”

“Uhhh, yes??” The memory flashes to you for a quick moment, but the dread from before still haunts you. Megumi was six years old and Tsumiki seven, returning home from trick-or-treating and immediately tasting their labor from that night. However, what you didn’t expect was for them both to eat almost half their bags. Let’s just say, thanks to their sugar rushes, they didn’t drop dead until the hour hand touched two of the morning. “Unless it’s the weekend, never again.”

The way the older man chuckles is so therapeutic — it nearly makes you want to fall asleep again. “You weren’t the one chasin' Megumi all over the place tryin' to get him to sleep. Little squirt gets his speed from me.”

“Awww, poor you~” You can sense the glare as you respond in a condescending, sing-song tune. “You and him are always butting heads. Like father, like son.”

“Tch, hate that sayin’ so fuckin’ much.”

“Why? ‘Because it’s true?”

“Shut up.” The hand he used to rest his head comes down to pinch your nose. You wriggle out of his hold with giggles, but he happily keeps you grounded to him with his stronghold and a leg wrapped around to prevent yours from moving. “He only listens to you. Such a sweet lil’ baby to you, huh? Puttin’ my own son against me.”

More giggles prompt out of tiny guilt, and you bring up a hand to rub on his chest. “He’s such a bright boy now. Growing up so big and fast.”

“Miki, too. That girl is way too smart fr' me to catch up. And she’s becoming so kind and strong, crazy to think she made me play teacups when she could barely go down the stairs by herself.” Toji hums, the vibrations felt on the pads of your fingers. “Think she gets that from you.”

You shook your head. “They’re your babies. They do amazing things because they have a big guy like you to catch them if they ever fall.”

“Hmm, fair…But let’s not pretend I’m the best dad in the world. Fuck, never in my life did I think I’d be a dad, especially with two kids. I didn’t know shit back then — still! I still don’t know shit.” You don’t say anything, just listening to him voice his thoughts to you. Because he knows you’d listen – you always do. “If you weren’t there for them, I don’t think they’d be shining like this. Y’re definitely the thing that brought us up together. They look up to you so much. Ya did so well with them.”

Nodding aimlessly, his black sweatshirt grazing on your cheek. “Thank you. Same to you. Didn’t do so bad yourself, big guy.”

“Mmm.”

Nothing is said between you two after that. The only thing that makes noise is the voices coming from the television. The volume lowered, an initiative you could guess from Toji wanting you to get some rest. The silence was too awkward that it might torture some, but it was fine where it was. There was no need to change it, especially when you were comfortable in each other’s embrace.

That is, until Toji asks, “Do you miss it?” The rubs on your back go slower, his fingertips drawing a ticklish sensation.

“Of course I do. All the time.” You answer honestly, turning your head to rest your chin on him. Your eyes glimpse directly at his, giving him a tiny grin. “Why ask? I know the kids miss me being around; what about you? Miss me nagging and putting you to work all the time?”

He sneers at your comment. “Every day.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it had the power to wipe that smirk right off your face. Your eyes locked in his sight, and your heart tuning to an irregular rhythm. Oh, come on, Y/n, get a grip! “Ahem—Toji, I hope you know that I never stopped missing everything we had — I never will. Those years that we shared were probably the best I’ve had. We had happy moments, others sad, of course. But, God, do I miss it all. I miss it so much. I miss having you guys here. Miki and Gumi and—“

“Me?” Good Lord, if this man doesn’t stop looking at you with those goddamn eyes of his, such captivating orbs that say more than he lets on. Your breath hitches, and so does the hand on your back. “Hmm? Ya miss me, baby?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why’d you have to call me that? And it gets worse when he places his free hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin while the forefinger teases the lobe and tragus of your ear. Goddammnit…

“...Yes,” your voice was down a whisper, which could easily be mistaken with the television. But you know Toji heard you, loud and clear. “Especially you, Toji.” You said it. The words that he wanted to hear from you. They felt so forbidden to say, yet it was the truth. You avert your gaze away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work, not right now. Toji taps your cheek with his thumb, and your eyes sheepishly return to his.

He doesn’t say anything, and that makes your heart beat at an unbearable rate. It’s all you can hear when you stare into his deep emerald eyes, the sound of it ringing your eardrums as if you could puke. Your throat running dry, so you gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob. If something could just happen to end this anxious torture, that would be great.

And then your prayers get answered: something does happen. Toji slowly brings his face closer to yours — your body goes rigid, and you instantly face away before the inevitable happens. No, I didn’t mean that!

“Aht aht, don’t do that, baby.” His hand slithers from your cheek to your chin, forcing you to face straight at him. “Lemme see you.”

“Toji, wait,” your voice travels out in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t cross this line anymore.”

He listens to your pleas, but his body does otherwise. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead while the hand on your back snakes downward. “Why not?” His gruff voice dialed down to a whisper.

“Because—Mmmm…” Toji interrupts you by licking the helix of your ear. Oh, you slick bastard. “We’re supposed to be done…”

“That’s not stoppin’ me from takin’ care of my sweet thing.” Jesus Christ, you almost melted from the way he whispered that to your ear. He’s pulling out all the same old tricks, and it gets more hellish by the second as you try not to give in. “So, y're gonna let me take care of you like I always do, right, mama?”

Both his hands now rest on your ass, groping it while your hips sway as if they have a mind of their own. The leg between yours comes up slightly, making you ride on it. The heat on your cheeks has already blossomed to your ears, making it hard to think straight. Gripping his sweatshirt, your hips ride his thigh to ease the throbbing sensation that grows with every motion. Good God, you shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. However, it’s been so long that you felt wanted like this — wanted by him. It’s all the same – his voice, his hands, his words, his body, and the names he calls – yet here you are turning into putty.

“Haaahh, Mmmfff…Toji, please,” Toji withdraws his face from your shoulder, leaving him to examine your expression. You must look so dumb right now, with your hooded eyes and shivering lips. But, at this point, do you even care? “Please…Treat me right.”

One moment, you see his gaze narrow with a devious glint. Next, you’re taken aback when Toji slams his lips on yours, kissing and sucking your bottom lip until you give him access. With a moan, you open your mouth for him and sink deeper into the kiss. Your hands come around his neck, keeping him focused on you and you alone. Not that he would have it any other way.

His strong hands continue to knead your asscheeks while you hump and grind on his thigh. Nibbling on your lip, you whimper helplessly for him. It strokes his ego, knowing he’s making you like this, the fucking bastard. He takes in your tiny cries happily, shoving his tongue to play with yours. You give in to him, almost losing your balance riding his thigh, yet Toji’s lips never leave yours.

You break the kiss to get an imperative breath, panting loudly and sweetly for him as Toji kisses and licks your ear. The sounds make your lower region twitch. “Hnnmm, fuck…That’s my girl. So fuckin’ good fr’ me always, Y/n…” You can feel him slide a hand up to the hem of your leggings, forcing it inside for his thick fingers to brush up on the bare flesh of your butt. You gasp sharply. Him squeezing your butt has you biting down on his sweatshirt. “—Hahhh, Oh God, Toji,” With every squeeze, he inches closer to your panty-covered chasm, where you know he’d find a damp spot. Please touch me. Please, please, plea—

CLACK-CLINK!!

The two of you are frozen stiff when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, the foyer lights turned on. “Alright~, we got you guys home. See ya later!” That was Gojo’s voice, indicating everyone was finally back from trick-or-treating. This means that Tsumiki and Megumi are about to see you on top of their father, his hand in your leggings and smacking lips with yours. Your eyes shoot wide with horror — immediately remove yourself from Toji and stand up from the couch to pull your bottoms up. You barely had the chance to peek at Toji because the kids already run to the living room to find you two.

“Y/n, Y/n, look!” The brunette was the first to greet you with her adorable pink Barbie cowgirl costume. She and her brother, dressed as Sasuke Uchiha, cheerfully showcased their pillowcases full of candy. “Look at all this candy we got!”

“Wooow, you guys really went on a haul,” you can only hope they can’t see you sweating bullets through your fake reaction. “Wh–Where’s Gojo?”

“He dropped us off here a few seconds ago and left for the party,” The raven-haired boy answered while scanning his pillowcase.

You only nod along until you frantically wipe your mouth, realizing the tiny trail of spit from the corner of your mouth. “Umm—Ahem, well then, I’m glad you two got all that candy. Now, let’s hurry up and get you guys home so you can get ready for school tomorrow!”

But the children didn’t move an inch. Actually, they looked like they were going to tell you something. You lift a brow. Oh no, they’re going to look at each other. They looked at each other and then glanced back at you. Oh, God, no. “Uhhh, Y/n, we were thinking.” Big sister Tsumiki is always the one who asks the following question. “Can we stay over?”

You inhale a massive breath, yet you do your best not to exhale a heavy sigh. “Kids, you promised to keep the overnight stays to three at max per month. This will be the fifth!”

“Yeah, but it’s dark out. Plus, it’s way past our bedtime.” The younger chimes in with a tiny pout. “We’ll be asleep by the time Dad gets us home.”

And here comes Tsumiki with the tag-team response to add on. “And that means he’ll have to make continuous trips back and forth from the car. Picking me and Megumi up, getting our bookbags, the bags full of candy, the whole thing! We already packed up our PJs just in case.”

You stood there staring at the two in astonishment. There’s no way they thoroughly planned this out. There’s just no way… And to make it worse, they were making valid arguments. You open your mouth to say something, but the two give the best puppy eyes they can. The wave of guilt hits like a train, internally cringing. You turn to Toji, who still sits on the couch, and the motherfucker only gives you a shrug. Wow, what a helpful father he is.

You groan into your hands, shaking your head while looking at the kids who wait for your verdict. “…Alright, you can stay as long as you PROMISE to put those candy bags in my bedroom closet. Deal?” The happy smiles and aggressive head shakes should answer your question. “Good, now go ahead and take your showers before you head for bed.” They rushed to the stairs by the time you finished that sentence, so enthusiastic about staying the night at your house, and you can’t help but smile hearing their footsteps run up the stairs.

With that being said, you turn to the older man again. Your brows are trenched down, but your smile is still present. “So, you legit just sat there and let those two tag-team me like that? In my own house?”

Another shrug with a dumb smirk on his handsome face. “Told you: too smart fr’ me to catch up.” You shake your head before exiting to get the kids and guest rooms ready, leaving him with the television.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The midnight hour has finally danced its way into the darkness of the night. Halloween is finally over, and the month of October is no more. The pitter-patter sound of the rain cleanses the neighborhood of its merits and festivities that partook hours ago, ready for a new phase of the year to take over.

After having the guest room ready with sheets and sleepwear for Toji and kissing the kids goodnight, you rinse your stress off with a nice shower and put on your pajamas to get ready for bed. After you turn the lights off, you drape the comforter over your figure as your body sinks with the cozy sheets and pillowcase. Your eyes close while focusing on the curtains of your window, the only light piercing inside being the lampposts by the street.

…Well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But that’s not the case because you’re not the only one lying comfortably on your mattress. Instead, Toji is here with you, in your room, on your bed, his chest to your back, and his hand roaming inside your oversized shirt. Your lips are now connected with his, sharing your erotic moans with his enticing groans, and you get a little louder as his fingers cup and play with your breast.

“Mmphh…Ahhhh, I thought I told you you’re sleeping in the guest room—Nmmff!” He tweezes your nipple with his forefinger and thumb roughly.

“And I thought you’d be smart enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, drawing near your ear for him to whisper. “Besides, look at you. Still sleepin’ with no underwear on?”

“Hmph, only when I have a man around the house.” That answer got you another rough tweak on your nip and a purposeful gnaw to your ear. You knew he’d react like that, never liking the mention of another man leaving your mouth – especially during an intimate time like this.

“That so? What man you know that can handle all this?” Toji then moves from his side to be between your legs, pulling up your shirt to fully expose your chest. And your breathe hitches while his free hand travels down your abdomen to your bottoms.

“Ahhhh, no one. Just you...” You look at him with half-lidded eyes, taking in his reaction to what you said. The salacious grin on his face becoming broader should entail that he greatly loved that retort.

He brings his face to your other unattended nipple, “Good answer, princess.” The nub of your breast enters his mouth, and the wet warmth of his tongue greets it with lapped motions and grazes from his teeth. Despite that, it doesn’t distract you from the fact your bottoms are pulled down with ease and are thrown to the bedroom floor, leaving your cunt out for him, your erotic fluids seeping and glistening from the outside lights.

Toji plays with your folds until he can stuff his pointer finger into your chasm, the insertion resulting in your body’s jolt. It’s been a long while since you had his thick digit inside you, playing and scraping the inner walls to evoke whimpers. God, it felt so good, this satisfying feeling returning to awaken your body to his touch. He interacts with your body as if he’s the only person who knows how to get you going – and it’s the truth. No one can put you in a blissful haze quicker than this man. And you’d prefer to keep it that way.

The addition of his middle finger into your leaky entrance startles you, the thick digit making its way in with such vigor that he uses both fingers to scrape the velvety texture of your walls. Your eyes are now screwed shut at the growing commotion between your thighs, and the heat within your body flourishing all around gets to your head. “—Khmm, Oh fuuck, Toji. Please, don’t stop.”

With a soft ‘pop’ noise from his lips, Toji replies to your demands. “I’m sorry, what’s my name again?” You giggle with trenched brows. Of course, how could I forget?

“Nmmph, D-Daddy, pleaseee, I’m so clo—Ahhhann!!” He puts his thumb to your clit, grinding down on it unexpectedly. “I wanna cum, pleaseee…”

“Hmmm, good girl,” he teased, laying down kisses, nibbling on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs until he arrives at your leaking slit. Your body jerks up from the bed when you feel the cold, wet muscle slowly lick on your clitoris before ravaging your folds. The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are so lewd to the ear, slurping noises from his lips with the lapping motions of his tongue claiming your come are too much for you. And when he uses his hand to swipe and pinch your clit? Oh, it’s a wrap. Your release comes out without control, biting down on your bottom lip to make sure your cries don’t leave this space for the kids to hear. Their room is on the other side down the hall; tonight isn’t the night for too many risks.

When your trembling body calms down and subsides, Toji withdraws his face from between your thighs. Your essence paints his mouth, and he wipes his chin clean while licking the remnants that coat his scarred lips. “Hmph, missed tastin’ you like that.” You open your eyes when your high finally evades you, watching your ex-husband pull down his sweats. His erection springs out and hits his stomach, your mind going rampant with thoughts as you ogle at his freed limb. Shit, it’s been so long. Will that shit even fit me again?

“Don’t think it’ll fit, baby?” Damn him, he loves teasing you. Toji then discards his black wife-beater, at long last revealing his well-built, brawny physique that has you drooling for him. He uses his hands to maneuver your legs—your knees pushed to your chest as your legs propped up on his shoulders. A position you’re all too familiar with. Your eyes don’t leave Toji’s cock as he aligns his cock to your slick-coated folds. “Take some breaths fr’ me, sweetie. Can’t take care of you when you’re all tense.”

You take up on his advice and begin taking deep breaths, reminding yourself to maintain the steady pattern as he pushes the tip of his dick between the lips of your cunt. Every inhale is where he nudges into the hole of your inner cavern, and every exhale gives you time to breathe out the pain that comes in for a split second. This carries on until the cockhead wedges itself perfectly into your vagina, along with the inches of his girth that stretches until the base kisses your lips, the tip of him kissing your cervix. Tears swell up in your eyes, taking more deep breaths to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

“Oooh fuuuck…Heh, yeah, that’s my baby right there. Fittin’ so perfect fr’ me, mama…” He puts his weight on you, keeping your figure unmoving under his bow.

“Nmmmf, Daddyyy,” you’re forced to take in all of him, and drool trails down your lips with no hope of taking care of it. “…I’m so full, you’re too much…”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” He wipes your spit after kissing your forehead. How gentle compared to what you’re about to go through. “Gonna move now.” His thrusts start slow for the two of you to adjust to each other; the feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix want your body to writhe and squirm. But you’re bent into this position for a reason: forced to submit to him no matter what. So you do just that.

Yet your horny haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix. It takes everything in your power not to come so early.

“—Hahhhh, Nmmph. Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Toji groans above you, the thrusts of his pelvis increase to an irregular rhythm, grinding deep into your cunt to the point of uncontrollable babbles escaping your lips. His bullying on your insides results in you gripping his length hard, causing the older man to hiss and moan at your contractions. “—Ohhhfuuuckk!! Jesus Christ, baby. Y’re gonna make me go crazy.”

As if that wasn’t already happening now that he pistons his cock into your wetness, your brain turning into mush from the onslaught of ruts to your puffy wet chasm. Tears stream down your face, and more drool follows down with more precise hits to your delicate canal. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think of anything else, the squelching noises and paps of Toji’s balls hitting your cunt making it worse.

“D-Daddyyy, I’m—Ohoooo!! Oh, Jesus, ohhhshit!” You can’t formulate a proper sentence, too engulfed with the electrifying sensations coursing through your body.

“Damn, you feel too fucking good—Hnngh!!” Toji places his forehead on yours, resting his entire weight on you while his hips have a mind of their own. “‘Bout to make me knock you up…”

Oh, good Lord. The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? “Nnnfff! Oh God, pleaseee, fill me up, Daddyy!” Green eyes narrow with trenched brows. “—Pleasepleasepleaseee!! I want you to fill me up so bad, I want it, I want—Hyaaaaa!!”

How can he deny your desperate, teary pleas when you’re urging him on like this? “Heh, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, mama.” Toji captures your lips with his, your mewls taken by him as you sink further into your pleasurable thrill.

Sporadic thrusts of his pelvis produce more raunchy noises in the joining of your sexes, his heavy balls smacking on your cunt as he drives the base of his cock straight into you. Your slit is now a puffy mess, come and slick form a soapy mess that Toji now harbors a milky ring around his girth. A few rushed, sloppy thrusts heighten your high once more, and then Toji presses his pelvis down to the hilt on one final, harsh thrust, unloading his seed into your aching folds. And your climax follows in a few seconds, the walls of your cunt fluttering on his pulsating dick as your essence soaks him. Your muffled shrieks are received by him, quivering under him until the aftershocks wash through your body.

Once you two breathe at a steady tempo and the nerves of your sweaty bodies fall still, the kiss is broken with heavy pants and a string of spit that links you two together. Toji buries his face between your neck and shoulder, licking and kissing your skin as you’re allowed time to experience your clarity.

“Hmmm…You know I’m not done yet, princess.” Toji mumbles to your ear before stationing your legs off his shoulders for them to rest.

“Yeah, I know, big guy.” You tease him with a breathless laugh, kissing him on the temple. “Always wanting more…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, you’re telling me you had your ex-husband spend the night? Not just the kids?”

“Yup, that’s what happened.”

This morning was different from your usual routine – well, you can’t say it’s different if you have done it before, huh? After five years of divorce, you thought you’d be so used to waking up and getting ready for work without worrying about others. However, this morning proves otherwise.

It felt natural walking into the kids’ room and lightly shaking them awake, telling them to get ready while you whip up something quick for them to eat as Toji showers (using your bathroom, by the way). Watching the kids run down the stairs and eat breakfast puts a smile on your face, reminiscing about the good old days when they were younger and teenier. It sometimes feels surreal doing the same thing for them now that they’re getting older and taller. But seeing them bicker and interact with each other in your presence never fails to warm your heart.

When Toji’s finished freshening up and loading his kids’ stuff in his truck, it’s time to bid them farewell for their departure for school. You give them final touch-ups on their hair and outfits, reminding them to be safe and not get into trouble (especially Megumi, now that the boy’s been getting into fights). And before they rush to the car, you hug them and give each a kiss on the cheek. Here is where the warm feeling inside your heart begins to deteriorate, not wanting to let them go. Yet, for their sake – and education – you release them and hope for the best.

The last to leave was Toji, who came from the kitchen to the front door with a paper plate wrapped in foil in one hand. His name is written boldly by a black Sharpie. “This fr' me?”

“No, it’s for Shiu Kong, for dealing with you all the time.” You stick your tongue out at Toji as he glares at you, not even moving out of the way while he exits through the door. “You better eat that when you get to work, you have a terrible habit of skipping lunch.”

“Whatever ya say, mom.” He pesters you with the title, knowing you’re technically not a mother anymore. Yet it only makes you smile knowing he notices your maternal side.

“Don’t forget to text me when Tsumiki’s soccer game is next week.” You watch him go down the porch stairs.

“Will do.”He whistles.

“And Toji?”

The man stops walking to turn to you, his forest green eyes fixed on you so quickly that you almost forget what you want to say. Or what you wanted to do. You place your fingers on your lips and blow a kiss with an outward gesture. It was an old habit you did whenever he left, something you can’t seem to get out of practice with. It’s embroidered in your mind at this point.

And when he catches the kiss with his free hand and places it on his chest, it makes your heart skip a beat. Toji grins, “I’ll be damned if that was fr' Shiu, too.”

You snicker with a shaken head. “Drive safe, Toji.” Closing the front door, you stand there for a while. Your smile doesn’t falter; it gets bigger as you replay the moment instead. Thinking about him, hearing him, seeing him, it all drives you crazy. And that’s a good thing…right?

“I don’t know, sounds like you still kinda care about the guy.”

“Of course I do,” So here you are, sitting in your living room enjoying the rays of the sunset decorating the space, in a video call with your best friends, Utahime and Mei Mei. You reply to the former’s comment. “Just because I don’t have the ring on my finger doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about him. I mean, he’s the father of two lovely children.”

“Shoot, you’re better than me, then.” The dark-haired woman admits. “But you’re kinda proving my point, Y/n. Even when you don’t have the ring on, you two act like the same old couple, and it’s definitely not just for the kids’ sake. Let’s be real here.”

You try to interject, but the pale-blue-haired other, Mei Mei, intervenes, “I agree. It’s one thing if you let the children stay over, but he also wanted to spend the night. Sure, he could’ve been tired from driving all day and such. However, if you’re still seeing a man for the last five years – while legally unbound – and he says he wants to spend the night under your roof, which is rare, that should ring some bells at least.”

“I know, it did…” you nod along with what your friend is saying, throwing your head back with a heavy sigh. “But it’s not like he’s never spent the night here before, nor is he banished from stepping inside.”

“Oh? Then why is this time different from the others?”

Utahime jumps in after Mei Mei’s chirp. “Yeah, you’re telling us about all these nostalgic lovey-dovey feelings as if you’re falling in love with him all over again. What, did you two have sex or something?”

An open mouth, yet no words come out, leaving you in a predicament. You could’ve just lied or swerved the subject to something else. But you didn’t. And the two women on the screen lift their brows with hooded eyes, a look meaning a thousand words. You couldn’t even explain yourself either because a sudden knock on your door captured the attention of all three of you.

You stand up and walk towards the door, your friends still on call on the phone at hand. Opening the door, you’re almost stunned to see in front of you. Tsumiki and Megumi with nervous smiles, and their father at the car collecting the same duffles bags from last night. You’re kidding.

“Hey, kids.” The two of them gulped from not calling them by their names. You bring up the phone to face the screen to them. “Say hello to Auntie Mei Mei and Utahime.” The women on the line smile and wave at the children, who sheepishly wave back.

“Hi, aunties.” Megumi greets them, and then his eyes drift back to you. “So, Y/n—“

“What did you forget this time?” Straight to the point, no room for excuses.

“It was Miki this time! She forgot her soccer cleats.” The older sibling gawks at her younger brother for calling her out.

“Tsumiki, I know you have cleats at home.”

“I do, but these are special! You bought them for my birthday, and I’ve been wearing them to every game ever since! So, I was scared when I couldn’t find them at home.” The brunette was quick to defend her stand. “Also, Dad doesn’t feel like driving up here and then back. So…can we…”

You close your eyes and bring the phone to your face to shield your vexation. Twice in a row, the sixth time this month. You can hear the giggles of your friends from the other side of the phone, adding more fuel to the fire. You don’t look up until you hear heavy footsteps on the porch, seeing Toji holding both duffle bags with a hand and shoulder. He stares at you as you stare at him, a silent conversation on how to handle this situation. And when he shrugs with lifted brows, you realize it’s no use and release the long-awaited sigh.

“….If I see one more thing being left behind here, you guys can’t come back till December, understand?” It wasn’t anything serious, but enough for the kids to know you weren’t joking. They nod their heads in unison while you roll your eyes. “Okay, get in here.” They rushed inside with gleeful laughs, the shuffling of their backpacks following along with them. Your eyes then drift to Toji as he walks up to you. “Did you forget something here, too?”

“Yeah,” you lift a brow when he drops Megumi’s bag to the floor. Before you can register his hand on your chin, you squeak when he brings his lips to yours. It lasted for seconds, but the kiss was sweet and tender, sucking on your lip before letting go with a playful bite. “Meant to give you that when you woke up. Thanks fr' the food, mama.”

Toji picks the bag up and walks inside your home to put the bags in the rooms, leaving you standing on the porch with an astounded expression. You couldn’t appropriately calibrate your thoughts until you heard faint laughs from the phone. Then, you realize your best friends witnessed the entire scene that transpired.

Utahime, with the slyest leer, was the first to say something. “Oh yeah, he laid that pipe on you good, without a doubt.”

“Mhmm,” Mei Mei agrees with a chuckle. “And I'm guessing he’s gonna do it again tonight. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”

You end the video call with a heated face. “Sh-Shut your damn mouths!!” Again, you groan into your hands before returning inside. Thank God I still have those birth control pills...

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

22K notes · View notes

kentopedia · 6 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

13K notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 3 months

Text

pieces of you

single dad!chan. x fem!reader

genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc

summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!

winter falls masterlist.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shh, daddy smile.”

Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.

A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.

“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.

“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.

“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.

“Your dad?”

“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.

“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.

She isn't shy because she feels protected.

You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.

He’s beautiful.

Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.

“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.

“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.

“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.

“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.

“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.

“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.

“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”

“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”

“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.

“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.

“Yn. And you?”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.

Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”

Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.

“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.

Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.

“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”

“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.

“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.

“Touché.”

A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.

“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.

“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”

“You don’t know how to make them?”

“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.

“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”

“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.

“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.

Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”

“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”

“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.

An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.

One hour later

You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.

“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.

“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.

“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.

“You made them?”

“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.

“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.

“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.

“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.

“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.

“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.

“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.

“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”

“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.

“I…. I'll get going.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”

“I'll see you around.”

“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.

ii.

“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.

You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.

You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.

“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.

“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.

“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”

The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.

“I can text you the address?” you propose.

“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.

“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.

“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”

“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.

“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.

“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.

“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”

“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.

“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.

“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”

“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.

“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.

“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?

“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”

“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.

“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”

And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.

“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.

“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.

“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.

“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”

“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”

You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.

“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.

Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?

“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.

“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.

“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”

“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”

“Will you watch a movie later with me?”

“Of course, baby.”

“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.

“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”

“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.

“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?

Your facade cracks. His voice wins.

“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”

iii.

You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.

“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.

“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just with salt?”

“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.

Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.

It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.

“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.

“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.

“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.

“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.

He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”

“We? You were behind my back all the time.”

“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”

“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”

“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”

“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”

“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.

And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.

“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.

“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”

“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.

It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.

“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.

“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.

“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”

“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.

“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

“The company.”

“I do find Sowon entertaining.”

“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.

“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”

“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”

“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”

“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.

“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.

He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.

Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.

One week later.

You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.

“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.

“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.

“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”

“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.

“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.

“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”

“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.

“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.

“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.

Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.

“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.

“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.

“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.

The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.

“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.

You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.

“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”

“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.

"She looks just like you," you softly smile.

"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.

“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.

“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.

You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.

A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.

You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.

The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.

Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.

"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.

“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.

“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”

“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”

“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”

“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.

“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”

“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.

“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”

You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.

“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”

Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.

Five days later.

chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?

yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years

chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs

chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ

chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired

yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?

chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring

You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.

“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.

“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”

“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”

“Can I read what you wrote?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”

May these words be the first to find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best

And I'll do better

Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.

“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.

Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”

“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”

His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.

“Talk to me?”

“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”

Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.

“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”

Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?

“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.

“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”

You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.

“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”

He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.

“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”

“Is that what she told you that movie night?”

“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.

“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.

You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.

“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”

“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”

“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.

“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.

“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.

connected.mp3 starts playing.

Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.

You wished to be the only one Chris liked.

“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.

So, you put on your best taunting smirk.

“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”

He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.

“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.

“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”

"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.

“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.

“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.

“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.

“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.

“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.

To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.

You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”

Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.

iv.

You’re avoiding him.

Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.

Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.

He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.

He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.

He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.

He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.

How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?

“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.

“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.

“I don't know, baby.”

“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.

“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”

“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.

“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”

“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”

“Okay!”

In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.

So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.

“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.

“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.

“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.

"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."

Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.

And then you speak.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”

“Of course, always.”

“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“

“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.

He’s as scared as you are.

“Chris…”

“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”

“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.

“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”

He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I'm staying.”

“You are?”

“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.

“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.

“Thank you for asking me to stay.”

“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.

“What happened to connected Chris?”

“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”

Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.

“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, yn.”

You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.

you win.

“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.

Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”

He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.

bonus (one year later).

“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.

“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.

“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.

“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”

“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.

“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.

It's her first time calling you mom.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"

“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”

“What happened to being a stylist?”

“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.

“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.

He’ll propose to you tomorrow.

#skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #skz angst #skz fanfic #chan fluff #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz au

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okay-babe · 2 months

Note

Imagine alastor thinks his wife is just the most perfect, angelic being he’s ever met, so he’s downright shocked to fight out she also ended up in hell going “yeah I killed a man once” (he falls even more in love)

A Good Thing, Indeed

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angelic reader, protective/possessive alastor, brief human alastor x human reader, fluff, very mild angst note: I went a little overboard with this one, but I hope you enjoy, anon <3 Find a sequel (of sorts) to this fic, here.

Alastor had never quite understood how someone like him had ended up with a woman like you.

You were soft and understanding, utterly ceaseless in your kindness and love of near anyone who crossed your path, a true saint to be sure.

Alastor on the other hand, had always been quite the opposite.

Where you were soft, your lover was unyielding, where you were understanding, he was impatient, and when it came to the capacity for kindness and love within his heart, many would have gone on record stating that there was much to be desired in that regard.

Yet, even still, you chose him, and he, you.

Every. Single. Time.

It was as if the two of you were meant to be.

The proud and charismatic up and coming host of a brand new radio show, and the modest and soft spoken kindergarten teacher that was ever present upon his arm.

To Alastor, you were everything and more, and whether he was willing to admit it aloud or not, he all but worshiped the very ground that you walked upon.

There was so very little worth caring for in a world like the one that he lived in, and yet there you were, a shining beacon of light and hope to keep him from losing his mind over it all (well, at least in part, though he knew deep down that a portion had been missing since long before you'd made your way into his life).

For all of this, Alastor praised you and your love ceaselessly, his appreciation for your union a vast and endless thing that filled him with a sense of pride stronger than any other he'd felt before.

And how could it not?

You were his wife.

You!

The beautiful kindergarten teacher who worked in the public school just down the street from his broadcasting station, the one with the smile that lit up a room and the laugh that could make a man blush.

The one with the students who sung her praises to their parents during pick up and the coworkers turned friends who would utterly gush about her at even the briefest mention of her name.

You.

The woman that no one believed had gotten New Orleans' most prominent radio host to settle down after only just a year of courting, and whose stunning church wedding had been the talk of the town.

You were perfect, you were lovely, and the sweetest part of it all was that you bore his last name.

And oh, what whiplash that must have caused for those who hadn't known of your courtship earlier on. It nearly sent Alastor into a tizzy just imagining it.

The sweet, adoring woman that your son calls his teacher is also the wife of the ever unreadable and notably cold radio host from just down the street that scarcely any could say they truly knew?

How scandalous! Whatever is a woman like her doing with a man like him?!

Well, the answer, quite honestly, was being doted upon nigh endlessly.

If you wanted for even the smallest of things, it would be yours in an instant, and if you desired even the most useless of luxuries, he would have spared no expense to have it in your hands by the end of the day.

And even beyond that, there was the persistent desire to stay by your side, his presence always guaranteed the very moment you mentioned want for it.

An ice cream social at the school where you'd be meeting your new students and their parents? Alastor was there, conversing politely with a few mothers on the difficulties of parenting (in spite of his notable lack of children), making nearly everyone wonder what the hell a famous radio host was doing at the local elementary school.

Visiting Mimzy at her slightly sleazy little lounge in the shadier side of the city? Alastor was there, dressed to the nines, looking immensely out of place as you danced the night away with your friends (and him of course) to your little heart's content.

His love for you was nearly as endless as yours was for the very world beneath your feet, and in spite of himself he couldn't help but fall deeper and deeper in love at every borderline naive action you took.

You want to buy that man a drink because he looks lonely? Certainly darling, your husband would be happy to scare him off all night as the fool tries to make unwanted advances at you that he thinks are warranted thanks to your kindness.

You want to pick a fight with the burly man whose house is on your walk to work because he's been shouting cruel things at his dog nearly every morning for the past several weeks? Oh of course, just let Alastor prepare to use his most unsettling smile while he reaches for the leather sheathed knife he keeps attached to his belt so he can wordlessly threaten the oaf without you ever even realizing.

And so, knowing all of that and having lived such a love-filled few years at your side, how could Alastor ever have believed he might one day see you again once he came to in Hell shortly after his demise?

The short answer was, he couldn't.

And though he would never have been willing to admit such a thing aloud, it utterly shattered a portion of his heart to know he would never see your sweet smile or hear your perfect laugh ever again.

And to imagine what your reaction may have been once the police had informed you of all that he had done?

Well, he tried his best not to.

Because while he couldn't bring himself to regret those he had killed and the things he had done, he did regret having been left with no choice but to keep such a thing from you and leave you with such a mess upon his death.

Certainly you had deserved better, that much he knew.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about that now.

Or, at least, that's what he had led himself to believe.

Until one day, he'd been broken out of his typical morning routine of brewing his black coffee and digging into a freshly caught deer by the sound of knocking at his door.

There were very few people who knew of where Alastor lived at this point, with him being multiple years removed from life and having firmly cemented himself within society as a powerful and merciless overlord, so honestly it hadn't come as very much of a surprise when he opened the door and found an old friend waiting rather impatiently on the other side.

Mimzy.

Having arrived in Hell not very long after the radio host, the former flapper, (who he had actually met through you), had become a familiar face throughout the past few years as he'd tried to grow accustomed to life without his darling wife at his side.

It was nice, in a way, to have that reminder of you near when he wished for it to be, and so he allowed the sinner to call him something like a friend and offered her protection when it was convenient enough for him that it didn't prove to be a hassle.

Although, today of all days the overlord was certainly a little less than pleased to see Mimzy's familiar face at his doorstep, and he was reasonably certain that she knew why that was.

It was your former anniversary after all, and today would have been your tenth year of marriage had he only lived long enough to reach such a landmark achievement with you.

A smile, strained and thin, descended upon his lips, and, in spite of his feelings, Alastor remained as cordial as ever, albeit rather cold with his words.

"Mimzy, my dear! How wonderful to see you! Whatever could possibly be so important as to have you at my door on a day like today?"

There was a certain level of threat to his tone that no doubt left the woman standing before him floundering for a few seconds, before finally, she mustered up her reply, her smile ever so slightly less confident than before.

"Alastor, just the fella that I was lookin' for!"

The sinner began, placing her right hand upon her hip as she inspected the condition of the nails on her left,

"Now I know ya like to be left alone and all on days like this, but I've got a surprise for ya back at my place that I promise you're gonna wanna see a-s-a-p."

She said with her typical air of confidence, immediately causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes in response, his facade of interest slipping ever so slightly before he seemed to catch himself once more, ever the gentleman.

"Oh do you now? Well, as utterly transfixed as I am over this little mystery of yours, I'm afraid that I just don't have the time to stop by today. Lot's of things to prepare for the upcoming broad-"

"Alastor."

Mimzy said sternly, cutting the overlord in question off rather uncharacteristically with a glare of her own.

"I know damn well that you don't got nothin' planned for the day, so don't you start fibbin', mista, I can see right through ya!"

She began, quickly changing the subject when she seemed to recall exactly who she was talking to at the increasing sound of static.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue with ya or nothin', so you do whatever it is that you wanna do. I just wanted to come over and warn ya that if you don't come by for a visit by the end of the day you're gonna feel like a real fool, okay?"

She emphasized her warning with a dramatized raise of her brow before she grinned rather wickedly and stepped down off of his doorstep, wiggling her fingers in a teasing little wave as she climbed into the back of the very same taxi she must have used to get to his dwellings in the first place.

"I'll see ya around dollface!"

She called out as the car pulled away, leaving Alastor with quite a few more questions than he'd had upon her already unplanned arrival.

What a fantastic start to one's day.

By the time that Alastor made the decision to actually stop by Mimzy's lounge, it was already dark outside, the subtle chirping of crickets reminding him briefly of home as he walked toward his destination, ever a fan of the more simplistic methods of transportation.

He thought of the sounds of crickets and all of the moments with you that their seemingly endless chirps had backed until their sounds faded away with the increasing sounds of the busier section of the city, wherein Mimzy's place was located.

Just as sleazy and sketchy as it had been above, so it was below, and Alastor felt a sudden sense of longing and familiarity as he stepped inside, the smell of cigarettes and the sound of ever so slightly out of tune jazz music reminding him of his days of swing dancing with you on the cracked dance floor of the place Mimzy had owned and operated in life.

The Radio Demon had only just begun to contemplate what you might have thought of a place like this one when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out his name, and he turned to find the lounge's owner walking quickly toward him, a wide grin that nearly rivaled his own splitting her cheeks.

"Well would you look who it is, Alastor the Radio Demon here in my lil' lounge, what a lucky lady I must be!"

Mimzy teased as she shouted over the obnoxiously loud music, immediately forcing the man in question to hold back another instinctual roll of his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense, I should think that luck has very little to do with it, my dear."

Alastor drawled, dragging his gaze downward to find his friend standing there, all but vibrating upon her feet, clearly excited by something, though he couldn't quite fathom what in Hell it could possibly be.

That is, until he heard another familiar voice pipe up from somewhere behind him, this one far less anticipated than the last, and by a rather significant margin at that.

"Mimzy?"

It called, an edge of stress to it that had the corners of the overlord's smile twitching downward ever so slightly for the briefest of moments.

Alastor watched as the ex flapper standing before him grinned widely in response to his barely noticeable reaction, her eyes shining as she allowed the person speaking to continue with their question.

"Who did you say the whiskey on the rocks was for?"

The lounge's owner hopped up onto a stool beside where she had been standing, gesturing to the space at the bar near where Alastor was still firmly planted, the ears atop his head twitching ever so slightly as they took in the sound of a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again for the very first time since he'd awoken with them camouflaged within his hair.

"Right here, doll. Speakin' of which, why dontcha c'mere and meet one of my regulars, huh?"

She asked as casually as she could manage, gesturing slightly for the still reeling sinner standing beside the bar to take a seat, which, to her surprise, he actually did, eyes seeking out the source of the voice he was hearing as if in utter disbelief.

And then, much to his shock, there you were.

Sure, you looked different as a sinner, but he would recognize you anywhere, and it certainly helped that your beautiful smile was the very same as he remembered it to be whenever he closed his eyes and found you there waiting for him.

Busy with what was likely a fairly large number of orders that your fellow bartender seemed to be doing very little to try and keep up with, you didn't seem to notice him at first, walking quickly toward your old friend with a glass of whiskey in hand, moving to place it down in front of the ever so prominent Radio Demon absentmindedly when suddenly, you froze, your hand still wrapped around the chilled cup.

The two of you stared at one another for several long moments, eyes widened and breaths halting entirely, until finally Mimzy spoke up from Alastor's right, her laughter obnoxious beside his ear, though he could scarcely bring himself to care with his gaze locked so heavily onto yours.

"Happy anniversary, ya lovebirds! Didn't expect that, didja?!"

She all but cackled, causing you to break eye contact with your husband to gawk at your friend.

"Wait a second, you knew he was here the whole time and didn't tell me?!"

You cried, hand flying to your mouth as Alastor began to regard the woman sitting beside him with a hugely threatening glare, the frightfulness of which was only increased by his unyielding grin, which was beginning to appear more and more malicious by the second.

"Woah woah woah, hold your horses!"

Mimzy shouted, waving her hands all about as if in surrender as she looked back and forth between the two of you nervously,

"She only just got down here this mornin' I swear!"

She explained hurriedly to the overlord beside her, causing the man's eye to twitch with effort as he struggled not to tear his old friend limb from limb while her entire bar watched on in horror.

Alastor tapped one clawed finger against the bar in front of him, his sharpened teeth appearing even more threatening than usual at his apparent anger over the situation at hand.

"And you didn't think, my dear,"

He began, his voice low,

"That I may have wanted to know sooner?"

The sound of static overtook the lounge as the sinner's anger increased with each word he said, causing everyone, including those hired to play the live music, to flee out the front door, leaving the trio to their own devices within the confines of the now empty space.

This fact worked extremely well for Alastor, who was only growing more enraged with each passing second as he considered the implication of Mimzy's actions further.

Not only had this woman, someone who had dared call him a friend for so many years, betrayed him by keeping your presence unknown, but she had also clearly employed you at her poor excuse for a lounge, and was now acting as if she had done him a favor by allowing him to be in the presence of the very woman he'd married.

The urge to rip the sinner to shreds with his very own claws was immense, and perhaps he even would have done so had it not been for a gentle hand coming to rest upon his forearm, the weight of it felt even through his shirt and coat.

Immediately, he stiffened, the familiarity of the touch so jarring that his previous thoughts of murder ceased within an instant as he turned his head to face you properly.

There, illuminated by the dim and yellowed lights of the bar, stood his wife, a woman who he had never expected to see again after all that he had done.

What good deed must he have committed in life to deserve such a blessing as this?

Surely there was some kind of mistake and someone would be descending from the heavens to collect you soon, an angel sent to Hell on accident by way of some great failure on Saint Peter's fault.

Your husband stared at you for a few moments, as if afraid you might disappear if he so much as blinked, before finally, you spoke up, your lips curving into a slightly nervous smile.

"Let her explain?"

You asked gently, taking up the very same tone you used to when asking your beloved to make an exception to one of his many strict internalized rules for your benefit.

'Stay home with me?'

'Give him a chance?'

'A slightly less violent solution, perhaps?'

(the latter of which he'd heard more often than he was willing to admit).

And this time, as always, he caved almost immediately, giving a rather stern nod of his head before looking toward Mimzy with an obviously strained smile on his lips.

She didn't have long, that was for sure.

If she wanted to explain, she'd better do so quickly.

And that much must have been clear, because the ex flapper started talking just about as fast as she could manage while still remaining intelligible.

And what a tale she spun, indeed.

With hurried words and a remarkably nervous expression the likes of which neither you nor your husband had ever seen Mimzy wear before, the sinner apologized profusely for not telling either of you sooner, promising that she had only been trying to make it a surprise in celebration of your anniversary.

Apparently, she had vastly overestimated how persuasive she could be, and had assumed (rather incorrectly) that Alastor would be much more urgent in his arrival to her lounge after she'd paid him a visit, meaning she hadn't exactly intended to have kept the two waiting so long for the "grand reveal" of her surprise.

And, slowly but surely, as Mimzy explained her thought process, your confusion and your husband's apparent anger all but melted away, both reactions coming to be replaced with something located somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

How very like your friend it was to meddle in such a manner, after all.

You'd missed this.

(Alastor wished dearly that he could say the same, but having been stuck alone with it for several years, he couldn't quite relate.)

Still, even he had to admit that Mimzy's actions were something far more similar to misguided kindness than intentional ill will.

Though, there was still one issue that was still bothering him...

"Mimzy."

Alastor interrupted the sinner in the middle of her ramble, watching as she immediately shut her mouth and looked up at him, a familiar bout of nervous laughter falling from her lips as she wrung her hands together.

Seeing that she was paying attention, the overlord continued,

"I understand what you were going for with your..." He trailed off for a moment before hearing you pipe up from where you stood on the other side of the bar,

"Efforts."

How amusing, it seemed that even after years of separation, not even death could sever the almost supernatural ability you had to understand what your husband was trying to say before even he truly did.

Alastor nodded,

"Exactly. But that being said, I struggle to understand one thing."

He leaned toward his old friend slightly, watching her eyes widen as he did so, clearly unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Why, pray tell, my dear, is my wife spending her precious time working at your lounge if you had every intention of returning her to me?"

The possessive tone to his voice made you blush, eyes moving to the ground as you awaited Mimzy's response.

She was quick to answer.

"Great question, dollface!"

She laughed nervously,

"I uh, I guess I kinda figured she'd know if she was down here then you would be too, so I wanted to give her a little bit of a distraction... and maybe get some extra help for a few hours in the meantime."

She admitted quietly, though by the time she was finished speaking, Alastor wasn't paying her much mind anymore, his mind now occupied with what he considered to be a far more pressing issue.

Because now that Mimzy mentioned it...

"Dearest,"

He began, immediately catching your attention as he turned to face you fully, allowing you to take in the sight of him and his new "look" for the first time since your arrival.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a fan, as different as it may have been.

"Speaking of 'down here',"

Alastor continued, amusement dancing within his eyes,

"What exactly are you doing in a place like Hell?"

Your gaze moved downward once more at that, and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you tried to find anything else to focus on.

Eventually though, you gave up, and forced yourself to meet your husband's gaze once more.

"I uh, I killed a parent..."

You muttered under your breath, immediately causing Alastor's eyes to widen slightly in surprise, one of his ears twitching slightly atop his head.

"Pardon?"

He asked in utter disbelief, unable to even begin to comprehend what he was hearing.

You, his beautiful and darling wife, had killed a parent of one of the children you taught?

Utterly unbelievable, perish the thought.

You sighed, crossing your arms in a mix of embarrassment and frustration,

"I killed a parent, Al. Lucy and Arnold's father. He was beating on them and their mama something fierce, and I saw the opportunity to put a stop to it one night when walking over to the station after work... He went down the alley between the grocers and the tailor to take a shortcut home or something like that, and I just followed him before I even knew what was really going on..."

You sounded hesitant as you spoke, eyes downcast once more until without a word, your husband pressed his gloved index finger to your chin, raising your gaze to his own once more so you could see the utter awe present there.

He was positively enamored.

"You killed Harry Wells?"

He asked, shock still coloring his tone as he watched you for your reaction.

Slowly, after a few seconds of contemplation, you nodded, cheeks still pink as you did your best to keep from trying to avoid Alastor's heavy gaze.

"I uh, yeah. I did."

The overlord sitting across from you chuckled softly, a sound that slowly grew in volume and exuberance until he was laughing outright, the familiar sound music to your ears even as he sighed and wiped a tear from his eye afterward, something he had done often in life.

He grinned even wider at you than before, the pride in his eyes obvious as he shook his head as if still in disbelief.

"And to think,"

He began, reaching across the counter to grab both of your hands so he could pull you closer, your forearms resting against the bar countertop.

"I hadn't thought it possible to love you any more than I already did."

You laughed at that, pressing your forehead against your husband's with a sigh,

"Well in that case, I suppose it's a good thing that I have all of eternity to prove you wrong, huh?"

Alastor chuckled softly, humming as he took in the sight of you, as if trying to commit each individual detail to memory.

"A good thing, indeed, dear heart."

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