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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 month

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Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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rosedom · 8 days

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thinking about kneeling between someone's legs, arms wrapped around their waist while looking at them lovingly....... help-

•🪼

this has been sitting in my inbox for days, and i really needed the fluff this imagine gave me ><

and, i know it's probably not where ur thoughts were going, but my mind is flashing with the possibilities . . .

aether, sprawled out on some couch in the teapot as you're sitting between his legs. he's half-asleep, by now, body aching n' exhausted from the day (the week, the year(s), the life) he's had, and he is letting himself indulge in you, his fingers cupping the nape of your neck after he dozed off whilst detangling your hair. his touch would be so gentle, soft sounds falling from his lips as sweet dreams fill his mind. you almost wish he'd open those pretty sunshine eyes again, but you know he needs this rest; so you nuzzle into his thigh and fall asleep, too, warm and comfortable even while you're kneeling between his legs.

diluc, curled over himself on the bed as he braces himself against the tight pain of the bandages you're wrapping around his torso. you're knelt between his spread legs, laying gentle kisses to the unmarred skin of his thigh to soothe the bite that the bandages and antiseptics always bring. you're a little vindictive in it, though, calling it his karma for doing stupid shit at fuck o'clock in the morning. but even still, you're gazing at him so fondly, so full of worry, that he finds himself nuzzling into the top of your head, curled over as he is.

cyno, half-laying back on the mat you've got set beneath your desert tent. you're kneeling, he's got his elbows up under him to prop him up, and your arms are wrapped snug around his waist, bare save for the particles of sand that litter it. the way your fingers gently dust off the irritation from his skin with nothing short of absolute adorance, the way his abdomen strains to keep him somewhat upright all combining to make his tummy swirl with how much he loves you, loves the tender way you care for him. any joke he makes gets silenced, too, by mere proximity of your mouth; you can so easily blow into his belly button to make him squirm should he act a fool.

kaveh, who's working tirelessly at his blueprints while you kneel between his feet, knees saved from the soft floor by the pillow you've nudged under. you've got your chin bumping against the fat of his thigh, hands pulled tight around his waist as you nuzzle his belly, asking, "c'mon, sweetheart." he's whining at you, saying, "just five more minutes," except he said that five minutes ago—and, before that, five more minutes. when you nip at him, at his skin through his thin night-shirt, he finally sighs, drops his pencil with a soft thump. from then on, you'll finally have his undivided attention to smother him with.

alhaitham, using your head as a place to rest his book. he's bracing the spine of it with his hand, your head really only making contact with him himself. it is blissfully quiet, here, the only sound his and your own breathing as you kneel between his spread legs, your arms taking gentle hold of either of his strong calves. after a while, though, you tip your head to the side to kiss his knee, sufficiently dislodging the peaceful atmosphere that had been set as he's forced to set his book aside. he's got a retort on the tip of his tongue, surely, but it dissipates into the air when he sees how adoringly you look up at him. why keep reading that silly book when your eyes are the novel to your very soul?

6 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】#sfw btw !!#nothing but #fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #featuring !!:#aether #diluc #cyno #kaveh #alhaitham #short and sweet #i am a softie at heart ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ

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skzhua · 5 months

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Caroling to my Heart

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Lee Minho x Female!Reader

Genre: Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Christmas love story, angst, fluff.

Word Count: 14,653

Warnings: Swearing, talks of regrets, mentions of alcohol, heartbreaks.

Summary: Christmas is meant to be spent with your loved ones. Minho stopped loving a long time ago.

A/N: Credits to my boyfriend for the general idea of the plot (story is all me, though)

November nearing its end, Chrismas was approaching quickly. Children playing in the snow, shops filled with decorations to sell for the holidays, sales everywhere for presents shopping, music playing everywhere you go; truly the most wonderful time of the year.

At least, that's what most people think.

Chan has always loved Christmas. He always took it as an opportunity to gather up with his college friends with whom life was always enjoyable. Jeongin had recently gotten a promotion at work which he took very seriously, Hyunjin finally opened his dog rescue center a few years back, Felix was happily getting married in the following spring, Seungmin had finally started to get recognition for his stand up comedy shows, Changbin had entered a production company with Chan, and Jisung was finally seeing someone after not daring to date for years.

And then, there is Minho.

Him and Chan used to be the closest friends ever, and Minho was always the life of the party. He messed around in college, got good grades, made his way up to become a successful lawyer. Overall, things had turned out pretty well for him.

What Minho considered as his biggest accomplishment was his lover. The apple of his eyes, the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes upon, the sunshine of his life. Y/N was in the same major as him, one of the top students. It started out as a very typical college love story. He was annoying her, she found him funny, they were paired for a project, they got closer, and they got together in a matter of weeks. From that point, life was perfect. They moved out together after college, adopted a ton of cats, went on so many trips outside of the country... they even got engaged.

That was until Minho messed it all up, losing everything he loved the most in one go.

Ding dong.

Jumping at the sound, Minho takes a second to recover and puts the movie he was watching on pause. He checks the clock; it is 7 o'clock in the evening. He wasn't expecting anybody to visit him. Nonetheless, he goes over his front door and looks into the peephole. He isn't surprised to see Chan waiting patiently with a plastic bag in hands. He rolls his eyes in annoyance before letting his friend in, greeting him boringly.

"Hey, Chan," he says before yawning loudly.

The older man looks him up and down, analyzing every bit of his friend's appearance. "Wow, you look like shit."

Minho doesn't answer, giving Chan the death stare instead. "What do you want?"

"Well," he starts while allowing himself to get comfortable on the couch. "Jisung is presenting his new girlfriend to us and because you didn't answer in the group chat, I thought I would check on you."

"Tonight? No, I have to get up early tomorrow."

Chan's shoulders drop as Minho, once again, declines an invitation. "You haven't come to see us in months."

Minho shrugs, visibly not seeing a problem. "I'm just very busy. I have cases coming in all the time and I can't trust my associate to work on them."

"You're overworking yourself, a break would do you some good. Besides, we miss you."

It's not that he doesn't want to see his friends, of course he does. He just knows very well he'll only end up ruining the night by not being the funny guy he used to be.

"I don't know."

Chan takes a nicely ironed shirt out of his plastic bag and puts it on the coffee table in front of him, and stands up to walk to the door. "You're welcomed to drop by if you change your mind. It's at the restaurant we used to go in college."

"Why the shirt?" Minho's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Consider it as an early Christmas gift from me."

After throwing a small smile his way, Chan opens the door and leaves. Minho finds himself alone again, perplexed. He approaches the shirt and scrutinizes it. It's a designer piece which does not surprise him, Chan has always been the kind to go an extra mile for his loved ones. Looking at the clock again, it indicates 7:20 P.M. Does he still have time to go? It would mean he has to shower, get dressed, drive all the way to the restaurant... Right, that specific restaurant.

He will visit his friends, just not tonight.

2 years ago.

Christmas was the most important holiday to Y/N. It brought so much nostalgia to her and she absolutely adored every aspect of it. Baking cookies and go ice skating were part of the many activities she loved doing in December.

This was also the first year she had to spend it away from her family. She didn't regret choosing to study so far away from home but it hurt nonetheless. It would be difficult and Minho knew that.

Y/N had to work an extra shift that night if she wanted the day of Christmas Eve off. It was ridiculous, she thought. As if the restaurant really needed her to stay so late. Coming home, Y/N was so glad to finally be able to relax as she climbed up the stairs.

Meanwhile, Minho was waiting excitedly at the front door of their shared apartment. He made sure the gingerbread cookies were all ready to be assembled to construct a house, checked if the Christmas lights were working fine, and put a playlist of Y/N's favourite holiday songs on his speaker.

"Soonie!" he yelled frantically at his cat as he saw him get on the counter. "You don't want to ruin your mama's night, do you?"

He picked him up and brought it close to his body, petting his head lovingly. Needless to say, this couldn't be a cuter sight to have when Y/N walked in.

"Hey, my two favourite boys," she chuckled at them before taking in how well-decorated the home was. "Min, did you set up all this?"

Her boyfriend put his pet down before bringing her into his arms. "I did. You've been feeling off recently, I thought it'd be a good idea to cheer you up. And since Christmas is next week, why not decorate cookies for the occasion?"

"You made gingerbread cookies?!"

Y/N's eyes lit up from seeing the baked goods and she rushed to go sit at the counter. Minho smiled at himself, proud he had managed to lit up her inner light just a little.

"Thank Felix for these."

"Well, thank you Felix."

Present.

Minho remembers every night she came home from that workplace. He always tried to make her feel better each time, Y/N despised working so late but she somehow always stayed positive.

How much he misses her.

Minho gasps for air, sweat all over his body. He had another nightmare, nothing unusual. What is odd is the phone ringing nonstop at this hour of the day; 4 o'clock. Who in their right mind would call someone so early?

"What?"

The person on the other side of line doesn't respond, Minho can only hear them breathe unsteadily.

"Hello?"

"Minho," Jisung finally speaks. "Sorry to bother you this early."

"It's 4:00 A.M."

"I know, I know. Just, I'm getting worried about you and I can't call you tomorrow –well, today– or you'll say you're busy with work as always. You're not okay and I think you could use a friend."

Although not wrong, his statement fueled Minho with annoyance and frustration. He doesn't need help, or anyone for that matter.

"Minho?" Jisung speaks up again as he doesn't get a response.

"Good night, Jisung," he simply says with the intention of hanging up.

"Wait!" he hurries to stop him. "If you don't want to talk for your own sake, at least do it for mine. Not just mine, the other guys' too."

Sure, Minho hates talking about his feelings. Still, he's not a monster and cares a lot about his friends nonetheless. Feeling a bit obligated, he agrees.

"So, uhm, who's your new girlfriend?" he asks, getting uncomfortable already.

"She's a friend of Jeongin. Remember that girl he worked with in college? Well, that's her. She's so nice, I wonder why Jeongin hadn't introduced me to her sooner. She kind of reminds me of..." he trails off but stops himself before stepping out of line.

"I'm happy for you two. I'm sorry I couldn't come."

Jisung lets out a huff. "Thank you but I know you could have, you just didn't want to."

"That's not-"

"Don't lie, Minho," he cuts him off. "You didn't come because of her, am I right? Because of Y/N again?"

Minho can feel his heart tighten while his friends keeps going at it, insisting on speaking about her. He doesn't want to, is it so hard to understand?

"Let's not talk about her."

"That's the problem, Minho. You never want to open up about it."

"She left. What is there more to say?"

"How you're coping with all, how we can help-"

"The only thing you can do to help is leave me alone. I'm doing just fine. Talking was a bad idea, I should go back to bed."

"Min..." Jisung says in a desperate voice.

"Good night."

As he hangs up, he can sense it might have gone too far. Regardless, he discards his phone on his nightstand and buries his body in his bedsheets. He hears meowing coming from the entrance of his room. A second later, his cat Dori jumps on the mattress to come and lay next to him. Minho reluctantly cuddles the cat back, his last one he got with Y/N. Dori is technically her baby but she left so suddenly that Minho had no other choice but to keep him.

"Where are your brothers?" he whispers affectionately to the ball of fur who replies with some more purring. "Are Soonie and Doongie sleeping too?"

Chan is probably the only one able to get Minho out of his house, especially during Christmas time. Maybe it is guilt or shame that he feels, but Minho hasn't been so great ever since he had his early chitchat with Jisung. Shopping for presents wasn't what he had in mind when he thought of making up for it but Chan insisted it would be a good idea.

"Look," he says while pointing at the pig plush on the top of the pile. "It looks like Changbin."

Minho shrugs. "I guess it does."

"What about this?"

He looks boringly at the shirt Chan is showing. Yeah, maybe he should have done something else to make the most of his day off. A good meal at home seems so much more appealing to him.

"Come on," Chan encourages him. "Enjoy a bit."

"I am enjoying, look," Minho tries to convince him with a forced smile.

"Hmm, maybe it's time to go to the food court and take a break."

Dragging his friend behind, Chan moves from restaurant to restaurant in search of a meal for his lunch. After a while of debating internally, he settles for a hamburger. As for Minho, rice with pork seems to be tasty enough. They sit at a table and start to eat in silence. Minho looks around the place, watching people chat and laugh. He sees one couple in particular and they remind him too much of Y/N. Adverting his gaze from this spot, he focuses back on his food before speaking.

"I was thinking of buying a new hoodie for Jisung."

Chan is surprised his friend is even conversing with him but smiles. "A hoodie? Doesn't he have plenty of them already?"

"He does but he sent me a picture of one specifically the other day."

"Then you should buy it for him. Have you heard from him, by the way?"

Minho gulps. "No."

Although suspicious, Chan doesn't push it. They quickly finish their lunch and decide to head towards a clothing store to find Jisung's present. At a certain point, they unconsciously part ways as they look at different pieces of clothing. Minho would look for Chan but he has the hoodie to find. Chan is fine on his own anyway, he tells himself. He goes to the right section and begins to browse through each item. He frowns as he inspects them, not convinced these would be appropriate for his friend.

"Minho?"

He freezes in place. Has he gone crazy or has he just heard Y/N's voice?

"Minho," she says again.

Finally turning around, he is somewhat relieved that it isn't his former girlfriend, but her sister. "Deena," he greets her politely.

"It's been a while, wow. How have you been?" she asks cheerfully, too much in his opinion.

"Nothing much."

She seems taken aback by the short length of his answer. Minho used to be the nicest man she knows. Of course, she doesn't know the full story about what happened. Nonetheless, she still considers Minho as family. So seeing him so lifeless in front of her is quite a shocker.

"I'm in a bit of a rush but we should go grab coffee soon and catch up," she suggests but from the look on Minho's face, she knows she shouldn't have.

"I'm pretty busy."

"Alright," she answers, uneasy. "I'll see you around then."

"Yeah."

Without adding anything, he resumes to looking through the hoodies. Deena eventually leaves and Minho feels like he can breathe again.

He has nothing against his former "sister-in-law" but seeing her so unexpectedly is not something he has prepared himself for. He will go grab a coffee with her when he feels ready to.

Chan comes back a few minutes after with a couple of black shirts and an oversized pair of jeans he picked for Jeongin. As they wait to pay for their things, Minho can feel that Chan has something to say. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence but this time feels like it's eating him inside.

"What is it?"

Chan hesitates for a second. "It was Deena, right?"

He hums. "Yes."

"I'm running out of ways to tell you appropriately but you need to get your shit together. The girl did nothing to you and she seemed to be on the verge of crying when she left the store."

Minho rolls his eyes, like always. "What do you want me to do? Run after her and apologize? I didn't do anything."

"Exactly. Dude, everyone around you is getting sick of your way of dealing with what happened. Sure, your feelings are valid. This doesn't mean you have to inflict your pain onto us. We only want to help," Chan responds, not realizing his tone is increasing more and more.

"Always wanting to play the good savior, uh?" Minho scoffs. "In front of strangers too? Look, I don't need you to tell me how to be. You're not my dad or anything."

"I took you under my wing in college, of course I'm still looking out for you."

"That was back then. I don't need your pity anymore."

Chan's jaw clenches as the two men stare right into the eye. The cashier awkwardly calls for them to proceed to payment which breaks their staring contest. They hurry to pay before storming out of the mall, both of them fuming with anger. The moment they get into Chan's car, the latter explodes.

"This has lasted long enough. How long has it been now? A year?"

"Eleven months," Minho corrects.

"Whatever, same difference. My point is that it might be time for you to move on or at least stop being such a pain in the ass."

Minho's eyebrows raise as he lets out a chuckle. "I didn't know such strong words could come out of your mouth."

"Minho," Chan says in a warning tone.

"So what if I'm not as easygoing as before? You don't understand how it feels anyway."

"Help me understand, then!"

"You just wouldn't!"

He surprised himself by yelling so harshly. The hint of regret creeps up but he tries to hide it by looking away. They both know this is the end of this conversation, neither want to continue anyway. Chan starts the car and the ride home can't be any worse. The tension is so heavy, he swears he feels his body crushing.

Still in silence, he drops Minho off in front of his apartment complex and drives away. Face blank, Minho goes in his building and lazily enters the elevator. It's like he's in a daze, not fully aware of himself. Before he knows it, he's back home sitting at his counter with three cats waiting patiently in front of him as they expect him to fill their bowls with food. But he remains still and stares at nothing in particular. Has he gone too far this time?

In all of the people he knows, Chan is the last one he would have thought to snap at him so harshly. Most importantly, he never thought he'd yell at him for no reason. For the first time in a while, Minho allows one single tear drop from his eye.

Christmas has come. Well, almost. Work has been the same and no contact have been made with anyone for the last week or so. The lack of human interaction felt both good and bad, but mostly aching.

Every day is the same, Minho realizes. Waking up, eating a very mediocre peanut butter toast with coffee, scrolling through his feed on social medias, getting dressed, going to work, bossing his ass off in return of a less than decent pay, coming back home, eating, washing up, going to bed, sleeping, only to do the same all over again the next day.

In a way, he loves not having to think about planning things out. On the other hand, his life is becoming more and more dull with less of a purpose. Why is he alive for if it's only to do the same task over and over again?

For a change, Minho decides to start a Christmas film instead of rotating watches of the same five movies. A mistake he does is not reading the synopsis before pushing play on the remote. He settles comfortably on his couch while Soonie and Doongie cuddle next to him. Dori is somewhere nearby, playing with a piece of paper Minho had dropped on the floor earlier that week.

At first, the show is boring he thinks. The more the story develops, however, the more he sees the resemblance between himself and the protagonist. The movie is A Christmas Carol, one Y/N once had begged him to watch with her. Scrooge is very unlikable, there is no denying in that. But Minho tries to ignore the similarities he shares with him and keeps on watching the screen in silence. At some point, it simply became impossible to ignore the tightness in his chest. In an abrupt move, he turns the TV off, picks up his two cats, and heads to bed.

Christmas is so near, he thinks as he is watching his alarm clock getting closer to midnight. He really does his best to not make a big deal out of it but his mind can't stop having these images of Y/N, his friends, Christmas... everything. He can't escape pain, no matter what.

Thankfully, Dori comes in his room to join the other felines which distracts him for a second, just long enough so he can finally fall asleep.

The clock indicates 11:55 P.M. when Minho is in a deep sleep and the only sounds that can be heard throughout the whole flat are the appliances running and the cats snoring. Maybe some snores are coming from the man himself but they are faint. Slowly, Doongie wakes up. He wiggles around to find a new comfortable position but fails and falls off the bed. Luckily, cats always land on their feet. He was going to hop back on the bed but a weird sound catches his attention. It sounds like a bell. Curious, he comes out of the room in attempt to find where it comes from. But nothing. Or maybe there is something.

A faint light can be perceived from the bottom of the front door. The cat carefully gets closer, lowering his body. In a single snap, something flies right from under the door and moving straight into Minho's room which scares Doongie well enough to go hide in his cat tree and let out a cry.

This immediately wakes Minho up as his instinctive cat dad senses take over but it is soon replaced with an unsettling feeling as he sees the bright light in front of him. He squints as it almost blinds him but he wants to know what it is. He can feel his heartbeat increase by the second as the source of light gets closer and closer. Holding his breath, he shut his eyes closed and moves his head away from whatever that is. Until he hears a sigh too familiar to his liking.

He dares to open his eyes and his shoulders drop at the sight. "Chan?"

It's not exactly Chan, it is more of a ghost-like version of him. He wears a very formal suit with his hair styled with gel and his body is translucent, making Minho very skeptical. This is a dream, he thinks. Chan is very much alive and very much not in his apartment. Certainly not after the events of the other day.

"I see you didn't even reach out to me."

Minho frowns and looks around the room as if to make sure he really is speaking to him. "What do you mean?"

Chan chuckles, his voice sounding more like an echo. "After our fight, dumbass! Come on, you weren't going to leave things as it is until Christmas."

He checks his alarm clock quickly. "Well, it is Christmas."

"In five minutes," Chan smirks at him. "I know the past few months have been hard on you."

"Great, even my subconscious is trying to fix me," he whispers to himself, loud enough that the ghost-like figure hears it.

"As in a dream?" Minho nods to the question only for Chan to laugh some more. "You're funny. Anyway, I'm not here for fun. I'm here to help you."

"You tried that already," Minho grumbles in an annoyed voice but receives a shook of the head as an answer.

"My human self tried, I haven't tried yet. You see, I only appear if I'm really needed and your case is a pretty severe one."

Minho tries to protest but is quickly shushed.

"Look, this is a night shift on Christmas Eve, I don't want this any more than you do so let's do it quickly. I'll send you three spirits tonight before it hits midnight. They'll guide you through your entire life and help you make the right choice. Got it?"

"Midnight is in five minutes."

"I know."

"But-"

"You'll understand," Chan cuts him off. "As for now, bon voyage."

Not even conscious that he had been awake —or dreaming— Minho hears a snap of fingers before opening his eyes widely and gasping for air as he wakes up. He is still somewhat confused, but rather glad this was simply a dream. He can feel that the sweat has gone through his pyjamas and makes a face out of disgust.

Quickly, he eats breakfast and freshens up before leaving for work. Yes, he is working on Christmas day. This might be the only way he can get distracted from everything going wrong in his life.

As he approches his work building, he notices a young man. He looks awfully similar to Jeongin but not quite. Curiosity gets the best of him, however, and Minho instinctively walks up to the man. He takes a moment to scan his appearance: he's shorter than Jeongin, has light golden hair and wears loose white streetwear clothing. He also takes notes on the grey of his eyes.

"Lee Minho!" he says cheerfully before Minho could let out a single word.

The man jumps in surprise. "Jeongin?"

He shakes his head as a no and smiles brightly. "No, my name is P."

"P..." Minho repeats slowly, slightly confused.

"Shall we go in?"

He doesn't wait for an answer as he begins to walk and Minho automatically follows him into his building, assuming this boy might be a new worker in his firm. They hop onto the elevator together and P pushes the button to level 7. As Minho is about to look for his own floor, he notices something odd. The building has 26 levels. So why the hell are the numbers going up to 30? He slowly turns to come face to face with the younger man who keeps a wide smile on his face, fear creeping in.

"Who are you?" he dares to ask.

"I told you, I'm P!" the boy repeats with an even bigger grin, almost creepy. "Short for Past."

Oh. Oh no. It all suddenly clicks in Minho's head. Either this is a dream occuring because of the movie he had watched before going to bed or this is his own story of A Christmas Carol. He pinches the side of his arm, hoping he would be back in his room but it only results to him hissing in pain.

"Do you remember your Christmas when you were seven years old?" Minho can only glare at him but P doesn't seem to care. "This might refresh your memories."

The doors of the elevator open right after and not only are they not in his workplace anymore but the setting is exactly as he remembers it from his childhood. They are right on the street of his parents' home. The street is empty, understandably so because of the light snow falling down and the cold weather. It is early in the morning and his childhood home looks much smaller than he remembers, and in a much poorer state.

P walks out first before turning around, encouraging Minho to follow. "Can they see me?"

"No."

The answer satifies Minho and he finally steps out of the elevator, letting himself get led by this Jeongin look-alike. He wonders why this specific time was chosen in all of his years of life. He ponders the idea of asking P but it soon vanishes when he spots his younger self coming out of the house with his parents observing him in a loving way. A knot forms in his belly. He hasn't talked to his parents since Y/N left. Are they doing okay? Maybe he should have called a few times at least.

"Can we bring one home?" younger Minho asks his mom, eyes full of hope.

"Do you want a kitten as your Christmas gift?" his mother asks and the child happily nods. "We'll go see the cats and I'll think about it, okay?"

Satisfied enough, he skips down the street while humming a Christmas song. Oddly enough, it is Y/N's favourite: Winter Wonderland.

Minho watches his former self with nostalgia. He remembers the moment perfectly. This was the first time he ever owned a cat after begging his mother to get one years after years. He had named her Nala, which he thought was very clever at the time.

"Can we follow them?"

P takes his hand, much to Minho's surprise, and they begin to float just slightly above ground and fly right to where his past self is. He doesn't question the spirit about how this works and resumes to watching himself coo at the cats. For a brief moment, his eyes advert from the scene and land on his parents. But there is something catching his attention. He sees his father emptying his wallet as well as his mom before they give it to the worker. His breath gets heavier as he looks back and forth from them to himself.

"Is this why my mother stopped going out for tea with her friends? And why my father couldn't take my mother out for dates? They used to argue so much about it..." Minho almost whispers.

"Parents make great sacrifices for their children," P says longingly.

"Why didn't they tell me?"

P shrugs. "Probably because you were a literal child but also because they didn't want you to feel bad."

"My grandmother would have helped us in an instant if she knew."

P shrugs again. "They didn't want help."

He easily catches on why the ghost brought him at this exact moment. Just in time, Minho gets a hold of himself and says in incoherent words that he won't fall for P's tricks. The latter isn't nearly fazed by this statement and he takes the man's hand to bring him back to the elevator in a quick flying trip.

After the door closes, Minho is relieved that he can finally go back home. That is until P pushes the button for level 18 which earns a frown from Minho.

"Aren't we done?"

"No, you have other things left to see before I send you back. Well, a few more years to see."

"And me at 18 years old was an important year?"

P sends him a knowing look but he acts clueless, as if he doesn't know what happened back then although it's painfully obvious he does. Denial is the best way to cope, isn't it?

The doors open to the hallway of his college dorm he used to share with Chan. He can instantly recognize the said-man and Changbin joking around before they walk in his dorm. Without waiting for P, Minho follows and freezes when he stumbles upon Y/N. This moment was merely over two months into their relationship but he could tell he already knew she was his everything at that time.

Y/N greets the two boys and encourages them to put their wrapped presents under the mini Christmas tree she had insisted on making to display in his small living room. Meanwhile, a nearly adult Minho is unwrapping takeout as he watches the scene with a huge smile.

"What took you two so long?" he asks, walking towards the group with the food in hands.

"Chan's fault," Changbin immediately accuses, earning a stare from the older man.

"Not true."

"I'm not the one who lost Hyunjin's present."

Hyunjin's eyes lit up. "You got me a present?"

A small smirk appears on Chan's face. "I got all of you a present."

"Even me?"

Minho's heart tightens. He still struggles to listen to your voice and because you were there physically in front of him, it pains him so much more.

"Even you."

"Can we open them?" Felix asks, eyes lighting up.

"After eating," younger Minho says in a stern voice. "Otherwise, you'll get your dirty ass hands on the gifts, or on anything for that matter."

Y/N glances at Jisung with a knowing smirk that his friend returns, something he hadn't caught onto back then. She still hastens to give Minho a hand with all of the food dishes, not forgetting to give a napkin to each person. He knows he can be a bit peculiar with keeping his place tidy and he never wanted Y/N to feel pressured with that. Still, it visibly seemed to have been a common issue she and Jisung had with him.

"Y/N, I thought you were supposed to go back home for the holidays," Seungmin tells with food already being chewed in his mouth.

"I was," she confirms. "Minho and I determined we wanted to spend our first Christmas together and, sorry, but I rather be here than with my aunts. They were going to be all over me about not knowing what I want to do with life, I can spare myself from it."

The whole group lets out a laugh as they go on with their feast before discussing all sorts of things. Hyunjin and Chan are in the corner laughing their asses off, much to Minho's dismay who is keeping a close look at his white carpet. Hyunjin has always been clumsy and this wouldn't be the first time he spills something.

Present Minho watches it all, fully aware of what is about to happen. He never regretted getting mad at his friend for a small spoil but this kind of behaviour is one of the many that contributed to his separation. He sees what P is trying to do by showing him this.

"I get the point, can we go?"

P chuckles. "After you know what."

In shame, he observes from the corner of the eye himself exploding at Hyunjin for staining the carpet, Chan nagging at him for doing so, the boys uncomfortably watching the scene as they back away from him... and he catches a glimpse of Y/N getting the necessities to get rid of the sauce stain, not even complaining.

"I think we're good here," he tries again to convince P.

He receives a playful smirk from the spirit. "Are you sure?"

Minho groans but, nonetheless, nods. "Please."

P is quick to grab his hand and fly right back into the elevator, doors shutting behind them. He does give Minho a minute or two to recuperate from the sight before pushing the button 24. Minho's eyes are stuck on the lit up number and gulps, feeling suddenly hotter. That was last year.

"Don't you have another Christmas to show me before..." he trails off.

He is met with no answer and has to settle for the tranquility of the metal box going up. Anxiety keeps letting itself known through his body the more the number rises. Finally, after what felt like eternity to him, the ding sound signals that they have reached the level.

"You might want to prepare yourself for this one."

Minho huffs and glares at the ghost as to tell him "no shit". The doors slide open and they are already in his apartment. At least, P was kind enough to spare him from reliving what triggered the actual argument.

His cats are all doing their thing as normally. All seems out of the ordinary until he feels footsteps through the ground. He takes a deep breath in and watches Y/N barge into the place, hair messy and tears streaming down her face. The guilt pit down in his stomach when he sees himself step inside after you, throwing his scarf carelessly on a chair.

"Are you going to talk at least?" he asks, looking down at Y/N who scoffs at her boyfriend's question.

How dare he is the one demanding explanations from her?

"Are you going to talk about it?" she questions back, crossing her arms on her chest.

"Oh, come on, I didn't do anything."

"Telling everyone you want to call off the engagement is something."

P hisses in a disapproving way. "Man, you outdid yourself with this one."

"Shut up."

Y/N still waits for Minho to speak up but nothing comes out of his mouth other than his unsteady breathing. In a swift manner, she walks behind the counter and fills their cats' bowls in the meantime of waiting still for her lover to say something. But the man stays where he is, observing his surroundings in awkwardness.

"Minho," she finally calls out.

"I didn't call off the engagement."

"Really? Saying getting married is bullshit isn't telling everyone you don't want to marry me?"

"It's not like that. I meant it's not a necessity for us to know we love each other."

"You don't get that marriages can mean something other than that, it's so much more."

"It's an excuse to spend thousands of dollars on things that will last a day or two at most."

Y/N buried her face in her hands as she let out a groan. "You've always been like this."

"Realistic?"

"No, a grumpy old man. You can't see the beauty in anything."

Minho smirks for a second. "I see beauty in you."

"Don't try with your sweet words, Lee Minho," she says, raising a finger up at him. "You know exactly what I mean. I can give you so many examples. Firstly, you never buy me anything on Valentine's day because it's a marketing holiday. Then, you want every single aspect to be perfect and at their exact place although life isn't like this. And finally, you just see the negative everywhere, always pointing out what is wrong. What happened to my sweet Minho who would smile at the slightest thing?"

He remains quiet as he sits on one of the dining table's chairs. Not knowing what to do next, Y/N copies his actions and gets seated in front of him. They don't dare to look at each other just yet but Minho most definitely wants to. His ego too big, he doesn't budge.

"Minho, please," she begged.

"Alright, it's enough."

P lets out a huff. "The action barely started."

Clenching his jaw, he doesn't insist more and settles on looking at the ground while the scene he had been trying to forget about for almost a year was happening right in front of him. Minho hates it, his heart is bleeding in pain.

"I've grown, maybe that's something you should consider doing as well," he hears himself say.

Curiosity gets the best of him and he can't contain himself from looking at her, he never knew how she had reacted to his words. The view he has in front of his eyes makes his heart shatter in an instant. He swears he can see her soul leave her body just now. Had he really done this to her?

"What- Min, I-" she tries to speak, but struggles.

"Y/N, we want different things now."

She chokes out on her tears, the ones that she finally lets stream down her face since she had been containing them. She hated crying, especially with Minho.

"No, we want the same things," she affirms, her voice breaking. "You've just become too obnoxious and focused on your career that you don't see it anymore."

"You think I'm the obnoxious one? Y/N, have you seen yourself?" Minho asks in a loud voice as he gets up from his chair. "You're so full of bullshit with your positivity and ignorance towards actual problems, it makes me sick. Take the cat, for example. We don't have space for a third one but yet, here is Dori who can't even behave properly. And your Christmas decoration is taking too much space too."

"This is about space now?"

"Yes, I need space! And I'm sorry I cancelled our last date but I just can't deal with you right now. You're in the way and I can't work and- Fuck, I don't know how to tell you but we can't keep on going like this."

Her breathing is becoming more unsteady while the tears are still flooding out of her eyes. Present Minho approches her and tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but it goes through. Right, he forgot. He is not really there.

"I didn't want to call off our engagement. But maybe I do now."

Slowly, she gets up and walks towards their shared bedroom which leaves a perplexed and helpless Minho standing alone in the middle of his dining room. He hears unknown noises and hesitates on whether he should go to you or wait. But again, his ego takes over and he stays right where he is.

Soon later, only a couple of minutes, he sees Y/N walk out of the bedroom with one bag and two suitcases full of her belongings. His face dropped immediately.

"You're leaving?" he asks, desperate. No answer. "For how long?" Still silent. "Y/N, please, I know we can figure it out."

Her lower lip quivers as she sobs some more, trying her best to ignore the man in front of her. She dares to walk towards their front door, not acknowledging her lover for one second.

"My love, please," Minho tries once more.

And just like that, she walks out, door shutting quietly behind her.

"We've seen enough."

P is about to say no when he catches Minho's watery eyes. He taps himself on the back mentally, he didn't think he would break down so fast. Taking him by the forearm, he leads him towards the elevator. The doors slide shut rather fast, which Minho is thankful for. In a careful move, P presses the ground floor button and the elevator goes down.

Once arrived, the doors reveal Minho's bedroom. It looks the same as it did the night before. Minho takes notes on that, it means his night is far from being over.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"You will," P reassures. "I'll leave you alone, now. It was my pleasure being your guide for tonight."

As the two men exchange a small smile, more as a form of respect, P begins to glow, brighter and brighter. So much that Minho can't even look at him anymore and is blinded. He tried to look away but even then with his eyes closed, the light goes through.

Suddenly, there's nothing.

The morning is brighter than he thought it would be. He swears he saw on the news the day prior that Christmas day was going to be gloomy. The blue sky with the sun shining is definitely a pleasant surprise.

Enough with admiring the weather, Minho finishes rapidly his coffee, grabs his briefcase, and heads out to work. As he walks towards his building, he can't help but think of his dream from last night. He did expect dreaming of Y/N but not having to relive the day she left so vividly.

As he is about to cross the road, he feels his body collide with someone which is soon followed with the feeling of burnt. He curses out loud and is considering telling the other person off. Only, it is someone he hasn't seen in a while and who has a face he definitely recognizes.

"Hyunjin?"

The man cocks his head to the side and frowns. "Are you Mr. Lee?"

Minho, as equally confused, nods. "You don't recognize me?"

The Hyunjin look-alike seems to take notice of his whereabouts and clears his throat. "I apologize, sir. This is my first year working as a guiding spirit. Shall we start over? Hi, my name is P."

Suddenly, Minho has flashbacks of his encounter with the boy of the same name. Was he still in the dream? Or was the Chan spirit saying the truth? He feels a lump growing inside of his throat as the P man in question goes on about himself.

"I'm sincerely sorry about the coffee I spilled, let me fix this," he says before splashing Minho's figure with gold dust. The stain instantly disappears. "Now, where was I..? Oh, right! I'm P, short for Present. I was assigned to you to review your Christmas of this year."

At this point, Minho doesn't have it in him to protest. Without saying a word, he walks in the building as P follows him behind. This one spirit is much giddier than the previous one. The moment he steps in the elevator, he does nothing but look around nervously. It is with a heavy sigh that Minho empresses himself to push the button next to 25.

"I thought I forgot something, thanks," P laughs nervously, receiving a glare in return.

The ride up is quiet and awkward but when the doors open, they both step out in sync and walk along the trail of snow. The Christmas market is an event that the real Hyunjin takes part in each year. He always contributed with an animal rescue center to help them give puppies up for adoption.

This year is especially important to him, it is the first time he does it with his own dog rescue shelter. For the occasion, a few of the boys promised him they would come by to encourage him. Including Minho.

Far from the distance, Minho sees Felix and Seungmin arguing about whatever while Chan greets warmly their friend who has just finished setting his booth up.

"Guys, come look at the doggies," he calls the younger men who rush to pet the furry creatures.

"I'd call this one Seungmin," Felix jokes as he picks up a baby labrador.

Hyunjin laughs at the comment. "Her name is Daisy."

"Not very original," Felix allows himself to point out to which Hyunjin chuckles again.

His laughs trails off while he looks around, brows furrowed. "Didn't Minho say he'd come too?"

Chan sighs heavily, giving one of the poodles some scratches. "I called him but he didn't answer. Plus, we had an argument last time I saw him so I don't think he'll come."

"About Y/N again?" Seungmin asks and Chan nods. "The number of times I told her to talk it out with him, she really should call him. The guy is getting on my nerves."

Minho's heart stops for a moment. Not only because he finally knows what his friend thinks of him but also because he apparently has been in contact with Y/N, without his knowledge. He thought all of his friends haven't heard from you since.

"I told her too but what can I say? They're both stubborn," Felix shrugs. "I thought of stopping by her place today to see how she's doing but Minho would kill me if he discovers."

"Oh, please. He'd kill you if you even mention her name."

The four men share a sad laugh before changing topics. Hyunjin is careful with each dog as he introduces them one by one. All of it becomes a blur for Minho, he doesn't know if he wants to leave now or listen more to it. As much as it hurts him, he can't help but be curious.

"Did you know this?" he finally says, turning his body towards P.

"I did read it on the report paper before meeting you but, hey, I don't know you all," he responds with his hands up in defense. "We can go see her if you want."

Minho ponders for a moment. Was he ready to face her once again?

"No. Not yet."

"As you wish. Your friends are having a party tonight if you didn't know. We have to see that."

"I know, yeah."

P takes his hand as they float away all the way to Changbin's house. Before setting foot on the ground, he can already see all of his friends with Felix's fiancé, Chan's wife and Jisung's new girlfriend. Everyone is there. Except him.

He carefully approaches the group inside the living room where the girls are busy putting the presents under the Christmas tree. What takes him aback the most is seeing a tall and beautiful woman coming down the stairs before placing a kiss on Changbin's cheek. Since when is he seeing someone? It takes everyone a few minutes to settle down and serve themselves drinks. Once everyone is sat, they hold their glasses up for a toast.

"Who wants to do the honours?" Jeongin asks and Jisung immediately gets up.

"Merry Christmas, guys! Thank you for this year and thank you to Changbin for hosting the dinner tonight," he says, bopping his head towards him. "And let's have a moment for our Minho. He might not be here but he's in our heart. Let's hope he can get back on the right track next year."

There is a pause in the room, everybody suddenly feeling a wave of guilt and sadness. They know they've done everything for their friend, but they still feel like they should have tried harder.

Minho, this time, doesn't try to contain his cries. He walks up Jisung and smiles, just a little.

"Thanks, Hannie," he whispers.

"To Minho," he cheers, holding his drink higher.

"To Minho."

P lets out a cough, grabbing Minho's attention. "Not to be a mood breaker but I think you should see Y/N."

"What do you mean?"

"See what she is doing at this exact moment."

He surprisingly agrees with no hesitation and they both float away to another neighbourhood of the city. One Minho isn't too familiar with. This must be why she chose to move there, somewhere she knew she wouldn't encounter Minho. They float down at the apartment's balcony and Minho can see her right away through the window.

"You can go through walls," P informs and he does as told.

He's surprised to see her alone with her sister. She used to be a social butterfly, he wonders what happened. Deena sets the table while humming to Christmas music and Y/N finishes up with cutting the ham. It's not as Christmas-y as it should be, it's rather sad. The atmosphere is sad.

"Need help with that?" Deena offers.

"I'm good, thanks," Y/N answers as she brings the dishes on the table.

She looks paler than he remembers, maybe because of the lighting. Her hair is longer and she seems to have dyed it brown. She's also much skinnier.

"Thank you for cooking," Deena smiles warmly at her.

"It's nothing," she smiled back and begins to serve herself a plate. "I would have definitely given a piece of ham to the cats if they were here."

Deena shakes her head. "How many times did I tell you that I can go get them back?"

Y/N shakes her head too and sighs. "He loves them as much as I do, maybe even more. Who knows how he would survive without them."

"He's not really surviving, if you want my opinion. You should have seen him at the mall the other day."

Y/N shrugs while playing with her potatoes. "He's coping in his own way."

Her sister lets out a groan, desperate. "Jeez, you two are so sad to see, it's depressing."

Well, if Minho wanted to be sure Y/N is still struggling with getting over their separation, he has his answer right there.

"I'll be fine and so will he. Besides, it's not like we lost everything. I still have you and he has the boys."

Deena deadpans at her and then points at her ring finger. Minho looks at it more attentively and allows himself to gasp quietly. Y/N still has the ring, the one he proposed to her with. After what he said to her, she still wears it?

She is quick to pull her hand off the table and cover it with her sleeve. "It's a pretty ring."

"It means more to you than that and you know it."

"He didn't want to get married and it's alright. We grew apart and it is what it is. Can we talk about something else now?" she says in annoyance.

"Y/N, Felix, when he called-"

"Stop," she cuts her off. "Felix doesn't know what happened. He doesn't understand."

"Okay, I'll stop. But just so you know, this is doing no good to anybody, especially the two of you."

Minho can't hear any more of it. In a second, he turns around and goes back to the balcony which indicates to P that the visit is over. The ghost throws some of his golden dust in the air and the elevator magically appears next to them. They step inside and press the button to the ground floor.

As it goes down, Minho is looking away from the spirit, he has a certain pride to maintain. P hesitates but decides to put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Can I just say? In my whole year of working, this might be the only case where I really empathized with my client."

Minho moves his hand away from him and grumbles something under his breath. P doesn't hear it properly but it goes along the lines of "I don't need empathy, don't act like you care".

When they get to his room, the spirit is quick to take a leave, leaving Minho alone in his cold room. At least he has his cats. He has them because of Y/N's kind heart knew he needs them.

At least, maybe she still cares a little.

The formula is the same this morning. So much that Minho knows he isn't going to work and is still trapped in this weird loop of exploring his life. He doesn't bother dressing properly nor bringing what he needs for his job. He doesn't even change his cats' water.

The moment he walks in his workplace, it doesn't even take him a second to spot the ghost of his future. It's Jisung this time. Well, not him exactly.

"Hello, my name is-"

"F, I suppose? For future?"

The spirit, stunned, slowly nods. "Usually, people are happy to see me."

"I had a long night, buddy. Just show me what you have to show me and I can move on with my life."

F doesn't argue with him and he leads him to the elevator when he presses the button 30 right away. "We'll do the quick version since you're in such a rush. I would have gone through 26 beforehand but-"

"What happens next year?" Minho interrupts him.

"No, you want this to be quick. I respect that. It's Christmas anyway, I can make an exception."

"What happens next year?" he repeats.

F smiles knowingly before glancing at the button 26. Minho, hesitantly, goes ahead to press it himself to which the ghost responds with a satisfied smirk. Before he knows it, they already reached the level.

As the doors open, Minho soon recognizes Jeongin's penthouse. Looks like that year's Christmas is settled to be at his place. Jeongin is alone with Changbin as they seem to be preparing food and drinks for the guests they are expecting. It is soon confirmed when Jisung walks in without knocking, alongside with his girlfriend. In the following minutes, each of his friends, sometimes with a significant lover, come inside and the party gets louder and merrier. However, after Hyunjin arrived, it dawns on him that his future version himself won't take part on that year's dinner.

Just like the previous year.

After chatting some more about what they are up to in their lives (nothing much other than Felix getting married but everyone knows as they attended the ceremony), Changbin calls everyone for dinner and they sit around Jeongin's dinner table.

"Can I make the toast this year?" Jisung asks, earning looks from his friends.

"You did last year, I say our host of the night does it," Seungmin suggests and they all seem to agree.

So, a bit uncomfortable still, Jeongin gets up with his glass of wine in hands. "Thank you for another year of our usual Christmas party. I'm really glad all of you were able to come. Of course, we still have a thought for our Minho who won't be joining us, yet again, tonight." The guests exchange glances in agreement and let the youngest continue. "Merry Christmas and let's enjoy our meal!"

They cling their glasses together, wishing a merry Christmas to one another, and don't lose another second to attack their plates. Although it pains him to not see himself enjoy the feast with them, Minho is somewhat happy. At least, they still have each other.

"Why couldn't he make it, anyway?" Chan asks around the table, looking at anybody who might have the answer.

The only person to answer is, unsurprisingly, Jisung. "The last time I saw him was in September and he said he had some issues with the cats. I don't know if he was making up excuses but he seemed to be alright."

"It was a miracle he even showed up for my wedding," Felix scoffs, making Minho huff. "An even bigger miracle was that he didn't make a scene when he saw Y/N there."

"They left together, no?"

What Seungmin just said gives him some kind of hope. Wanting to be sure he would hear every detail, he gets closer to his friend who continues to speak on the matter.

"I know they drank a lot but has someone seen what they were doing?"

"He was cuddly," Jisung answers. "No, clingy as hell. Poor Y/N who had to drive him home."

"They could have made up then?" Chan questions and Jisung nods.

"But we all know him, he missed his chance to fix things again."

"I really thought inviting both of them would have put an end to their mishaps," Felix sighs, discouraged. "I'll send Minho a message later."

"We could call him all together?" Chan suggests but by the reactions of everybody, this is not an option.

Just like that, they change subject and continue to discuss cheerfully about everything and anything. F gives a sad smile to the man, who watches the scene feeling beaten. There must have something really wrong with him that his closest friends wouldn't even wish him a merry Christmas.

"Where am I while all of this is happening?" he asks the ghost.

Carefully, he is transported away from the penthouse and directly to his apartment. The moment he takes in the sight of his place, he sees how nothing much changed in a year. Everything is still where it was during the present year.

His hair is longer, he notices. Not only that but he grew a bit of a beard, a choice he questions a little. His cats are still doing their thing, none of them appear to be sick. What particularly catches his attention is the glass filled with a bright yellow liquor that is set next to him as he scrolls down through his feed on his tablet.

Is he drinking? He does have a few occasions where he'll consume alcohol but a glass full of whiskey is new.

Soonie jumps on the counter and, unlike what Minho would automatically do as of right now, his future self pushes the cat off. He gasps in horror and runs to catch his pet. Only, he did forget he isn't actually there and that things pass through his body. Fortunately, Soonie is fine.

"I should text her, at least," he hears himself say.

The man he sees is far from being remotely close to what he is. Hair messy, tie loosened and a beer belly growing; he wonders what caused him to let himself reach this point.

Future Minho opens his e-mail app and clicks on New Message. He is quick to find Y/N's e-mail address, which real Minho takes as a sign he must have done the same more than once in the last year. He tries to read what he is typing but the amount of typos is quite overwhelming. Despite that, he manages to make out a somewhat coherent note.

___

Hey,

I know I should probably not be writing this but it is Christmas today so, merry Christmas. Remember how we used to go out with the others and play stupid games until late? Then, we'd come home and I'd make you a hot chocolate before going to be? You remember all of that, don't you?

I miss it, and I miss you. I know I said I'll stop writing but you broke my heart, Y/N. How can I forget and ignore what happened? You left so suddenly for no reason. I should be furious, maybe I am. No, I know I am. I still can't help myself but longing for you.

Have a jolly holiday, even if it's without me,

Min xox

___

"Wow, that's pathetic," Minho breathes out after reading. He turns to face F and frowns. "That's a year from now?"

"Precisely."

"No, it can't be. I'm alright, I moved on."

F visibly tries to contain himself from speaking on that, but he can't. "You're one oblivious man."

"I am okay!"

F scoffs. "Sure. Now, shall we visit you at 30 years old? It's Christmas and I have others plans after this."

Minho keeps finding it ridiculous how these ghosts continue to act as if they are actual people. He's still dreaming, why would he bother imagining spirits with personalities?

He is soon led to the actual elevator of his apartment building where F presses the button quickly. Once the level reached, the doors open to a beautiful wedding reception, leaving Minho confused. He does not know anybody other than Felix, who is supposedly already married by then, who is engaged.

The two men walk around the room, recognizing a few faces, and Minho finally spots himself sitting with his friends. At least he isn't alone, he tells himself. He goes straight ahead to observe the scene where he is obviously bored and sick of being there. He does notice how his appearance seem much better than before with gel in his hair and a tuxedo well ironed on.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Chan asks him in a concerned voice.

"Stop with that, I'd leave if I wasn't fine," Minho rolls his eyes.

"You haven't spoken to her, though."

"You really are good at observing, Chan," Minho responds in a mocking way and the older man simply sighs.

Suddenly, the entirety of the room begins to cheer loudly and clap. Minho tries to follow their gaze to find out who they were waiting for. After moving around to see through the dozens of head, he finally spots her. And him.

Y/N. It's her wedding. And she invited him of all people?

His brain short-circuits and he feels his heart pounding faster and faster. He can't think properly anymore, the only thing he can vividly see is her. How she smiles at every single person who congratulates her. How she clings onto this man as if her life depended on it. But most importantly, he sees how her smile just gets sadder when her eyes stop on him.

He knows time stops for the two of them before they walk towards each other. He knows so many things are still left unsaid. Gaining back his consciousness, he follows himself to watch what is about to happen.

She hugs him, a bit awkwardly. "I didn't think you'd come. Thank you."

"Congratulations," Minho says, retracting from the hug as fast as he can. "You two make a fine couple."

"Thanks," she chuckles. "Look, Min-" she starts but Minho shakes his head.

"Don't, it's okay. Enjoy your day."

Grateful, she sends him one last smile and moves to thank other guests. Chan, at this point, can do nothing else but pat his friend's shoulder. Surprisingly, Minho doesn't budge. He does, however, let one single drop fall from his eye.

"That's it?" he exclaims, now looking at F. "I'm not even trying? I just gave up? What even happened between then and that moment?"

"I've shown you plenty, you can figure it out by yourself," F says calmly and then begins to walk back to the metal box.

Minho, refusing this as an answer, runs to join him hastily. "Who's this guy, anyway?"

"Does it really matter? You two are not together anymore."

"Yes, if it can help me to prevent this."

"So you don't want her to be happy?" F perks an eyebrow making Minho groan in frustration.

"I'm asking you what I need to do to change this. It can't be like this. I'm the one who's supposed to marry her."

F smirks as they walk in the elevator, presses the button to the ground floor and finally looks at the man. "You know what has to be done, you're just afraid."

"Of what?"

"Oh, please. Stop with the act. How has the last year really been like for you?"

Minho gulps, already feeling himself choke up. "I-" he starts. "It's been hell."

F nods. "What else?"

"Y/N was right, as she always is... I'm the one who lost myself with time. I did want to marry her and I did not think she was obnoxious. Certainly not..."

He starts to cry, heavily this time. There is no more hiding or denying, he just said it all out loud. Regrets and pain, that's what's been eating him. He sobs as everything finally hits him so brutally. He lost Y/N for good. Or he will lose her for good if he keeps acting the way he does.

And his friends, the only people who stick with him through everything. The ones he keeps pushing away in fear of himself.

"You're home," the spirit says, interrupting the moment.

Minho doesn't hesitate to crash into his bed and sob some more. Even if F wanted to leave so badly, he doesn't think he should just yet. Cursing at himself, he comes to sit on the bed and pats the back of the broken man.

"It's alright, let it all out. You've had a rough night."

Minho hiccups and sniffles before glaring at the ghost. "No shit."

"You know, I think you can fix this."

Minho shrugs. "I've been horrible to everyone."

"You acknowledge it, that's a start. From there, only you can decide how things will be." F looks at his watch for a second and gasps. "I'm late for my next human! Good luck with everything."

Minho doesn't watch him leave. He is still crying but he has no more energy. He desperately wants to wake up, but mostly, he wants to see Y/N.

Minho doesn't wake up until the later morning. With the dream he just had, the sleep deprived guy seriously needed more than eight hours of resting. He does miss out work but, honestly, is not bothered the slightest. In fact, he is grateful he won't be working today.

After feeding Soonie, Doongie and Dori, he determines he should catch up on the gifts he planned on offering to his friends. Walking to his home office, he pulls out the wrapping paper he hadn't touched in a while and begins to wrap each and every single one of the presents he bought. He is definitely happy to have made some purchases the day he went shopping with Chan.

The task does grow tiring and boring after a while. To keep himself motivated, he plugs in his speaker to play some music and hums alongside the lyrics. He hasn't done that for a long time. As he is about to skip the current song playing on his playlist, his solo karaoke session is interrupted by a call coming in.

Not bothering to look at the contact, he answers happily. "Merry Christmas, you joined Lee Minho. How can I help you?"

The other side of the line is silent but he can hear that there is someone. Frowning, he repeats himself to encourage the person to talk.

"Minho, it's Changbin."

"Oh, hey! How are you doing? I was about to call you to ask what you wanted me to bring for tonight."

He senses that his friend is quite taken aback and he smiles proudly to himself.

"You're coming?"

"Unless I wasn't invited-"

"No, no," Changbin cuts him. "You're always welcomed, you know that. I'd just expected you to say you have work or something."

"I was supposed to clock in but I didn't feel like going to the office. Oh, by the way, can I ask a favor from you?"

"Uh, yeah, go ahead..." Changbin replies, skeptical.

"I know you're still in contact with Y/N."

Changbin, on his side, freezes. "How did you- Min, I swear we all wanted to tell you-"

"I'm not mad. I just wanted to know if you could possibly invite her and Deena for dinner, please? Don't tell them I'll be there, though."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I want it to be a surprise."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, processing what is happening. "Then, I'll invite them and say you aren't coming."

"Good! See you tonight! And tell your girlfriend I'm excited to meet her!"

He doesn't let Changbin question him on how he learned about his girlfriend and hangs up. Resuming to his activity, he stops when he sees Soonie playing with wrapping paper. Filming him, he coos at him before giving him loving scratches.

"I won't ever hurt you, I promise," he tell his cat, recalling what happened in his dream.

When he has finished with wrapping his gifts, he goes to his closet to find an appropriate attire for the night. For the last year, he hadn't wore anything other than work clothes and sweats. The nice shirt Y/N once bought him catches his attention. The dark green buttoned blouse seem to be a perfect match for his black clean pants. He changes fast and does not forget to add a few pieces of jewelry to finish his look.

He is all set to go. But one look at himself in the mirror at his entrance stops him for a moment. It suddenly clicks that he is a couple hours away from seeing Y/N again, for real this time. Although terrified, he has found some peace with it from the events of the previous night. He wants to make things right.

And one thing he can do just now is call his parents, the ones he has been ignoring for a year. He did expect his mother to cry but certainly not his father. Both incite him to come to his hometown in the following days and he can't refuse the invite. Not when they are begging with their puppy eyes.

"I'll come for New Year's, does it sounds okay?"

His mother nods vigorously through the screen of his phone. "Will Y/N be coming with you?"

He might have left out that he isn't with her anymore. Seeing the look on his parents' faces, he does not have the heart to tell them yet. Instead, he goes with a safe answer.

"I'll see with her if she can clear her schedule, but no promise."

"Tell her she's always welcomed here whenever. Merry Christmas, son!" his father wishes him adoringly.

He smiles, feeling suddenly nostalgic. "Merry Christmas to you two!"

And he hangs up.

Before going to Changbin's place, he doesn't forget to stop at the Christmas market to pay his friend, Hyunjin, a visit. Mentally preparing himself to face a pissed off Chan, he strolls between the booths and stops at a few of them. Some are selling soaps, a lot of them in fact. Others sell clothes they crocheted themselves and a few offer samples of their baked goods.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin's golden locks are easily found from afar. Minho also spots Chan, Seungmin and Felix. He has a heavy case of déjà-vu when he sees the four of them discuss with frowns on their faces.

Discreetly, he walks towards his friends who don't take knowledge of his presence yet. That is until he arrives right behind Felix.

"-stopping by her place today to see how she's doing but Minho would kill me if he discovers," the man is telling the others, oblivious that Minho is hearing everything.

Seungmin gulps and nods his head towards him but Felix cluelessly frowns. Hyunjin does the same which finally makes him turn around and come face to face with Minho. His eyes grow twice their sizes and his mouth opens slightly in shock.

"Hi, Yongbok," Minho says, unbothered. "Cute puppies you got, Hwang."

Hyunjin smiles, thankful. "Do you want to pet one? I've got this chihuahua that looks like Kkami."

He doesn't have the time to answer when a small dog is suddenly placed in his arms. With no complaint, he pets the puppy affectionately. The four men look at him, rather confused, and say nothing. They simply have no idea on how to react to this.

"Minho, what I said about Y/N- She- Uh... We-" Felix stammers out his words but Minho interrupts him.

"I know and it's all good. She is your friend too, I can't be mad at her for wanting to keep you all around."

"I see you've made some thinking," Chan finally speaks up, eyes stern.

"You can say that... I'm sorry about the other day, you were right. I shouldn't have shut you out of my life," he admits, much to his own surprise.

"Apology accepted," Chan grins. "A little birdie told me you asked Changbin to invite Y/N and Deena for dinner."

Seungmin's eyes lit up. "So you changed your mind? You'll come?"

Minho huffs. "I never said I wouldn't come."

Hyunjin sneers. "I know someone who'll be ecstatic about that."

The girl paces the floor nervously, biting her nails as she waits for her sister to arrive. Even if Changbin assured to her that her ex-fiancé wouldn't be attending the party, she can't help but feel like he will find out. She already feels guilty for keeping contact with his friends, who knows how he would react if he learns she went to celebrate Christmas with them.

As Deena finally walks in the apartment, she lets out a heavy sigh of relief. "Finally!"

Her sister rolls her eyes. "It took me barely five minutes to get here."

"Still," she chuckles sheepishly. "Thank you for coming with me."

"What would you do without me?" she exclaims dramatically. "For real, it's very nice for them to invite you. Especially after last year. Plus, it's better than our sappy sister date night."

Y/N lets out a small laugh but resumes automatically to biting down her lower lip in nervousness. Deena notices it but doesn't comment on it. Instead, she rushes her to leave, saying they will be late otherwise.

In the car, Y/N can't wait any longer. She has worries and needs to let them out or she'll go mad.

"What if Minho ends up showing up?"

Deena gives her a look but answers nonetheless. "He won't. And if he does, he'll have to suck it up and be an adult about you being there."

"Do you think he'll get mad when he discoverd that I still talked with the guys?"

"Y/N, for fuck's sake, it's not your problem to deal with! He's the one being a little bitch. Besides, you're not with him anymore."

"It doesn't mean I want to hurt him... and..."

She doesn't complete her sentence since she knows Deena must have understood right away. Y/N is still hopelessly in love with Minho. As much as she believes that leaving was the right thing to do, there were so many instances where she tried to convince herself that he'd change if she goes back to him.

She knows, deep down, she might be right on that.

"I can't believe you're actually here with actual presents!" Jisung almost yells as he brings his friend into a warm hug.

Hyunjin scoffs. "Let the man breathe! See, Min? I told you."

Minho taps Jisung's back a few times as to tell him to let go but he refuses, tightening the embrace. Jeongin is the one to break them apart to be the next in line to hug Minho. Everyone is baffled by his change of heart but they look past it and are simply grateful to have gotten their friend back.

"So? Is she coming?" Minho asks Changbin once he greeted everybody one by one.

"She confirmed she is."

Chan frowns and takes him by the shoulders. "Are you sure you want to talk to her?"

"Things were left unsaid, I need to clear this out once and for all."

Ding dong.

Oh. Now things are getting a bit too real, and panic begins to settle throughout his entire body. With once glance exchanged with Chan, it somehow reassures him. Still with his heart beating fast, he retreats himself behind the group as Changbin goes ahead to open the door.

She looks just like he remembers, stunning. There is, however, a hint of something he can't quite understand. She is paler and shyer. Past that, she is the same. While hugging everyone with her bright smile on her face, she shines. Minho is not too sure if he wants to ruin her brightness by letting his presence known. Looking around nervously, we wonders if this was a bad idea after all.

Before he can escape, he hears his name being called from afar; Jisung. Cursing at him mentally, Minho steps aside from behind Hyunjin and waves, embarrassed.

To no one's surprise, there is a moment of awkwardness settled in the room. While Minho is too ashamed to look back at her, Y/N can't rip her gaze away from him. She can't believe he is actually there. She has to make a mental note for later to smack Changbin for lying to her.

The moment is interrupted by Deena, thankfully. "Hey, Minho! I didn't think you'd be here."

"Hi Deena," he replies in a small voice.

This seems to be enough for the others to resume to their thing: Changbin taking his guests' coats to the other room while his girlfriend offers drinks, Deena putting the presents under the Christmas tree, Chan's wife and Felix's girlfriend sitting in a corner to discuss... Y/N, however, does not budge. Not until everyone leaves the entrance, revealing Minho standing in front of her.

"You dyed your hair?" he finally says, more or less to break the weird tension between the two.

She chuckles and runs her fingers through her longs brown locks. "I did, I thought a change might be good."

He nods as he puts his hands in his pockets, rocking his body back and forth. Now what? He knows he wants to talk about the obvious, but how?

"You're wearing that shirt," she points out with a smile. "It fits you well."

"Thank you. Your dress is cute."

"Thanks. I haven't wore this in a while."

"In a dress or not, you're cute either way."

She blushes. It's not as bad as she thought, they can at least do small talk. Still, this is far from being what she was used to with him. It suddenly snaps in her mind how much she missed him.

"I'll go get a drink, you're welcomed to come along," she offers which makes Minho smile.

Changbin's girlfriend makes no complaint when Minho asks her to make a specific drink, one Y/N would always get when they were together. It does not get unnoticed by the latter and she is amazed he remembers such details even after not speaking to each other for a whole entire year.

"You seem to be doing good," he comments once they get a hold of their alcoholic drinks.

"I'm not too bad. I joined a new law firm and, hopefully, they'll let me work on a case on my own."

It pains him to know she is still struggling with work, this was never an issue for him. "One day, someone will recognize your competence."

"Easy for you to say. I've heard you climbed status and have your own office?"

"Which one of the boys told you that?"

By the look on her face, he has managed to surprise her. "So you know."

He takes a sip of his glass and shrugs. "It did hurt a little that nobody told me but it's alright. You needed them as much as I did."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm the jerk here. I pushed you away to the point you left and after you did, I was so close to losing all of my friends. You did nothing wrong."

She moves her head to the side, unsure on how to react. "We both made mistakes."

He scoffs. "Maybe, but you have to admit I did things way worse than you."

"It's alright, we're okay now. It wasn't meant to be."

His heart tightens and he scoffs once more. "What if it was?"

"Minho-"

"No, Y/N, listen to me for this one. Please." The gleam in his eyes convinces her and she nods for him to continue. "I don't know exactly what happened, it might be work, but I lost myself at some point. I never thought weddings were bullshit, not once in my life. My dream the moment I met you was to put a ring on your finger."

Minho stops himself and gives a scan around to make sure nobody is watching. He is thankful when he realizes his friends are busy with watching a funny video on Felix's phone. With no hesitation, he takes Y/N's hand and moves her sleeve up to reveal her engagement ring, still beautifully worn on her finger. Embarrassed, she is quick to retract her hand back in hiding. How did he know if she has been hiding it as soon as she saw him?

"And I think you might still want that."

Her eyes get watery when she forces herself to stare back at him. "This year has been... a lot. I was not ready to remove it just yet and, I guess I just got used to wearing it."

Although tempted to correct her as he know the truth, Minho does not insist any more. Instead, he sends her a look that says he understands. Almost as if it was planned, Chan calls everyone in the living room to open the presents and to, as they do every year, make a toast.

It takes a few minutes until everyone is sat and silent but once they seem good to go, Chan nods his head at Minho. "Why don't you do the honours this year, Min?"

"Oh, um..."

"I think it won't be appropriate if it is anybody else other than you," Seungmin adds to which the others seem to agree on.

Reluctantly, he gets up from his seat and clears his throat. "First of all, I'd like to apologize for the way I've been acting. I was going through a lot and I shouldn't have imposed it on you, I'm sorry. Second of all, thank you all for sticking by my side although I was a total asshole."

"Heck yeah, you are," he hears Changbin jokingly respond.

"Something else I want to mention," he continues, ignoring his friend, "is how much regret I've felt this year. Y/N?"

All eyes move to her figure by the mention of her name. She looks at Minho, feeling a bit intimidated, but smiles to let him know she wants him to go on.

"I've never loved anyone else more than I have with you. I am aware things were not ideal but you brought the best out of me. I'm sorry I had to be the one ruining this for us. I love you still and I can only wish you the best from now on." He gives the others a last glance before raising his glass. "Thank you Changbin for hosting this year's party, and merry Christmas!"

Even though the entire room cheers and applauds in response to Minho's sweet speech, Y/N is not mentally there anymore. Her mind going wild, she can't think straight other than what Minho has said. She undeniably still loves him, more than she'd like to admit. But is she ready to let him in again?

"Hey," Deena calls her out, shaking her away from her thoughts. "You might want to figure some things out with lover boy."

Her face grows red. "You think so?"

"He just left outside to go for a walk but I'm sure he isn't too far yet. Go join him."

"I don't know..."

"Y/N, stop being in denial. You still love him, he still loves you, he obviously wants you back... Just go get him already."

Slightly intimidated by her sister, she doesn't need to be told twice to go grab her coat and boots, and walk out the door. She expected for him to be at least further away on the street but it is definitely a surprise to see him sitting down on the porch. His back facing her, she quietly approaches him and sits beside him.

There is a moment of quietness before he finally looks at her. "It's snowing."

She chuckles. "Thank you for the info, Mr. Obvious."

They share a laugh and both go back to watching the snowflakes fall. It's calm and peaceful, Minho loves it. It painfully reminds him of many occurrences where they'd watch outside the window for no reason on snow days.

"That was a good speech you just made."

He smirks. "I know."

His playful demeanor is something she doesn't remember seeing in the last moments of their relationship. It feels nice to see him back, as himself.

"What you said earlier, did you mean it?"

He frowns. "The part about regrets? Yeah, I mean, I was an ass and it didn't help me getting better so... I just know I want to fix it."

She shakes her head. "Not just that. The part about still loving me."

He moves his eyes from the snow to her own and she looks at him expectedly. She is so pure, he hates himself from even thinking he had hurt her. Carefully, he takes her hands in his and sets himself just a bit closer to her while still giving her space. He feels the sweat on his forehead, waiting for either getting rejected or getting the love of his life back. Either way, he has to say it. He's been putting it off for too long.

"I meant every word I said, I still and will always love you. How can I not? You're sensitive, smart, beautiful, and so caring. You always put me before yourself. So far, you were ready to give up your cats so I could have them because you knew I needed them."

"Minho-"

"No, you don't get to interrupt me until I'm finally done saying what I have to say. Y/N, never once did I think you were obnoxious. You see beauty in everything, something I'm incapable of doing and that's what bugged me. It bothered me how you are so perfect while I am not even close to be as loving as you are."

She scoffs with a knowing smile pending on her lips. "Now, I'll have to cut you here. You don't see yourself how I see you, Minho. Why do you think I fell in love with you in the first place? You have your own little ways of showing affection, each cuter than the other. I don't mind the rest because I know you do love me."

"I hurt you," he argues sadly.

"And I forgive you, just as long as you don't do it again," she grins, tightening her grasp on his hands.

Minho raises an eyebrow in confusion. "You forgive me... As in-"

"Don't make me say it, I have my own pride too."

Minho wipes away his tears he hadn't realized were starting to fall on his face and doesn't lose another second to bring her close to him and crash his lips onto hers. They're just like he remembered and maybe better, sweet and soft. At that point, both of them are crying. Only this time, it's not because they are hurting. So many feelings are said through the kiss and not a single one is coming from pain. It's sereine and warm, Minho can feel his whole body get lighter.

"Fuck, I missed you so much," he says when they break away, holding her close to his chest. "I'm never letting you go again."

"You better," she chuckles through a sniff.

The door behind them opens wide with more than seven pairs of eyes on them. Minho blushes while Y/N hides herself in the crook of his neck.

"So we good? Everything is sorted out? Please, the food is ready and I'm starving," Jisung complains, receiving a smack from Changbin.

"You're not starving and let them have their moment!"

Jeongin sighs. "I think the moment was already ruined.

The couple, who are still sitting, explode in laughter before getting up and joining their friends in the warmth of their home where Changbin's girlfriend has selected a nice Christmas playlist to complete the ambiance. Music Minho recognizes to be Y/N's favourites. A coincidence? Probably but he likes to believe it isn't.

While the boys congratulate him for being back together with his love, Minho looks outside through the window one last time. He isn't too sure if what he sees is right but four figures seem to look at him proudly.

While nobody is watching, he mouthes a "thank you" before the silhouettes fade away in the wind.

Minho still doesn't know to this day if what happened that night was real or not. One thing for sure is he can't be any more thankful for these spirits. Most importantly, he is finally in a happy place.

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vigilante-3073 · 4 months

Text

Snooze

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Late night research turns into an early morning cuddle session.

TW: Fluff, pining, flirting.

Dean Winchester sat at the table in the bunker surrounded by piles of books. With a glance at the clock in the corner of his laptop, he realized that Sam had gone to bed almost an hour ago. Dean was exhausted, but hated the idea of leaving Y/N alone to do research by herself.

The case they were working on involved children and those particular cases had always been a difficult for her. Y/N would stay up for days on end if it meant bringing a child back to their parent safely.

She was a ray of sunshine with a heart of gold, a genuine sweetheart who could do no wrong. Dean often found himself wondering why someone so good would choose to be involved with the Winchesters.

Y/N had quickly become the one stable point in the rocky relationship between Sam and Dean. She often played mediator between the brothers and Dean would never be able to thank her enough for that.

Dean's eyes wandered to the clock face of his watch. It was almost 4 o'clock in the morning and Dean sighed. He decided that it was time for the two hunters to drag themselves into bed for a few hours of sleep before hitting the books again.

He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts to Y/N before a soft snore from behind the large pile of books separating them stopped him.

Dean closed his book and set it on the edge of the table before standing from his seat. He rounded the table, a small smile coming to his face when he saw Y/N.

Her arms were crossed on top of her open book, head leaned against her bicep as she slept. Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamt, eyelashes brushing against the apples of her cheeks.

Dean squatted down beside her chair, hand rubbing over her back as he tried to wake her gently. She looked so peaceful, but she would be endlessly sore if he let her continue sleeping like that. Y/N made a soft noise before her bright eyes fluttered open, making Dean's smile widen slightly.

Y/N was absolutely gorgeous and Dean would never admit it, but he had always wondered what they could be together.

Dean knew that he didn't exactly have the best track record with dating and relationships. Hell, she probably thought of him as a friend and would never see him as anything more. Dean had decided a long time ago was better to preserve the relationship as it was than to push for more and be left with nothing.

"Sweetheart, you're drooling on a book that's almost a thousand years old. Let's get you into bed before you do any damage, alright?" He questioned softly.

Y/N sat up in her seat, grimacing as her back cracked from being hunched over, "You alright?" Dean asked, she nodded.

"How long was I out?" Y/N asked softly.

"No clue, but we haven't talked in almost three hours," He said, hand resting on her knee.

She allowed Dean to lead her through the war room and down the hallway towards their bedrooms. Dean opened her door for her, watching her shuffle across the room before falling into her bed fully dressed.

Y/N huffed, "Did you find anything?" She asked, "Not yet, but we both need to get some sleep" Dean said.

Y/N nodded and Dean rose to his feet, "C'mon, time for bed," He said, she stood from her chair.

He shook his head with a smile, making his way over and taking off her shoes for her. She shuffled out of her cardigan, half-heartedly tossing it towards the end of the bed.

Dean grabbed her folded blanket that had been draped over the back of her chair. He spread out the fluffy material on top of her, making sure she was fully covered before turning to leave.

Her hand slipped out from under the blanket, fingers circling around his wrist, "Stay," She said softly.

Dean felt his cheeks flush, they had shared a bed on multiple occasions, but he hadn't expected her to ask.

He liked having her in the same space as he and Sammy when they traveled so he could better protect her in case something happened. But this was different, this was her space and not just a matter of circumstance.

Y/N stared up at him, "Please, stay," She repeated, he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Dean said.

She let go of his hand, pulling her arm back underneath her blanket. Dean shrugged off his flannel and kicked off his shoes, crawling into the bed beside her.

Y/N turned to face him, tossing the blanket over him before slipping one of her legs between his. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself. She rested her head down on his chest, snuggling closer to him.

Y/N tilted her head up suddenly, looking at him with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask. Is this okay? I can back off if it makes you uncomfortable," She said softly.

"No, this is great," He assured, thumb rubbing back and forth across the small of her back.

She settled back in against him, resting her head down on his chest with a content sigh. They laid together in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again, "Your heart is beating really fast," Y/N stated.

"That's only because I have the most beautiful woman in the world using me as a pillow," Dean replied.

#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester

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fictionismyreality3 · 5 months

Text

Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #oneshot #tattoo artist!bucky

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lust4life01 · 27 days

Text

Too Sweet - David Loki.

Inspired by the song ‘Too Sweet’ by Hozier because I’m obsessed with it!!

Disclaimer: I haven’t seen anyone do this yet but if it has been done please let me know!! ☺️

Pairing; David Loki x f/reader

Warnings!!: brief smut, oral f/recieving, angst-ish, colleagues, alcohol consumption, grumpy x sunshine, mention of crime/murder, knife mentioned, violence, etc.

Summary: David is profoundly attracted to his colleague but tries to stay away due to her sweet nature, which very much juxtaposes his. sulky nature. (key word- tries)

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's ten o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

7:20 am , the clock read as you walked in. Coffees situated in hand as your pretty summer dress swayed softly.

“Hey Bill! Morning Sandra!” You greeted everyone in the morning with coffee and a smile, it’s was that time between spring and summer where everything was bright and made life feel worth living.

You fixed your eyes on Detective Loki, who had his nose buried amongst some case files and a frustrated grumpy look across his sharp features.

Taking out a black coffee from the holder you trailed over to him. You two weren’t exactly friends but you had a desperate need to be liked by him. Maybe it was because he was always so stern and earning yourself a smile would make you feel like a winner, or maybe it had something to do with the fact you were ridiculously attracted to him? Well, both things can be true simultaneously.

“Detective Loki, coffee?” You smiled down at him whilst extending the cup towards him in hopes he would accept your kind gesture.

Peeling his eyes away from his paper he met your gaze after you said his name.

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” He said in his monotone voice.

He grabbed the cup from your hands, lightly brushing over your fingers but snapped his head back to his paper in a matter of seconds.

There was nothing profoundly interesting on the paper but he didn’t want to engage with you. Just the thought of your company was overwhelming, never mind when you were handing him coffee and saying his name in such a sweet tone of voice. The smell of your perfume, your pretty summer dress and the sweetness that surrounds you would sweep him up in the blink of an eye. You were gorgeous, smart, likeable. You didn’t need to be getting involved with an older bitter man like him.

He did however wonder how you remained the way you are in a job like this. I mean how at seven in the moring are you considerate and nice? He imagined that you slept the way a princess would, other wise it would be a true mystery not even he could solve.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

The huge trees howled and peered down at you. Trapping you in as the screeches of crows was the only noise to be heard amongst the dismal scene.

You and Loki had been sent to a barren camp site out in the woods where two suspects had been reported as camping out. Realistically, you shouldn’t have been there, one because you quite literally weren’t suppose to be but had to be because Loki’s partner was off sick. And secondly, because most of your colleagues doubted your ability and thought infantilising you came from a place of concern rather than blatant misogyny.

Loki, however, didn’t want you there because the thought of just being alone with just you made him want to place his head in his palms. You had only exchanged a couple words as far as a sentence can go and you clearly liked to talk. He wasn’t so keen. He anticipated the awkwardness from the minute his supervisor had told you to go with him.

The crunching of leaves could be heard as the two of you stalked through the woods.

Loki spoke to you lowly as he kept his eyes on the tree line rather than you “These men are dangerous. You let me get them okay.”

You scoffed lightly which prompted him to turn his head to you, with his same expression he always had.

“Believe it or not, I am a fucking detective too. I have a gun strapped to my waist. I’m not an idiot”

Your sweet personality had been lost recently, which was most likely from the frustration of people assuming because you were nice you had to be weak too, and embarrassingly, because you still felt as though Loki was never going to crack. There was something about his cold nature that drew you in. You just wanted him to see you, which felt impossible.

You’re hostile attitude shocked Loki, it was quite attractive the way you stood your ground when he was so accustom to your soft spoken self. He raised his hands slightly as he apologised “Okay, sorry. You're right.”

You both continued to walk in silenced until you could see a campsite through the trees. There was a tent, a blazing bonfire, and some belongings scattered about. Loki protectively stood in front of you as you both spotted a man sat on a log, one which looked exactly like one of the two suspects.

Loki ran towards the man with his gun drawn and shouted “STAY FUCKING STILL!”

You followed behind quickly as Loki wrestled the man to the ground and cuffed him. Even if you were wrapped up in hostility you couldn't help but admit to yourslef that it was one of the hottest scenes you'd ever witnessed.

“Think you can run from me mother fucker.” Loki grunted as the man tried to wriggle his way out of the cuffs.

As Loki was taking care of the sicko criminal on the floor you heard movement from the tent. A man quickly appeared holding a knife but he tried to run from you rather than at you. You chased after him and trapped his foot, sending him flying to the floor, the knife flying from his hand and landing in a brush. Loki had noticed this and leapt up to come and help but you already cuffed the shouting man.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I KILLED THOSE OTHER WHORES!”

Back up had turned up shortly after to come and collect the two men. You stood by the bonfire and watched as the men were shoved into vans. A feeling of adrenaline consuming you as well as a deep sadness for the women who weren't saved from the foul men.

Loki slowly approached you scanning over your drained features as he stepped closer to you.

“Good job today (y,n).” It was blunt and pretty vague but honestly gaining validation from your older attractive colleague was rewarding and his presents dragged you from your depressing thoughts.

You smiled at him, your face illuminated by the orange flames as the sun started to set. He stared back at you whilst trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. Fuck it.

“You look like you could use a drink. I’m gonna grab one, you wanna come?” He felt nervous, like he was twelve years old asking out the pretty popular girl to be his date to some cheesy dance. It was purley out of compassion and a need for a drinking buddy he told himself, not because he wanted to spend more of the day with you or anything.

The tiredness in your eyes remained but your lips did form into a smirk “I’d like that a lot, Loki.”

The smell of smoke from the bonfire filled the air before you, as he couldn’t help but stare at the reflection of the flames in your eyes, getting lost in your haze.

He snapped out of his admiration and suggested you guys take his car.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

The sultry music that played in the background of the barren bar was drowned out by the sound of Loki's glass hitting the bar again, only the smell of whiskey left in the glass. After that day, Loki decided he needed a drink and had reluctantly invited you to come along which was his weird way of forming somewhat of a relationship with you. You absolutely did come along because the thought of the two men you and Loki had caught made you want to drink until a single thought couldn't grace your thoughts. And you felt comfortable with him. It wasn’t some sleazy type of invitation for drinks but more a mutual feeling of despair that could be lifting with the taste of alcohol.

Loki had order whiskey, neat of course, which made so much sense. You however had far one too many vodka and cherry cola’s.

At first Loki admired your ability to somewhat keep up with him, until he realised maybe that wasn’t the case, which he realised when you started to drunkenly cry about how you felt like your boss hated you and everone thought you were weak. Loki knew this was drunk nonsense because nobody could hate you, you‘re too sweet.

“Hey hey come on now, he doesn’t hate you. How could anybody hate you? And nobody thinks you're weak, especially not me.” He tried to calm your drunk ass down and started to think maybe asking you for a drink was not a good idea. That compassion he felt for you did scare him a little though.

He had tried to distance himself from you, but it seemed he couldn’t. Every assignment, there you were. It was impossible to remain distance or blunt around you. Even if he was admittedly a bit of a dick to everyone else he realised after being in your presence continuously that you were now almost friends? In a way?

Loki wasn’t drunk, sure he had drunk but he wasn’t drunk. He walked you to his car and helped you into the front seat. I mean what’s a detective without a little criminal activity, and he was still perfectly fine to drive. You on the other hand was not fine and there was no way Loki was letting you get into a cab on your own , not in this state.

Once driving you had gone quiet from your intoxicated rambling that had entertained Loki as he practically carried you to the car.

“Hey (y,n) what’s your address so I can take you home.”

There was no answer.

Loki peered over and you were sound asleep. Of course you were. He grabbed his phone from his pocket so he could call a colleague to find out where you lived but of course it had died.

He looked over at you and felt an odd feeling in his chest. He let out a huff and made a U turn.

My coffee black and my bed at three

He had helped you into his apartment and made a bed up on the couch for himself. But before that he had fixed you both some coffee in order to help you sober up a little. His was black o. He gave you some toast and your sweetened coffee as you thanked him mercilessly. He was glad you were at least conscious now.

“That’s already. Do you want me to take you home, or you can stay here? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

It was pretty late and he had felt an odd shift towards you from the hours before. Your vunreblity you inviited him to see had eradicated the strange tension you two seemed to possess previously. You felt comfortable with him, so he felt comfortable around you.

Despite your intoxicated state, you could recognise the serenity in his voice, probably being the nicest he’s ever spoken to anyone ever.

You shook your head slightly as you eyes fluttered “David you don’t have to do that, I’ll sleep on the couch. ”

The thought of another car ride did make you want to vomit, and you trusted Loki so there was no harm in staying.

The use of his first name threw him off a bit but he was insistent that you took the bed whilst also briefly apologising for his lack female comfortable clothing. He set out some briefs and a t shirt, that was nowhere close to fitting you, onto the bed.

You slipped them on a thanked him one more time before settling in to his bed. The alcohol in your system left a feeling of guilt upon your conscionous as the smell of him hit you from his pillows. However, after a couple minutes with your head touching his pillows you were fast asleep.

You're too sweet for me

The next morning had arrived and Loki started to get up for work, when he remembered you were sleeping soundly in his bed. He quietly got himself together and left you a note on the bedside table which read;

Gone to work, I’ll let them know you're sick. Help yourself to anything and the keys are on the kitchen counter.

Accompanied with the note was a glass of water and a some aspirin to help with the hangover. He stared down at your face, you looked so pretty. God you were too perfect, far too kind and compassionate to be with the likes of him. He covered the duvet over you before he left and made sure to take a final glance at you before leaving.

After waking up from a pleasant sleep to a not so pleasant headache, you were quickly snapped out of your self pity after realising you were in your colleagues bed. Your colleague who you had been trying to impress forever.

You shortly remembered why that was and the hangxiety demons grabbed ahold of you. You shoved your face into his pillows as you cursed yourself for getting in such a state. God, he probably thought you were ridiculous, a stupid child who couldn’t handle their alcohol. Great.

Then the panic of work hit you, fuck were you late? Where was Loki? What was the fucking time? Your eyes scanned for an indication when they laid upon his note. You let out a sigh of relief after reading that Loki was going to cover your ass. You took the pills, made his bed, changed back into your clothes and called yourself a cab home.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Once you had gotten home you left Loki a message to thank him for his kindness, not only through letting you stay at his house but also for covering your ass at home. The thought of inconveniencing others made you want to die.

Loki's kindness left you with this debilitating feeling in your chest, you two had becomes somewhat friends but the overwhelming attraction you felt to him only became magnified when he provided you with his security last night.

You felt absolutely disgusting with the hangxiety seeping through your soul, your clothes from yesterday, and the fact you hadn’t showered since yesterday morning.

The sound of the shower blasting accompanied with your favourite playlist playing made you feel calmer and cleaner already. You jumped into the shower and decided you had to see Loki. You had to thank him in person. Something about knowing you slept in his bed last night and you haven’t seen him since just didn’t feel right.

If you were seeing Loki, it had to be an everything shower. You had to look and feel perfect. As you massaged your sweet smelling shampoo into your scalp your mind imagined walking up to his door and kissing him. God, the thought made your heart ache and yearn for it to be reality, but you highly doubted he felt the same. I mean it was Loki.

Once every inch of your body smelt, felt and looked divine you admired yourself in the mirror. Your makeup looked stunning but not overbearing, your hair looked like you had just come out of a Victorian secret catalog and you smelt gorgeous.

You quickly checked your phone and saw Loki had replied, meaning he was probably home from work by now. You opened up the message which read;

‘Thats okay (y,n), no need to thank me. Did you get home alright?’

God why did he care so much? Why did it make you want him more, and why did he have to be a colleague? Without even replying to the text you rushed to your car and made your way over to his. Admittedly, you did have one of your friends from the IT department tell you where he lived a little while back. It wasn’t creep or stalking, you’re a detective okay? That makes it fine, I suppose.

Once you arrived and was stood outside his door your heart started to pound. You took a deep breath and gently knocked on his door.

The minutes in which it took him to open the door immediately made you want to run away. But you didn’t. You stayed and stared at the door.

Finally when it opened you saw Loki standing in the doorway, uniform still on and was that a smile plastered on his face?

“Oh hello (y,n).” He said sounding pleasantly shocked to see you. Then he subtly looked you up and down. Fuck you looked so pretty.

You stared for a minute, wide eyed. “Hey, so um-, I just like, wanted to say thanks. Again.” You could feel your cheeks blush from being so self aware.

You could feel his low brow stare as you talked, making you feel even more nervous. You had talked to criminals that had committed heinous crimes but somehow this was far more nerve racking.

He stepped a little closer to you, looking down. “You didn't need to say it again, I told you it’s my pleasure.”

Without saying anything you stood staring into his eyes.

“Well yeah, I just came by to express how thankful I really am.”

He smirked and then brushed a piece of hair behind your ear with his large hand, a small piece of his own hair falling as he leaned forward. God you were so sweet, but he could tell you weren’t here because of that.

Cupping your jaw he gently connected his lips to yours. You gasped quietly making Loki retreat instantly.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I-“

Before he had time to continue you smashed your lips together again, humming into the kiss. It became heated and as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, feeling as though he had reached heavens gate.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

You tried to catch your breath as Loki's lips attacked yours mercilessly as you both made your way to his bedroom whilst crashing into every surface on the way.

The base of your back hit the wall as his hands started to undress you in between the hard kisses. “You’re so fucking pretty. Wanted you for so long.”

You could only moan in response as the feeling of his hands hugged your skin and his teeth grazed your neck.

Once he had gotten you in just your lingerie set, which he noticed immediately, he grabbed the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Pulling his hair you whined as he carried you to the bedroom. You were so desperate for him, it was insane.

Placing you down on to the end of the bed, he stood before you. You immediately crawled to your knees, and reached for the hem of his long fitted black shirt. He smiled and reached his big hand around your back and un clasped your bra as his other hand stroked your hair. You bit your lip in anticipation as the shirt slipped over his head, leaving him shirtless with nothing but his work pants on in front you you. You admired his god like torso, covered in tattoos.

You whispered a quiet “fuck” and kissed down his snail trail.

Loki groaned as you reached closer down his torso and gripped your jaw, bending down and kissing you hard once again.

“Lie back for me princess.”

Immediately you did as you were told and Loki quickly followed on top of you. One hand firmly gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, whilst the other held your right wrist again the bed. He kissed your sweet collar bones and made his way down to your nipples. He licked and kissed them as your chest heaved.

“Loki, please. I need you to bad.”

An amused grin spread across his face as blood rushed to his already hard cock. He dipped two large fingers into your underwear and they were immediate soaked by your desperation.

“Not as innocent as you seem, are you baby? Mhm?” He hummed.

You shook your head as you tried to not cry out from your needy incoherent state.

He brought his fingers to your lips and you wrapped your swollen lips around them and moaned.

Seconds later he was tearing off your panties and connecting his wet tongue to your pulsating cunt as he praised you through your moans.

“Taste just as sweet as you seem though. Taste and look so fucking good for me baby.”

He sucked on your clit as if it were a divine exotic fruit, almost as sweet as a grape turned into a majestic wine falling from an enchanted waterfall.

You thread your fingers through his hair and whimpered hysterically “Loki! Fuck!”

You're too sweet for me

The summer breeze trailed in through the open window as your head rested upon Lokis bare chest. You both laid there as you played with his big tattooed fingers and he took in the smell of your shampoo that he so secretly loved.

You started to talk his ear off mercilessly and he simply just listened. Taking in all of your words as if they were the most important words to ever be spoken. He nodded and hummed as he admired you. Your skin glowing. He had to admit to himself your sweet charming personality had caught him in a choke hold. There was an element of purity and sunshine that you brought to his sulky self, he was well and truly fucked. You're too sweet.

(Ugh im so obsessed with this song and it is soooo David Loki.)

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #david loki fanfiction #david loki x reader #david loki smut #too sweet #hozier #prisonersmovie

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madeinparadis · 5 months

Text

NIGHTLY SORROWS | THOMAS SHELBY

pairing: thomas shelby × reader

tw: grief (reader is dead), angst

word count: 724

masterlist: all characters

a/n: this is more of a drabble, just a little something i wrote before bed. italics signal a flashback/memory.

Far into the winter, all of Birmingham was covered in fog and cold. The houses were dimly illuminated by the bleak sunshine during the day, then engulfed by darkness in the later hours, and Arrow House was no exception, looking and feeling particularly gloomy. Despite all efforts done by staff to make it warm and hospitable for its owner, the most important part of it was lost forever, and could never be replaced- you.

The clock on the bedside table read one o'clock. Tommy sat in what was once your shared bed, now only his. His mind was playing tricks on him yet again, clouding his conscience with visions of you, the feeling of longing and regret leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

No matter the circumstances, Thomas Shelby wouldn't ever say he is an emotional or sensitive man. With all the horrors he's seen, all the men he's brutally murdered, the business he leads, there was just no space in his life for feelings. Even so, that doesn't mean they didn't plague him- in fact, they took over his mind at every given chance. Every time he let himself breathe and relax his muscles, he was taken there, to a place where you exposed the thoughts and emotions buried the deepest in his consciousness.

"Tom?" you called, a smile painted on your face. Oh, this was one of his favourite memories. "Look, I want you to see this." your request caught his attention, making him glance up at you, taking notice of the new garments on your frame. "What do you think?" you gestured at your outfit. "The seamstress finished it earlier today. I'm thinking of wearing it the charity event next week."

If only he didn't take you to that ball...

"It looks perfect. you're always beautiful, love." Tommy replied, watching you change back into your nightgown, joining him in bed- back when it was still both his and yours to share.

"Fuck." he spoke in a low, tired tone. He had to get his shit together, stop reminiscing, he thought to himself. Well, perhaps later he would- for now, he wanted to keep you around, in whatever way possible.

The hours went by as Thomas drowned himself with work in the office, a poor attempt to drown out the thought of you. He got up from his chair, dragging his tired self to the cabinet and pouring himself a glass of whisky. Sitting behind the desk again, he drank up the contents of the glass in one uninterrupted take, setting it on the wooden desk quite harshly.

For a second, his head was empty. Then, there you were- the vision of your ghost like an oasis sighting to him. You took a step closer to him, standing behind the office desk as you rested your hands on his shoulders, earning a relieved sigh from Tommy, who leaned into your touch almost desperately.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Your voice was like medicine to his soul, making the pain drift away while he heard it- except it made his heart ache even more after, when he was reminded you weren't truly there anymore.

"Everyday, love." He replied with a tormented tone.

"You know you can't keep living like this, Tom. Our son needs a father." You spoke softly. "He needs you."

"There's no joy in this house without you, (y/n). Charlie misses you just like me, everyday."

You remained silent for some time, offering comfort with your touch rather than words. Tommy accepted every gesture of yours, taking every second he could get with you.

"It's not your fault, Tom. There was nothing you could do to prevent that bullet from reaching me." You spoke up again, kneeling down until your lips reached his ear. "Do you remember my last request to you, just before I died?"

"To be good to Charlie, take care of him." The expression on his face was pained as he answered your question, reminding him of your last moments on earth.

"Exactly. Have you gotten him a horse yet?"

"Yes. I bought him one for Christmas, a good breed."

"That's good. Be patient with him, Tom. He's got a strong-willed spirit like yours."

Tommy felt your lips on his cheek, looking up to see your face. But just like that, you were gone once more.

#madeinlisbon #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #charlie shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #grace shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #winter #angst #drabble #my writing

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magics-neptunes-things · 7 months

Text

Peacefull

Hola todos ♥

This is a request and I realise only now that "Laia" can be Laia Codina too *Pan* So I hope this is what you wanted dear anon.

Resume : Sweats moments with your girlfriend, the morning after a big win.

Have you all a good day :)

______________________________________________________________

Feeling a ray of sunshine caressing your face, you lazily stretch in your bed. You feel the softness of the sheet on and under your half-naked body and the duvet that still covers you completely. You are still half asleep and you gradually realize the things around you.

The fact that the sun can pass through your roller blinds tells you that it should not be far from 12 o'clock, unless this hour is already passed. Paradoxically, the apartment and its surroundings seem to be particularly quiet. It must be said that it’s located at the top of the building and that it hides a lot the traffic noises of Manchester. And besides, it’s Sunday.

You smile in your half-sleep state, feeling the hand then the arm of your girlfriend slip on your belly and your waist while you are lying on your back. Turning your head in her direction, you open an eye to see that she's awake even if she is also still well wrapped under the duvet. You close your eyes and settle back more comfortably, unconsciously getting closer to Laia. She takes the opportunity to lie down on you so that you can place her face on your collarbone and you pass your arms around her waist.

"Buenos días mi Amor"

Your girlfriend’s still asleep/raspy voice makes you smile, especially when you hear her speak in her native language. You have always found it particularly sexy, you who come from Canada. You love her accent, which tends to come out when she’s tired or angry. You lazily lay a kiss on her hair, discreetly inspiring the smell of her shampoo.

"Good morning campeona"

You played a game last night and Laia scored her first goal in Manchester City. Needless to explain the pride you felt when you saw her do it. Stuck on your goal line, you couldn’t rush to her to congratulate her, but you tried to show it once you both came home last night after the party your team organised. You were both tipsy but it was perfect as always. This in addition to the match yesterday probably explains the state of fatigue you both find yourself this morning.

You feel Laia move on on you to deposit kisses on your face, making you smile.

"Five more minutes, Love" you mumble as she continues, running along your jaw with her lips.

"I’ve already spent 30 minutes watching you sleep"

"My girlfriend is a psychopath, I should have known. She was far too perfect" you keep mumbling in a sleepy voice.

Laia laughs and you can’t help but smile when you hear her. Her laughter is like music to your ears and you end up opening your eyes after she places an ultimate kiss on your lips.

"I am hungry"

Laia’s complaint makes you roll your eyes while smiling. You put both your legs and arms around her to stick her against you, preventing her from moving.

"I said five more minutes"

It's the Spanish woman’s turn to roll her eyes, but she lets you do it willingly, drawing shapes on your belly with the tips of her fingers. You start dozing again, enjoying the caresses of your girlfriend. You moved in together a few weeks ago and you quickly got used to the idea to wake up and fall asleep everyday next to Laia.

"If you get up now, I promise you to make the pancakes you love" Laia state, making you open an eye to look at her.

"With chocolate chips?"

She humms before straightening up to deposit a new kiss on your lips. This girl knows how to talk to you.

"Continue like this and it’s you that I will eat for breakfast" you joke before gently releasing her.

She smiles at you maliciously and kisses you again before getting out of the heat offered by the duvet. Her movement makes a cold draught of air pass under the duvet, making you groan and shiver. You turn to your side and watch Laia put on the satin bathrobe you offered her for her birthday. With her tan skin and her light hair, she’s glowing.

"Qué?" she asks when she sees you looking at her.

"You're just so beautiful" you simply answer her, before laughing gently seeing her blush.

She throws you a pillow before running away from the bedroom to go to the kitchen. Rolling on your back again, you stretch for a long time before deciding to get up in your turn. You go through the bathroom to refresh yourself before returning to the room to put on a flocked football jersey named Aleixandri.

You follow in Laia’s footsteps to the kitchen, finding her making you breakfast. You smile when you see her tiptoe to grab the chocolate chip package at the top of the closet. When she has mixed the precious ingredient with the rest of the dough, you discreetly approach her to pass her arms around her waist from behind and squeeze her against you.

Her startle makes her squeek and you laugh gently, making you forgive by putting a kiss in her neck.

"It’s smells good baby" you whisper against her skin, smiling when you feel the chills that it causes her.

You keep tickling her in the neck with your lips, an amused smile stuck to your face.

"Such a tease" she mumbles before turning around in your arms.

You kiss her gently, tenderly, for a few minutes, until the first side of the pancakes is cooked.

"What do you have planned today?" you ask while continuing to watch her cook, keeping her in your arms.

"Nothing special. Ona has to call me this afternoon, but that’s it. You want to go for a walk in the forest?"

You look out the window, happy to see that the sun is always present in a blue sky. Unreal for an October in England, but you really love this season like this.

"Sounds like a perfect plan"

#laia aleixandri #laia aleixandri x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 8 days

Note

Here’s a good one, how about a one shot of Adam being a trophy husband to Lucifer

ok I think I may have a problem

That makes two of us! Trophy husband Adam 💖

At first Adam didn't understand what Angel meant when he called him a trophy husband. Yeah, he knew he was a fucking catch but he didn't know what that was.

"It means you don't do anything other than look good for your husband and get fucked by him." Angel explained as they lounged one day.

"I don't do anything else?" Adam had asked.

"Buddy, friend, best bitch of mine. You can't cook for shit, you sure as shit don't clean. Lucifers a King, he has people for that anyway. You're hot and a great lay." Angel sipped his drink. "Trophy husband."

At first Adam didn't know how to feel, cause yeah those things were true but hearing it from someone else made it sound like he was useless.

The idea of doing housework made that feeling go away.

He didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. Currently, Adam had taken to lounging around by the pool at their manor. It was actually a decent day in Hell, not too hot a small breeze in the air.

Adam was drinking a tequila sunrise as he scrolled on his phone, sunglasses on to keep Hell's light out of his eyes. He'd call it sunshine but that wasn't even close to what it was.

"There you are." Adam looked up when he heard his husband's voice and smiled as he came over. "Thought I'd find you here."

Adam set his drink down. "Someone might as well use this area, you don't."

Lucifer hummed, he placed his hand in Adam's hair at the base of his horns before dipping down to kiss him. "I'm always too busy to use the pool. Besides, you're not in it you're beside it."

"Still using the space."

Lucifer shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. "Go get yourself something nice to wear. I'm taking you out tonight."

Adam took the plastic card. "How fancy are we going?"

"Semi-formal. Nothing too crazy."

"Aww, and to think I was gonna drip diamonds." Adam joked, he laughed when Lucifer tickled his neck. "Luci stop!"

"You'll look good no matter what. Six o'clock, I'll meet you out front." Lucifer gave him one more fleeting kiss before taking off.

Adam got up, he'd call Angel to see if he'd want to tag along. Maybe get him a few things too. A shopping spree was in order.

He had to look good for his husband after all.

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask

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konigsblog · 7 days

Note

7, 17 for könig. . . and 22 !! i’m curious on what your headcanons for him are 🫂

also, how have you been faring in this shite weather ?? 🌧️ i swear scottish winters last til autumn 🥲

STEVIE !! 💐 i have been struggling with this shitty weather, it's horrible. :') i'm hoping for a little bit of sunshine soon, i don't know how much longer i can deal with the cloudy, windy, and rainy weather. ☔🌫️🌬️

these are mainly going to be related to könig, because well... even my blog is named after him, i don't think i even have to explain myself LOL 🌷🌷

is there a piece of clothing you think [character] is particularly fond of/that you imagine them wearing a lot or like to draw them in?

i can see könig wearing sweaters pretty often, and to be specific, a striped sweater. he'd wear a quarter zip up hoodie or fleece, or a basic loose t-shirt. he's definitely into cargos, i don't see könig to be the type to wear jeans at all, ESPECIALLY if they're lightwash. similar to the ones his character wears!

what's a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?

könig definitely likes horror movies, things like saw, the conjuring, etc. he's a huge, huge thriller and horror fan and collects any figurines he can find. i'm a true believer that könig is a bookworm, i don't know exactly what books he'd choose to read but i think his interests depend on his mood that day. he'd own an entire library inside of his office, LMFAO

give us a headcanon for [character]

i have lots of headcannons for könig, but my main headcannon would be his choice of food. he devours anything strawberry flavoured (especially ice-cream and milk, he'll chug a gallon, DON'T dare him.) his appetite is big and he isn't picky—until you bring out brussel sprouts or broccoli......

i also believe that könig is a morning person. he's the type to start his day at 5 o'clock in the morning. he'll hop in the shower (freezing cold, or absolutely BURNING HOT) and will make his breakfast. his day starts off pretty healthy with a nutritious breakfast, but ends with könig snacking and drinking alcohol later in the night. i could see könig suffering with BED, especially as a teenager.

#orla speaks #könig fanfiction #könig x you #könig #konig x reader #cod konig #konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig mw2

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ovobawrites · 8 months

Text

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝑒 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

When Crowley invited you to the beach trip he had planned for the 1st and 2nd years, you were... reluctant to go. Your reticent nature did not mean that you were unaware of the fact that Crowley... wasn't the most caring person for his students. Crewel being the sole supervisor on the trip was the only reason you decided to attend.

You had been informed that only the Housewardens, their vices and a person of their choosing would be present on the trip. Likely due to Crowley's inherent need to save as much thaumarks[1] as possible. Point is, you were going on a beach trip. The problem was that it would be just you and at least 14 boys plus Crewel at the beach. You were going to die.

And the worst part? Due to Crowley wanting you all to have an 'experience', the group would be taking a bus from the magic mirror to get to a specific, magically protected resort in the Sunshine Lands[2]. This resort was small enough that you would be living in each other's space for a good few days. But you shrugged, packed your bags and resolved to never tell your brother about this. All you could hope for was a peaceful trip, nice weather and no murders. And if you made sure to stuff your qiánkūn dài with fúlù for self-protection? That was just for your some peace of mind and nothing more.

The walk to the mirror hall would have been quite lovely and peaceful for you if it wasn't 5 o'clock in the morning! Getting up that early was the worst experience you had ever faced in your life... not to mention the fact that it was so dark outside you almost tripped over the steps by the door! And yet... you still woke up 30 minutes earlier than you needed to for your skincare routine, makeup, and routine anxious bag check. At least you had gotten more than 2 hours of sleep?

Crowley had informed you that the others had to wear either their PE or dorm uniforms for the trip, but since he was oh-so generous, he let you choose your outfit. Dressing for the heat was something you were used to, deciding on packing a wide-brimmed hat and heart-shaped sunglasses in your draping cardigan with customised sleeve space. Underneath that, you decided on wearing a slightly short, pleated skirt in (f/c) and a cropped t-shirt to have some modesty. Even if your swimsuits were a lot more risqué, your outfits were definitely less so for the sake of your dignity.

To get to the mirror hall, you had to trudge past the overgrown plants you were 'working' on taming, and then had to drag your feet to the long (and still slightly confusing) walk to the dark mirror. Walking in the room, you could immediately see how the different dorms prepared for this trip. Riddle and Trey were helping Cater bring his bags closer to the portal, the poor man looking dead on his feet and still half asleep, nearly squashing Riddle under his weight by leaning on him. Meanwhile, Leona, actually asleep, was being dragged by poor Ruggie, the hyena having strapped the man to one of their wheeled suitcases.

Ruggie's quite strong actually! I wonder how he deals with both the heavy bag on his back and the weight from Leona?

Vil and Rook were by far, the most prepared of the group, the two of them having their makeup done absolutely perfectly, chatting as if it was an afternoon meeting and not the most asinine hour you could imagine being awake at. Jamil struggled with a sleepy Kalim, though he too had shadows under his eyes denoting a clear lack of sleep, not that you could judge. Meanwhile, Azul, Jade and Floyd seemed perfectly fine with this torturous wake-up time, though they all gave off movements showing them to be slightly groggy. Idia was completely awake and huddling in a corner while Ortho tried to comfort him. And finally, Malleus and Lilia chatted with a healthy air, with Lilia having Silver hefted over his shoulder like some sort of comically large sack of potatoes.

I am going to die on this trip, if not from fatigue, then from the amount of chaos that is going to be caused by this group.

The boys turned to look at you as your heeled boots clacked against the hard floor, with numerous comedic reactions to your rather... light luggage. That is, if they were even awake enough to notice you.

"Are you going to be wearing that outfit for the entire trip?" Vil raised an eyebrow at you, arms crossed judgmentally.

You smiled like a knife. Let them worry or think you're stupid, you do not have the emotional capacity to deal with this right now without making a mess of things.

But before Vil edged closer to the line that would result in death from a demolished ego, Crewel walked into the room. The professor carried the pouch you gifted him, along with his signature whip. The man had shed his normal fur coat for a black and white striped button up, yet his style was as impeccable as always. The teacher grinned at you, a kind look in his eyes as he took in your clearly exhausted demeanour.

"I see we brought matching pouches, dear puppy. I thank you once again for making it so much easier for me to pack for this trip. Plus," He winked conspiratorially, "You've enabled me to bring as many outfits and shoes as I want."

AHHHHH HE'S BEING SO KIND TO ME!!!! WHAT TO SAY WHAT TO SAY!!!

"It was truly no problem, Professor." You returned his kind look with one of admiration and respect. "I'm simply glad that you like it!"

Unfortunately, the two of you could not start a compliment-off due to the urgings of one angry, red dorm leader.

"Professor Crewel, we really should be on our way now. If I recall correctly, the Headmage said that we must be on time to catch the bus, and as according to Queen of Heart's rule #375, 'You must not ever be late for a very important date'."

...That one's just common sense no?

Crewel looked slightly ticked off for a moment, but went back to looking like a calm and collected teacher so quickly you almost thought it was an illusion.

With a clap of his hands, he ordered, "Line up pups! Make sure you are with your dorm members and pass through the mirror." He cracked his whip menacingly. "And if any of you wander off in the time it takes me to mark you all present, you will be dealing with a punishment suiting such beastly behaviour!"

Azul and Jade snapped their heads up at that and quickly grabbed onto Floyd, knowing the mischief he would get up to. Thankfully for the other dorms, their troublemakers were either fast asleep or too tired to cause even a speck of mischief. Trey went up to the mirror and stepped in with their bags in hand, while Riddle struggled to get himself and Cater through without falling over. Next up was Ruggie, who unceremoniously dumped Leona through the portal, who woke up with a yowl, then snickered and stepped through. The Octavinelle kids walked in the portal, Jade and Floyd carrying the bags while Azul took wrote something down in a small black book.

...Is he studying? Or is he analysing his fellow Housewardens... either way it's kinda creepy...

Jamil woke Kalim up and got his charge through the mirror, then picked up their numerous bags with a sigh and struggled to get past the portal. Rook and Vil, as put together as always, walked through with no problem despite their heavy-looking bags. Ortho had to drag Idia through the portal, his older brother carrying their bulky bags while seemingly quite concerned by the amount of people in the room. Finally, Malleus and Lilia went through the portal, luggage floating behind them while Lilia kept Silver slung over his shoulder. Crewel ticked through names on a clipboard with a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. He looked at you with a small smile then gestured for you to walk through. The cold sensation of the portal embraced you as you felt yourself transported through the dark mirror.

The first thing you felt when you arrived in the Sunshine Lands was a stifling heat against your skin. The second was your eardrums dying from a loud, shrill noise. A bus screeched past you, blowing your hair into your face, before making a sharp u-turn to stop right in front of your group, blowing plumes of dust in its wake. If that noise wasn't enough to wake you all up, the slam of the doors opening definitely did. Crewel appeared through the portal just then, and walked up to the bus with no care for the groups shocked demeanour.

Both Leona and Ruggie gripped their ears in pain, Azul had hidden behind his bags and the twins, meanwhile Lilia seemed to be delighted and was shaking Silver like some sort of stuffed toy. You could catch a glimpse of their conversation:

"-could make such loud noises for the light music club! I do want to show off my heavy metal skills!"

"-right, Fa-Lilia"

Was he about to say father? Or something more offensive? I wonder... Lilia has often acted too old for his age...

You decided to walk past the boys to get a comfortable seat at the front of the bus, fearing getting sick during the long ride. Your calm demeanour and Crewel's glare from inside the bus made the boys scramble to put their bags in the trunk and race up the steps to prepare for a long trip.

As the bus's ghost driver started revving the engine, Leona settled in the back of the bus, lying down like a corpse, head on Ruggie's lap. The poor boy was being used as a pillow again, but didn't seem to mind to much as he scrolled through his phone. Riddle, Trey and Cater sat right at the front of the bus, a row behind Crewel who looked too tired to put up with questions from Riddle. Cater had settled down next to you while Riddle and Trey sat down on the other side of the bus, when he asked:

"Can-" He yawned, "Can I use your shoulder as a pillow?"

Riddle, hearing this, glared warningly at Cater, who didn't notice. You gently smiled and nodded, too tired to consider the impropriety of his actions. It was too bad that you were typically the type who was unable to go to sleep after waking up for the day. So you just closed your eyes, leaned your head against the back of your seat and listened to the hushed conversations of an early morning.

Trey and Riddle talked quietly about their plans for the week, while Floyd, Jade and Azul seemed to be intrigued by this method of transportation. You could hear Floyd cheering at each bump the bus went over, escalating in volume until Azul and Jade shushed him. There was a tiredly registered thought passing through your mind: a hope that they wouldn't throw up from motion sickness. Cater's head on your shoulder was a warm spot in the cool, air-conditioned bus that helped ground you, the slight sounds of breathing creating a rhythm for you to listen to.

You faintly heard the sounds of shuffling movements, likely from Jamil, who had Kalim's head on his shoulder while the shorter boy insisted that Jamil should lean his head on top of the other's. A sigh and some faint whispering before the two seemingly fell asleep. Malleus talked to Lilia in hushed, excited tones, the scratching of nails against a scalp as Lilia combed his fingers through Silver's hair while the first year napped. Vil and Rook seemed to have prepared for this trip, the sounds of pillows being taken out of bags and Vil asking Rook to make sure his sleeping mask is perfectly positioned. An obliging sound from the other and then the hushed noises of two more people falling asleep.

Crewel seemed to be working on something, judging by the tired sighs and the noise of pen against paper. From what you remembered, the poor professor was overwhelmed by third years requesting apprenticeships in the alchemical field, he was probably filling out those request forms, judging by the frustrated whispers coming from the front of the bus. Ortho was buzzing in anticipation, talking quietly to Idia, with notes of some video game's soundtrack floating over from their side of the bus.

The bus was nearly silent, the only noises being from the Diasomina, Trey and Riddle, and the Ignihyde group. The bus's engine was silent, the small bumps it went over feeling less and less jarring as time went on. It felt like being rocked in a cradle like a child, a comforting movement that calmed you even further. Before you knew it, you had succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen into a restless sleep.

You slowly woke up from your impromptu nap, hearing louder conversations from behind you. The weight on your shoulder was gone. As you blinked your eyes and stretched slightly, you glanced over to where Cater was before.

"Oh, you're up!" Cater smiled at you from next to Trey, and then was quickly shushed.

You stood up, curious, and walked across the aisle to where they were, balance as impeccable as always. You cooed as you leaned over Cater's shoulder, seeing a sleeping Riddle curled up slightly on Trey's lap. The man in question looked slightly tired as well, but smiled at you anyways.

"Worried about him waking up?" You leaned on Cater even more, trying to examine the sleeping dorm leader's features. "I thought he was gonna stay up for the whole trip."

Riddle was so adorable while asleep! The Housewarden's doll-like features were enhanced by his calmer face. Looking at him, you were suddenly struck by how young he seemed. For all Riddle acted mature, it was clear that he was still childish. And now, curled up against Trey's lap, he reminded you once more of your juniors back home. It made you want to coddle him even more.

"Riddle's used to sleeping and waking up at very strict times." Trey told you in a hushed voice, "His body is probably adjusting to the decrease in hours, so he's practically dead to the world."

Cater jumped in. "Oh, but he's a total monster in the early mornings! One time, he collared three dorm members for not providing the right sugar for his tea!"

"That's..." You were a bit concerned by how natural Cater seemed to mention this.

But before you could continue this hushed conversation with Trey and Cater, a loud voice suddenly yelled from the back.

"Oi~ miss koi fish[3]! You're awake now?! Over here!" Floyd waved at you before being hurriedly shushed by Jade.

You sighed, and decided to walk over to the Octavinelle kids, giving Trey and Cater an apologetic glance. Knowing Floyd, he'd probably yell for your attention until Riddle woke up. It probably isn't the best choice to ignore him, especially if you want to keep your head on your shoulders.

When you stood up from your position on Cater's shoulder, the bus sped over a large road bump, causing many to knock their heads against their seats or the ceiling. Trey cradled Riddle from the blow, knocking against the seat in front of him while Cater hit his head against the roof. You, a master of balance and too short to have your head brush the ceiling, simply went over to Floyd with no problem, the poor eel having a wounded look on his face from being brained by the bus.

"Ouch... Koi fishie, my head hurts..."

"Oh no!" You smiled comfortingly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Floyd flashed a pair of disconcertingly cute puppy eyes. "I want a kiss!" he yelled.

The bus went silent, Riddle turned slightly in Trey's lap but went back to sleep. He sighed, relieved. Idia was now huddled against a seat in terror while Lilia and Malleus suddenly looked very interested in your conversation. Leona's ear twitched but he continued to nap, still on Ruggie's lap. The hyena had jolted at the loud noise, but went back to sleep just as quickly, curled over Leona in a position that was definitely not good for his back. Jade sighed, smiling at you sheepishly. Azul just looked exhausted by Floyd's behaviour.

Kalim glanced over, momentarily interested, but went back to showing Jamil something on his phone, which his retainer obligingly payed attention to. Cater was giving you a knowing grin while Vil and Rook seemed to be ignoring this conversation. Crewel, thankfully, was napping, headphones on so that he couldn't hear any of your conversations. Floyd continued to look at you beseechingly. You had blanched at first, shocked by his audacity, but decided complying to Floyd's request wouldn't hurt.

You leaned in and pecked him on the forehead. "Better?"

Floyd looked disappointed, cheeks slightly flushed. "...I want a real kiss."

Jade suddenly spoke up in warning tone, "Floyd." He smiled threateningly. "You don't want to harass our senior, do you?"

His brother responded quietly, turning over to his twin. The two started whispering furiously, making you give up on even trying to talk to them. You decided to sit next to Azul, who had found sanctuary by sitting in the aisle opposite the twins. The Housewarden smiled politely at you, quickly closing the book he was scribbling in with a snap.

You momentarily glanced at the suspicious book, and Azul's nervous behaviour didn't do him any favours. The octopus was sweating slightly, so pityingly, you decided to spare him an interrogation.

"Azul, do you happen to know the time?"

The man sighed in relief, and replied with a glance to a pocket-watch he pulled out from his dorm uniform. "It's currently 7:30."

You thanked him and then realised, with an impeding sense of doom, that you would have to spend another 45 minutes on the bus with this group of... informal men. It really was a good thing that you decided to never tell your brother about this trip. Bored out of your mind, with Jade and Floyd still whisper-fighting, you remembered something very important.

"Azul." The boy perked his head up from his phone, giving you his full attention. "If I recall, you happen to be a part of the board game club, yes? Maybe we could play a card game or two while waiting to arrive at our destination!"

Azul blinked, but then a wide, menacing grin took over his face. "Yes, let's! I do happen to have a deck of cards here with me." He rummaged through a small bag, then glanced towards Idia, who squeaked. "Idia! Would you like to play a game of poker with (Y/N) and I?"

Ortho answered for him, flying over with stars in his eyes. "Big brother would love to! Can I play as well?"

You smiled at your adorable junior. "Of course!"

Lilia floated over, Silver now slumped over his bag while Malleus made sure he was strapped in with a seatbelt to not fall off. "May Malleus and I play too? Your human games are quite... intruiging." He flashed his teeth at Azul and Idia, who had been dragged over by Ortho, causing the two to pale in fear.

You answered for them, "Sure! That makes... 6 players." You were very excited to play such a fun game with your friends, and started buzzing in excitement. Luckily for you, you had learnt to pack your belongings very tightly in your sleeves so they wouldn't fall out from you shaking in joy.

Azul cleared his throat. "Alright then, would anyone else like to play?"

Kalim jumped up, raising his hand like a kid in class. "Ooh! Are you playing a card game? I'd love to play, what about you Jamil?"

His retainer sighed slightly, then shrugged. "Sure, why not."

Jade and Floyd had stopped their argument by now, and glanced over, slightly intrigued.

"I'd like to play but..." Floyd pouted. "Azul and Jade always cheat! I can never win..."

Jade chuckled, "Now, why would you say that Floyd? We would never cheat with such distinguished people. We are perfectly trustworthy!"

Idia muttered something under his breath and Jade turned to him, movements uncanny. "Is there something you'd like to say, dear Idia?"

The Housewarden of Ignihyde froze. "No-not at all!" He looked like he was about to hide under the chairs in fear, so you reached over to pat him on the back for comfort.

Rook and Vil shook their heads when Azul prompted them for an answer, and Trey and Cater couldn't play due to the volatile bomb on Trey's lap. Leona opened one of his eyes and glared in warning, Ruggie still sleeping over him.

"Then that makes 8 players. Does everyone know the rules or should I explain them?" Azul asked. "Oh, and by the way, I will take on the responsibility of being the dealer first."

Malleus looked at Azul. "If you'd please, fellow dorm leader, I would be very grateful for an explanation of the conditions for this game."

A line of sweat dripped down the side of Azul's face. "Of course, now, pay attention since I will only explain this once!"

The poker game was an... experience to say the least. Azul had won the first game, though not without a valiant fight from Jamil, Idia and Jade. Lilia, Malleus and Ortho were learning the ropes and wrapping their heads around the rule. Meanwhile, Floyd and Kamil were too busy trying to master card tricks, where you move cards via sleight of hand that you tried to teach them how to do. Of course, this was all part of your master plan. You categorised each player's reactions to the 'better' and 'worse' hands they were dealt, and very quickly, you could accurately guess what they had in their hand. Counting cards was a trick you were taught a long time ago by your grandmother, who was a master at diplomacy. She had chosen to either beat or lose to an opponent in a game to achieve the outcome she wanted, and taught you and your mother how to do the same.

This resulted in you testing out your strategy for the second game, in which Jamil and Jade insisted that Kalim and Floyd pay attention. Idia won this round, though Lilia had quickly mastered the game and gave his poor, shy classmate a run for his money. Malleus was still struggling, and seemed to have horrible luck in these games, though his poker face was just as good as you'd expect from a Crown Prince. Jamil, Jade, Idia and Azul were also very good at hiding their feelings, though with the amount of practice you had from trying to guess your grandmother's expressions, they were no match for you.

And so, you put your plan into action for the third game. And the fourth.... and the fifth, before Azul had thrown the cards off of your makeshift table in a fit of rage. But before the boys could interrogate you on your, very suspicious, wins, the bus came to a halt. You took that opportunity to stick yourself to Crewel like glue, recounting the tales of your victory to the teacher who listened indulgently, a slight smile on his face.

Crewel congratulated you on showing those boys a bit of modesty, saying: "It's good that you took those pups down a peg, our students have always been quite proud... but the Housewardens are even more so. Perhaps I should have all of you play another game tonight..."

You smiled in reply. Seems like this trip was going to be more fun than you thought.

[1] Thaumarks is the official english translation of madol! Just an FYI for those who don't know [2] Sunshine Lands is a canon location that I got from this video, apparently, it's a map from the new chapter? It sounds and looks like a beach location so... [3] Miss koi fish/koi fishie is reader's nickname since they're very popular in China, and are bred to be very pretty! Koi may look similar to goldfish, but they are not of the same species so... I'm copping it for our dear reader.

Mini Theatre (Y/N), doing her best not to insult her friends: They're just quite... excitable, and they're risk takers so... that's a good quality. Plus they're not afraid to stand up for themselves... they're quite honourable! Her brother, reading these text messages: So you mean to say they're completely reckless trash who keep on getting into fights. (Y/N): Well... they also are very friendly, and are very different from the people back home! Her brother: Dearest sister, please start speedrunning the stages of grief you are in, I cannot deal with this constant denial.

so that was the first part of the beach ep! i'll be posting these every day until we reach the end of this mini arc. if you enjoyed the writing or are interested in the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 10 months

Text

A long distance

Oneshot Summary; You’d never really done long-distance relationships, but never thought they could be that hard. But now Price is away, deployed for at least two months, and not able to give you much more info than that it could run longer. And you learn it’s hard, really hard.

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 5.8k

Warnings; angst, fluff, suggestive theme but no smut, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: AHHHHHHH one step closer for these two to finally get together😭

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

"I'll be gone for two months, perhaps". John's hand runs up and down your spine, some stray water droplets smearing along your skin.

That seems like a short time for deployment. But you keep your thoughts to yourself and don't question John. You angle your face towards him, hair sticking to your naked upper body, still damp from the shower the two of you had taken. "Perhaps?" You ask instead.

"Sometimes things tend to run a bit long", he hums in response, his gaze meeting yours. His hair hasn't dried, still shining and plastered to his head, a drop trickling down his temple. You rise onto your elbow, pressing it into the mattress of his bed, the hand that previously rested on his equally naked chest stopping the watery trail with a swipe of your fingers. It stains his skin in a shiny see-through path down to his beard.

"Okey, good to know".

He'd said it on a Sunday, the one wrapping up your weekend stay at his place. The Sunday a week before the next when his leave wrapped up.

But it hadn't felt like a goodbye. Not when you'd gotten a few more sweet hours with John. You lounged in his bed for a bit longer and John had picked up a book to read as you lay there. You cooked lunch together that you ate on his patio.

It still hadn't felt like a goodbye as you packed your things and headed to the car. Of course, with John carrying your bag. Especially not when he'd dropped it by his feet and caged you in his arms, 'don't you wanna stay a bit longer' whispered in-between kisses.

What felt like a goodbye, however, was yesterday.

Thursday. It was such an ordinarily dull day for the heavy feeling that evening had settled in your chest.

The day began like any other of your working week, getting up at a reasonable hour and going down to have breakfast at your little coffee shop. For an hour or two, you sat there answering inquiries from new and old clients. You walked home after that, sitting in your study for an hour or more before lunch.

The routine would've continued if it hadn't been for the call you'd gotten around two o'clock. You'd happily answered when you'd seen John's name light up your phone.

And yet, the second you'd did, there was something different within his sweet sentence of 'I've got some pastries from your bakery, thought I could come over'.

When you'd swung open your door for him about twenty minutes later, you also saw the difference. Not only had John gotten a trim, his hair cropped, but still just long enough to twirl around a finger at the top. He carried himself differently, shoulders squared and spine straight, standing to his full height.

It's a sweet afternoon and night with John. It always is. But, the difference you noted is ever-present. You initially thought it was the looming presence of his upcoming deployment. It played a part, you came to realise, but it wasn't the sole reason.

Each time you gazed into John's eyes, they didn't feel as deep, as if a wall blocked you from reaching the softness he otherwise offered you freely. He was less expressive but still as, if not more, intense. You wouldn't call it overbearing, but there was an air of authority around him. He sat straighter, never slouching, always facing you enough that your eyes averted more from his blues than usual. You tried to play it off with a shake of your head in reaction to what he said, a dip of when you spoke or something like that.

You also noticed his right arm pressed close to his body, his hand resting just below his waist at the hinge of his hip, fingers tapping against the muscles of his upper thigh. Meanwhile, his other hand rested on the table.

When he talked, his sentences weren't curt but bare, not that John was a poet otherwise, though once again, there was a difference in all noticeable aspects of him tonight. A difference that if he hadn't shown interest in what you'd done the past few days or if you had any plans coming up, you would've given the impression he didn't want to be here.

And then he did something. It was a quick flash, enough that you could've missed it if you blinked. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he tipped his head to the side with a sharp nod to something you'd said. You clocked it then, Captain.

With so close to shipping off, he slipped away from the secure and calm John Price and into the assertive leader of Captain. It wasn't bad, per see. It was still the blue-eyed man you'd gotten to know the last month sitting opposite you, not an alter ego. At the same time, it explained the minimal distinctions you picked up on and the new things you learned about him.

You paid close attention to him the rest of his stay, taking mental notes of what you detected. The most prominent of factors, you realised, was that it seemed he weighed between his off and on-duty self, not settled into either. The more time you spent with him, trading smiles, soft brushes that turned into caresses and later hugs, a kiss on the cheek he returned on your lips as he faced you, you realise gentleness is what he came for. And, the more you showed him, the more he returned.

You and John had laid on the couch for the past hours, watching a few episodes of a series you'd begun following together. He rested behind you, arm slung over your waist for comfort. You felt his deep breathing against the back of your neck. Until now, it had been steady, but then he sighed, the puff of air against your skin working as a silent forewarning as he shifted slightly.

He didn't need to say it. You'd gotten better at reading his signs now.

"Need to head out?" You bring up the subject for him, earning another sigh before he answers.

"Yeah". You shuffled to sit up, glancing down at John as he remained horizontal on the couch, looking up at you. "Don't finish it without me", he mused about the show, currently paused after three episodes. A flash of John, you noted upon the carefree smile toying with his lips directed at you.

"You know I won't". You flashed a smile in return, standing up, John following you as you headed towards the door.

It hit you then, as you watch him step into his shoes and take his jacket from the hanger. John was leaving for two months. You tried not to let your mouth turn downwards. Yet you couldn't help how your eyes flickered to the floor.

"Goodbye, love". It sounded so heartfelt.

Your eyes flickered to meet his gaze and you must've done a piss-poor job at hiding that this was hitting you harder than you'd thought.

"Goodbye, John", you returned, chancing a smile. "Be as careful as you can". He didn't say yes. He didn't nod. But a softness broke through whatever shield he'd slowly started to build to protect himself and others for his upcoming deployment.

Your eyes fluttered close as you stepped up to him, swiftly rising on your feet, arms winding around his neck. You didn't say anything, just hugged him close to you, wanting that last intimacy with John before he left.

His arms encircled your waist, acting as grounding weight as he pulled you even closer. You soaked it in, his warmth, his firm build, the imaginary sensation of his beating heart against yours.

You only pulled away for him to let your hand slide through the finely trimmed hair at his nape to settle beneath his ear, thumb resting on his bearded cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

It began as a peck from you until John chased after your lips with his. He bowed his head, somehow kissing up into you despite being taller, as he deepened the intimate goodbye enough for your head to tilt back.

'I'll miss you' and 'I'll be waiting for you' rested on your tongue, but rather than parting your lips and pressing your tongue against your teeth to form the words, you swallow, forcing the utter cliches into the growing pit in your stomach. Too desperate, too constricting, according to the rational part of your brain.

"When you're back, will you call when you can?" You parted from John with a tilt of your head, gazing into his eyes with a small, shy smile. It gave him space, time, a choice.

"Will do". It didn't sound like an order taken, not from how the sides of John's eyes creasing preceded the answer.

Your eyes flickered from his, just for a second, with a slight nod. But those seconds earned you gentle fingers along your lower jaw. His baritone voice, smoothened into a new gentleness, followed the brush of his fingertips.

"Hey...". John leaned his upper body slightly backwards, hips shifting forwards, his already bowed head dipping to eye-level with you, browse raising just slightly.

God. John didn't need to say more to reveal he noticed the difference in you, much like you'd noted his during the evening. You offered him a small smile in return, earning you a lingering kiss on your lips.

When you parted for the final time, he opened the door and stepped backwards, keeping eye contact with you as his hands buried in his pockets.

You step forwards, gripping the door handle as you give him a small wave before the hand falls to the door's edge. He can't fight off his lips from curving upwards as he spins on his heel.

The image of John's shoulders swaying as he makes his way down your complex's staircase, one of his hands coming up to the back of his head, only to be dragged down the slope of his neck and fall by his side, is the last thing you see of him before his deployment.

....

The first week went by with you processing the feelings John's last visit dropped on you like a stone.

The second week went fine. Just live your life, becoming the mantra.

In the third week, you worked, ate, and went out as if it would've been any other time in your life.

Week four was a good one. Halfway through. You smiled and laughed a lot during this week.

In the fifth week, the intrusive thoughts trickled through, the dangerous what-ifs. You battled them by spending more time at the bar with Marissa, keeping her company on slow days.

She pointed out how you wouldn't have any nails left if you kept up the bad habit. You hadn't even noticed you'd sometimes gnaw at them when falling into the pit of worst-case scenarios.

In week six, you asked Marissa if she needed help in the bar. You knew she saw through your request, knowing it was more a plea than an ask. Nevertheless, she gave you days to come in, three days in the upcoming two weeks.

You knew she did the maths. You'd mentioned when John said he would be back.

In week seven, Marissa took you to a manicure. You felt fresh, good, for once, as you dressed up and spent the night enjoying dinner together.

In week eight, you counted down every day. Every single one until Sunday. It came and then went. And then come Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday.

John wasn't home.

You finally had the breakdown you'd put off for so long.

You'd sat down with your dinner and put on the TV to watch something mind-numbing, only for the first thing to pop up was the series you and John watched. The dams burst then. You couldn't stop the quiver in your lip and watery lines down your cheek. Head dipping, your face fell to your hands as you bent forwards over your crossed legs.

Your chest shook, breaths heaving. You and John weren't anything, no label. You talked, you went out on dates, so maybe you could say you dated. But further than that? You hadn't talked about seeing each other exclusively, not even if it would lead to something down the line. Nothing, really. And here you sat, waiting for him like an emotional fucking wreck.

Your dinner had been tasteless as you put on music rather than the TV. You slept like shit that night, falling asleep harder than it should, tossing and turning, only to wake up throughout the night.

On Thursday, you wake up with crusty evidence of the restless night on your cheeks and the corners of your eyes. When you enter your bedroom, you eye your reflection in the mirror, noting how you look as shit as you feel. At least, you could do something against the former.

You take a shower, the water easing your muscles somewhat. Stepping out of the bathroom with your entire body and hair routine done made you feel like a functioning person.

You walk down to your coffee shop and buy a takeaway with the new pastry, hoping it could lighten your mood. When you settle on your couch, you throw your blanket over yourself as you open your computer, planning on working some while eating your breakfast.

And then your phone goes off.

You glance at it where you'd place it on the table, thinking it's Marissa or another friend, only to see the caller ID displaying neither.

You hurl yourself forwards, laptop slipping off your lap and thankfully to the side of the couch as you practically throw your breakfast plate on the coffee table. You answer the call within seconds of the phone being in your hand.

"John?"

"Hello, love". His greeting immediately soothes your nerves that came closer and closer to tightly drawn strings each day over the two-month mark. "Remember you said I should call when back at base". Your lips curl inwards. You blink, head tipping backwards until you stare at the roof upon the smile you hear in his voice. He's alright. He's back. You feel the tears threatening to come, the relief overwhelming.

"You there, love?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, just...". You stop yourself from rambling by taking a shaky breath that you slowly release to steady your heart. Trying anew with a relieved smile emerging upon finally talking to John again. "Thought I said you should call me when you had time?"

"Initial debrief all done, so don't matter how long we've been back", he says with a chuckle, making your eyes widen at the implication.

"John, don't say you just got back?" That makes a laugh ring through the speakers from his end, a hearty one.

"Not just. A few hours ago". You shake your head, unable to wipe the smile from your face upon hearing his laugh.

"Surely you have more pressing matters to take care of?"

"They did a med-check", he informs you. "The rest can be dealt with later. Wanted to speak with you". And there you could melt through the floor, all the emotions from the past two months welling into a concoction that welled over upon hearing.

"Happy to hear from you", your voice cracks slightly at the end and you cringe, hoping John didn't catch it. But you know he's observant, perhaps even more tuned in after recently returning from the field.

"How are you?" His question is slow and he must press the phone closer to his face as his deep voice becomes stronger over your speaker.

"I should be asking that question". You chuckle slightly, more out of embarrassment than anything else. That's why you shift attention towards John rather than answer his question. "Did everything go well?" It was a loose formulation of the same question he asked you.

"Mhm, got delayed 'cause we got held up", John says, keeping it vague enough he can indulge you. "Otherwise, yes". You nod as if he could see the action.

"And you, John, the rest, you all doing good?" Even though medics had checked him, that only calmed you enough to know he didn't get any life-threatening injuries or his call came from a hospital bed.

"Alive and kickin' the lot of us".

"Okay, that's good", you sigh, slumping backwards on the couch, finally able to relax. You can hear John exhale on the other side of the phone, shuffling in whatever seat he's in.

"I'll have some things to get done before I can leave, maybe a week more on base, but-". John stops himself and you wait for him to find the words he's searching for. "Thought about stoppin' by once I'm off if you'll let me?"

"God, yes, John, of course you can", you don't hesitate to answer on the brink of being too rushed.

Perhaps that's why you hear a smile in his voice when he replies. "I'll let you know when I've wrapped up before I'm on my way".

"Do so", you nod repeatedly, barely able to get the words out. Feelings slowly start to creep up on you again. You're going to see him. "Lookin' forward to it".

"Me too", you return softly on an exhale, eyes closed.

Speaking your soft bye's, you hang up, yet you sit there, smiling to yourself in the silence.

John's back.

That week was simultaneously the fastest and slowest among the past nine. Compared to the others, you looked forwards to each day, knowing each one meant a day less until meeting John. At the same time, it felt like they could never be over fast enough, time mocking you in your desperate state.

And then, finally, comes the day when calls, 'Leavin' soon, do you want me to make any stops on the way?' You've never breathed out a faster 'No, you're more than enough'. He'd chuckled before you bid your goodbyes.

You cleaned your apartment in the meantime. Not because you wanted to greet John with a casual mess, well, you didn't want that either, but your nerves made you unable to sit still. Bustling around your living space, you cleaned it until it looked almost spotless. The only thing battling the sterile smell of cleanliness was the fragrance sticks you placed about, a gentle vanilla and milky aroma spreading about.

When your doorbell rings, you stop yourself from dashing towards your entrance, not fancying to be out of breath when you greet John for the first time in months.

You take a deep breath on your way to the door. It's been two months, not the first time, so stop acting like this. You took another deep breath as your fingers flipped the lock.

As you opened the door, all previous thoughts went straight to hell.

"Oh, John". He chuckles when you step towards him, engulfing him in a hug. With your arms winding tight around his neck, face burrowing in his neck, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

His warm breath puffs against your shoulder. His firm body wraps securely around you. He smells faintly of body wash and beard oil. John's character comes to life again. He's here.

"Gonna let me in?" He asks but doesn't release you to let you lead him inside.

"Just a little longer", you mumble. That's when you feel something wet touch your lips as they brush John's neck. So does he.

Against your will, John pulls away from you, urging you to do the same with a hand on the back of your head. You have to fight the whine in your throat when you let him pull you out of his neck and for him to see your face.

"You alright, love?" His hand slips to your cheek, wiping away the droplets rolling down your face, worry bleeding into those blues. You nod, yet new wet lines trail down the same path.

"I'm good. It was just-". You clench your jaw as you feel a hiccup rise in your throat. "I-It was harder than I expected", you breathe out.

Something changes in John's eyes and you fear it for a few moments, wondering if this was the last thing he needed just when returning. But he doesn't roll his eyes and he doesn't sigh. John does nothing that suggests he's tired of your antics. Instead, the arm around your waist loosens somewhat until his hand settles on your hip.

John nudges you to step back and you do. Simultaneously, his hand falls from your face and closes the door behind him. The two of you are silent as he steps out of his boots and hangs up his jacket.

You feel small as you watch him with water beading your lower lashes and occasionally creating a fresh trail down your cheek, hands clasped in front of you, standing there as though frozen. But John doesn't push you away as he does, nor ask for you to give him some room. Instead, when he stands straight, he breaks up your wringing hands and links your fingers, leading you into your apartment.

Trailing a few steps behind John, your eyes flitter over his back until he turns, eyes locking. You hadn't noticed he guided you to the couch until he released your hand and sat down.

He opens his arms wide, motioning for you to sit. You don't shy away from crawling into his lap, straddling his legs and once more winding your arms against his neck, burrowing your face between his neck and shoulder. And much like before, John pulls you near, one arm around your waist and one around your shoulders.

He begins stroking your hair. You feel a never-ending shiver in your body, goosebumps spreading over your arms and legs. John's shirt starts to get damp from the gentle roll of tears down your cheeks. You don't hulk, but your nose slowly gets clogged, making you sniffle.

You sit like that for a few minutes until you calm, tension easing from your limbs, breathing evening out and tears drying up as you finally can take deep breaths through your nose.

John must feel how you melt against him, finally able to relax in his hold since he'd left two months ago.

"Wanna tell me about it?" It's a gentle question and John doesn't urge you to meet his gaze. He solely continues stroking your hair.

You know what it is. It's how you've kept up during his absence. "First month was alright, second I started to worry about you". You stopped there, remembering all the 'what ifs' that plagued you. As if knowing what those entailed, John hums.

"Know those can be hard", he agrees with a rub of his bearded face against the side of your head. A gentle bump of comfort as you still hid away. "How'd you cope?" His voice was soothing, a deep rumble in your ear making you melt further into him.

"Worked. Asked Marissa for a few shifts down at the pub as well", you respond. Once again, John hums before he speaks.

"Didn't overwork yourself, did you?" You shake your head.

"She wouldn't give me more than three shifts a week". You remember how Marissa refused to give you more hours, knowing your proneness to overwork yourself.

"Good", he said matter of factly.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience", you noted, finally leaning back to face John. His hand on the back of your head slid to cradle the side of your neck.

"I do". John looks up at you, thumb circling a spot on your waist. "With the amount of paperwork I have, it's easy to lose track of time".

You smile, shaking your head. "Said I would take care of you if it's so meant paperwork or not". John chuckles slightly. "And here I am, a fucking mess". No more tears are falling, but you still wipe your lower lashline and cheeks with your sweater.

"It's alright, don't mind it". You let out a burst of choked laughter at the reply.

"Well, it shouldn't. You must be tired and-". John interrupts you as he leans up and kisses you. It's the first one since he's come back and you effortlessly fall into it as John shifts your head to the side with the grip on your neck.

"Havin' you back in my arms is more than enough as a welcome home", he says once parting from you, soft-looking blues gazing at you.

"Still want to do something nice for you". You pout slightly, but John brings his thumb to the edge of your mouth, teasingly tugging it upwards. And you can't, in fact, help but smile at his silly attempt at turning your lips the opposite way.

"There's time for that later, love". He shifts a little, steadying you against his front as his back faces the rest of the couch before he falls backwards, bringing you on top of him. "All I want to do for a moment is to hold you". And there's so much behind his words, which makes you worry he can sense your whole body flush where you rest on top of him. So you shuffle. Not only to hide what his sweet words made you feel but to lay comfortably between his legs instead.

"Okay, I'm not arguing against that right now".

John smiles at you as your hand settles on his cheek, bringing him in for a short kiss.

You lay like that, losing grip on time. But it's needed for you both. John relaxes beneath you as your fingers come to card through the locks at the nape of his neck, his hair longer since the last time you saw him. And you feel each fibre of worry in your body vanish when his fingers, which had found their way under your sweater, trace non-distinctive patterns against your skin.

Occasionally, you press a kiss to his throat, cheek or lips. Other times, John places one against your forehead, the side of your head or mouth.

It's slow as you bask in each other's presence once again. You feel how something grows in the intimate space of falling back into the old, yet there's something new alongside it. You treasure the feeling, but at the same time, you wonder what will come next. It feels like you and John took steps forwards in your relationship when apart. And now, when back together, those steps brought you to this, basking in feelings of unhurried comfort and safety.

A gentle nudge of his nose against yours brings you out for your thoughts.

Your eyes re-focus on John. The ever-present softness in his eyes is accompanied by amusement, probably having noticed your mind wandered not to something that wasn't bad.

"You fancy goin' to the pub?" Your brows raise. Shit, you completely forgot.

"I didn't break a tradition now, did I?" You ask. John only shakes his head.

"You didn't break it. I did". Your mouth falls open as you begin pushing up on John's chest, but before you can speak, he interrupts both attempts by tugging you against him again when he continues his sentence. "And don't start with you bein' the reason, said to the others that I had somethin' else to do before goin' to Marissa's. They overheard our call a week ago, so they knew, said to invite you if I decided to join them".

You warm at that, unable not to break into a big smile. You're calmer, the void in your chest healing upon having John back, so you nod.

"Yeah, alright, that way, I can say hi to the rest as well". This time, John lets you rise and stand up from the couch after kissing you.

"Will keep them off my back if you do, they've been askin' for you since last time". You glance over your shoulder with an amused look towards John as he sits and then pushes off the plush sitting cushion, following you.

"Have they now?"

"MacTavish's nosey", he said with a shrug. "Can't stop yappin' when bored. Sets of Kyle and for someone who doesn't talk too much otherwise, Ghost enjoys speakin' his mind when the others bring you up".

You chuckle, walking into your bedroom and over to your closet, desiring a change from your sweats into something decent for public settings. As you bend to pull out your pant drawer, you notice John leaning against the doorframe out of the corner of your eye.

You pull out a pair of linen pants, strip your sweatpants and throw them on your bed. In the edge of your vision, you see John shift slightly, arms crossing over his chest, but you also sense his eyes rove over your bare legs. You catch the repressed huffed grunt as they supposedly sweep to your ass and underwear. It's a plain cotton pair, not the 'barley anything there and see-through' kind, but still cutting close to a thong model.

You turn when you pull your pants over your hips, smiling as John's eyes remain cast downwards, latched onto the sight he seemingly enjoyed before you catch the zipper between your fingers, fastening the loose linen in place and hiding any bareness or underwear from him. Only then does his gaze flicker to meet yours.

"You're teasin' me". John accuses you with a cock of his head.

"I'm changing", you reply with a smirk. It wasn't untrue, but you notice how it affected John. In response, he scoffs, his chest puffing out.

You can't help how your eyes dip following the action and continues down his front.

It's been two months since you've seen him and John looks as good as ever. But there was something with him at the moment, something rugged he perhaps hasn't shaken from deployment that still clings to his large frame taking up the entrance of your bedroom.

You'd touch yourself to the image before you, his return and whatever sweet guarantees it promised. It had never been enough, not after all the pleasure his hands, mouth and cock had spoilt you with. Sometimes you'd given up in frustration, puffing as your fingers didn't do it and your vibrator didn't give you the satisfaction you'd hoped. Sometimes, those destroyed moments set the rest of the day afoot.

Your eyes snapped back to John's when he cleared his throat.

"If you continue with that, you can't use dressin’ as an excuse".

You shrug. "You're not the only one who's missed someone's company. My finger doesn’t really cut it anymore". You turn, not before catching John's groan as his head falls sideways with eyes closed, thudding against the doorframe.

"Fuckin' hell love, say things like that and we need to wait before goin' down to the car".

You giggle, the implication of John's words lightening something in your stomach. I wouldn't mind, could take care of it for you, you think.

You beat down the feeling in your stomach and your dirty mind. Instead, you focus on rummaging through your shirt drawer.

"Maybe you should take a drink tonight. Calm yourself. I can drive", you tease John as you pick a white sweatshirt, pulling it over your head. Summer verged on autumn now and the weather was still warm, but evenings got progressively colder.

When your head exited from inside the fabric, John's before you, apparently having wandered from the entrance of your bedroom. And, the second your face is visible to him, his hands settle on either side of your face, bringing you in for a kiss.

"Don't need it when I'm gonna have you later", he kisses you again despite your emerging smile.

"Can you wait that long?" You breathe against his lips.

A low sound ripped itself from John's lungs. "I'm a patient man, love. I can wait if it means I can take my time ruinin' you later". Your lips dropped open around a sharp inhale.

"Fuck..." I missed this. You harshly bit your lips to stop the word from tumbling out. Instead, you glance away, exhaling amusedly. "Maybe I'll need that drink".

Your reply made John chuckle. "You deserve it", he says, hands falling to your waist, making your eyes flitter back to him.

"No, I need it. You deserve it", you return. "You said everything went well whilst away and Marissa bought in an oldie I think you would like".

His brows arch in intrigue. "What kind?"

"A 22-year-old Ardbeg". His brows raise as he whistles, impressed.

"Can't spoil myself like that", he shakes his head, making your eyes roll.

"Then I have found one way to treat you good. And the boys for the matter".

He cock his head, brows knitting together. "Can't let you do that, love".

"Sorry, customer service won't answer until tomorrow morning", you reply, which makes John's head dip with a slight shake.

"Mactavish and Kyle are celebratory drinkers".

"In this instance, I support that. Because they should be when coming home from what seemed to be as successful as deployments come". You nod with a pleased expression making John chuckle as his eyes lock with yours.

"Can't win this one, can I?"

"Nope". You pop the P.

His lips quirk slightly then. "Only think you'll be more popular with the lads".

You giggle, shrugging as you look up at him through your lashes.

John's hand settle on your cheek and you lean into his touch. His thumb brushes your cheekbone before he leans close, your noses touching. He hovers for a few seconds before finally pressing his lips to yours.

You sigh. Yeah, you missed this too. You missed John. Your hands settle on his chest, one promptly sliding to his side, fingers pressing into his shirt as his tongue coaxes yours to play.

When you part, he looks down at you with something so evidently there but something you still can't place. You adore this moment, but knowing the two of you should get on the move not to arrive too late, you try to urge John to come with you as you attempt to step out of his hold. But he only pulls you back.

You look at him for a few beats, silently questioning his action.

"Glad to come back to this, you". John says, voice reaching a new depth.

And despite whatever rational part of your brain had stopped you from saying it when he left, your heart won this time as it melted and coated your reply in something sickly sweet rather than red.

"Can't be more happy that you're back with me".

With John's eyes practically shining upon your words, it makes it worth every fucking syllable.

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