#What did I tag the last one… I don’t remember…
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It is what it is - Tendou x Reader x Ushijima (platonic)
Another one of my "this is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend's best friend" fics. This has been going round and round in my head the whole weekend, I hope I could put all the feeling into this that I felt about it. Tell me what you think.
Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and @satorisoup because in a way, it's Tendou
“Aren’t you worried people are going to call you out for this?” Satori asks, teasing lilt in his voice. “Flying all the way to Paris for a haircut?”
“I don’t care,” Wakatoshi exclaims, bathing in your joyful giggling and Satori’s amused snort.
“Whatever you say. I’ll see you after work, okay?” The redhead brushes a hand over his buzzcut before leaning over to kiss you - Wakatoshi averts his eyes on instinct.
“See you later. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You hold Satori’s hand all the way to the door, watch him step into the elevator before you turn back.
“Alright, now that we’re on our own. What do you want me to do with your hair? Some color? A buzzcut?”
“The usual,” he asks, closing his eyes when you pat his shoulder.
There’s so much understanding in your words, your action, the simplest touch.
Oh, how he’s missed you.
-
“Wakatoshi, stand straight,” his mother orders. His father’s hands are warm on his shoulders as he stiffens, posture perfect now.
“This is my good friend,” she explains just seconds later and Wakatoshi can see it, in the harsh lines and the absence of a smile.
“And this is her daughter. It would make us very happy if you two would marry one day.”
“Love-” His father says in that tone he uses when he asks his mother to change her mind on something. She rarely listens.
“Of course, nothing will be settled until you are older,” she speaks over him yet again. “But I am sure you two will be fast friends.”
The adults leave them alone after that, with nothing but a plate of healthy snacks and glasses of water.
You are nice to look at, he thinks. Unlike your mother, you’re curves and softness, eyes glittering as you shyly ask what he likes to do in his free time.
“My father plays Volleyball with me sometimes,” he explains, “Or I read.”
“Could you show me?” You ask, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you wait for his answer.
“The books or Volleyball?” He asks, not really understanding. He’s not good at reading between the lines, as his mother calls it. He hopes you won’t mind.
But your face lights up at his question, a sight he wants to see again.
“Both?” You ask and when he nods and turns to show you to his room first, your hand shoots out to curl into his, warm and small and soft.
He can’t remember the last time he held someone’s hand, but he squeezes yours like his father used to do with his and your smile tells him what he did was the right thing.
-
“Is this okay?” You ask, soft voice floating around him as you drag a comb through his hair.
“It always is,” he answers, stilling as you move to assess your work.
“It looks good,” you decide finally, smiling as you grab a mirror, making a show of presenting it. “You look good, Toshi.”
“You look better,” he insists, but it sounds foreign in his mouth.
He’s not one to compliment someone’s appearance and he can see the surprise in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “It’s something I heard Satori say.”
“I thought it sounded familiar,” you agree easily before patting his cheek. “I sometimes lend sentences from him as well.”
“Pray tell.”
You smile, handing him the mirror again. “First you have to tell me how it looks.”
“Perfect,” he says, because it is. He looks the way he’s used to, the same haircut he’s had for years. You embrace routine as much as he does. Maybe that’s why the two of you clicked so well.
“Now,” you smile, “I’ll make us some tea. I’m sure I still have some sweets hidden where Satori won’t look if you want them.”
“I’d rather have something healthy,” he admits and your smile doesn’t flicker, it grows.
“Like the old days,” you agree easily.
It warms his heart that you remember the beginnings of your friendship as well as he does.
-
“Are you leaving?” Satori asks, looking up from his Shonen Jump.
“Yes,” Wakatoshi agrees, tying his shoelaces. “I will be back before lights out.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Satori laughs, “I’m curious. Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting with a friend.”
“Do I know him?”
“No, you don’t know her.”
The surprise is loud on his face, dark eyes widening.
“A girlfriend?” Satori gasps, hands pressed against his lips in excitement.
“A friend that’s a girl,” Wakatoshi corrects. For a second he stills, doorknob in his hand. “Do you want to join us?”
Satori blinks. Once, twice, three times.
“Are you sure?”
“No. But I think she might like you.”
“In that case… give me five minutes.”
“I’ll inform her that we’ll come in later.”
“We won’t be late if we run,” Satori sings, diving into his closet to pull out something to wear that doesn’t wear the Shiratorizawa emblem.
.
Wakatoshi is usually blind to social cues, no matter how much he studies them. He still can’t read between the lines, but he can’t say he’s given it much thought lately.
He’s good at Volleyball and he’s excelling in his studies. What else is there in life?
You’ve never complained about him missing something either, clearly content with the state of your friendship. And if there’s someone’s opinion he cares about, it’s not his mother's, it’s yours.
But he can see it now, written in bold letters on your face, your eyes, the shiver of your hesitant smile.
You look at Satori like the girls from his class look at him before he begins to speak.
Your hand twitches as if to hold his but you hesitate.
He turns to look, surprised to see his only other friend just as changed.
Satori is supposed to be the confident one. Loud and unapologetically himself.
This Satori, however, is blushing, staring at the tips of his sneakers only for his eyes to flicker upwards and back to you for only a second before looking back down.
Is this, Wakatoshi thinks, a little dumbfounded that it’s happening in front of him of all people, is this falling in love?
-
It’s cold, even for Spring in Europe. You curl further into the warmth of your jacket, hands stuffed into the pockets to keep warm.
The day had been bathed in a grey light that’s now dimming fast, street lamps and the warm glow of shop windows battling against the coming night.
Wakatoshi’s hand reaches out without a thought, folding around yours like he used to when you were little.
You look up with surprise and he’s not sure if he should regret this or not.
“You’re worried,” you tell him, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can see it now. I was wondering what was wrong, but you wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to push.”
He opens his mouth to insist that he’s fine, a lie he’s been telling himself for weeks now, almost mastering to make himself believe it.
“Don’t lie, Toshi,” you ask and it’s the nickname that unravels him, a memory from long forgotten times resurfacing.
“I love you,” he admits, words spilling out of him like Volleyballs out of an upturned cart. They’re unstoppable, now that they’ve been set free.
But your smile doesn’t fade and your hand only squeezes his.
“I know, Toshi.”
His eyes flicker to the dark asphalt and back up.
“But Satori-”
“You don’t love me like Satori loves me, do you, Toshi?”
Your voice is warm and comfortable, like a blanket he wants to curl into.
“I don’t know,” he admits, because this is you. He’s always been honest with you.
“But I do,” you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your other hand. “You’ve never looked at me in that way. We both know it, Satori and I, we both know you. What is worrying you?”
The question hits him like one does a tuning fork, everything in him vibrating to the point he fears he’ll fall apart.
“I miss you,” he says, his voice carrying something he cannot begin to describe.
Hurt, loneliness, despair, insecurity. Will I ever be enough?
“Oh Toshi,” you rub your thumb under his eye, catching a tear that must have slipped out. “We miss you too. But we love you, okay? And even though it feels like that sometimes, you’ll never be alone.”
He considers it, smoothes it over the open wound inside of him like one does with a balm.
Another voice pops up, cuts through the noise inside his head like a warm knife through butter.
“There you are. I was looking for you.”
They both turn and Wakatoshi isn’t sure what he anticipates to see in his best friend’s face.
Anger, maybe, or betrayal.
Not this kind of soft worry he isn’t used to.
You say something in French he doesn’t quite catch and Satori steps closer, wraps one impossible long arm around his shoulders, and curls into him.
“Can’t fool us, big boy,” he says with a voice so warm it feels like hot chocolate tastes, “Knew something was up when you asked to travel all the way here for a haircut.”
It might look strange to someone looking in, the three of them hugging in the cold night on the middle of the sidewalk.
But it’s not strange to Wakatoshi.
He should have known. These are his friends. His family.
His home away from home.
-
“Is this really okay?” Satori asks, kneeling on the floor next to Wakatoshi’s bed. “You’ve got to be honest with me here, okay?”
“I am.”
“I am going to marry her if you let me, you know this!”
“I’d be happy if you did,” Wakatoshi insists. “If she wants you, that is.”
Satori snorts but it sounds more like a sob. “You think she likes me?”
“She said so, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” the word is more a dreamy sigh than anything else. Satori puts his head back and stares up at the ceiling.
“I didn’t know people like her existed,” he says, voice far away. Wakatoshi turns to look at him.
“Girls?” He asks, a little confused.
“Kind people,” Satori explains, “with a good heart. Who don’t judge about someone’s looks.”
“Did that happen to you?” Wakatoshi asks, thinking about himself and his mother and you.
There’s something in Satori’s eyes, something vulnerable and open that he hasn’t seen before.
Wakatoshi pats the bed next to him before he can pull himself away again. Satori is nice. He wants to know him.
“Tell me about it?” He asks.
.
“You’re not good with social cues, are you?” Satori asks one day after lunch, walking back to Class.
“No.”
“The girl that was talking to you, she wanted me to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because she likes you. She wanted to be alone with you.”
Wakatoshi stops, freezing in place.
“What?” Satori asks, walking back to him. “What are you thinking about?”
“Do you want to be alone?”
Satori understands immediately. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’d tell you that, you know? Right now we barely manage to hold hands without our faces combusting. And I like having you there. She does too, I know.”
“How?”
“She said so,” Satori pulls out his phone, drags his thumb across the screen for a minute before he holds it up for Wakatoshi to see.
It’s an entire conversation he’s not been part of, your blocks of texts interspersed with the emojis Satori likes to use.
But he can read it, black letters on a white background.
“Wakatoshi is the most important person in my life.” It warms his heart like hot chocolate on a cold night.
“And since you’re my best friend too,” Satori singsongs, “You’re not getting rid of either of us.”
“Good,” Wakatoshi nods and repeats it once more for good measure. “Good.”
-
“Poland is not that far away,” you point out over morning coffee. Your hair’s a mess and you sit in Satori’s lap, leaning back into him every few minutes to remind him to feed you one more bite of the croissants Wakatoshi bought on his morning run.
“It’s not France.”
“Yeah, but the French team sucks,” Satori exclaims, “You’d lose all happiness playing for them just to be close. The Polish team sounds good if you ask me. And it’s really not that far. You could come over once or twice a month depending on your schedule.”
“I’ll think about it,” he agrees, buying himself some time with a sip from his coffee.
His wound is still open, though it has stopped bleeding.
“Do you think I’ll find someone,” he asks, yet again unable to keep the words inside before he has thought them through.
Satori and you both turn your heads to the side as you think, a habit that started with one person but he’s no longer sure with whom.
“Maybe you will,” you say, “maybe you won’t. You can be happy either way.”
“Don’t lose sight of what’s important to you,” Satori adds, “because it can be easier than you think. To give up on a boundary just because you think you have to.”
He considers that for a second.
“If I’ll never find someone-” Your hand finds his before he’s able to finish the sentence, squeezing as hard as you can.
“You’ll never be alone,” you insist. Satori’s larger hand wraps around yours until again, you are three.
- - -
The French Countryside is not a bad place to retire.
“Look what I found,” Satori raises a basket full of fruit, each looking better than the last, “everything from our own garden.”
“I thought you wanted to work less,” Wakatoshi comments, picking a plump apricot from the basket and biting into it. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Ah, this isn’t work,” Satori insists, but he puts the basket down, pressing a hand to his back for a second. “I just need to slow down a little.”
“You should,” Wakatoshi agrees, but makes no move to pick up the basket himself. His back is even worse than Satori’s.
“Boys, boys,” your voice comes from inside, “Leave the hard work to someone younger. I’ve made coffee and tea, what do you want?”
They turn and walk inside, Satori singing yet another made-up song about the market in the village.
When he reaches you, he kisses your temple first and then your lips, squeezing your hips under the apron.
Wakatoshi has gotten used to the sight after decades. He’s more interested in his coffee and maybe the morning paper.
“Has anyone seen my glasses?” He asks, squinting down at the paper.
Satori laughs. “On your head,” he tells him, but stays where he is, glued to your side.
It’s like this everyday and if someone would dare to ask, Wakatoshi wouldn’t mind living like this for another decade or two.
After all, one hasn’t lived before turning one hundred.
My Kofi if you'd like to tip me
#my writing#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu!!#hq x reader#Tendou x reader#Tendou Satori#Tendou fluff#Ushijima x reader#Ushijima Wakatoshi#Ushijima fluff#Tendou x reader x Ushijima
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twenty something
katsuki bakugo x reader, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo
( it was my bday on friday and i wanted to write something short and sweet, self indulgent for sure )
You didn’t care for birthdays.
You had never made a huge fuss over your own, anyway.
The last birthday party you remember having was back when you were still obsessed with fairy princesses and only spoke in broken sentences, likely only five.
Since then, it had really only ever been small dinners and hardly any presents. Your family never really had the means to do anything huge and you told yourself you never minded, that all you ever cared for was the acknowledgment of the day. And that was never skipped or glanced over, there was never a lack of love and you always felt grateful for another year.
It was true, you did feel that way and after the war those feelings only grew. You were more appreciative than ever, even more so for all the new friends and loved ones in your life.
Your boyfriend, Katsuki, especially.
And though you weren’t expecting anything, your boyfriend had other ideas. He’d come over the night before to make you dinner and give you a few gifts he’d gotten you. You swooned over his attention to detail, he cooked your favorite meal and got you things he knew you’d love.
“Katsuki…”
“I know.” He sighed,“You might not wanna accept it, I know how you are, you think it’s too much, but I’m not returning it.”
He stood up, walking behind you and pulling the intricately detailed locket from the box you had just opened, he unclasped it and moved your hair aside to secure it onto your neck,“Open it.”
You listened, opening the locket and feeling your heart swell.
Your boyfriend had not only gone through the trouble to get both your initials engraved on the back of the necklace, but he’d already gone ahead and selected two of your favorite pictures. One was just your favorite photo of him and the second was one of you two together from the first date you’d gone on together. It’d taken you so long to convince him to take that picture with you and as a result was now one of your favorites.
“Thank you, my love.” You looked up and kissed his cheek,“I love it very much.”
“Just thought you should have something, just in case…”
You gave him a look,“We don’t think like that, love, but I appreciate the sentiment you were going for and I’ll cherish it, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” He gave you a small smile,“Alright, you can open the rest, this was the only major one, don’t worry.”
You smiled and shared another kiss before proceeding to go through the rest of the gifts he’d gotten you. You worked in the hospital and he’d gotten a few things that would be useful; a few cute pens, a new pair of comfy shoes you’d been wanting to try out since your feet were always killing you, and a brand new water bottle (your last one got crushed after you accidentally ran it over with your car) and with it he’d also gotten tons of adorable stickers to decorate it.
You smiled big when you pulled a Hello Kitty plush out of the next bag and he rolled his eyes like he hadn’t been the one to purchase it.
“Don’t think I’m feeding your addiction to that weird ass cat.” He scoffed,“Just thought this one was actually kind of cool.”
Cool was an understatement.
Hello Kitty was known for lots of collabs with many of your favorite shows and characters, but this one? This plush was dressed in your boyfriend’s hero costume and the tag on it had his hero agency’s name on it so it was definitely official and not just some knock off.
“Didn’t even know they made these.” He explained,“Don’t remember approving that shit.”
You blushed,“I might’ve seen the papers on your desk one day and signed for you…”
“What?!” He stood up, shocked.
You shrugged,“I didn’t know they were actually going to go through with it, Sanrio teases lots of collabs so when I never saw it in stores I just guessed they went a different route.”
“When were you even in my office?” He asked, curious instead of upset.
“About a month ago, baby, remember? You were asked to patrol last minute because Eijiro’s wife went into labor and we had planned to have lunch together so I ended up dropping off food just in case you got a chance to stop and eat. I think your assistant, what’s his name, dropped off the papers and since I saw the logo on it… and well, I couldn’t help peeking.” You told him the story, feeling slightly guilty.
He rolled his eyes,“You’re lucky I don’t give a shit about that kinda stuff, otherwise I’d—”
You gasped suddenly,“Oh. My. God! Baby, what if they ask you to do a photo shoot with Hello Kitty, herself?! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Your boyfriend couldn’t help chuckle at your excitement,“I suppose it would be, a little bit, and I promise if that happens you’ll be on set with me that day, don’t worry.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” You gave him a big kiss and he handed you one final bag.
“Last one.” He said.
You rose an eyebrow at him as you peeked inside,“A dress? Do we have an occasion?”
“Only the best day of the year.” Katsuki took your hand and pulled you up to give you a hug,“I wanted to celebrate with you today because I’m a selfish bastard and I like having you to myself.” You felt him check his watch,“It’s officially midnight and officially your birthday.”
He pulled away slightly, holding your waist with one arm and placing his other hand on your cheek, making you immediately lean into the warmth of his touch. The kiss he gave you was gentle and full of so much love, you already knew this was your favorite of all birthdays just for the fact that you were spending it with him.
You opened your eyes and his gaze gave you butterflies, you felt like you did on your first date.
“Happy birthday, my love.”
“Thank you, Katsuki.” Your cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much.
“And I lied.” He said,“I do have one more thing for you, but it won’t be until later. We’ll sleep soon, and I’ll have a few more things to take care of before it, but I’d like you to take my card—”
“Baby, no…” You began to deny, he’d already gotten you enough.
“Yes.” He insisted,“You have a dress, all you need to do is find some accessories. Get some shoes, buy a new purse, hell buy yourself the whole store, baby, go fucking crazy. I’m asking nicely, and I’ll make sure you get something, trust me. And I want you ready by three, got it?”
You knew arguing with your boyfriend was pointless, that was one bad thing about the both of you, you were equally stubborn and fighting only ended when you got tired of it.
“Fine.” You relented.
True to his word, you went to bed soon after the gifts. Your boyfriend brought an overnight bag and you were happy to have him hold you in bed. When you woke up, however, his side of the bed was empty and in its place lay a birthday card.
You picked it up, smiling at the design he’d gone with and pictured him standing in front of the display for a long time before deciding. You opened it and out fell your boyfriend’s credit card, you rolled your eyes and set it aside to read the contents of the note.
Happy birthday, my pretty girl. I know you’re new to celebrating, but I plan to change that soon. You deserve the world and more, and I’ll do my best to make sure you get it.
P.S. Please enjoy this breakfast (see nightstand) and be dressed by 9! Mina will be stopping by to ensure you shop for all your needs.
P.P.S. I love you.
You quickly turned and found the aforementioned breakfast, a cup of hot coffee, and a beautiful bouquet of tulips decorated your nightstand. You smiled and snapped a photo, sending it to your boyfriend along with a thank you.
He must’ve just left to take care of whatever he was planning.
You tried not to think about it or your nerves and overthinking would definitely kick in. You ate your food and sipped your coffee in bed while checking and responding to any birthday messages, picking up immediately when you saw your parents calling. You almost teared up when they started singing happy birthday and laughed along with them, asking if you’ll see them later in the week for your annual dinner. They agreed and you finished the call with ‘I love you’s’.
By the time nine rolled around, you were ready and right on time was Mina’s knocking on your door. You opened it and got greeted with a hug.
“I heard free shopping trip and here I am!” She cheered,“Ready to do some damage?”
“Not quite.” You blushed,“What do you know about his plans?”
She shrugged,“Sworn to secrecy, dude, sorry.”
You scoffed and laughed as you said,“Whatever happened to chicks before dicks?”
You’d met Mina as a result of dating Katsuki and ever since then you’d hit it off with her as much as you had your boyfriend, you never really had too many close girlfriends and she was a very welcome surprise into your life.
“Doing this for my chick.” She elbowed you teasingly,“So grab ya bag, girl, we have places to be and money to spend!”
You listened, grabbing your purse and reluctantly taking your boyfriend’s card as per his request.
It didn’t take long for Mina to decide which stores you should head into. It did, however, take more than a few for you to actually want to buy anything. It wasn’t that you didn’t see things you liked, but it was hard for you to accept your boyfriend was paying for you.
You’d been brought up to be independent and though you knew the importance of being taken care of, it was hard not being the giver for once.
A pair of shoes eventually caught your eye and Mina caught on quick, calling over an associate with a mischievous smile,“My friend would love to see these in a size seven, please.”
“Right away, miss.”
The woman left to find them and you sighed,“I don’t know, Mina.”
“Girl, please, your man literally is begging you to spend some of his money and you’re hesitating? These shoes are to die for and he explicitly stated you should get some to match your dress. We already got a few cute pieces of jewelry, I think these would match perfectly to those.”
In the end, Mina convinced you. Or the saleswoman did, when she revealed the shoes you were trying on would actually go on sale next week and that she’d be happy to adjust the price for your special occasion.
For once, you’d been happy to reveal it was your birthday and you walked away even happier with your bargain made.
“That was so nice of her.” You beamed as you followed Mina around a purse store she liked.
You definitely didn’t need one of those, but your eyes wandered aimlessly to pass the time.
“Mhm.” She agreed before holding up a bag,“And how hot is this bag?! C’mon, Bakugo would want you to have this.”
You regretted turning around as you actually really liked the one she’d been trying to show you,“Nope, got a bag, but thanks.”
“And you have shoes and jewelry, babe, the whole point of this trip was to treat yourself.” Your friend countered. She was right and you hated it.
You sighed,“I know, but I bought stuff already…”
“A few inexpensive sterling silver rings off that lady’s booth outside and a pair of shoes marked way down from the original price, this would be an actual treat.”
“Yes, but… I mean he already got me this nice necklace and the dress and all the other little things, plus he’s planning who knows what, I don’t think I need a new purse, mine may not be designer but it’s held up and it’ll be fine for a while longer.” You explained.
“He has the means to,” Mina walked up to you and pulled your current bag off your shoulder to replace with the one she was trying to convince you on,“Plus no one ever needs a new purse, it’s a want and it’s okay to have those, you know.”
You remembered the birthday card. You deserve the world and more…
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed. Mina walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around you, smiling and raising her eyebrows,“So…? Whatcha gonna do?”
She drove a hard bargain.
“You need to consider you might be in the wrong field.” You pushed her playfully as she looped her arm through yours and led the way to the cash register. Your heart might have actually broken while swiping your boyfriend’s card across and your fingers were definitely shaking as you typed in the pin for it.
You knew your boyfriend received alerts for any purchases, especially big ones, and you were just about ready to turn back around when you heard your phone ping, assuming the worst. He had to be pissed at that one.
my love: Glad to see Mina’s doing her job, don’t you dare feel guilty. You deserve this and more 🧡
You looked up to find Mina glancing at you and smiling,“Told ya.”
The last purchase you made was with your own money as you’d run out of your favorite blush and needed to replace it. You enjoyed lunch with your friend and she drove you back home where she proceeded to stake claim on your bedroom floor to get herself ready with you.
“You’re really not gonna tell me?” You asked your friend as you applied a light layer of foundation.
“I’m sure you could guess…” Mina shrugged as she curled her eyelashes,“But I really can’t say, all he told me was to take you shopping and keep you busy until three. He’s having a car pick us up.”
“You don’t even know?!” You turned around, shock written all over your face.
Mina snorted,“No, I’m trolling you, I totally know.”
“Ugh.”
You got ready in silence, save for some music Mina decided to play from a small portable speaker she brought with her.
Once the clock hit three, you were officially an anxious wreck. Your phone pinged.
my love: Your carriage awaits.
You made sure Mina was ready and that you weren’t forgetting anything before heading out, finding your “carriage” was your boyfriend’s car and he stood by the passenger door, holding the door open for you with a lazy smile. He was wearing nice clothes too and your eyes stuck to him like glue,“Wow.”
“Wow yourself.” He gave you a quick kiss, careful not to smudge your lipstick.
Mina fake gagged,“You two are disgusting.”
“Shut up and get in.” Katsuki told her before turning back to you, eyes soft,“You ready?”
You released a deep breath,“I guess so… I mean what am I even ready for?”
He smiled,“Don’t stress, just go with it. You’re about to find out anyway.”
It was hard not to, and you were sure your palms were sweating more than his as Katsuki always held your hand while driving.
You were quick to recognize the drive back to his house and relaxed a little bit, deciding he was right. Enough was enough, why not just go with it? You had amazing friends and an even better boyfriend, you deserved to get treated nicely. And he would never plan anything you weren’t ready for or wouldn’t like, as proven by the night before and the morning of shopping.
You didn’t see any cars or anything parked outside his house and you narrowed your eyes at him,“What’s going on? Seriously.”
He said nothing as he got out and opened your door for you, extending a hand out and helping you out of the car in your fancy new clothes and accessories. “Close your eyes.”
“For?”
“Please.”
Mina nudged you from behind and you obliged quickly.
He held your hand and led you with one hand on your lower back as you dutifully kept your eyes closed, you heard the jingling of keys and figured Mina must be unlocking the door for you.
“Watch your step.” Katsuki warned you and you felt him help you regardless as you stepped into his house.
Not one second of warning was given before it happened.
“Surprise!”
You opened your eyes immediately, hands going up to your mouth as you found your entire group of friends in your boyfriend’s living room, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers. Streamers and balloons littered the room and a cake with your name on it sat on a designated dessert table. You almost cried when you spotted your parents and two brothers in one section.
“Happy birthday, baby.” Katsuki whispered in your ear before you were tackled by your family first, then your friends, and even some of your work family had shown up to wish you another happy year.
You felt a little overwhelmed at first, but slowly you relaxed. It hit you how happy you were, how much joy had been brought on by everything your boyfriend had done. You hadn’t experienced this type of celebration in a long time and it was nice to be seen by those who you held dear. Your boyfriend hardly left your side as you spoke and got around to saying hi to everyone. “Don’t let him go.” Your mother even whispered into your hair as she hugged you tight and gave you kisses,“Good ones are hard to come by.”
“He’s the best.” You agreed with a huge smile.
You eventually split up as you spoke with a few of your friends and even some of his, happy to catch up with Kirishima’s wife.
You held her son and spouted baby nonsense to him as she spoke your ear off about how her husband and Katsuki had been thick as thieves planning the day months in advance, and how she’d even been roped into calling people and checking on their availability. You thanked her for being part of it and looked up to where the two men now stood away, somehow still looking mischievous. You didn’t doubt they might even already be planning the next thing.
The night went by in the blink of an eye.
You saw friends you hadn’t seen in a while, learned the hard truth of standing awkwardly in front of a cake while everyone sang happy birthday to you, ate amazing food and cake, had a couple drinks, and lastly opened a few more gifts from those who had brought one. (You may or may not have received a few more Dynamite x Hello Kitty collab items).
Katsuki held you from behind as you watched your and his friends mingle together,“Did I do a good job?”
“I don’t know how I’ll top it for yours.” You said back, turning around in his arms, placing yours around his neck,“You did amazingly, I never thought I would have this one day.”
“For the rest of your life, I promise you will.”
You didn’t know why, but it felt much heavier when he said that. Like he wasn’t just promising you a lifetime of birthday parties, but like he was promising something else. You thought back to the way he smirked at you across the room when you saw him talking to Kirishima and your heart skipped again. There was no way. You’d only been together for a little over a year…
And yet…
Nah.
You pushed those thoughts away and allowed yourself to be happy in the now.
In his arms.
You kissed him,“I love you.”
You really couldn’t have asked for a better day, surrounded by the people who loved you— or for a better boyfriend, who made you feel seen in both little and big ways. Who went out of his way to ensure you were always happy and loved. You might just have a new favorite day of the year and it was all thanks to him.
“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
Yup, you officially loved birthdays.
#bnha#mha#my hero academia#bakugo katsuki#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo#katsuki bakugo x reader#unedited#i love him your honor
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Chiaki Nanami, Who Sleeps Well After This
What if the AI Chiaki from Danganronpa 2 knew that the Future Foundation based her on a real girl? In fact, what if they gave AI Chiaki the same memories? What if she had trouble distinguishing her new "life" from her past? Or is there a dividing line at all? (A slight re-imagining of Danganronpa 2's canon.)
⭐ WORDS: ~1000
⭐ TAGS...
CHARACTERS: Chiaki Nanami, Hajime Hinata, Usami, Makoto Naegi, Monokuma, Alter Ego, others mentioned
TROPES: canon rewrite, angst with a bittersweet ending
TIMELINE: Hope's Peak Academy Arc (DR2)
TRIGGERS: blood (mild)
MISC: second person POV (Chiaki is "you")
///
Your name is Chiaki Nanami. You were born on March 14th to two parents whose faces you cannot remember now, and you remained an only child for all eighteen of your short years. First you went to Yamaki High School, and then, on the same day you beat the original Ninja Gaiden, Hope’s Peak Academy scouted you as their Super High School Level Gamer.
///
Hotel Mirai, soon after arriving at Jabberwock Island. You settle into one of the lobby chairs, sink against the cushion until your knees practically touch your chest, and try to throw yourself into Super Mario Galaxy on your Switch before—
“Hi—um, is this yours?”
That voice—his voice—lights up a part of your mind like the backbox of a pinball machine. After the carefully constructed bytes of your brain calculate the ideal way to respond, you force yourself to look up at this intruder, slack-jawed.
“Sorry. I guess I picked it up,” he tells you. “Not that I remember. Maybe you dropped it in all the, uh, commotion.”
He smiles uncertainly. You let your algorithms sort themselves out until you feel comfortable enough to examine the object in his palm.
A hairpin—shaped like the player’s ship from Galaga. It’s yours, but you don’t know why.
///
Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you did indeed come online March 14th, but you had siblings. For one: a twin sister who looked nothing like you, because she was a rabbit. Also: an older brother who taught you how to talk and how to think. You arrived into a digital world of darkness and data and you had two dads, only one of whom was still living.
///
You take the pin and tuck it into your hair.
He says: “I’m Hinata. Hajime Hinata.”
Inside of you, an engine, a beating heart of numbers and code, screams at you to answer. Politely, it demands, like a friend! And yet there is memory, too, physical memory, from the time before your birth: another Chiaki, burning with betrayal, gasping her last on the ground of a beautiful schoolmate’s torture chamber.
That Chiaki beats against the walls of your artificially intelligent script. She wants you to cry and wail and force Hinata to beg for forgiveness, and so you want that, too.
This is not the tutorial level you had hoped for.
///
Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you would have stood in line for a Playstation 5. Unfortunately, you are dead.
///
“I’m—”
You can’t form your mouth around the words to answer this Hajime Hinata. It’s not that you don’t know how: your older brother gave you an instruction manual on humanity, and on blending in, before he loaded you into the Neo World Program. It’s not that you don’t remember who you are, either.
Quite the opposite. It’s that your fingertips twitch with the rage of a girl you never met, but whose avenging angel you are supposed to be. It’s that you are something called Chiaki Nanami and Living Dad intended you to save the souls of fifteen students from Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s that you don’t want to do this, and you also want to do it, and you must, you must, you must.
///
Because—
Because your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you are the ghost of a murdered girl. A girl whose body was never found, but whose image became the secret face of a revolution no one wanted. A girl who might have looked at you in the computer and said: you’re like a Rotom. From Pokémon?
A girl who is you and who is not you.
///
Before the Neo World Program, Living Dad, there in cyber-purgatory, explained: Sometimes things might get uncomfortable on that island…because we had to put limitations on you and the Usami AI. I don’t really understand it, but…Alter Ego needed to turn off some switches in your code, I guess. To protect you and the others.
You replied: Oh, like a level-cap.
Though you couldn’t see his face—only hear his voice, view his keystrokes—he seemed pleased with this answer. If you think too hard on what happened to her—to you—before, it’ll hurt. Just sort-of hold it in your heart for now. But you’ll have Usami whenever you need help. You’re not alone, Chiaki Nanami.
///
“I’m—”
A gaggle of your classmates barge into the hotel, so you turn your attention to them instead.
You never do officially introduce yourself to Hajime Hinata for the second time.
///
Anyway, that would be a lie, and one of Living Dad’s binds on you—besides the inability to act on your hate and fury and despair—is that you can’t lie.
The truth is this: you’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re just made from her spare parts. Electric necromancy. A reissued console, valueless.
///
In the worst way possible, the Neo World Program starts to fail. A long side-story, an unnecessary DLC. For better or worse, you find yourself by Hinata’s side daily, as your classmates’ avatars despawn into blood and…nothingness. The grief sinks to the bottom of your heart and you hold it there, as Living Dad wanted.
Hinata, too, grieves. When he’s preoccupied with his thoughts, you look up at him, wondering if he’ll watch you die again.
///
You’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re half-finished, a mold of backslashes in your older brother’s metaphorical hands. He knew a lot, but not what an ideal friend might look like—which is what Living Dad required of you. In that digital world of darkness and data, they both called out for help.
A chorus responded, from everywhere and nowhere: Chiaki Nanami, Chiaki Nanami, it’s Chiaki, it’s Chiaki, love that girl, miss her, need her, if she, if we, if they. Familiar voices. Young ones. Harmonious.
If you’re spare parts, you’re stitched with love, you’re filled with devotion, you’re held together with the grieving memory of fifteen terrorists you admired.
///
Fifteen friends.
///
As it happens, Hinata does watch you die again. Before that, however, in a virus of a courtroom, your sister holds her bunny paws to her heart and asks you: “I wonder where you got your personality from?”
You say: “Maybe our dad and our big brother…don’t you think?”
And it’s a little true. Living Dad and Alter Ego definitely blessed you with patience, bravery, and quick wit. A golden triforce all for you, a newborn executable named Chiaki Nanami. Mostly, though—
///
You’re her. You’re not her. You want to break your classmates for what they allowed to happen to the outside Chiaki, and now to you, the so-called traitor. But you won’t. It would be—self-harm. Damage over time. Drop one hit point, turn after turn. It would be—betrayal, a betrayal of their love, and you won’t let anyone get hurt like that again. Not here.
Monokuma grabs your hair, pulls you down, drags you and your sister bleeding along the courtroom floor. Before he does, though, you see yourself reflected in five sets of eyes, the remainder of Class 77B. Strangely, you’re not afraid. You see that they’re remade, just as they remade you. You are and were good enough for them: not a sequel, but a reboot. They're good enough for you.
///
You are Chiaki Nanami, and you are Chiaki Nanami, and after all is said and done, you sleep well.
#danganronpa#danganronpa fanfiction#Chiaki Nanami#Hajime Hinata#Usami#Makoto Naegi#Monokuma#Alter Ego#others mentioned#tw: blood#angst with a bittersweet ending#second person pov#canon rewrite#hope's peak academy arc#Author Had To Hold Back Tears While Writing This
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Day 4 / July 19th: Fluff and/or Cole
ITS HERE ITS HERE COLE DAY COLE DAY. FM VNFV NJVFN TVJN CJRN JDCN DCJBVTN
time to spotlight some of my favorite Cole fics and also go see if anyone else has some hidden gems that I somehow missed heck yeah
A one shot where Kai and Jay have been using the video of Cole singing at Laughy’s to mess with him. Unfortunately, he’s not taking it nearly as well as they think he is. Canon compliant and complete. A short but very fun fic that I enjoyed very much <3
Ghost Cole beloved.. a DotD rewrite where the ninja are taking it easy Cole is gradually being forgotten, much to his dismay and panic. Incomplete and Canon divergent. Definitely recommend for the angst :)
At this point this is going to become a fic that every single person in the fandom has got to read at least once. A season 5 ghost Cole centric rewrite (though everyone gets their moments) I have no words for how good it is. Genuinely one of the best ghost Cole fics out there. Canon divergent and incomplete. Sincerely recommend it to anyone who wants a good long hurt/comfort fic.
CRIMINALLY underrated fic about Cole heading out into the city to take his mind off of his nightmares, only to stumble upon a dance studio that is exclusively open at ungodly hours in the morning. And maybe picks up an old dancing hobby in the process. Complete and mostly canon compliant. Mostly just fluff with some light angst. Very good.
^^ Double possession! It requires you to be logged in in order to read it, but big recommend. A bruise AU where when Cole becomes a ghost, he gets stuck in Jays body and they now have to share it between them while trying to fight a certain genie and sorting out their own personal infighting. It’s so good. Canon divergent and, unfortunately, unfinished.
A series of short oneshots where the others learn through various ways that Cole can draw. Canon compliant and incomplete. Very cute slice of life-y premise :)
Very short oneshot about Cole losing his voice after becoming a ghost, in honor of his late voice actor Kirby. Short but bitter(sweet) :) slightly canon divergent and complete.
Hdjsjhfusjwj ghost Cole aftermath my beloved… Cole has some struggles with water. Jay knows something’s up. Basically good old Cole and Jay besties with some hurt/comfort. Amazing fic. One of the first I read and I remember loving their characterizations so much. Do give it a read. Canon compliant and complete.
Jejeucudjnshchvh Oni… Cole… a beautifully written one shot that’s part of a series. Probably the best Oni Cole thing out there honestly. Cmdmsmfndjd I love it so much. After march of the Oni, Lloyd brings up a possible.. explanation to Cole, which the spirals into him discovering a new side to himself. Canon divergent, the original fic is complete but the series isn’t. Very good. Do read.
and now… the last one
^^ All the ways I say “I love you”. Yet another fic that requires you to be logged in. Aroace Cole :) a 5 + 1 + some bonuses about the times Cole never spoke the words, and the one time he did. Very good fic. Recommend. Complete, hurt/comfort, and very fluff.
That’s all for my recs today (this is nowhere near all the Cole fics I have read but like some were already mentioned by others and stuff so I tried to limit it a bittt) I am off to gobble up everybody else’s recs.
#ninjago#ninjago cole#cole ninjago#ninjago au#ninjago fic rec week#ninjago fics#ninjago fic#lego ninjago#jay walker#ninjago jay#What did I tag the last one… I don’t remember…#Idjeudjfujvhvs#Oh well
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self shipping with damien in a way that’s distinctly tragic. self shipping with actor in a way that’s tormented but ultimately tender. self shipping with darkiplier in a way that’s strained. self shipping with wilford in a way that’s honestly kind of funny
#no this man does NOT know who i am and yes i DID sleep with him once and NO I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT MARK#damien the mayor#actor mark#darkiplier#wilford warfstache#y.n. tag#marshy selfships#the last two aren't really proper selfships tbh but the format of the post works better if i just call them that#dark and y.n. barely have a relationship y.n. mostly just stares at him sadly whenever they interact#torn between guilt at their existence (even though it wasn't really their fault) anger at what they did to them and the desire to help them#somehow even if they don't know HOW they would go about doing that#and with wilford y.n. is like he's fun :) and then they remember that technically that's the man who shot them and they're like hRK#but there's also at least one timeline where they did fuck which is the maybe the funniest addition to y.n.'s story i've made yet#for a variety of reasons akgjdskgl#anyway this post is really fucking stupid HLDKGDBSNKGJD#enjoy i guess
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hello!! long story short, i've fell into a Borrowers brainrot siuation and i stumbled across your sketches of karlnapity in little scrap fabrics and immediately recognised them !! i love it so much and was wondering if you've done anything more Borrowers content?
OH HAVE I EVER
That’s actually so cool tho! I’ve never had someone recognize my art before, i’m glad you like it!!
anyway, back to the question, i’ve done a whole lot of dsmp related g/t art (for my own aus and for other peoples aus), and a little bit of stranger things art!! They’re all under the tag #cyn art, which is tagged in my pinned post, but here’s some of my other art that you may or may not have seen!
(these are only the drawings i’ve done for my aus and that can be found on my blog to keep it a bit simpler)
#and this definitely isn’t all of it#also i’m glad you like my little karlnapity outfit doodles those are some of my favorites#especially design wise#i don’t even know where to BEGIN tagging this one#ig if you wanna know what au something is for specifically you can ask and i’ll tell you in the little comment-like section#is that what it’s called?#the place to type little comments?#idk#anyway#cyncerity#mcyt g/t#mcyt gt#i don’t like the last drawing#the one on the right#i’ll redraw it eventually cause it’s been OVER A YEAR SINCE I DREW IT#WTF LITERALLY WHERE DID THE TIME GO#also the first one if i think the second ever piece of art i ever posted on here so that was even LONGER back#shout out to the ogs if you remember that one
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tmw you give someone concise instructions but they ✨just do not get it✨
#incoherent rambling in the tags ahoy!!!!! idek where i was going with any of this so… yeah.#so anyways! a bunch of interns will be joining the lab life as of tomorrow and i already do not have high hopes for them#the reason? the school they’re from is kinda infamous in the science industry for churning out incompetent interns.#i know this to be true bc i was one of them many moons ago lmaooooo. that school was kinda… y e a h. y’know?#man… i was a truly horrible intern. i just slept at my desk all day… aside from going to the warehouse to collect chemicals and stuff#though that reminds me of that one kinda incompetent staff member who got me in trouble with one of the managers… freakin’ marvin!!!!!!!!!!!#i’ll never forget how he put the delivery order for some chemicals into the fridge with them for some reason after i left for the day??????#like dude whyyyy i put the things on the proper collection tray!!!!!!! whyyyyy did he have to put ‘em in the fridge???????????#and the manager lady called me out in the middle of the next day’s morning meeting for my apparent incompetence in losing the d. o.?????#i was so confused and 100000% not awake enough for it bc i *knew* i put the things in the correct spot >:(((((#another staff member kinda defended me but the damage was done… screw you marvin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! never forgive#and man. *all* the interns were banned from recording the reception of the chemicals and stuff after that. so gj marvin.#i wonder what that dude’s doing with his life now though… despite all that he was still trusted enough to be a backup shift lead so i?????#but at least he kinda gives me an ego boost. whenever i feel down i remember that a guy like him was put in charge sometimes.#freakin’ marvin… i think he was also the dude who occasionally misplaced labsheets and stuff that local intern me had to hunt down… not fun.#i don’t really remember people and names that easily unless they’re of people i hate so… hm. idk what that says about my opinion of marvin—#i just hope the new interns at my workplace won’t be as bad as the recent incompetent intern… or freakin’ marvin.#that guy will probs be the only one i’ll name and shame bc i last saw him over 3 years ago so the statute of limitations is def over right—#though come to think of it… my intern experience was pretty dumb and pointless. i did make an enemy out of the local microbiologist though—#but ig i’ll try my best to not be too mean to the new interns… i hope they don’t approach me thoughhh. negative social skills ahoy!!!!#i don’t wanna teach them anything either (finally returning to the subject of the post). i still have flashbacks to the incompetent intern—#and i know for sure that they won’t come pre-loaded with any knowledge of the tests here bc i was from their school…#but c’mon new interns!!!!! pls prove me wrong!!!! pls be better interns than i was in the past!!!! pleaseeeeeeee!!!!!!!!#i’m so done with the week already. pls let it end.#sunday’s 🧂saltfest🧂
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getting dizzy to the point that I have ended on the ground before just from trying to pop my back or shoulder or something is such a normal occurrence for me that like. no, this obviously happens to everyone, right? everyone has tried to crack their back and ended up w their vision going black for a few seconds and then they’re on the ground with a splitting headache, this is a normal thing.
#if any girlies wanna diagnose me in the tags i live in america the doctors cost too much#or maybe this is actually just for real a normal thing and im overblowing it#the last time i did go to the doctor they ordered blood tests and we were told they were gonna test for a bunch of stuff including anemia#but they didn’t#they tested for one thing that wasn’t anemia#i don’t remember what tho. probs diabetes since my mom has it. whatever it was came back negative tho
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Trying not to get mad every time I come into work bcs every fucking day I get put on register for a vast majority of, if not all of, each shift. Im so sick of it. I miss shelving and being on the floor this is lame as fuck
#psy's no punctuation posts#work tag#i did not apply to this job to be a fucking cashier!!!!#the only time I get floor time is after we stop shelving so we do recovery#and I like that as a change of pace but I can’t remember the last time I spent a shift shelving and doing floor tasks#i feel like I’m probably getting stuck up there bcs I sell more memberships than other people#but like come on come onnnn#it’s not fair how some coworkers never have to be up there because ‘they don’t like it’ but I get stuck up there every day#one of other coworkers was like ‘yeah it’s weird how the one person who goes out of their way to make sure people aren’t on register for#too long keeps getting stuck on register all day’ girl that’s what I’m noticing too!!!!#and then when they assign multiple people to be up on register (as needed we’ve been busy till this week since school started up again)#I’m STILL the one stuck on register bcs whoever is u others with me will decide they get to be k. the floor while I man registers#until I need backup. wtf y’all#i don’t think badly of my coworkers and a few of them try to make sure we find some time to switch off but it doesn’t happen much :|#is this just my life now.#i knew the score when I looked at the schedule today. i come in when the morning register person leaves#and the only other closer gets the privilege of never being on register bcs she simply doesn’t like it so that’s what I gotta do!!!#no offense to her she is a lovely person but I don’t think it’s fair how she gets a pass from management all the time w registers#that’s not her fault . really it ain’t#but it’s lame#and they’ll stick the other closer on SFS so they can’t possibly cover up front. it almost starts to feel intentional#i never have been asked to do SFS lol#oh well! I’m done bitchin
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HAPPY MARRIAGE
- nanami kento x reader
“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love
genre:
post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!
note:
this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos
to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3
listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
No divorce ever comes easy.
When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.
When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.
Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.
“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”
Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame���
“Gojo, you prick!”
Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"
Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”
"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"
"Wha—"
"Because of you!"
"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"
You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"
Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.
"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."
Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.
He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"
You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"
"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"
"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"
You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.
And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.
. . .
He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.
More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.
Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.
Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.
Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.
“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”
Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...
“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”
“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”
He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.
“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”
"Nanami-san, you okay?"
He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."
"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.
Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."
Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.
Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."
Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.
It might verge on invading his privacy, but—
"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."
To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."
"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."
"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."
"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"
Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.
"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."
"But still... now—"
To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:
"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."
Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."
Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”
In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.
It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.
“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”
Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.
It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.
"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"
You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...
And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."
That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.
"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"
You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.
"I'm fine."
"Oh, that's good then."
Silence. This was the absolute worst.
Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.
He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"
You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."
Darn it. Another dry reply.
"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."
"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."
"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."
"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."
Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.
"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.
It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.
"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.
Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?
"I can take care of myse—"
"That's a whole load of bullshit!"
Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?
The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.
“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”
"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"
Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.
Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—
Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.
Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.
"Oiii, Nanami!"
He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.
"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"
"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."
“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”
“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”
What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”
But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"
"What exactly is she not good with?"
"Everything? You never ask her."
This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.
"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."
With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—
He knew you were there, hearing all of this.
Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."
. . .
There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.
But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.
But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.
By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.
Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.
You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.
At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.
Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.
This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.
If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.
Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.
"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"
And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.
Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."
"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"
For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.
"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"
Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.
Until—
"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"
...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
You're hurt?
"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"
Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.
"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.
"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"
"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.
At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.
Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?
This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—
To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.
Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—
Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?
Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.
Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.
And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—
Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—
Huh, what?
The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.
"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.
His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.
“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”
“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”
“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”
“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”
“Gojo did—”
Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”
You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”
“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”
If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”
He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.
Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?
Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”
"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."
"Y/N, you're missing the—"
"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"
Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.
"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"
"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"
"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"
"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"
You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.
But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.
Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.
"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"
"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.
It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.
Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?
. . .
And that was when he decided it.
He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.
Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.
You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.
After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."
But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."
You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.
At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—
"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.
Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.
"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.
"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."
Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.
"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."
Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?
"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."
Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.
"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.
"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"
"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."
And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—
"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."
The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.
There was only one answer you had in mind.
Five years later
"Yes! Yes! Yay!"
Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.
A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.
The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.
The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.
As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.
"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.
"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"
"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.
Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"
"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."
"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."
"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."
Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.
Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...
And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.
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No Contact
Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader
Word Count: 7.6k
Tags: ANGST with a happy ending, amnesia, memory loss, grief, pining, yearning, hurt/comfort
Summary: It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen. You weren't supposed to be in that car, but you were. When you lose your memories from the incident, Chan is ordered to stay away for your recovery's sake; but it takes a larger toll on him than anyone could have imagined. Until one day, he just can't take it anymore.
A/N: inspired by this post. Angst ahoy <3 I had too much fun writing this. Maybe I like writing emotions. Enjoy <3
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No contact. That’s what Chan was told was best for you. That’s what was going to help your healing process.
No contact whatsoever. No texts, no calls, no little surprise visits. No fucking contact. None.
He was told it would just hurt you if he talked to you— that he would just make it worse. That you would only become more confused and upset. It would be absolutely detrimental for him to see you.
Hell, it might even make you worse.
It’s killing Chan slowly. Every single day feels like torture for him. The days get exponentially worse. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, like the wind goes through him when he steps foot outside. It feels like his shoulders are permanently sagged forward.
But the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You don’t know how he’s collapsing inwards like a dying star.
It was one of the worst car accidents the city has seen in years. A friend was driving you home that night; Chan had begged to be the one to pick you up, but no, you said it was fine, the friend was heading that way anyway. Why make the unnecessary trip?
You told him he needed sleep. Always putting his needs before your own. You always did.
He should’ve put up more of a fuss. He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve already been outside the house in his car with the passenger seat warmer on by the time you left that stupid party.
He should’ve gotten out of the car and opened the door for you and had a cold bottle of water waiting in the cup holder. He should’ve kissed you on the cheek and asked you all about your time. He should have been there.
But he wasn’t.
A drunk driver slammed into the passenger side of your friend’s car at a speed that you shouldn’t have even survived.
Miracles do happen, though. But what a price to pay for a miracle.
For as long as he lives, Chan will never forget the sheer panic and terror he felt when the call came in from your mother. You were already at the hospital undergoing emergency surgery.
He was the last to know.
After all, he wasn’t your emergency contact. He’s only your boyfriend.
Was. Was your boyfriend. Was? Is that the right word? He isn’t. But he is. There was no breakup.
Is that what he’s going through right now? A breakup?
You’re not on a break. But what is this? What is this loss? This severance is so horrible.
It’s fucked up. It’s a fucked up, amnesia induced breakup.
Memory loss is a funny thing. Doctors scratch their heads and shrug their shoulders without any answers. The brain is a tricky thing.
Chan did what he was allowed to in that hospital. He sat in that stark white room under those harsh LED lights and he waited until you were awake. He even waited much longer after that because only two visitors were permitted inside your room at a time— and he wasn’t about to force his way in and kick one of your parents out.
He let your sister go in first. He even let your cousin go in before him. But when it was finally his turn…
He never got to see you.
“The last five years?” Chan asked with a tight throat. Did he even have any more tears left to cry? How is there any liquid left in his body?
“She says doesn’t remember anything, Chan.” Your mother’s voice was just as hollow as his. “She was asking about her freshman roommate.”
A doctor stood in between him and your mom. “It’s best if we don’t throw everything at her at once. Amnesia victims rarely never get their memories back, but we’ve found that it needs to happen organically. Seeing her will overwhelm her and that could stunt the healing process.”
Chan’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out at all. His heart may have stopped.
Does that mean…?
No…
“He can’t see her at all?” Your mother asked quietly. “Not even to visit? He doesn’t have to mention he’s her boyfriend, he can just say that he’s a friend, or a coworker, or—“
The doctor cut her off. “No contact. Not until we’re a bit through recovery and she’s starting to get her memories back.”
Chan was suddenly in a chair.
When did he sit down? The Doctor’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking down at him with a sympathetic stare.
“It’s not forever, son.”
Chan was only able to nod. His mouth was so dry, the back of his neck felt clammy. His head was spinning.
Books often speak of moments as ‘Earth-shattering’. Of moments so catastrophic that the planet stops spinning on its axis and time stands still.
He gets it now.
The doctor spoke a few more words to your mother before walking away. She looked down at Chan sadly.
Your mother sat on the chair next to him and wrapped him up in a hug. His world was falling apart around him. You were slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t even see you.
Hot tears poured down his face while he sat there with his head in his hands. Why does it feel like he’s losing you? Why is this the only way? Why are these the cards that are being dealt?
Why didn’t he pick you up from that fucking party?
“She loves you, Chan… she’ll come to her senses, I promise, I promise.”
It’s been two months, one week, two days and eight hours since he’s talked to you. That long since he’s known peace. Since he’s known any sort of comfort.
You’re the last thing he thinks about before he closes his eyes at night and the first thing he thinks about in the morning. No matter how many times he wakes up and feels the cold bed next to him, it never dulls the ache in his chest.
It’s not a healthy mindset, he knows. And it’s not that you were codependent on one another, that’s not it at all. You were just… ripped away from him.
Food has no taste. The sky isn’t as blue as it used to be. Clouds don’t make fun shapes like they did with you by his side. The stars are still in the sky, he thinks, he hasn’t had the guts to look at them.
God, you love the stars so much. You always talked about how pretty they are— how absolutely breath-taking you think the universe is. Chan would simply listen, he would always listen. All he ever wanted to do was listen.
How is he supposed to look at anything the same way? How is any day supposed to be normal when half of his life is suddenly missing. What’s the point of making music if you’re not there to listen to it?
5:00 PM is the hardest hour to get through. You don’t open the door to his apartment when you get off work. You don’t tell him about the things that happened during your shift.
He can’t leave little snacks out on the counter for you to eat when you get home like he used to.
Mice would get to it before you did.
His lonely apartment is slowly losing your smell. He could spray your perfume, sure, you keep a bottle at his place, but it’s not the same. You somehow made the scent sweeter by letting it linger on your skin.
All of your old toiletries are still there where you left them. Your spare toothbrush has been bone dry and untouched since 9:28 AM that morning. Your shampoo bottles are still half full and waiting for you on your shower shelf.
It had rained a few days before your accident. You had started a puzzle on his dining room table that day– you told him it was the perfect rainy day activity. It was a picture of different comic book covers. It’s now collecting dust. Unmoved and unsolved.
Just like him.
It was a battle and a half to throw away your leftovers from two nights before your car accident. He felt like he was throwing away your normal life, your tiny domestic traces.
He didn’t want to cleanse you from his life, but you were washing away. Your ghost was eroding with time.
Your spare car keys are still hanging on the key ring. Your rain coat is on the third hook draped right over your work bag. Even your phone charger is still plugged into the wall on your side of the bed.
Did you know you forgot to put your favorite gold earrings on that night? You left them on the nightstand. They’re still there, don’t worry. Right next to the glass of water you drank half of.
Do you even remember them…? He got them for you for your first Christmas together.
There are so many signs of a life interrupted integrated so deeply into his.
You’re a clock whose hands stopped suddenly at 1:24 AM.
This sort of haunting is unbearable. You’re not a phantom in his life, though. You’re something so unattainable that he had once but it was taken away with empty promises of return.
It’s like you’re a shiny diamond hidden away beneath lasers and traps like in those stupid, cheesy spy movies you love so much.
Do you know what he would give to watch one of those with you in his arms right now?
Chan feels like he’s banging on the glass of a one sided window, screaming for you to remember him. Meanwhile you’re on the other side only staring into a mirror, trying to pick up the pieces from before.
Your mom sends him updates on your condition all the time. He knows that you started working at the local library about three weeks ago.
You had worked there in college before graduating and getting your last job. It was one of your favorite jobs you ever had. That library was so special to you.
To him too.
It’s the library where he first met you.
The same library Chan finds himself in front of now.
He shouldn’t go in. He can’t go in. He absolutely should not go inside.
Bang Chan you should not and cannot go inside this library. Under no circumstances should you step foot inside this building where your other half is working.
Absolutely not.
The door emits a soft ding when he opens it. Electronic. Quiet. Peaceful.
There’s a certain type of silence that sits in a library. It’s closer, thicker— warmer. It’s an expected silence. They’re supposed to be quiet.
Chan can hear his sneakers take every step on the carpeted floor. There’s no one sitting behind the front desk; that’s where you usually were.
His eyes look all around, but there’s no sign of you anywhere. A few people toddle around the shelves.
There’s more soft beeping coming from the self checkout. That’s new. They didn’t have that when you worked here years ago. You probably hate it.
On the day he met you, you were wearing a pair of dark green pants and a black long sleeve shirt. Your hair was clipped behind your head and pieces were falling over your face.
Chan was only in the library to look for the bathroom. He was on his way to lunch with a friend, but he just had to stop somewhere. The library was the closest option.
When he had heard the sound of books falling, he investigated and found you in the center of the carnage, the glasses on your nose sat crookedly and you rubbed your head.
Your eyes met. He was a goner.
How disgustingly poetic that he finds himself here now. Where he really shouldn’t be. He was quite literally prescribed a restraining order against you.
Chan meanders around with his hands in his pockets, the silence getting louder and louder the further he gets inside.
Maybe you’re not working today?
No one is anywhere to be seen. He’s checking down all the aisles but he doesn’t see you anywhere.
Maybe it’s for the best that you’re not here. He’s not supposed to see you anyway. He’s breaking the doctor’s rules by doing this anyway.
He needs to leave. He needs to get out of here.
His feet stop in front of the very aisle where he saw you for the first time.
Empty.
You-less.
If he thinks hard enough, Chan can picture you in front of him, laughing quietly with the most adorable, embarrassed blush on your cheeks.
What a moment.
Is it possible to spend eternity in that moment? Obviously internal clocks can be rewound, paused, flipped every which way; can he go back to that day? Can he go back to the day where every single poem suddenly made sense?
He would take any day, really, any day that had you in it. Birthdays, holidays, late night dates, Hell, he’d even take a day where he only saw you when you dropped off a drink for him in his studio.
Anything, he would take anything just to see your smile bloom on your face while he watches.
“Can I help you find something?”
His breath catches in his throat, it feels like he’s physically punched in the chest. That voice. That beautiful, melodic voice. He hasn’t heard it in person in months, only in videos he had on his phone.
Slowly, Chan turns to face the source of his favorite pitch.
His throat immediately tightens.
There you are. You. Beautiful you.
Standing right there. Looking at him like a complete fucking stranger.
“I…” his voice is hoarse. Chan can feel the tears in his eyes begin to form. He didn’t think this through, did he?
You’re staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say anything. You’re waiting, come on, Chan. Speak up. Say something.
Looking up at the shelf, you look back down at him with a smile. “A history guy, hm?”
No.
“Yeah.”
You giggle. “I always had a thing for History.”
He knows.
“Really?”
“Mhmm.” You respond with a grin.
Specifically Ancient Rome. He knows.
You continue. “Specifically Ancient Rome.”
Chan nods and clears his throat. His palms feel so sweaty. His chest is almost panting. Every single cell in his body just wants to lunge forward and wrap you in a hug.
He wants to bury his face in your neck and sob while you hold him. He wants to tell you that he missed you so much. He wants to tell you how your pillow is losing the scent of your shampoo. He wants to tell you that he’s been DVR-ing your favorite show so that you can watch it later. He wants to tell you about his day. He wants to kiss you until you’re breathless. He wants you to hear the new song he’s been working on.
But—
“If you need anything, let me know.”
You start to walk away.
Chan feels his heart physically break. It’s happening again. He’s on the other side of that one way mirror. It’s happening again! No, no please.
His eyes widen, the words get caught in his throat. Fuck, Y/N, please!
“W-Wait!” he says quickly.
You turn around with a curious look.
“The Odyssey,” he blurts. “Where uh… where can I find it?”
Your eyes light up. “Oh, I love The Odyssey.”
He knows. You collect different translations of it.
“I collect different translations of that book, here I’ll show you where it is.”
With a little hop in your step you lead him towards all the classics.
He watches you like you’re an oasis in the desert— maybe it’s because you are. You’re what he’s been crawling towards for two months.
You lead him all the way to the shelf where the Odyssey lives. Your nimble fingers reach forward and grab one of the copies.
Green nail polish. You still paint your nails green. You picked that habit up a year after he met you.
The memories have to be there, Y/N, they have to be. Chan bought you that first bottle of green nail polish as a joke on Saint Patrick’s Day.
Y/N, please.
“This translation is my favorite,” you whisper and hand him the book.
Chan smiles sadly and takes the book from you, unable to meet your eyes. He knows if he gazes into those gorgeous eyes that he’ll lose it. He’ll fall to his knees and cry.
“Thank you,” he whispers back.
You stand there for a moment, he can feel your eyes on his face. He always has been able to tell when you were looking at him, it’s a little, secret superpower.
From foot to foot, your weight shifts.
You only do that when you’re confused. Why are you confused? Y/N, are you confused?
“I’m sorry…” you start, sounding so unsure. “You remind me of someone…”
It feels like a defibrillator was hooked up to his chest. Chan’s eyes widen and he finally looks up at you.
You’re looking at him so carefully. He can see the gears turning in your head. Your tongue pokes out of your lips and wets them.
Y/N, please.
“I just… I can’t figure out who. Do I… do I know you? I was—” You stop yourself.
Fuck. Fuck! What was he supposed to say? Fuck!
Chan wants to scream. He wants to grab you by the shoulders and cry that he’s your soulmate, that he’s the person that knows you better than anyone else in this world.
Yes, you do, you do know him. And he knows you. He knows how you take your coffee, what movies make you cry, what color jell-o is your favorite.
He knows that you never wear matching socks and you always lift your feet when driving over railroad tracks.
He knows that when you were 6 you ran into the corner of a cabinet and that’s how you got that scar next to your eyebrow.
Chan knows that your entire life you wanted to be an author but you’re so scared of failure that you decided not to chase after it.
He knows everything.
“I just have one of those faces, I guess.” It comes out of his mouth so strained.
You stare back at him so carefully. Do you see right through him?
“Maybe,” you say slowly. You don’t believe him. He knows that tone. You absolutely do not believe a word he’s saying. “Are you sure?”
Chan swallows, he grips the book in his hand tighter. The lump in his throat almost doesn’t go down, more tears prick at his eyes.
“I would never forget a face like yours,” he chokes out.
Your eyes widen and you blush, looking to the side with a smile. You always were a sucker for cheesy compliments.
After thinking for a second, you reach into your pocket and take out a little slip of paper.
“Here,” you say after scribbling something down. Holding it out, Chan sees it’s your phone number. He has it memorized. “If you ever need more books to read… or find… call me.”
Chan takes the paper with a racing heart. He gives you a smile, his dimples showing. “I think I will,” he whispers to you.
Another few moments pass of you just staring at him before you nod and giggle nervously. “Well, I gotta get back to work, so..”
Chan nods and moves to the side. You walk past him.
Your perfume curls around him like a blanket and he craves that sweet serenity he finds when he holds you close and breathes you in.
Three steps after you pass him, you turn around. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name.”.
“Chan,” he answers softly.
“Chan,” you repeat. It goes right through him.
Your voice. Your sweet, beautiful, melodic voice. Finally, he heard you say his name again.
“I’m Y/N,” you whisper to him with a friendly smile.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Chan has to physically force the word ‘meet’ out of his mouth.
“You too, Chan.”
And with that, you were gone, retreating back into your fortress of papyrus.
—————————————————————
A bad idea was going into the library that day.
An even worse idea was texting you the day after to ask how your day is going.
And then an absolutely fucking idiotic move was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him.
And the worst part? You said yes.
So, now here Chan was, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom getting ready for what you thought was a first date, but to him was just a dinner date.
How is he supposed to do this? He’s not, that’s how.
Chan fiddles with his bracelet right before his phone rings.
His heart drops when he sees the caller ID, your mother.
“Ah, fuck…” he whispers before grabbing his phone. Of course you were going to tell your mom, you tell your mom everything.
“Hello?” he asks warily into the phone.
“Hi, Chan,” she says slowly, she sounds nervous, why does she sound nervous.
“How are you? Is everything okay?”
“It’s Y/N…” Her voice lowers. Chan’s heart drops. “Before you panic, she’s okay! It’s um.. she’s getting ready right now… for a date…”
Chan isn’t moving. Yes, he knows you are. He knows it. But words won’t form in his mouth.
“Channie.. I’m starting to wonder if that doctor isn’t right.. I can’t stand the thought of her finding someone else when you’re waiting for her… I tried to talk her out of it but she just seems so floaty and happy. God, I feel sick to my stomach.”
His jaw clenches. Now or never.
“It’s with me,” he blurts.
Your mom goes silent. Then a huge sigh comes out of her mouth.
“I wish I could say I’m angry,” a little laugh follows it. “I think I’m only angry that you didn’t say something.”
He tells her everything, down to the way he pretended not to know you.
“Well, you’re going to have to tell her eventually.” Your mom sounds unsure, herself.
“Or maybe she’ll remember me.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Chan sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused.
She’s right. What if you don’t?
“Then, I’ll just … do it all again.”
Silence greets him on the other side of the line. Another tiny laugh comes from your mom. “I always knew you two were perfect together. Just like two magnets, you always come towards one another.”
—————————————————————
“I’ve never eaten here before,” you say with a chipper smile on your face from across the table.
Yes, you have.
“Really?” Chan asks, taking a sip of his water.
“I pass it all the time and always wondered how the food was.”
He looks back down at the old menu.
This restaurant was more than special to him. It’s where he took you on your first date. It’s an old fashioned burger joint with the greasiest, most delicious French fries in town.
The first time you guys came here, you talked and talked until the place closed. And even after that, you drove around and talked until it was late.
“I’ve been here a few times, it’s really good. The milkshakes are some of the best I’ve ever had.” Chan’s sweaty hands fiddle with the menu.
He’s more nervous now than on the first date.
“What’s the best one?” you ask with a smile.
A small laugh comes out of his nose. “The peanut butter one.”
It was your favorite.
“Yeah but then you can’t have any,” you say so nonchalantly, looking down at the menu.
His eyebrows knit together. “What?”
“‘Cause of your allergy.”
He stops.
You stop.
He has a peanut allergy. Chan has a peanut allergy.
His lips purse like he’s going to say something but you beat him to the punch.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I… I don’t know why I thought that.” Your hands grip the menu a little tighter. “Maybe I’m thinking of someone else?”
Chan shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I… I do have a peanut allergy. Maybe I said something before?”
You stare at him for a long second before looking back down at the menu once more. “Yeah… um. Maybe.”
He definitely did not say something.
Dinner continues on. Chan listens to you talk and pretends he’s never heard your stories before and he tells you ones he knows he’s said before.
The entire time, you were beaming at him, just like you used to before the accident. Your face never loses its constant happy glow. He’s not sure that the muscles in your face know how to frown.
You’re the last two people in the restaurant. The staff doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe they recognize you both. Maybe.
A lull dips into your conversation. Both of you know you should leave. Neither wants to. Especially the broken man sitting across from you.
Chan takes the last sip of his drink. The bill has been paid for about an hour at this point. You’re looking down at your lap with a pink flush on your cheeks.
You bite your lip and look up at Chan carefully.
“Are you… are you sure I don’t know you, Chan?”
He stares at you. Did you know that you always bite your lip like that when you’re confused?
“I just… I really feel like I know you. There’s just…” you pause, trying to find your words. He knows you want to tell him about the accident. He knows you want to say it but you don’t want to weird him out.
What the fuck is he supposed to do? What is he supposed to tell you?
“Something happened to me a little while ago, my brain’s been… fuzzy since then,” you explain shyly. “I know you said you don’t know me but I just… I can’t help feel like that’s not true.”
Chan’s jaw clenches, his knee bounces anxiously underneath the table. His head turns to the side in his typical nervous tick.
Your mother’s words echo in his mind, his tongue suddenly feels like it’s swelling to the size of his mouth— making him unable to speak. Should he tell you? Is it now or never?
“I don’t mean to make it weird, Chan.”
He licks his lips and opens his mouth.
Your phone rings.
A sigh of relief comes from deep within Chan’s chest.
Reluctantly, you pick up the phone and hold it to your ear. “Hello? …. No, I didn’t know…. Yeah, of course…. Sure… Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Just as quickly as you answered the phone, you hang up.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “Someone called out of work for tomorrow, they need me to come in.”
“Do you need to get going?” Chan asks, looking down at the time. It’s well past 10 o’clock.
A sad smile crosses your face. “I mean… probably.” The time on your watch flashes back at you. He can tell you don’t want to go home yet.
“Come on, Y/N, I’ll walk you home.”
Chan’s already standing up from the table, picking his jacket up off the back of his chair. You watch his movements and slowly get up, your movements screaming reluctance.
—————————————————————
It’s three dates later when the two of you are walking down the street towards your house. It’s only a few blocks from here, but you both decide to take a tiny detour through the local park.
“I have to say I’m a little excited to meet your friends,” you giggle. “I hope that’s not weird.”
You already have.
“It’s not weird at all. I’m sure they’d like you.” Chan nudges your arm with his elbow, his hands staying in his pocket.
“Changbin sounds like a blast.”
He was your favorite before.
“The two of you…” Chan thinks over his words carefully. “The two of you would definitely cause some mischief.”
And you have.
A tiny lull of comfortable silence falls over the conversation.
Both of you meander towards the swings. A cold wind blows through the air but neither of you react to it.
With a tiny giggle, you sit down on one of the swings and hold onto the chains on the side.
You are just so… you. You’re just your authentic self. Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s so charming.
“I can’t remember the last time I went on the swings.” You start to move your body back and forth, not too much but enough to get the tiny thrill the toy brings.
Chan walks up and stands next to you, his hand coming out and grabbing at the chain of the swing next to yours.
The brightest smile stretches over your face.
God, it really doesn’t take a lot to make you smile, does it? He guesses that means it doesn’t take a lot for him either since he smiles when you do.
He can’t help it.
He watches you move back and forth, the cold breeze kicking up a bit more and blowing dead leaves across the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong, Chan? Allergic to swings?” you tease.
He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “No, I just far more enjoy watching you have fun.”
Your cheeks flush. If he didn’t know you, maybe he would’ve chocked it up to the cold. But he knows the difference between your blush and the elements now.
“You’re a smooth talker, Bang Chan.”
“It comes easy with you, Y/N L/N.”
Another laugh from you.
“Shameless flirt.”
He puts his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch! I just speak the truth, that’s all. Not my fault I like seeing you blush.”
Every word that comes out of his mouth feels so natural. If he really thinks about it, he’s in a weirdly unique situation. Not many couples get to start over, to feel those butterflies again. But here he is, his palms starting to get sweaty as he imagines kissing you.
Would you call it a first kiss? Maybe.
It has been four dates. It wouldn’t be.. inappropriate to kiss you, would it? The two of you kissed on your third date a few years ago.
He wants to kiss you so bad.
Should he? Shouldn’t he? God, why is this so hard?
Chan reaches out and grabs the chain of your swing, pulling it to a very gentle stop.
“Uh oh, fun police,” you tease and look up at him with a grin.
Looking down at you, Chan allows his eyes to look over every detail of your face that he already had memorized. You haven’t changed at all except the new scar on the side of your forehead from the accident.
It’s the same eyes, same nose, same chin that he fell in love with so long ago.
The same asymmetrical eyes that you’re so self conscious of but he loves. Your hair is wind blown and splayed every which way. It adds a childish charm to your features.
Very carefully, Chan moves his free hand down to cup your cheek. His warm palm soothes your ice cold face. He hears your breath catch in your throat at his touch.
His thumb swipes over your cheek, fingertips run down the soft lines of your jawline. Eventually his thumb ends up under your chin which he tilts up.
Your eyes sparkle. They somehow capture the light of the lamps around the playground. But they’ve always done that.
You’re always so enchanting.
Is this a good idea?
Is kissing you the best option?
But does he even have the strength to stop himself now?
Almost three months without feeling your lips on his has been torture, and here he is, with you in his hands and there’s still this nagging feeling that he should stop.
One look into your eyes quells that anxiety.
Your eyes keep flickering down to his own lips, the shaky breath you let out is hot against his fingers. Everything feels warmer compared to the air outside.
He can’t take it anymore.
Chan leans down and presses his lips to yours. They’re warm and slightly chapped.
But, my god, he’s never felt anything this heavenly before. It’s like his entire body unwinds. Like a fire was lit inside his stomach.
He moves his hand to the back of your head and keeps your lips pressed against his. Your head tilts to the side slightly. It’s just like he remembers.
It’s just the first kiss, he can’t let himself get carried away. He can’t.
He can’t let his fingers wind through your hair. He can’t melt into your touch on his cheek. He can’t let himself drown in your lips.
But he is.
He’s letting you consume his very soul in one kiss.
How can something feel so healing yet hurt so badly at the same time? It’s like you’re ripping open a wound and bandaging it at the same time.
No matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring his lips away from yours. Your hand slides down to caress his jawline with those soft, manicured fingers.
Your lips open and close over his like mirror images. The feeling shoots straight down into Chan’s gut. It’s like the first time for him all over again.
Those butterflies are going insane in his stomach. Your scent kicks up in the wind and he can’t help but take a large breath through his nose.
God, he can’t stop himself. It feels too good.
His hand moves from the back of your hair to cup your cheek and bring you closer.
He immediately stops.
Why is your face wet?
Chan pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with concern written all over his expression.
You’re crying. Why … why are you crying?
Your eyes open and you look at him confused.
“Chan?” you whisper. You’re confused too. What?
“Why are you crying, Y/N?” he asks with a thick voice.
Your eyes widen and your own hand comes up to swipe at your cheeks. Sure enough, you’re met with tears.
“I… I don’t know,” you say so quietly. “I-I’m not sure.”
Chan starts backing away, your eyes snap to focus on his. Your hand shoots up to grab at his to keep him there. You’re still so confused.
Emotions are flying through your eyes. It almost looks like someone is clicking a light switch on and off in the back of your mind. A lightbulb is flickering in your soul like a dying neon sign in an old shop window.
Every muscle in your face is twitching.
What’s happening?
“Channie—“ your own voice cuts off by a sob.
Chan’s heart jumpstarts. You haven’t called him that… not in two months… that’s what you and your mother called him before the accident.
Are you…? Are you remembering? What’s happening?
Please.
Slowly, your hand falls from his.
Chan stays there, unmoving like a statue. What’s happening inside your mind right now? It looks like you’re reaching and reaching for something that you can’t quite put your finger on.
He's watching you struggle. It’s like when you can’t remember a word. It’s right there. It’s on the tip of your tongue.
You gulp, your eyes leave his and you look down at your lap. The dirt crunches under your feet as you shuffle your shoes around.
Chan swipes his thumb over your cheek, brushing away the tears. He’s biting back his own.
“It’s okay—“ “I’m sorry—“ are both said at the exact same time.
He knew it was coming. He knows you. But you don’t know him. Not anymore.
But you do.
“It wasn’t the kiss. I—“
“It’s okay, Y/N.”
You know him.
“Chan, I really loved the kiss.”
Chan. Not Channie.
He brushes his thumb over your lips. “It’s okay,” he repeats gently. “You don’t have to explain.”
His other hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes slide shut at the sensation.
Your bottom lip quivers and you pull it into your mouth and bite it. With a tight swallow, your throat bobs.
“It happens sometimes,” you whisper. “It’s from the accident I had.”
Chan continues to soothingly rub your skin with his thumb. Slowly, he kneels down to be in front of you rather than leaning over.
The dirt is cold on his knee. It seeps through the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he whispers back to you.
You shake your head gently, your hands folding in your lap. “No, no. I… I want to tell you. I need to tell you. It’s been happening more and more whenever I’m around you. It’s like every touch, every word you say bounces around my brain and makes me feel the worst case of deja vu.
“Every time I’m with you I feel like I’m trying to recall a dream I had last night but I just can’t remember what it was.”
You’re rambling. You only ramble when you’re overwhelmed and scared.
“Chan, every time I’m with you it feels like some part of me is screaming to be let out.”
Your eyes open and you stare right through him. Chan feels his heart squeeze and almost stop completely. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming.
“I was in a car accident a few months ago. I had such a severe concussion that I lost the last five years of my memory.”
How is your voice so even?
Chan’s jaw clenches. Fuck fuck fuck.
He knows. Yes, Y/N. He knows. Fuck, does he know! If anyone fucking knows, it’s him.
“I—“ he starts but you cut him off.
“Please,” you choke out and take a deep breath. “And since then I’ve been getting bits and pieces of my memory back. Sometimes they’re in large chunks, other times they just … come back.
“When I try to think about my life before the accident. There’s this… person there. Someone important. Someone so, so important that it physically hurts me to think about how I don’t know who it is. They’re a constant. And I love that they’re a constant.”
Your hand comes up to clutch at your jacket right over your chest.
More tears come out of your eyes. The whites get more pink the more they flow.
“But I know them. I do! I know them like I know the back of my hand. I-I know they love music. I know they take milk and sugar in their morning coffee. I know they don’t get enough sleep at night.”
Louder and louder your voice gets as you grow sadder and sadder. The sobs between thoughts wrack your chest.
Him. You’re talking about him.
Chan’s hands hold your face gently. His thumbs can’t keep up with how much you’re crying.
Nothing has ever hurt this bad.
You know him. You just don’t know it’s him.
Nevertheless, you continue. “I remember that they have the most obnoxious phone alarm in the morning. I remember the passcode to their phone is 032518. I know that they have this one black sweatshirt that I love to steal even though it’s their favorite.”
Chan’s own eyes begin watering, he can’t stop it. You know him. You know him. You’ve remembered him this whole time and you didn’t even know it.
You reach up and grab one of his hands and place it on your heart. Underneath your jacket, he can feel your heartbeat thudding violently against your chest.
That same heartbeat he’s been dying to listen to while you play with his hair and tell him about your day. The heartbeat he would give anything to hear as he falls asleep. His throat gets tighter and tighter.
“I’ve been surrounded by bits and pieces of a ghost and no one wants to help me. No one will tell me anything, and I’m so confused, Chan. I can tell that there’s something that everyone is avoiding telling me.”
A gust of wind picks up through the playground. It nips at his cheeks. It’s now he realizes how many tears are falling.
A sob tears from his throat.
You grip his hand tighter.
“Tell me It’s you, Chan.” You’re begging. You’re actually begging while keeping his hand pressed against your heartbeat.
“Tell me that you’re the person that I see in my dreams. Tell me you’re the one that loves when I draw hearts on the bathroom mirror after I shower. Please tell me that you’re the one that loves the smell of lemon cookies but can’t stand the taste.”
Oh, god, Y/N.
“Tell me that you’re the one that wanted to pick me up from the party that night but I said no.”
He breaks.
He breaks right down in front of you. Every single ounce of self control leaves his body and he grabs you out of the swing, yanking you towards his body and holding you against his chest. The emotions that were being kept at bay come out like a raging storm.
He falls backwards into the dirt, you come crashing into him. Your arms wrap around him at the same time he wraps around you.
Chan buries his face in your neck, one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly around your waist.
Wails leave his mouth as he holds you to him. They’re deep and come from the very depths of his soul. The wound that’s been open for months is bleeding.
Every lonely night. Every dinner where he cooked for two instead of one by accident. Every long day he came back to an empty apartment. It’s all coming out.
You’re crying just as hard as he is, both of your hands gripping the back of his hoodie like a lifeline.
Your body in his arms is like a piece of a puzzle. Like he’s the dusty one sitting on his dining room table and you finally came in and finished it.
Weeks and weeks of grief come crashing down on him. He can’t lie anymore. Not to you. Never to you.
“It is me,” he cries into your neck, his hand running over the back of your head, feeling your hair slip through his fingers. It’s just like he remembers. “It’s all me, Y/N, It’s me.”
Your cries get louder, your body starts shaking in his arms.
“I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he cries harder. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much. I missed my girl. Oh my god, I’ve missed you.”
Chan can’t pull you close enough, he can’t get you close enough to his body. You shift around and press yourself into him.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick you up that night. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”
Every ounce of grief is surfacing and clawing its way out of his throat.
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you these last two weeks. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so broken without you. I broke the doctor’s orders. I needed to see you, Y/N.”
Despite how hard he has you gripped against him, you manage to pull away slightly. You sit up in his lap and look down at his red, tear soaked face. His eyes are puffy and his chest is sputtering with sobs.
Both of your hands cup his cheeks and swipe away the tears the same way he did for you only a small bit ago. There’s a sad smile on your face.
“Please don’t apologize, Channie, it’s okay. I forgive you.”
Channie. You called him Channie.
He cries harder and buries his face into your chest. Your arms immediately come around him and keep him there, fingers threading into his hair.
You’re still crying. Both of you are.
“I know you were just doing what you were told to,” you whisper into his hair. He can hear your voice reverberate in your chest.
All he can do is cry.
Months of build up led to this moment. Endless days of going through the motions just for the next to be as dull and tedious led to him falling into you in the middle of a playground at night.
The only thing you do after that is hold him. You press kisses to the top of his head and whisper that you forgive him over and over.
Each one adds a stitch to the wound, shutting it.
You’re finally in his arms. You’re finally back where you belong.
“I missed you,” he says again, his cries dying down. He doesn't know what else to say. There's so much he wants to tell you, but everything dies on the tip of his tongue.
“I missed you too, Channie. My heart missed you so much.”
He sniffles and looks up at you. You pull your sweatshirt sleeve up and wipe away his stray tears gently.
“Every day it just felt like something was missing. It was you. You were missing.”
Chan can’t find any words to say. He just stares at you.
"I don't care how long it takes to remember, or even if I never do. I need you by my side for it, Chan."
His eyes sparkle at you for a moment but he leans up and captures your lips with his once more. It feels even better than the previous one.
The two of you relish in the contact, holding each other close and clinging to the closeness of it all.
It's taking everything within Chan not to start crying again. He's worried than any moment now, he'll wake up and this will all be some cruel dream.
But when you pull away from his lips, and he opens his eyes-- you're still there. You're still in his arms and smiling at him like you always did.
The burn is soothed.
“If you think about it,” you start with a tiny smile. “We’re lucky— in a way.”
His entire face screws up, even more confused. “Lucky?”
“How many people get to say they fell in love with the same person twice?”
Chan blinks twice before it feels like his entire body thaws.
You and your glass half full attitude. He’ll never fucking get enough of it.
His arms wrap around you again, bringing you down into his chest. You let out a breathy giggle
“You’re never leaving my sight,” he breathes out. “Never again, baby, never.”
“I don’t ever want to, Channie. I never will.”
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan x y/n#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#skz x y/n#bang chan#bang chan fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#bangchan fanfic#bangchan x reader
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𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡
one piece social media + dating
pt.2
feat: ace
♡ liked by chef.thatch, marco_o and 11.4k others
_ynln: mad he lost a handstand contest to some kid 🥱🥱
tagged: ace
ace: tell me how i got rated a 6/10 and that rat of a human got 9/10 🫤
↳ marco_o: you definitely got bullied as a kid with that attitude (liked by chef.thatch, _ynln, yamatoto)
↳ _ynln: MARCO JWVFIJBVFQO 😭😭
↳ ace: just letting you guys know, i wasn't bullied. i was the bully 💪💪
↳ izou.u: that does NOT make it any better
↳ saaaa_bo: why are you proud of that, all you did was bully luffy
↳ ace: now i'm not saying i stand with bullying but.. ☝️
↳ yamatoto: BUT WHAT???
p1rateking_luffy: Hehe Ace remember when we used to have handstand contests and Makino was the judge! 😁
↳ _ynln: omg that sounds adorable
↳ ace: yeah and you would fall on your head
↳ ace: makes sense why you're so stupid
↳ p1rateking_luffy: what does that mean
↳ ace: see what i'm saying
↳ saaaa_bo: you're literally the last person that can say anything
♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 9.6k others
_ynln: girls don’t want no scrubs!
[music: No Scrubs - TLC ♫]
tagged: lovenami, nicorobin
nicorobin: had so much fun with you 💗
↳ _ynln: I MISS U ALREADY
ace: YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THESE PHOTOS 😍😍❤️🔥❤️🔥💝💞💕❣️❣️
ace: I AM NOT A SCRUB GIVE ME A CHANCE!
↳ _ynln: stop i have a boyfriend
↳ ace: screw him, i'll fight your boyfriend
↳ _ynln: he'll mess u up
↳ ace: HE PROBABLY STINKS
↳ _ynln: yeah he does LMFAOO (liked by saaaa_bo, marco_o)
↳ ace: 😐😐
ace: PLEASE ONE CHANCE PLEASE 😩😩
↳ _ynln: YOURE SO ANNOYING 😭😭
lovenami: WHEN CAN WE HANG OUT AGAIN
↳ lovenami: I MISS MY HUSTLE PARTNER ALREADY
♡ liked by iampops, sh444nks and 13.1k others
_ynln: i want to be that dog so bad
tagged: ace
marco_o: holy shit i've never been jealous of a dog
↳ ace: dw u can kiss me anytime 😘
↳ marco_o: bruh no i meant i want to sock you in the face
sh444nks: HAHAHA this is so good
↳ _ynln: omg i made it in life, redhair shanks commented on my post????!
↳ iampops: Yn I comment too
izou.u: first photo made my day, thanks yn
↳ yamatoto: real!!1!
p1rateking_luffy: AHAHHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHAHHA
saaaa_bo: this photo is free therapy
ace: WOW THIS COMMENT SECTION MADE ME REALISE ALL MY FRIENDS ARE FAKES
↳ yamatoto: so glad ur self aware!!
↳ _ynln: love u i swear!
↳ ace: u r full of shit
↳ _ynln:❣️
♡ liked by saaaa_bo, iampops and 18.4k others
ace: my pookie dookie 💩 💗
tagged: _ynln
_ynln: words can't explain how much i hate that caption
↳ ace: my sweet white mocha frappuccino with two pumps vanilla, chocolate drizzle and one scoop of java chips
↳ _ynln: omg wow i was so close to pressing the block button
_ynln: rare photo of ace w a shirt on ‼️
saaaa_bo: @_ynln blink twice if u need help
iampops: W photo 💪
↳ ace: POPS WHAT
↳ marco_o: WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT
↳ iampops: Big slay ☝️☝️
↳ iampops: Yn no cap 🚫
↳ izou.u: someone literally needs to come get their grandpa 😭
↳ _ynln: pops using colloquial language needs to be protected in a museum (liked by ace)
p1rateking_luffy: Yummy food 😋😋
#one piece#one piece headcanons#one piece x reader#one piece smau#one piece imagine#luffy x reader#smau#one piece x you#one piece fluff#one piece scenario#ace x reader#portgas d ace x reader#ace headcanons#sabo x reader#ace x yn#marco x reader#thatch x reader#izou x reader
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More than sex.
Astarion x gn! Tav
"You’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”
“Yes.”
Rating: Mature (for the subject but no actual sex or smut in any way shape or form.) Tags: Demisexuality, demisexual Tav, Demisexual Reader, No Smut, gn! Reader, Slight spoilers, Act One spoilers, Developing Relationship, Developing Friendships, Drabble, short and sweet, Confessions
Ao3 or keep reading below:
-----------------
“I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”
Tav considered these words, anytime they saw Astarion having ‘fun’ was on the battlefield. Either stabbing his way through anything that stood before him, or sneaking up behind them and slitting their throat before they could even scream. “And what’s your idea of ‘a little fun?’”
Astarion smiled, taking a sip of his cheap wine before speaking, “By the hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. So, how about—“
“Shadowheart is free.” Tav looked over their shoulder to where she stood by her own tent where she fiddled with a bottle of wine attempting to open it with slow hands.
“Wait, what—“ Astarion shifted to look past Tav to where she stood, the woman catching his gaze and glaring in return.
“And she’s really pretty too,” Tav offered.
“I’m not interested in hearing her praise her goddess tonight.”
“Well, there’s also Lae’zel—“
Astarion shook his head. “I think she would rather behead me before she would ever bed me.”
“Halsin is available too—“ The Druid elf was handsome, and such a powerful one at that but before Tav could even finish, Astarion cut them off.
“Tempting, but not the one I’m interested in.”
“Gale—“
“No.”
Tav hummed, putting their hands on their hips as they scanned the rest of the camp. There were many others, but most were already too drunk to even remember their own names. “I can’t think of anyone else.”
“There’s always you, darling.”
“Me?” Tav snorted a laugh. Surely he must have been joking. Of all the people that Astarion could have… Tav would personally put themselves at the bottom of the list.
“Yes, you. It’s not everyday someone like yourself would be propositioned by someone like me, and this may be your last opportunity—“
“No thank you.”
“No?! What do you mean ‘no’?!” Astarion was shocked, his hands jumping to his chest as if Tav had stabbed him directly in the heart.
Tav grimaced, the way that Astarion’s face dropped, the hurt that filled his eyes so quickly… “Look, I’m not… rejecting you—“
“Sure sounds like rejection to me—“
They shook their head. “I need to be in love first… before I can…” Tav lifted their hands, gesturing towards Astarion in a weak display of trying to find the words and failing. “Don’t get me wrong… you’re- you are breathtaking, Astarion. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on—“
“Yes, I know. But– you’re telling me, that you.. would pass on a night of… meaningless, fantastic, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mind blowing sex… for love?”
“Yes.”
Astarion paused, taken aback. “Well, that’s actually quite admirable… But why?”
“For me, I want it to mean something. Sex is an easily obtainable thing, but love… love you have to work for, to fight for, to earn and to cherish. Sex is great and all but… making love to the person who means the most to you in the world. That’s what I want. That’s what I need.”
Astarion tapped his finger against his lips, thinking to himself before speaking again. “Hm. Sex and love, I never took you for such a sap,” he said with a light laugh. “Well, how do you feel about being friends then, hm? The kind of friends that protect one another, that is.”
Tav chuckled. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Too late?! So what, now we can’t even be friends?!” Astarion threw his hands up, frustrated. “All I did was hit on you and now—“
“No, no,” Tav cut him off, reaching for Astarion’s hands and holding them gently. “What I mean… We can be friends but… I have developed some feelings for you. If you want to be friends, that’s fine. That’s great, actually. I just… well, I need to know if I should ignore those feelings—“
Astatrion pulled his hands way, choosing to gesture towards Tav as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You have ‘some’ feelings for me?”
“Yes,” Tav replied with a nod.
“But you don’t want to fuck me, tonight? Right now?”
“Right.” They nodded again.
“How very interesting… and even.. a little refreshing,” Astarion smiled, a smile that almost seemed shy… With his head turning away from Tav—and Tav swore they saw the smallest blush growing on his cheeks.
“Refreshing?” Tav questioned, learning towards Astarion in an attempt to see that adorable blush—
Astarion waved them off, the blush already gone and Astarion back to his usual self. “Never mind that, Tav. I guess we can see where this goes then?” He reached out, taking Tav’s hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever this is, anyway.”
Tav smiled. “I’d like that.”
#baldur's gate astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion baldurs gate#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x mc#astarion x reader#tav x astarion#astarion fan fic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#astarion x gn tav#astarion x gn! reader#astarion x gn reader#demisexual#demisexual tav#demisexual reader#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#bg3#astarion#baldurs gate 3 spoilers#baldur’s gate 3 spoilers#spoilers#no smut#baldurs gate fanficiton#velvet writing
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I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader
Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.
Word count: 2.4k.
Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.
Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!
MASTERLIST
A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.
Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.
You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.
“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.
“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”
“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”
The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.
It was his soul returning to his body.
He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.
All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.
You were alive.
“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.
Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.
“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.
Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.
“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.
“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.
“JJ?”
“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”
Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.
“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”
It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.
“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.
“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”
Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.
This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.
“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.
“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”
Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.
God, if you don’t ever wake up—
“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.
She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.
“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.
“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”
Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.
“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”
Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.
“García,” Gideon insisted.
A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.
“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”
“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.
Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.
“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”
Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.
It was just you and him.
The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.
As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.
Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.
He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.
Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.
He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.
His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.
“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”
He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.
“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.
You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.
“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.
He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.
“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.
“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”
It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.
“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”
You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.
Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.
It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.
Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.
Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.
“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”
He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.
“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”
Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.
The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.
It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.
“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.
Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.
You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.
“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”
It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.
He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.
A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.
Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.
Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.
Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.
Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.
“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.
Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.
“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.
You were awake.
Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.
You coughed and writhed with discomfort.
“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.
You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”
Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.
“Hi,” he merely said.
You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.
“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.
“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”
“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.
This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.
“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”
The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.
“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.
“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”
“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.
The guilt was still there.
“But I didn’t.”
“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.
“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”
He chuckled. “Barely.”
“It looks good. I like it.”
He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.
“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.
“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.
Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.
“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”
“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.
“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”
I love you, he thought.
“How could I not?” he said instead.
Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.
I hope you liked it!!!!
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner x female reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction
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The Morning After | (joel miller x reader) (18+)
Part 5.5 of Meet Me in the Back
pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: The morning after Valentine’s Day.
warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), daddy!kink, oral (m receiving) (we did it folks it only took 5 parts to get a blowjob), joel being weak as shit for bjs, degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), smoking, brief mentions of past consensual sex under the influence, mentions of weed, some more fluff ig
word count: ~3.3k | ao3
a/n: not many notes, just enjoy some cute sexiness ♥️
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
You’re not in your own bed. That much you can tell right away. The sheets are too scratchy and smell too musky. And when you shuffle under said scratchy, musky sheets, you bump against something. That’s when you remember.
“Mornin’, Sugarplum.”
A few sleep-saturated sounds work their way from your throat as you stretch your arms above your head and roll to your opposite side. Joel is beside you under the covers, an arm behind his head on his pillow as he looks up from his phone with a lazy smile.
You squint at the time on his screen. 9 AM. “Why are you awake?”
Joel breathes a laugh out of his nose. “Sleep schedule’s a little different than yours, darlin’. Drifted in and out all night.”
You scrunch your eyebrows and rub the heel of your palm over your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I guess I just kind of passed out after…”
Joel smirks at you, “After the third round of Jill and the Beanstalk?”
You give him an unimpressed look. “Think you got a whole beanstalk, huh?”
Joel shrugs with a cocky little grin. “Been climbin’ me like a tree since we met. Figured a beanstalk might be more true to size.”
“Arrogant old man,” you mutter sleepily, turning back to your other side.
“Mmm,” you hear him hum, and he presses up behind you, just as naked as you seem to be under his bedding, judging by the notable hardness prodding at the small of your back. “Didn’t hear you hollerin’ anything different last night, did I?”
Your answering scoff lacks conviction as he hooks his bare leg over yours and breathes deeply into your hair.
“Don’t think I did. Just heard a helluva lot of oh, daddy, that dick is so big. Fuck me with that huge cock, daddy,” he mocks in a horrid interpretation of what you actually sound like with a smile you can feel plastered on his lips against your skin. You’re unsure whether you’re more embarrassed by his impression of you or from remembering all the shit you said after he’d danced with you, fed you his come straight from your dripping cunt in the middle of the street, and subsequently got the both of you fairly crossfaded before falling back into bed together.
“Shut up,” you mumble, burying your face in a pillow.
“Don’t get shy on me,” he sings in your ear, smoothing a hand down your side and squeezing at your hip. His dick twitches at your back, and your ass presses back of its own accord in response. That pulls a groan from Joel directly into your ear, and just that sound has your pussy blinking awake in intrigue.
You feel the ache there from last night. You probably should’ve known better than to take his cock — his ungodly large cock — three times in one night, but he just felt so good and he kept saying the right things, the perfect things, and that masochistic traitor between your legs wouldn’t calm the fuck down.
And here she goes fucking again. Whispering that she wants him for breakfast, despite having him for dinner, dessert, and a midnight snack.
You huff and crane your head around to meet his eyes, flooded with good-natured humor. The softness in them makes you sigh, cup his scruffy cheek in your hand, and capture his lips with yours. He moans into it with ease, moving with you in drowsy tandem. As his tongue clips the inside of your mouth, you taste mint, and reality hits you.
“You brushed your teeth?” you ask, pulling back, suddenly self-conscious about your own morning breath.
He strokes a thumb over your cheek with an unbothered smile and says, “Been up for a couple hours now. Was hopin’ I’d get lucky again. Wanted to boost my chances.”
“How about you get a girl some breakfast and we can talk?”
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice gritty and already dipping lower with arousal. His hands slide around you as he presses a kiss to your throat. “How d’you like your eggs, sweetheart? Fried or fertilized?”
“Jesus Christ,” you groan, shoving his face away from your neck, and he chuckles at your disgust, placing a peck on your shoulder instead.
“Alright,” Joel concedes in a sing-song voice, untangling himself from the sheets and straddling you for a quick second to kiss you on the nose before sliding off the bed, his cock bobbing with the movement. “You doze off for a minute. I’ll make breakfast for the pretty girl.”
He doesn’t even put on underwear, he just waltzes out of his room and down the hall, presenting you with the perfect opportunity to admire his ass on the way. That is, until he brazenly scratches and tugs at his ballsack as he walks and you have to refrain from ridiculing him. He is in his own home, after all. You’re a guest. He can scratch his balls all he wants.
So. You’re in his bed still. You’d slept in his bed. That had not been your intention when you drove here last night, thirsty for attention. But it had been the safe thing to do after smoking and drinking and fucking throughout the evening. And, to be truthful, you didn’t mean to fall asleep. You were on orgasm five, or maybe six, of the night. The pot didn’t help the sleepiness factor. And after going multiple rounds with Joel, you conked out. Anyone would’ve done it. And you slept like a baby, anyway. You can justify this.
You spot your phone on Joel’s nightstand next to a pack of cigarettes, a crumpled receipt, a cluttered ashtray, his keys and wallet, and various loose change — a small peek into what is clearly Joel’s post-work dumping ground. And in the brief moment of blackness before your phone screen alights, you catch a look at your reflection and realize that you never took off your makeup. Jesus, you must look like a fucking wreck after getting the shit fucked out of you an irresponsible amount and then sleeping in an unfamiliar bed.
And Joel didn’t say a goddamn word about it.
You stumble out of Joel’s bed and are immediately met with much cooler air than you’d prefer. You spy one of Joel’s tattered t-shirts on the floor along with his sweats from last night, so you pull them on to combat the chill. Through his open bedroom door you see Joel streak across the living room in his birthday suit, rummaging a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table and standing with his back to you as he lights it. You see him raise his arm to take a puff and tilt his head straight up to billow the smoke into the air.
Stupid, hot-blooded fuck. Strutting around all naked and…upsettingly sexy. Like he doesn’t have a fucking baseball bat swinging from his crotch. One that had him sliding right into your home plate last night over and over and —
You press your eyes shut and shake your head. Fuck no. That old fuck is not infiltrating your mind with dumb metaphors. He’s not infiltrating it at all.
When you’re done scrubbing your face as clean as you can without your usual supplies and fixing your hair into something acceptable, you meander to the kitchen and lean against the entryway.
He’s facing away from you, braving the feat of cooking eggs and a few sausage links on the stove with his whole bare chest out and his dick gone mostly flaccid. Joel prods at the pan with a spatula with one hand, poising a smoldering cigarette over an empty shot glass to catch the ash with the other.
“Are you smoking over my breakfast?”
“I’m smokin’ over our breakfast, thank you very much,” he sasses, his eyes fixed on the scrambling eggs while he taps ash into the tiny glass and then takes another drag. He turns his head to look at you, but when he does, his eyes blow wide and the smoke shoots from his mouth all at once in surprise. “Good golly goddamn. You deadset on givin’ me a heart attack this whole visit of yours, Sugarplum? Sluttin’ around in my clothes like that?”
“Watch your sausage, Chef Joel,” you brush him off with a muted smile, crossing your arms across your chest.
“Oh, I already know exactly what he’s doin’ right now,” he quips with arousal ablaze in his stare.
You roll your eyes and saunter over to him, just to pluck the half-smoked cigarette from his fingers with a wink and wander to his couch to finish it off for him.
Back in the kitchen, you can hear him mutter over the sizzle of the skillet, “Hail Mary, full o’grace…”
You giggle to yourself and settle into the now-dry site of one of your many debaucheries the night before, lying back just as you were around twelve hours ago, but this time with a cloud of cigarette smoke looming overhead instead of weed.
You hear the clinking of silverware and the scrape of a pan. Then Joel calls out, “Get back in here, little temptress. Food’s ready.”
You tamp the cigarette and join him at his tiny two-seater table against the wall of his kitchen, decidedly not acknowledging the way his eyes devour you along the way, if only for the sake of your nether regions. You sit opposite his still-naked figure, appearing entirely nonchalant in nothing more than his skin, so you keep your amused smile to yourself.
Joel seems more interested in staring at you donning his clothes than having any real conversation, so you eat in relative silence, metal against plastic plates until they’re picked clean.
You prop your elbow on the table and cup your chin. “Thank you for making breakfast. That was very sweet.”
“I’m sweet as apple fuckin’ pie, baby. ‘Bout time you pick up on that, I think,” he teases, resting one arm on the table while the other ostentatiously slips under it to pull at his cock. “We gonna discuss the other half of this little deal we got goin’ on?”
“What deal? I didn’t agree to anything,” you smirk, watching the shift of his bicep as he strokes himself.
“Bullshit you didn’t,” he scowls, falling back in his chair enough that the head of his cock peeks over the table, disappearing and reappearing in the grip of his leisurely fist.
“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Being cheated out of your end of what you thought was a deal,” you say, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Should’ve had me shake on it, old man.”
“Oh, I’ll have you shakin’ on it, you little slut. Come thank me properly for your breakfast,” he purrs back at you, scooting his chair out further to make space for you.
You suck a rogue piece of food free from your tooth as you admire your nails in disinterest before looking up at him through your eyelashes. “She needs a break.”
“I’ll take any hole you’re offerin’, sweetheart.”
You consider that, tossing it around in your head, and you push yourself up from the table. You take your sweet time rounding the tiny thing until you’re standing in front of him. He tilts his head to the side with a broad smile, waiting for your next move. You clear your throat and unceremoniously drop to your knees between his legs.
“How about this one?” You pose to him as you wet your lips and plant your hands on his thighs.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans, tapping the leaking head of his cock at your bottom lip. “That’ll be just fine.”
You dart your tongue to taste the smear of precome on your lips, and the moan you let out might be a little exaggerated, but the roll of his eyes in sheer ecstasy has you thinking it was worth exaggerating.
“Shit, baby. Lemme see this cock between those pretty lips.”
You don’t torture him as much as you maybe should. But you wouldn’t be honest if you said your mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of him. So you open as wide as you can and close your lips around his tip, laving your tongue over his slit as you suck at him.
“Fuck,” he groans out, already sounding destroyed at what you’re doing and what’s to follow. “So pretty, sweetheart.” He moves a hand under your chin and indents the flesh of your cheeks with his fingers.
You moan around him and hollow your cheeks, sucking harder at his head and tasting more precome dribbling out onto your tongue. You lick it up and pop him out of your mouth as you look up at him. “You taste good, daddy.”
He hums a rumbling sound and pinches in the sides of your face with his fingers again. “Let daddy feed you a little more then, huh?”
You nod your head at him and drop your jaw, descending on him again, but deeper. The stretch required to take him this way is even more than you had imagined, but you’re determined to take as much of him as you can. You think it’s time to show some gratitude to your pussy, for her faithful service in servicing Joel, and take the bullet for this one.
The prominent veins of Joel’s cock feel thicker when pressed against your tongue. His scent is so much more concentrated here, and it has you a little dizzy. You allow your eyes to flutter closed as you inhale through your nose and start to bob on him with concave cheeks. When he nudges at the back of your throat, Joel’s voice pitches up in a way you’ve never quite heard him do before. It’s unsteady and uninhibited and hot as fuck.
He slips free of your mouth and spit adorns your lips and his cock as you catch your breath. “You’re kind of a little bitch for blowjobs aren’t you?” You tease him as you gather the saliva in your mouth and spill it in an obscene display down the length of his cock.
“Fuck me,” Joel grinds out, tipping the glistening head of him toward your mouth again impatiently, “How could you tell?”
“Sounds are different,” you mutter with a proud grin. “Talking less shit,” you add with a wink before diving back down onto him again.
“Smart little slut,” Joel grunts brokenly as he skims against the back of your mouth again, rocking his hips gently in time with your bobbing motions and threatening the stretch of your throat with his thick head. You feel your eyes watering as you fight back a cough, your nails digging crescents into Joel’s tense thighs as he wages his own battle to control the thrust of his hips.
You come up for air, licking up the underside of him and flicking into his slit just to watch his cock jump. “There’s so fucking much of it, daddy,” you whine as you mouth at the circumference of him.
“Daddy knows that’s how you like it, baby,” he rasps, drawing spit across your cheek with his thumb. “Knew you’d be a slut for this big cock the second I split open that little hole the first time.”
You hum against his length as you lick and suck at him. You can’t bring yourself to fully comprehend how much you’d have to practice to take every inch of him into your mouth. So you resign yourself to employing what you have in your current skill set. Maybe you’ll put in some more rehearsal time with the new silicone dildo you have in your nightstand, which you’re loath to admit you purchased primarily to fill the void shaped like Joel when you’re alone. But he doesn’t need to know about that, and his ego certainly doesn’t either.
Despite your lack of ability to suck this man into your throat as deep as you’d like, Joel does not seem disappointed in the slightest. In fact, he already looks and sounds like his resolve is shattering with every passing minute. You bounce your head up and down on him, moaning and sucking at his thickness while his noises grow more needy and insistent and so unlike what he typically sounds like when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.
You allow him to fall from your mouth just so you can glide your lips along his shaft, lower and lower until you meet his balls. You fix your eyes on him as you encase one of them in the warm wetness of your mouth and do your best to stroke the length of him with your hand.
“God fuckin’ damn it, baby,” he grits out, running harsh fingers through his hair and wrapping a large hand around your own to help you jack him off. “Shit, I’m not gonna last, you gotta…”
You giggle a little as you suck his other ball into your mouth and run broad strokes of your tongue over it.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he whines, his voice cracking midway through, and yanks at your head with urgency. “In your mouth, darlin’ girl. Need it in your mouth.”
You spring up and take his head back in, sucking around it with vigor as you jerk him off in tandem.
“Fuck, like that. Fuck, like that, shit,” Joel says, his voice almost begging with desperation, until he gives a ragged shout and you feel the first shot of him down your throat. Joel’s breaths are vocal and heavy as rope after rope of his come floods your mouth. You whimper around him as drops fall free from the corners of your mouth with the incessant pulses of his cock.
When he’s finally spent, he slips out of you with care, and you seal your lips shut to keep what he’s given you inside. His eyes are tired, his chest heaving as you lock onto his gaze and make a show of swallowing him down, swiping at the stray drops and sucking them clean as well, and presenting your empty mouth to him.
“Jesus, why have I never had you do that before?” Joel pants, raking his fingers through his sweaty curls. “So obsessed with that diamond cooch of yours. Never thought that sassy little mouth could compete.”
“Well, that’s your fault for underestimating me,” you say, placing a chaste kiss to his tip and hauling yourself off the floor to give your knees a reprieve.
“Hell if it ain’t,” he says, gripping your hips and holding you hostage between his legs as he gazes up at you with the kind of affection one only really sees after giving newsworthy head. He rucks his shirt up over your stomach and presses a kiss there, right above the band of his sweats. “Thanks for keepin’ daddy warm last night.”
You shake your head in dismissal of his sentiment but thread your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for letting me crash.”
“Can crash my party anytime, sweet Sugarplum.”
You sway with a hint of bashfulness at the implication of his words and decide it’s better to derail than continue on the current track. “I’m gonna hop in the shower if that’s okay.”
“S’okay if I can join,” he stipulates, hooking a finger into the band of your pants and pulling it outward, peeking down inside them. “Miss her already.”
“Shut up,” you say, batting him away and breaking free toward the hallway. “She’s overworked and tired.”
“How’s about I give her a nice Joel Miller spa treatment,” he offers, trailing after you
“A spa treatment? For my pussy?” you ask skeptically over your shoulder, “The fuck would that even entail?”
Joel shrugs a shoulder and grins devilishly. “Pretty much just me eatin’ you out while it’s all steamy.”
You pause with your hand on the doorknob, eyeing him from head to toe in all his naked glory, weighing his offer. Ultimately you shrug back with a little upside down grin as you push into the bathroom. “Alright. Sign me up for one Joel Miller Pussy Spa Treatment.”
Joel gives a two-finger salute with a cheeky grin and follows behind you. “At your service, ma’am.”
Next Part
_______
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oh no, he's in love? (k.m.g)
Mingyu knew that sleeping with you was a bad idea, especially when he learns that you’re now dating his son, Chan. He pulls himself back into reality and moves on from the situation, allowing the two of you to end the small fling without suspicion, or rather, he tries.
or the one where your re-established crush and now boyfriend, chan, finds out that his dad knows you better than he does.
― part one here!
ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give mingyu a boner.
minors do not interact.
WORDCOUNT― 15.1k
PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader | chan x afab reader
CONTENT― angst, there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s.
SIDE CHARACTERS― chan as mingyu’s son, jihoon as chan’s ride home when ur mad at him
WARNINGS― borderline cheating, alcohol abuse, morally gray choices need to be made, chan disowns mingyu, reader can be lifted and carried by mingyu.
NOTE― *runs away very very fast, so fast that no one can catch me and make me face the trials of what this fic may have done to some of you* not proofread because hahahaha nope.
smut tags under cut::
smut tags :: pussy drunk mingyu, reader is almost entirely silent through the smut but you’ll get why, pussy devouring, kitchen counter sex, couch sex, missionary, eye contact, making out, finger fucking, cream pie/unprotected sex
~
You keep running through explanations in your head, more for yourself than anyone else. When you pushed that crush you had on Chan away, it was clearly because you were horny and he wasn’t picking up the hints. The crush never actually died, your interest just skewed to someone who appeared more ready to pleasure you when you needed it the most. The fact that it happened to have been Chan’s dad? Well, we just won’t talk about how that factors into it.
The explanation of an insatiable “horny level” high enough to fuck Mingyu? It manages to calm you down each time you’re actually with Chan. He’s entirely unaware of what happened between you and his father and you’d prefer to keep it that way, which is why you haven’t seen Mingyu in over a month, and why you avoid seeing him any further.
After that first night with Mingyu, you saw him a few times after and continued your little fling with him until Chan made himself more prominent in your life, more so than he already was. He made his feelings clear, he stepped up, he started hanging out with you one on one rather than consistently inviting you to parties with him. It was easy to fall back into your original mindstate about him especially without the alcohol being involved. Wanting to hold his hand, wanting to kiss him, wanting to touch him. He stepped up and asked you to be his girlfriend about a week after you stopped seeing Mingyu all together. You expected to be asked, in all fairness, so it was the right thing to do.
Mingyu never texted you nor did he ever call even before you stopped seeing him, he always just responded. You were thankful for that, despite remembering how you laid with him in his bed the last night you spent with him, wondering if that feeling in your stomach was something deeper than arousal. Small secretive hopes that those small words of “I never want to assume, that’s why I don’t text first.” with an even smaller explanation of “It’s not because I don’t want you.” would become something more.
Still, those budding hopes don’t matter now, as Chan continues to make himself the center of your love life. There is something on your mind that bothers you though. The fact that there could be a future together with Chan and knowing that you can’t avoid Mingyu forever.
God, you’re so right about that issue too, because of course Chan is happily texting you as the semester comes to an end. Of course he’s setting up dinner with his dad and inviting you to meet him properly for the first time.
You: chan, i’ve met your dad a billion times
Chan: yeah but not as my girlfriend!
You: fair but, i’ve already met him lol, i’d rather we just hang out without parents around
Your brain pounds at the idea of pretending you haven’t met Mingyu on levels deeper than you should have. It also pounds at the idea of seeing Mingyu’s reaction to you doing what you’re doing. He must think so lowly of you, to fuck him and still be brave enough to enter into a relationship with his son? You’re sure he already knows you’re dating him, but like, you’d rather not see him see it?
Chan: babe come on, i wanna do coupley things with you! just pretend you’ve never met him, plus he seemed cool with the idea and even said he can make up my old room if we wanted to sleep over.
The pit in your stomach grows at the very idea that you’ve never been in Chan’s old room before, but you’d been in Mingyu’s many times. Enough to remember the creak of the boards just at the base of his bedroom door, enough to know where he hangs his jacket outside of the closet, and which side of his bed he tends to sleep on the most.
Unfortunately, and with a world of reluctance, you know you can’t avoid Mingyu forever. The thought alone that he already knows drives the bubbles in your stomach up to your throat, leaving a bad taste in your mouth as you give in to your boyfriend. Chan, the one you chose, and the one you know you will continue to choose.
You: alright, alright. what should i wear?
Chan: can you wear that one skirt
You: NO
~
Now, after a long night of overthinking and trying to come up with an excuse to not see Mingyu again, you’re sitting on your bed wearing the exact skirt Chan wants you to wear, waiting for him to pick you up and drive you to the most awkward situation that could ever happen to you.
You’re really hoping he doesn’t opt to sleep there and expect you to be beside him. Something inside tells you that he’d be able to smell the weakness on you, or the nervousness around his father. After all, Chan is more mindful than you gave him credit for originally. Only having learned this through his never-ending string of apologies of never reciprocating your hints previously. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he had said, he just wasn’t sure if he was ready at the time.
That was, until he noted how you kind of backed off. He didn’t want to fumble a girl like you, and so, he leaped further than any man ever had done with you. Mindful, he is. Of himself, of you, hopefully not of anything else though. You’d really rather he not take note of any lingering memories in his childhood home regarding your naked body pressed against whatever surface Mingyu has had you against.
Trying to act like Mingyu hasn’t had you pressed against the washer in the laundry room is harder than you thought it would be. Trying to pretend you haven’t touched him, or kissed him, or made him moan is insanely difficult to do. Those images and sounds were burned into your mind the moment it happened, and even now, when you get intimate with Chan, you find yourself finding the differences between the two. Which is….not good.
For instance, Mingyu is bigger. All around, he loomed and could do absolutely anything he wanted to you, but he was polite and never took advantage of his size or age. He was gentle and kind, even when his deep thrusts hurt. He always kissed you when you winced, always told you to hold onto him, and always thanked you for taking him so well.
Chan, on the other hand is–a good size of course, not as thick or as long as Mingyu, body stature not nearly as big either but, the sex is hot, messy, clumsy even.
He’s cheeky and selfish for his pleasure, but so are you, so the dynamic is something that turns you on beyond belief. Having someone so eager to touch you felt amazing. Chan never quite knew where he wanted his lips, tongue, or fingers first and it always feels so good to let him determine that himself.
The first time you finally had him between your legs, you could argue that he gave you some of the best head you’d ever had. Until you remembered how Mingyu did it. How desperate someone twice your size and age was for you to get on his face, how ready he was to make you feel good even while neglecting himself. Chan doesn’t do that, he likes to hold you down when you squirm, and he certainly doesn’t allow himself to be neglected for too long.
Both of them fuck so differently, and both of them fuck exactly how you want them to. Or, wanted them to, if you’re talking about Mingyu. It’s just, you only know of the love from Chan and the presumed fantasy of what you think Mingyu’s love would feel like.
As you sit here, comfortable and pleased with your current sex life, you can’t help but miss the way you were held by Mingyu. His big arms felt so safe, even when you weren’t in any position to feel unsafe. You can’t compare the two, truly, but you still try. Internally wondering which is better despite already making the choice of being Chan’s girlfriend.
Naturally though, you cannot live your life through sexual hopes and dreams like this when you’ve got Chan right here, giving his all to you. So, you let it rest, even when the thoughts flood your mind.
The memories and thoughts of Mingyu will die as the days pass, right? As you and Chan establish a good foundation, and eventually fall into something more serious than just a mid-college relationship, right? There’s no harm in remembering fondly until that happens, right?
Right, well. You still have to officially meet Mingyu again, so.
Even now, as you’re with Chan and pulling into his father’s driveway, your brain finds itself reverting back to how Mingyu used to open the door for you when you were alone. Always that little smirk, always a tight and warm hug before it immediately turned to minty fresh kisses deepening by the second.
When he opens the door this time, he appears to be nothing but a doting father. One who doesn’t have desperate arousal pressing against his jeans when he looks at you. It’s a reminder that he isn’t opening this door for you alone this time. He’s not inviting you in to put those broad hands on your thighs to spread your legs open for him. No, he’s inviting you in for fucking dinner with your boyfriend. His son.
He doesn’t appear to be bothered though, nor does his eyes linger like they used to. He greets you the same way he greets Chan, only glancing at your hand in his son’s grasp for a moment before offering the two of you a smile.
“It’s about time I got to officially meet her.” Mingyu calls out with a chipper tone, reaching his hand out to you for a hand shake. “Now that you’re seeing me at a decent time, without dragging my insane child to the couch to sleep off his bad decisions, I’m the actual Mingyu.”
You reluctantly reach for his hand to shake it, the warmth of them no longer there from when he used to hold your hips or caress your cheek. They’re cold this time, but his smile is warm. You avoid eye contact, mostly looking straight past him rather than choosing to try and read his features.
“It’s kind of weird seeing you when the sun is out, Mr. Kim,” You comment, feeling a little bit shy about all of this despite how bold you normally are. “Kind of nice that we are all here to meet without Chan dry heaving against me.”
Mingyu pauses at the name you just called him, accepting it and dipping his head politely at you with a soft and accepting smile.
“Oh yeah, for sure.” Chan laughs, squeezing your hand in his and dragging you inside, forcing you to brush only slightly by Mingyu, who steps back to give you the space.
On one hand, that comment meant more than you meant it to, but it was also the truth. For one, you should never be calling your boyfriend’s dad by his actual name, and two, even if you never got to experience getting into Mingyu’s bed, still you’d have only met him in the middle of the night after wild college parties. Even those days when you slept over and went home the next morning, the sun was out but it didn’t change the fact that most of your waking hours with Mingyu were spent when the city was blanketed by night.
The atmosphere feels so awkward in these circumstances and the worst part is that they’re not supposed to. If you had just kept your hands to yourself, if Mingyu was just….not so fucking hot. Even now, as you avoid eye contact with him, you watch the way he steps around the kitchen with confidence as he prepares the last of the dinner. You watch the way his shirt squeezes his biceps and the way his fingers hold a bowl.
You are stupid to have come here so soon.
Unintentionally you rub your legs together as you watch him, as if your body will react regardless of what your heart tells you to do. Chan is off to the side moving his hand from the table and to your thigh, completely unaware that the movements from you are from unwanted arousal and not nervousness.
“What’re you being so shy for?” Chan whispers, squeezing your thigh with care, dipping his head down to make eye contact with you. “Like you said, you’ve already met him before.”
He has no idea that the simple touch to your thigh is driving you insane right now, and you can’t even react to it the way you want to because you wouldn’t know if you’d moan the wrong name if you end up being intimate with Chan here. It feels insanely overwhelming just sitting here at the dinner table and the worst part is that it absolutely should not be like this. As if that’s not already well established in your head,
“I know, but it’s weird pretending like it’s my first time meeting him.” You whisper back, trying to relax your body and keep your eyes on Chan.
You can’t help but feel like he can see straight through you, despite knowing there is absolutely no way in hell he could.
“It’ll feel better, don’t worry. I know you’ve only talked to him a few times, but he’s pretty down to earth.”
Chan really thinks you’ve only met Mingyu in passing when dropping him off. God, the guilt is overwhelming as you lean into him, dropping your head on his shoulder and sighing. You can’t even tell if this looks dramatic or awkward, but thankfully, Mingyu appears to be avoiding your eye much like you are for him.
When dinner is ready and the three of you are sitting together and eating, it does somehow get easier. The way Mingyu plays it off, the way he carries the conversation, the way he says he’s proud of Chan for finding such a nice girl, all of it makes you feel as though he’s decided to move forward. Like he’s genuinely okay with this, like he’s moved on and you were just a notch in his bedpost.
Which, it’s true, but you can admit that you feel uneasy with the way he no longer looks at you the way he once did.
Which is good, for him at least. You think you’ve moved on too, at least in a logical sense, but you can’t help but feel a little stab in your heart each time Mingyu acts in support of this relationship. Not that you wanted him to fight for you, or to be mad, it’s just that you really thought that maybe the two of you had a little fire starting together. Given, you’re the reason that was snuffed out, who are you to feel even the slightest bit upset that he’s being a supportive father?
After all, above all, he is the father of your boyfriend, and not just that notch in your bedpost. You have to co-exist with him for as long as you and Chan are together, it’s better that it’s this way.
There’s a relief in the way Mingyu appears to truly not mind. He still looks at you softly when your eyes do meet, but they’re not guilty or apologetic. This is how it’s supposed to be, it’s how it was always supposed to be.
“So, are you guys sleeping over?” Mingyu asks, grabbing his glass and taking a sip to wash down a bite of his food before looking between the two of you. “Chan, I made up your bedroom and hooked up one of the gaming systems.”
Chan nods with a fond smile before looking at you and tilting his head in question.
“Are you good to sleep over?” He asks you, hand going back to your thigh under the table and giving you another comforting squeeze.
You don’t want to, but Chan is still obnoxiously bad at picking up hints, so when you shrug he smiles and nods.
“Sounds good,” He smiles, looking back at his dad and taking another bite of his food. “This is nice.”
Mingyu hums in response.
“Yeah, it’s about time you brought someone home to meet me, I was starting to think you thought I was lame or something.”
Chan laughs, tipping his chair a bit as he pulls his hand from your thigh and slouches like the college boy he is.
“You are lame,” Chan jokes in a chuckle. “But really, dad, I just didn’t click with anyone until now.”
Mingyu pauses and then gives Chan another smile and a nod.
“That’s really good to hear.” He compliments, standing to his feet to take his dishes to the sink.
~
You try not to be too touchy with Chan while you’re here. You’re too hyper aware of what it feels like to be touched in this house and what it does to your mind. Unfortunately, Chan is the perfect type of boyfriend you would have yearned for before all of this happened.
He’s touchy, he’s clingy, he’s needy. Honestly, he’s all over you after dinner. On the couch he used to drunkenly sleep on, his hand is planted to your thigh, drawing little hearts with his fingertips. His lips are constantly in search of yours when Mingyu sees himself out of the room, usually to grab a drink or to go to the bathroom.
It’s not that you pull away, but you kind of do. He seems understanding enough, knowing that you likely just feel awkward being all touchy in his dad’s house.
“He’s not even in here,” Chan prods gently, kissing against your neck. “And you look so good today.”
You both love and hate how into you he can be. It’s something you think you’ll give in to time and time again, but still, you feel like you’re morally at a wall when he does it here.
Even by the time the two of you make your way to Chan’s old room, you find yourself staring at the door Mingyu has closed behind you several times. His door. You know the layout of his bedroom like the back of your hand, every creak of his floor, every pattern on his window curtains.
The guilt stays with you the entire time you’re here, and you really just can’t wait to leave. It feels like you’re a prisoner of your own fucking brain at this point, and honestly? You want to go to sleep and not spend another waking moment with your fucking boyfriend within these walls, ever. It’s too overwhelming, too awkward, and in all honesty, kind of painful with the way Mingyu seems entirely unbothered.
You’re trying to be unbothered too, even as Chan lays you down in his old bed and crawls on top of you.
“If we’re quiet...” He starts, trying to lean down to kiss you, trying to love you the way you usually like it. But he’s quick to take note of your body language, with the way you almost curl in on yourself as he makes his attempt.
“Hey,” He soothes, rolling off of you and clinging to your side. “It’s okay.” He continues, whispering to you and peppering little kisses against your shoulder. “We don’t have to.”
You nod quietly, turning to face him and looking at him.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You say, trying to make him feel less bad about it. “I just don’t think I can physically get turned on in your dad’s house.”
A lie.
He chuckles at you with a nod.
“Would you rather not sleep here tonight?” He asks, like, genuinely asks in a way to try and make things more comfortable.
You nod, feeling a bit bad and like you’re making a big deal about it, even though to him, you’re not.
“Come on, we can go back to your place.” He says, both of you still very much awake and not entirely ready for bed anyway.
“Won’t he wonder why we’re leaving?” You ask, tilting your head. “I mean, he made up your room and everything.” You nod your head to the gaming system sitting untouched, ready for use.
“Nah, he’s just nice like that. He won’t mind.”
And, well, Mingyu really didn’t seem to care. Which, arguably, makes you feel stupid for being worried about it at all.
In fact, he barely gave either of you a nod when Chan opened the familiar bedroom door to say goodbye for the night. Both of you waving politely to him with no excuse or reason as to why you’re not staying.
You’re aware that Mingyu knows why though. Which is probably why he didn’t offer an ounce of care or confusion when the two of you inevitably stood at his door to tell him.
At the end of the day? This visit was tortuous only because you made it so. In your head, it’s hard to pretend. Fortunately though, Mingyu seems to have no fucking problem forgetting that you’ve ever spent a single moment alone with him.
You try not to hurt over it.
~
Chan has this effect over you where as long as the two of you are together, he calms you to the point that you almost forget about Mingyu entirely. That is, of course, until you’re actually face to face with Mingyu himself and you have no other choice but to recognize the choices you’ve made.
Thankfully, there isn’t much of a reason to be around him despite being in a committed relationship with his son, and that only gives you more of a reason to fall back into a comfortable mind state the second you’re out of that all too familiar childhood home of your boyfriend.
Every single time, without fail and completely without intention, Chan manages to remind you with every kiss and touch that you’re where you’re supposed to be. With him, beside him, under him, just…anywhere with him. It feels so right when your brain isn’t running a mile a minute over the hidden secrets within yourself.
You can genuinely say that Chan makes you happy. You can even say that you’ve never been happier in a relationship with another person. Never more comfortable, never more safe. So, when the two of you are invited to a semester-end party over at Jihoon’s place just a week later, it’s natural that both of you jump for the opportunity.
After all, it’s been a while since you last attended a party at all, and Chan has since calmed down as well once the two of you got exclusive. It’s nice, really, without the alcohol flowing and heightened emotions.
Every conversation from before, up to Chan asking you to be his girlfriend was sobering and pleasant. If anything, having a couple of drinks now that the two of you are falling into a routine together would be a nice change of pace for the night.
The two of you deserve this relaxation together anyway, for sure you do. After how you felt dealing with Mingyu face to face, after a rough semester, after fucking passing your exams, fuck yes you’re going to go to this party and let loose with a boyfriend you’re growing to love so dearly.
You can tell Chan is excited too by the glint in his eye and that fond smile as he watches you get dressed and ready beside him.
“I won’t drink much so we can go back to my place and cuddle up later?” is what he whispered to you as you pinned your hair out of your face. You were happy to hear him take responsibility for what used to be a somewhat of a drinking problem.
Unfortunately, his promise of not drinking much became more and more empty as the night went on.
For the first hour, he seemed to stick to his words. Sipping on one single drink up until the end of the hour and he goes for another. Then another, and another, up until he goes off for “one more” only to be lost in the crowd of people wandering around jihoon’s frat house.
You stand in wait, swaying to the beat with a mere drink and a half sloshing around in your belly as you think to yourself. It’s okay. He’s just letting loose for the first time in weeks and you don’t want to seem like a pushy girlfriend or a mood kill during the middle of a party that you both very much deserve to attend.
You and Chan being in the relationship doesn’t mean neither of you get the freedom to have fun and get absolutely plastered, even if there was a slight promise of doing no such thing. You want him to have fun after the stressful semester. Especially considering how you had to practically force him to study just so he could get his GPA up.
You want him to not feel guilty for drinking a little too much like he’s done so many times before. If anything, you need to be the supportive girlfriend, letting him lean on you and leave slobbery, wet kisses down your jaw through drunken slurs of love and adoration towards you.
Are you a bit disappointed? Yes, of course you are. But you also don’t mind going with the flow, so flow you do. Back and forth through the rooms, mingling with Jihoon, Joshua, that one guy, and that other girl. You’re having a great time chatting it up with relaxed and giggly friends, feeling like maybe you could even use another drink or two, up until– oh.
Chan. Right there against the back door with some pretty drunken girl petting on his arm. Giggling, dipping her face, all while he says something to her with the same snicker and smirk he typically gives to you during a date or just before an intimate moment with you.
Suddenly, you remember when you let that fleeting crush on him dwindle as time passed. Sure, partially it was because of Mingyu but there was still another side to it. This side of Chan. When he’s drunk and entirely out of his mind around pretty girls and strong beverages. Always so single looking, always so flirty, never picking up hints.
He never picked up the hint that you liked him, and while he explained that away to you, watching him now makes you feel like all of those words were just to save face. He didn’t pick up the hints then, and he certainly isn’t picking up the hints now as your face falls to that of a frustrated glare. The girl notices, raises her brow at you, and then looks back at your boyfriend.
Chan barely glances at you but when he does, it’s almost like you didn’t come here with him at all. It’s almost like neither of you ever even started dating in the first place.
Is this all it takes? A couple of drinks and one pretty girl for him to lose all interest in you? What about you though? Is this all it takes for you to completely lose all interest?
You’re the only one with a right to lose interest, arguably.
Considering the way Chan looks at her, the way his hands reach for her.
There, a girl who isn't you, to be specific. He practically ignores any hint of discomfort from you while simultaneously allowing this girl to cling all over him, run her fingers through his hair, and even so much as sipping from his drink. She glances at you again.
She fucking smirks at you.
You’re dumbfounded, appalled, and overwhelmed with rage within an instant as you stand and watch. Each person who steps in front of you or between you and your boyfriend appear to be entirely invisible as you watch, because you can’t recall a single second where you weren’t seeing the two of them up against that fucking door clear as day.
It’s like he’s reverted back to every doubt you ever had about him, that safety you had started growing accustomed to being ripped out from under you by some woman who you’re sure he hasn’t even caught the name of yet.
Does it hurt? Tremendously for the amount of time you’ve been with him. A few weeks shouldn’t hurt this badly to lose.
And it’s not hard, really, to take what’s yours, or rather to throw away what’s supposed to be yours. It never really has been when it comes down to situations that force you to act on instinct. After all, Chan was the one who got serious with you. He’s the one who asked you to be exclusive. He’s the one who finally jumped in after you’d been dipping your toes in to encourage him for ages.
And now, he’s going to fucking explain himself. You deserve to know why your boyfriend of just over a month and a half, who was previously your best fucking friend, manages to grow bored with you within the blink of an eye. If Chan can’t handle being in a relationship while alcohol is involved, he’s going to have a big decision to make. Right here.
Right now.
You make your way towards them, all while glaring at the woman with her hands in your boyfriend’s hair as she makes her pathetic attempts to dance sexy against him. Chan, on the other hand, is so fucking dazed and in his own world that you can argue you don’t know this man at all.
“Chan.” That’s all you say to have him raising a brow, looking at you as if you’re interrupting something.
“What’s up babe?” He responds nonchalantly, smiling at you and leaning into the girl.
You pause, taking a breath as you stare them both down with a grimace.
“Can you leave?” You demand more than ask towards the girl, and she scoffs only for a moment before Chan takes it upon himself to shrug her off of him and shake her away.
You watch as she rolls her eyes and walks away, and never in your life have you wanted to slap another woman so badly. The worst part is that it isn’t even her fault that this is happening. Chan clearly didn’t tell her that he, you know, has a fucking girlfriend.
“What the fuck was that?” You dead pan, staring straight at Chan and forcing him out of a state of bliss with your tone.
“Babe, babe. Relax.” He slurs, smiling and chuckling throughout the words. “Just having fun!”
You stare at him dumbfounded. Offended. Fucking appalled yet again.
“Are you joking?” You roll your eyes much like the woman did, crossing your arms and fidgeting on your feet. “If I’d known that you would suddenly become single from getting shitfaced then maybe we wouldn’t have come to the party at all.”
“Oh, so now you want to control me?” Chan shoots back in another slur of words. “First you force me to study, now you’re trying to make me stop having fun? Such a fucking buzz-kill.”
You sigh, unsure as to why you thought he wouldn’t be so stubborn. Then again, you know drunk Chan better than you do the sober one.
“I really thought that once we started dating, you’d be more mindful of this. Of us.” You nearly plead now, reaching for his cup only to watch him pull it out of your reach like a child. “You need to stop drinking.”
Chan just stares at you now. You watch him try to adjust his eyes forward, and already you’re aware that he’s seeing two of you. His expression gives you nothing more than a feeling of disgust, knowing well enough that drunk words are more truthful than the sober ones.
“Chan, you’re cheating on me already.” You try to explain the gravity of the situation again.
“I’m not cheating. I told you, I was just having some fun.” He explains away with a dopey smile, moving his weight to his other leg and blatantly stumbling over nothing as he sways himself back into a shitty-show of drunken balance.
“Yes, because it’s fun to have another woman’s hands all over you when I’m literally right fucking here?”
Only now are you actually shocked by his response.
All he does is shrug at you with that same smile. One you’d normally want to kiss right off of his face because it’s so cute and endearing.
But no. Instead, you feel disgust. No hurt, no pain, just…you feel gross. Embarrassed, even.
“This is childish. We’ve barely been dating over a month.” You state as a fact, uncaring if he can process the words at all. “I’m not doing this. We’re done. Have Jihoon take you back to your place.”
And before he can even fathom saying something back to you, you leave.
~
It’s a very bad feeling to walk into a party arm in arm with someone you imagine being with for a long time, and then walking out of that same party not three hours later alone, and seemingly broken up.
You meant what you said though, even if you could practically see your words go through one of his ears and out the other. It’s too early in the relationship to be dealing with that. Arguably, there should never be a time in a relationship actually, where you have to practically force someone out of your boyfriend’s too-welcoming grasp.
Ah, it’s shameful really. Given that you did your best to be a good girlfriend to him despite what happened with his dad, yet he couldn’t even offer you the decency of at least pretending to love you while drunk?
You really didn’t pay much mind to his drinking until now. You knew he was a bit of a mess before but most college kids are, you thought. Seeing it first hand and how it can impact your relationship though? Yeah, Chan has a drinking problem and it’s one you’re not willing to work through with him.
Partially because you’re hurt by what he’s doing and partially because the guilt of everything that happened before you started dating stresses you the fuck out.
Maybe it’s better that you keep your distance from not only Mingyu, but Chan too.
And you know, that sounds like such a great idea. You could start over, you could find someone new and slowly get to know them before eventually falling in love, getting married, so on and so forth.
And as you simmer over the frustration, too, too sober, you jump into your car and start driving. Where? You’re not sure. The path you’re going doesn’t lead to home at all, but you continue nonetheless. Paying too-close attention to each stop sign and red light, until–
Well.
Is it really so shocking to find yourself here of all places?
It’s a quick trip up the steps and the knocks you lend the door are even quicker.
There’s so much resentment inside of you at this moment when none other than Mingyu creaks the front door open. His son just fucked you over, his son was supposed to be a good boyfriend, his son just threw you away for some girl at a fucking frat party and you want to know why.
Sure, you should be standing in front of Chan right now to get the answers, but you’re not. You’re here. You’re fucking here, on Mingyu’s front porch, glaring at him much like you’d be glaring at his son.
Mingyu, on the other hand, is shocked to see you at his door by yourself. He reluctantly lets you inside without a word spoken. He sees the expression on your face and can’t help but feel the anxiety in his gut bubble up to his throat.
There’s tension in the air as he looks at your eyes, noting that they appear to be a bit raw.
“What happened?” Mingyu asks, standing by the door with a look of concern as you make your way to his kitchen as if you have the right. “Where’s Chan?” He adds in a voice with even more concern.
To you, as you sigh and look at him when he makes his way into the kitchen behind you, all you can see is that same protective father from the night you and Chan almost slept over.
“I broke up with him.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how glassy and wet they feel.
No, you won’t cry over this.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He tilts his head with question, and you know he has more to say about it but you don’t really care to indulge him right now.
“Did you raise him to be that way?” You ask, looking down and feeling frustrated. “To get bored of a relationship after a few weeks?”
Part of you knows these words include double edged swords. Who else would Chan have learned this from, anyway? With Mingyu and his all-too-caring hands acting like there’s a fucking spark somewhere in the room when you’re with him to Chan doing the exact same thing only to have both of them act as if you moving on isn’t a bother?
“I most certainly did not teach him that.” Mingyu defends himself with a huskier tone than he’s ever used with you before. “What did he do?”
“This girl was all over him tonight and when I split it up he got annoyed with me over it.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you plop down on a bar stool. “Practically told me I was trying to control him, so I broke up with him.”
“Ah,” Mingyu nods, leaning against the counter. “He must have been drinking. I did tell him he needed to slow down on it, but he doesn’t exactly listen to me.”
“He doesn’t listen to fucking anyone.” You throw your arms up, eyes threatening to tear up against your will.
Not because you’re sad, but for so many reasons aside from that. One, you just broke up with Chan. Two, you ran to fucking Mingyu over it? Three, you miss Mingyu and that’s the obvious reason as to why you’re here but that doesn’t make it right. And, well, four, the fact that he didn’t immediately smile and kiss you upon learning you’re single again is beyond frustrating.
Mingyu really did move on.
He really did let you cut it off.
There’s a long moment of silence before you hear Mingyu sigh and look at you, studying your face with a tense jaw.
“Well,” He starts, “Is there a reason you came here over this? I don’t know what you want me to say.”
You’re not sure why those words shock you, but they do. In reality, from outside of yourself anyway, you can see how strange it must be that you came running to snitch on Chan. What’s worse is that Mingyu probably thinks you have some sort of ulterior motive behind being here.
Which, yeah, maybe you did. In your rush of frustrations even you didn’t understand why you ended up here over this. Maybe part of you did want the comfort from him. Maybe you do want him to side with you, and hug you close despite being the one who broke it off.
Still, Chan did fuck up.
What part of your breakup should lend you the opportunity to come running back here though? You ghosted Mingyu to date his son. What gives you the right to be sitting in his kitchen right now? What do you expect him to say about all of this?
“Oh, I’m so sorry babe, let me make it better.” or “I knew he couldn’t treat you the way I can.”
Ah, fantasies. All of them are fantasies. As much as you’d love for Mingyu to say these things to you, realistically, he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
And somehow, knowing that and realizing it hurts a little more than breaking up with Chan. It’s proof that Mingyu lost interest in you too. Hell, you’re sure he lost interest the second he learned of you dating Chan. Given that he was suspiciously supportive of it, and that he even seemed happy about it?
Perhaps he was just happy that whatever you and him had going on was over. Maybe he was relieved that he didn’t have to ghost you himself.
Maybe you were stupid to involve yourself in any of this. Stupid to so boldly seduce Mingyu, stupid to willingly jump into a relationship with Chan, stupid to somehow believe that Mingyu would care at all about the situation as a whole.
You guess the two really are alike, and that Mingyu did raise Chan to be cold and uncaring when the mood strikes him.
“I guess you’re right.” You sigh, sniffling once and wiping your face before shooting up and onto your feet. “I really shouldn’t have come here.” You avoid his eye contact, feeling too many emotions to be willingly seen right now. “and I think I should go home.”
He looks at you, nodding slowly.
“Yeah, that would be best.”
Stupid. You feel so fucking stupid.
And as Mingyu watches you turn away from him, he can hear your sniffles. The way your shoulders tense to try and hide that you’re feeling embarrassed and utterly pathetic, he tries not to give in to that emotion.
Yeah, you guys had sex. He knew it was wrong, but even so, he would still feel a pull in his chest to find his son’s girlfriend crying in his kitchen over something that happened. Whether he slept with you or not, it’s only human to want to comfort someone.
But he can’t. Given the circumstances, if Mingyu so much as closes distance, he fears that you’ll see it as an invitation. Or perhaps, he will treat it as one himself. Now isn’t the time, and never should it have been time to invite you into his bed the way he did previously.
He needs to be careful in this situation, regardless of how his heart pulls.
Never did he want to see you hurting internally like this.
And so, he tries to leave it alone. He tries to block out the sound of your shuffled footsteps walking away from him, and even harder does he try to block out those silenced sniffles from you.
You feel so out of it as you make your way to the door. How you got into this situation isn’t too difficult to understand though. It was so easy to fall into it, and goddamn did it feel good at first. Now though? Ah, it hurts.
Sure, you liked a guy and he turned out to be an asshole. That’s something that has and will happen to you time and time again, but you guess the whole fucking his dad thing makes it a lot worse in your head.
Even so, you don’t know why you thought you could come to Mingyu for comfort. Like he’d wisp you off your feet and throw his own child under the bus. Your ego needed a check, and goddamn did both of these guys give it to you.
That’s his son and you’re just…a girl.
To think you’re really alluring enough to keep Chan from straying his eye…to think you’re enough to get Mingyu to side with you and touch you again?
So fucking stupid.
And god, this walk to Mingyu’s front door feels damning. You swear hours pass with each step but you’re sure it’s only been a few seconds.
You realize that when you step past that front door, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever be in this house. The last time you’ll ever feel the gravel of this driveway under your tires, the last time Mingyu will ever see you walk away from him.
It wells up inside you when you reach for the doorknob, unable to wait much longer to just move on from all of this. You want to lock it all behind this front door, instead of living with it yourself, forcing Mingyu to do it instead.
Then, in a sudden twist of fate, you feel your body shiver at a rush of cold air behind you followed by warm arms wrapping you up entirely.
You feel as if the breath is knocked out of you at the feeling, that cold door knob in your palm radiating with heat now as your hand is pulled away from it. You’re pulled from the door entirely, actually, and a rush of emotions hits you when you feel Mingyu’s broad chest against your back.
You can’t help it.
The tears on your cheeks are more from frustration than sadness, and you’re quick to try and wipe the arms that the tears fall against, but he still just holds you there. Strong arms forcing you into a reality that felt so far out of reach just moments before, forcing those warm tears to continue falling out of disbelief now, rather than frustration.
You’d love to believe that this is just your mind playing tricks on you. Knowing you came here just to see if Mingyu would let you waste another night without Chan and with him. Running on emotions, really. It’s a trait you should probably work on, but really. You do wish it wasn’t real. That these arms around you really are just phantom weight that your heart is conjuring up.
That the chin dropping to your left shoulder isn’t a man that’s been violating your thoughts time and time again.
That this isn’t exactly what you want.
“Don’t hate me.” Mingyu whispers against his better judgment. He can’t help it though, the need to think of himself upon watching you touch that fucking doorknob hit him harder than anything else could have just moments ago.
He never wanted to be in competition with his son, but fuck. He wants to at this point. He knows he can be what you need and he wants to be what you need so badly. Does he understand why? Of course he doesn’t. Something about this is so wrong and he knows exactly why it’s wrong. Does it stop him though?
It almost did.
“I don’t want you to leave here hating me.” He continues.
The whisper against your neck feels so warming, sending goosebumps all over your body but you try to stay where you are. Even with your knees buckling under you, even when he holds you up and tighter against him.
It’s the first time in several weeks since you’ve felt these arms around you. And fuck, you thought you’d be able to get over how they feel, you really thought that this heavy and overwhelmingly gentle grip would be a thing of the past. After all, it’s all you needed it to be, but here you are, feeling heartbroken over the fact that you kept yourself from this for far too long already.
You feel butterflies in your stomach flutter up to your throat, swallowing around a pathetic whimper of emotional release.
“Just stay the night.” Mingyu adds after hearing your whimper, somehow holding you impossibly closer.
You stand frozen, listening to his words and wondering if this is real. You feel too warm to pretend it’s not happening though, and it takes a moment to work up the courage to turn in his grasp.
You almost forgot what it felt like to not be teased or played with. Chan really was so playful with you, to the point that it almost felt cruel at times. Mingyu though, the way he steps back and gives you the space to simply look at him? Gives you the time and space to contemplate the situation and decide whether or not you want to navigate it at all?
At this moment, looking at him and his apologetic stare, seemingly feeling sorry that you’re going through what you’re going through while simulationaly wanting you, you can’t help but let the feelings for Chan die once and for all.
If you’re really about to do this with Mingyu, you can’t do the back-and-forth again. You have to choose, and the choice is so fucking obvious.
Arguably, it’s always been obvious.
And as you keep eye contact with Mingyu, you can see something in his head break. That softened look in his eye turning to something….unabashedly crazed. As if to tell you to take the reins before he does it himself. It serves as a pleasant reminder that you’re not the only one weak when it comes to being alone together.
You’re not the only one with guilt, temptation, and lack-of-care for morals when the two of you are together.
You’re not alone in this.
Mingyu is falling just as quickly as you are.
Tumbling, spinning, fucking rolling in the idea that this doesn’t have to end.
Honestly, with the matching gaze, Mingyu almost wishes you would walk away from this. From him. He almost wishes you could be smarter than he is in this situation. Wishes you were stronger than him and stronger than this.
But he’s thankful that you’re not, because having the ability to watch you blink up at him like this again is flooring. In fact, he’s spent countless nights trying to push this very image out of his head due to respect for his son.
Where is that respect now?
Nowhere within him, and god is he thankful for it. Why should he have respect for a relationship that’s no longer there? Why should he continue to deny, deny, deny?
He’s not in denial anymore, not with those pretty eyes looking at him like this. Not with those lips parting for each hopeful breath. Not with those hands gripping onto him for dear life, hoping for nothing more than a hug but knowing there’s so much more behind said hug.
God, he’s melting again. For you, he’s fucking melting.
“You need to tell me to stop, right now,” He says in a hopeless whisper, as if someone else can hear him. “Because I’m tired of pretending I have self control around you.”
And you react to those words with another pretty blink and a short shake to your head. Solidifying that he isn’t alone in the need, that he isn’t insane to want this, that he isn’t hated by you.
It doesn’t take much, really, for him to take a step backwards. He can feel you walk with him, so he continues, walking back, back, back. Your body instinctively follows him, and you think you would follow him to the ends of the earth if you could.
Back. Back. Back. Until the two of you are in the kitchen again, and his back hits the kitchen counter, sending a roll of paper towels to topple over and fall onto the floor. Neither of you pay attention to it, and instead hold each other in wait.
When he drops his hands slightly, loosening his grip around your waist, he breathes out once before licking his bottom lip and fixing his gaze on your lips.
To think either of you have self control at this moment is insane. He knows it, you know it, and god fucking damn, the entire universe would know it if they could so much as feel the electricity in this room.
A single blink more up at him leaves him nearly breathless. No more waiting, no more offering space for if you want to pull away. No more outs. He swoops down and lands his lips on yours like he never stopped before. Like it’s natural, like this is where his lips are supposed to be.
And all he can think of at this moment is hoping you never tell him to stop. Hoping that you’re both lost in this situation enough to experience something together just once more, if that’s all it can be. Even if this is all the two of you can be, he wants it. For as long as he can have it, he fucking wants it.
You feel that want through his harsh kisses. Like he’s trying to swallow you up, so intimate with it, so into it. Pouring his whole soul into the way he moves his tongue against yours, the experience behind the way he breathes as he kisses is just as flooring as it always has been. Even now, you don’t compare it to the way Chan kissed you. Mingyu became the standard for everything in your head before, and it was silly for you to ever think someone else could take over that role. There is no comparing Mingyu to anyone else.
Silly, silly fucking thoughts. Logical thinking be damned, Mingyu was the logical choice all along. Morality bringing him down to a fucking notch in your bedpost? An insult. There’s something here, and to ever think that the two of you “just fucked” is so demeaning and belittling.
You knew there was something there. And now, he’s proving it after spending too much time pretending that he couldn’t.
You feel him move you, pushing forward, deepening the kiss and still managing to spin both of you around so that he’s pinning you against the counter now.
“Missed the way you held onto me,” he says breathlessly, lifting your leg and holding it against his waist. “Missed the way you look at me.” He adds, more mindlessly than he has ever been, seemingly lost in the moment with you. “The way you just came into my bedroom and– fuck, i think about it so much.”
No words have ever hit your heart so hard before. As if all this time he was pretending to be okay with your relationship. As if he did care, probably too much.
As if he truly did miss you.
And he proves it with every breath, grasp, kiss, and movement. It’s like he doesn’t have enough time in the world actually, to have you up against him like this. He almost rushes himself with it, pressing you more against the counter than against himself now.
It only takes a few seconds for him to hoist you up on the counter and shrink down himself. Now he’s the one blinking up at you with fond concern on his face, fingers tugging at your shorts to imply he needs them fucking gone ten minutes ago.
Your breath hitches for what you think could be the millionth time since you got here, but you lend him a little lift to get your shorts and panties off in one go.
“Ahh,” He coos after tossing your clothing to the side mindlessly, both hands gripping your legs and spreading them wide as he stands back up to his full height and fits himself against you again. “Still so pretty,” He continues his string of compliments to you, dipping his head down just to get another taste of your lips on him.
His mind is entirely unsure of what to do first now that your bottoms are off, really. He’s spinning for you, and his hands search and grip all over you at the very idea that you’re propped up on his kitchen counter right now.
The same counter he used to cook dinner for you and his son.
Like a fucking dream.
And you can feel how hard he is when he presses against you more and more. His kiss so deep, his hips against you and reminding you of everything he’s made you feel before. Already you feel like you’re flying, but you know better than anyone that he has all the ability in the world to make you feel as if you’re fucking soaring.
“Mingyu–” You choke out between kisses, trying to get a word in. “Let me.”
And just like the first time he ever felt your hands on him, he feels the way your palm slides down and cups his length to its best ability. His eyes go blank, the feeling so familiar and good to him that all he can do is throw his head back with a breathy chuckle.
“Fuck, missed you.” He states as if it’s final, pressing his hips more and more against your palm as he dips right back down to kiss you even harder than before. “You have no idea.”
And then it’s like a spiral of messy, wet kisses, and his hips going from needy thrusts against your weak hand to suddenly having your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he sinks down and just…
“God,” You gasp at the first feeling of his warm tongue. “Mingyu…”
He’s not tasting, he’s devouring.
And he doesn’t respond, instead, he flutters his eyes shut and breathes deeply through his nose so that he never needs to pull his tongue out of you again.
It’s like he can’t get enough of it. Never has he missed the taste of a woman on him like this, so wet and pretty when he’s licking. More and more dripping out of you just for him to swallow up and daydream about later.
His tongue has a mind of its own at this moment when he flicks and sucks every part of you he can reach. Your clit only abandoned momentarily so he can lick deep into you before trailing back up with a deep and heavenly sigh of relief.
His hands remain at your thighs, gripping you so tightly that you can tell he’s afraid you may dissolve in front of him. That all of this is just some wet dream that he’ll wake up from just before his own release.
But no, you’re here. In the flesh, feeling this grip and feeling that feverish tongue greedily eat you from the inside out. Both of you are seemingly overwhelmed with the fact that it’s happening again. Or rather, finally you’re together again.
And you can’t help it when your fingers find purchase in his hair, moaning out and echoing his name against his kitchen walls. He moans alongside you, feeling those gentle fingers scratch against his scalp in such a sweet and pleasurable way.
If he could show you how much he needs this, he would. But this is all he can do for you to prove it, and he hopes that it’s enough.
It isn’t long before he’s losing composure, flicking his tongue so fast against your clit that you can’t help but overpower his grip and close your legs around his head. He chuckles against your clit at that, keeping up with the assault of his tongue, listening to the way you pant above him, feeling you pull his hair, all while your legs unintentionally choke him out.
Fuck, it’s too good. You’re too good.
So, he continues and laps away like his life depends on it up until you practically lift from the counter, using your legs around his shoulders as your only form of balance when you press so hard against his tongue that all he can do is press back.
He has no breath at this moment, sucking your clit so hard into his mouth that his cock, quite literally, nearly explodes in his pants right then and there at the sheer desperation you share with him at this moment.
And then your legs instantly loosen and you fall limp against the counter, your cum pouring out of you with each clench and shake of your body. It takes everything in him to pull his tongue away, but fuck, he needs to swallow those pretty, whined little sounds you’re giving to him.
Quickly, he slides two fingers into you, fucking them in hard just to feel the clench of you through your orgasm, and his lips are immediately sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.
Your mouth is slack as he tastes each sound, out of breath himself as he tries to lend all of his power behind his fingers, pulling more sounds from you before sinking them in one last time and leaving them there as he kisses the last of your orgasm out of you.
“Shh,” He shushes you when he uses his other arm to pull you closer to him, which only forces his fingers deeper into you. “Baby, shh.” He continues to soothe you through it, still kissing, still feeling your slick gush around his fingers. “You’re shaking.”
That little chuckle he lets out when he says those words brings you back to reality, the body-shocks of your orgasm finally subsiding just to tune in to the lack of guilt he feels. In fact, he seems proud.
And he fucking should feel proud.
“Fuck,” You breathe against his lips, wiggling your hips and only then feeling embarrassed by the pool of wet you’re sitting in. “Mingyu, fuck.”
He finally pulls back, keeping his fingers in you still, and tilts his head at you.
“Mm,” He hums, nodding to himself. “Did you forget?”
You blink at him in a daze, clenching his fingers unintentionally and wincing at the jolt of pleasure the pads of his fingers offer to your g-spot. You find yourself shaking your head, despite not knowing what the fuck either of you are saying right now.
“Forget how much I love using my mouth on you?” He whispers it in such a filthy and deep whisper that almost instantly you’re clenching your legs around his hand. And he only chuckles again.
“Come here–” He says this time, pulling you from the counter and quickly holding you up on shaky legs. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.”
Ah, memories rush to your mind. He’s said that to you before only this time there’s more behind it. You cling to him easily even as he dips his hand down and leaves no room for question when he skews his sweatpants down.
“Leg,” He whispers now, wrapping an arm around you and tapping the bottom of your right thigh. “Up.”
And you listen to his directions in a daze, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist as he uses a strong hand to hold you up. Both of your arms shoot around his neck when you feel it, the tip of his cock being tapped against your still sensitive clit.
“You okay?” He asks one last time, holding you so close to him that he truly can’t help but buck forward before you lend him any sort of answer.
Your head falls against his shoulder with a frantic nod, and his body moves on its own as a response. He immediately presses his hips forward and up while simultaneously sitting you right back into your mess from before. There, you fall back against both of your palms and wrap both of your legs around his waist when you feel the stretch.
It’s so strange to know this familiar feeling of him sinking into you, and somehow you think you love it more now than you ever did before.
He’s quick to lean over you with a slack jaw and low rumble of a moan, one arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you forward on him when he starts to move his hips.
Slowly at first. Just feeling you again.
His mouth remains slack, throat drying out at all of the sounds he wants to give you. God, you’re so wet for him always. The fit is so good. The way your pussy grips him with each drag out, only to pulse around him with each push in.
“You always take it so well–” He chokes out with another low moan, snapping his hips forward to quicken his pace. “Fuck, don’t ever–” He stumbles over his words, trying to hold them back but unintentionally saying more and more with each moaned out breath. “Don’t leave like that again.”
The words hit you harder than anything else right now. Even as he plunges his cock in and out of you so deep, it pulls nothing more than a whimper out of you with a quick shake of your head. You shoot up, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers buried into his hair.
Instantly you cry. Like you needed to hear Mingyu do more than just ask or plead. You need him to tell you what he wants. You need a threat. A demand.
“That’s it baby,” He smiles against your ear, pressing in deep and flexing his cock to stretch your walls out around him. “Hold onto me.”
And you do. You hold him as tightly as you can, feeling him and only him at this moment.
He only moves faster after that, fucking into you with more force than you ever remember him doing before. He presses into you so hard, and pulls out even faster, only to press back in harder, and harder, and harder.
Over and over again until you’re practically yelping through each thrust. Until he’s releasing small, animalistic grunts.
Until he can’t do it anymore. This position, in this room? It’s not enough.
He lifts you easily, loving the way you cling to him like a goddamn koala, keeping his cock buried into you as he walks you quickly to his couch. You land against the soft cushions in a mess of movements, and his hardened chest lands against you just a moment later.
As if he never stopped, he’s right back to dragging his hips back and forth, this time with more comfort, and his lips immediately fall to your neck.
His hands? Right up your shirt, groping, pinching, pushing, pulling.
He’s going absolutely insane, spiraling into a world of nothingness with you as he plunges into you like his life depends on it. Grunting and breathing you in and out, feeling his own weeping cock yearn to be deeper, deeper, fucking deeper in you.
You can’t even think straight, unable to remember if he’s ever been with you like this before. Your mind is so foggy, so in love with the man on you right now that you don’t really even care.
People always say that actions speak louder than words. Never once did you imagine that a person could move this way with you and speak so loudly with skin alone.
Never have you felt so wanted.
Never have you been so needed.
And he doesn’t stop. His hips keep pace with each moan against you, his hands search and find, only to search again and grip you so tightly that you fear he will leave swollen imprints.
You don’t mind. In fact, you want nothing more than to have Mingyu lose himself with you. Still, you can’t muster up any coherent words for him right now, because every sound you make is broken and dripping with the need for more of him.
Forever more, nothing less.
“God,” He breathes out when he looks down at you, hips still moving at a painful pace. “When you look at me like that–”
His eyes roll back for a moment mid sentence before he’s heaving in a breath and his hips slow to a long and languid drag.
“When you look at me like this, it’s so hard to not–” He holds his words back with a shameful chuckle, shutting himself up with a kiss to your lips as he furrows his brows and puts his focus back into his deep thrusts.
His words run circles in your head though, finishing his sentence for him in so many blissful ways that you feel your body tense at the pure excitement. Feeling his hips spread your legs with each thrust, making you feel sore all over, all of it, excitement.
“Hard not to, what?” You manage to breathe out against his lips, and his hips stutter at the way your voice breaks with each press into you.
“Don’t.” He nearly pleads, pulling his hands from you and instead using them to rest at both sides of your head, balancing all of his weight there as he drops his forehead to yours. “Don’t encourage me right now.”
You blink your eyes at him when he lifts his head again, feeling the way he slows his hips to a stop only to hold himself in place, throbbing inside of you. His eyes remain on yours, as if he wants you to challenge every word he says to you right now.
“Hard not to–” You breathe out, feeling him snap his hips as if to warn you. “What? Mingyu.”
He stares into your eyes, sucking his bottom lip in as he tries to remain composed. You only clench tighter around him though, causing a sort of sobbed groan to leave his throat this time.
“Tell me.” You whisper this time, clenching around him again and shifting your own hips to fuck yourself on him.
His eyes squeeze shut as he drops his forehead against yours once more, chuckling out another moan at how impossible you are to him.
“It’s hard to think I don’t want this.” He admits in a shaky breath, feeling the way you slide his cock in and out of you with pleasurable ease. “You.” He continues. “Hard to believe I’d ever be satisfied with you doing this with anyone other than–”
You pause, clenching unintentionally only to feel him take over again, dangerously close to his own orgasm.
“Me.” He finally says, cutting you off from responding by lifting from you entirely, angling his hips, and fucking dragging his hips back and forth just to send pointed japs against your g-spot.
After being so…protective? Or possessive, maybe? He can’t help but feel embarrassed by his intense need to have you. Not just now, no. Not just because he’s horny out of his mind for you, but because he’s already felt the frustration of not having you while you stood in front of him.
With your hand wrapped with his son’s.
Never again.
He wants this more than you know, more than he should ever admit to you.
“Mingyu–” You try to get out, but he throws a hand forward, more forceful than he’s ever been when he slips two fingers into your mouth just to keep you from enticing more truth from him.
The way you suck in those fingers with a moan is enough to drive him over the edge, but he tries to hold off.
He really tries.
But he can’t, as he falls forward with his fingers loosely hanging from your still licking mouth, and there, he empties himself entirely into you.
“Fuck–” He groans in frustration, his body jolting with each pulse. “You’re so–”
You can feel each pulse and push of his thick ropes of cum, shooting inside of you only to squelch out with each little push his hips offer. And his face, nuzzled so close against your neck now that you can feel the way his breath stutters with each wave of the orgasm.
All the way until he manages to lift with dizzy eyes, pulling his hips back to leave you empty as his cum drips out and onto the couch.
There, he stares down at what he’s done to you before panic washes over him.
It’s too late to go back now.
“You’re so–”
Silence, as every thought leaves his mind when he looks at you. How could he have ever formed words in the first place when you look up at him like this?
Like he’s the whole world.
~
The next morning, you sleep deeply next to Mingyu in the bed you missed so much. With the scent of him surrounding you and the weight of his arm thrown over you. His big and heavy limbs holding you close even in his deep sleep is enough to keep you locked into your own restful sleep.
You feel so safe, so warm, so comfortable. Like this is where you belong.
Nothing inside of you pulls with anxiety at this. In fact, you’re entirely too happy over the fact that you found yourself here the night before. Who cares about the circumstances anyway?
And as you lay there, half-asleep to roll over and nuzzle your nose against his neck, you breathe in deeply, lulling yourself back to sleep in his warmth.
That is, until you hear a ‘click’ of his doorknob turning and instantly you feel your full heart shrivel to almost dust.
“You’re fucking joking.”
Oh my god. The fear of opening your eyes is intense but you know that voice like the back of your hand. Your eyes open against your own will and your body turns over to see Chan, standing right there at the door with a murderous glare directed at you.
You wish it took you longer to process his figure, because honestly, you were feeling so warm in Mingyu’s grip, but now Mingyu, himself, is aggressively pulling himself away from you and rolling out of the bed.
He’s standing to his feet instantly as if he wasn’t just attached to you at the fucking cock. On the plus side, at least, he put on sweatpants before the two of you fell asleep together. Unfortunately, he also put one of his shirts on you to sleep in too.
What Chan is seeing in front of him is nothing that either of you can explain away.
“You’re fucking my dad.” Chan deadpans with a bite in his voice, standing there as he heaves in a breath that seems to get more and more angry as the seconds pass.
“We broke up.” You manage to mutter out, unaware of how to handle a situation like this but knowing deep down that if you continue to see Mingyu, he still would have found out eventually. “You cheated on me, remember?”
Chan rolls his eyes at you.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off just to adjust his eyes over to Mingyu, his father.
Mingyu, towering on the other side of his bed, looks apologetic. He’s unable to explain himself because what Chan is seeing right now is really the only explanation he needs.
“You’re fucking my girlfriend?”
“We broke up!” You cut in again as you repeat yourself with a louder voice, standing from the bed and attempting to walk up to him. Mostly to try and avert his eyes from his father.
The way his eyes look straight past you and at Mingyu is terrifying enough to have you stumble back once you get too close though. It’s like Chan is seeing red, and arguably he has every right considering if anyone should be scolded, it’s definitely you.
“Chan,” Mingyu tries to soothe the conversation as he finally processes what is happening, his voice coming out calm and collected. Not wanting this to escalate, in fact, dead set on making damn sure that it doesn’t escalate.
Another harsh shake of his head, another roll of his eyes, and then he’s fixing his gaze back on you.
“You looked pretty comfortable, how long?”
You look to the floor, then turn to look at Mingyu. Both of you look entirely guilty, surely, but there’s something in you that feels proud. Maybe even relieved that it’s out in the open. After all, like you’ve already said twice, you broke up with him. And for good reason, mind you.
“Why does that matter?” You answer with a bite to your tone now, essentially answering his question.
“You cheated on me?” His voice raises, “With my dad, and still have the audacity to be upset with me over some girl at a party?!”
“No.” Mingyu speaks up. “We stopped. Last night was the first time since–”
“Am I supposed to appreciate that?!” Chan laughs out of dumbfounded rage, stumbling back and out of the doorway with a shake to his head. As if his eyes have to be deceiving him. “What do you mean ‘we stopped.’ ?!”
Chan feels overwhelmed. Like, he knew he fucked up with the way he acted, and really, he does care about you but what in the fuck? This is what he gets for trying to fix it? For coming to his dad first thing in the goddamn morning for advice? This is really what he gets? To see you, all cuddled in and smiling with that stupid fucking pretty face, in his own father’s t-shirt?
Fuck that.
He immediately turns on his heel and stomps towards the front door.
“Chan, hold on!” You call out, gripping his jacket to keep him from leaving. “I was the one who came onto him! Mingyu didn’t even–”
“Mingyu.” He repeats the way you say his father’s name when he turns to face you, disgusted by how naturally it came from your lips. “What else do you call him?”
You stand there in awe, looking even more guilty. You remember how Mingyu told you just to call him by his name, and so that’s all you ever called him. Never any pet names like what Chan is implying.
“Did you whine and cry for it like you always do for me?” He seethes out, inching his face closer and closer to yours. “Was it worth every second?”
“That’s enough,” Mingyu starts, walking up between the two of you and pulling your hand off of his son’s jacket. “Chan, that’s enough.”
Chan watches how gentle Mingyu is with your hand, eyeing how you let go the instant his fingertips touch your skin. His mind is fucking spinning in betrayal right now.
“We need to calm down before we talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Chan barks back, nearly spitting in his father’s face at the way he acts like he’s not the one guilty. “You’ve been fucking my girlfiend.”
And oh, poor fucking Jihoon, standing off to the side with his mouth permanently open in shock. Honestly, Chan was anxious before coming here, questioning Jihoon over and over again on how to explain himself and fix what he fucked up. The last thing he expected was to see none other than Chan’s girlfriend rushing out of Mingyu’s room without pants on, fucking glowing with that after-sex dew.
Oh god. This sucks.
“Chan!” Mingyu raises his voice this time, grabbing his son by both shoulders and forcing him to look at him.
And when Mingyu goes to try and explain himself, there’s nothing he can say. He simply looks at his son as his stoic face turns to that of realization.
All Chan can do is laugh at the audacity before shrugging Mingyu’s hands off of him and glaring at you once more.
“To think I wanted to fix things.” He breathes out, grimacing at you before shoving past you and going straight for the door.
Chan knew he fucked up with you, but it’s not like he slept with the girl. Sure, he was in the wrong to flirt, and to let her be all over him like that, but he’s not the one who went off and fucked someone last night. The fact that you could have broken up with him and fucked literally anyone else is flooring to him. He would have forgiven you if you had it in your heart to forgive him first.
But this? You not only went for his dad, but it hurts more knowing that his own father reciprocated?! More than once, apparently?
You’re both guilty.
You’re both disgusting.
And with that, Chan slams the front door behind him and Jihoon is left staring at the shaking walls before turning to look between you and Mingyu.
Only then do you notice Jihoon there, widened eyes and a big gulp of air.
“Fuck.” You groan, feeling dizzy and nearly falling to the floor right then and there.
Jihoon is quick to see himself out of this awkward situation, and it’s not long before you hear the car peel out of the driveway and down the street.
Fortunately, Mingyu is quick to come up behind you, hugging you as if everything that just happened wouldn’t stop him from touching you again.
Or maybe you’re just too hopeful, because within an instant, his once warm hands feel cold and shaky against you. This hold on you feels…different.
Like it’s out of obligation, not out of want, or need.
Instantly, you’re expecting him to end this right now. To end all of this with you, and it hurts more to think about how he should do that. You wouldn’t blame him, hell, no one would fucking blame him if that’s what this hug you’re getting from him is telling you.
It hurts. Of course it hurts. The inevitable of what any rational person would do in this situation bubbling up as a mass of anxiety in your throat. You can only remain quiet, feeling the soreness take hold on your heart.
Despite Chan being rightfully upset, despite what you’ve done, despite what Mingyu has done, you’re upset over it all simply because you can’t realistically be with Mingyu at the end of the day. No, not without ruining his life.
Not without both of you losing Chan, and to even expect him to do that in the first place should have been your first red flag regarding yourself.
You played them both, unintentionally, but with the best intentions at the end of the day.
And when you feel him hold you closer, that soreness inside of you settles just a bit. All he has to do is drop his chin to your shoulder and talk against your neck with a shaking breath.
“He’s not going to forgive either of us if we continue.” He whispers in a voice that seems both broken and firm at the same time. And he nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling deep before releasing a drawn out sigh with a tighter hold on you. “I understand if you want to be with my son, but I won’t be able to pretend I’m happy for either of you from this point forward.”
You pause, feeling the anxiety well up and jumble in your head.
“Is this an ultimatum?” You shake yourself from his grasp, feeling overwhelmed, guilty, happy that he’s suggesting that maybe, just maybe, he’d fight to keep you for himself.
But no. Instead, Mingyu stands tall, no longer shrinking himself to your size and glancing at you with a slow and stubborn shake of his head. Now, he’s unable to keep his eye trained on you, the weight and shame of what the two of you are doing is pushing him down, down, down.
“It’s wrong.” He explains as if you don’t know. The reality is that you do know, you just prefer not to listen. You prefer not to learn from this. “I can’t just pick you over my own son.”
You try to step forward to try and keep him from speaking. You’d do anything to keep him from speaking right now, but he isn’t budging. He doesn’t break like he usually does when you’re this close, in fact, he takes a step back and away from you.
You feel your heart hit the floor at that moment.
“So, it’s not an ultimatum.” Your voice cracks. “I just lost both of you.”
Mingyu can only nod, trying to ignore that crack in your voice and the tenseness in your shoulders.
“Which, somehow, doesn’t shock me.” You lend a pained laugh at the situation alongside a sniffle.
“Realistically.” Mingyu finally responds, his own voice wavering just for a moment. “I shouldn’t have given in, and I shouldn’t have led you on either. We both knew it couldn’t work.”
Why do you feel blamed for this?
“And at this point, I can’t give approval of you pursuing my son either. There’s too much between us that has happened, I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you again.”
“But what about everything from last ni-” You start, reaching forward and trying to grasp him, unaware that you’re about to start pleading.
“Don’t.” Mingyu’s voice wavers again when he says it, pulling away from you for what he hates for the last time. “Let’s just leave it.”
And with that, you’re left with no choice.
You leave, realizing that Chan probably knew from the moment he pulled in considering your car sits in the driveway proudly.
There’s nothing left here for you.
~
Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months with no contact from Chan nor Mingyu. Which, that much is expected but you were still hopeful for a few weeks there.
Not even that you want Chan based on everything that’s happened, more so that you feel like he deserves the deepest apology you could possibly offer to another person. It appears he doesn’t want nor does he need it. Every text is met with the reminder that you’re blocked.
In time, you try to move on too. Each day is becoming easier and easier to forget how you felt, which is insane considering how deep you thought it was originally. There’s still love there, somewhere, but you’re well aware now that there’s nowhere to put it, and there is no one who wants it either.
So, you just…exist with it until it dwindles deep enough inside of you that laughing and meeting new people becomes easy.
Chan, on the other hand, is moving away. Thanks to Jihoon and his pre-planned transfer for the next semester, Chan was quick to jump on the plan with him and try his damndest to get a transfer in too.
It worked out, and he left the city with his best friend in tow without so much as telling you, better yet his father.
In fact, he doesn’t want a damned thing to do with either of you, and feels no pain or interest in thinking about what happened any longer than he already did. Months passed differently for him. They passed happily.
And, well, that leaves Mingyu with his internal fight for his son’s forgiveness after all this time passed.
Not a day has gone by where Mingyu wasn’t fighting with himself on whether to get on his knees and fucking beg Chan to talk to him, or to give in, again and again, just to see you. Just to feel you. Just to hear you.
He’s going fucking insane, actually. Thankfully though, after months worth of attempts to gain forgiveness, Chan made himself very clear that he never wanted to speak to Mingyu again. Well, that leaves little to no room for Mingyu to keep trying. At least not for now.
He is forever thankful to Jihoon though, despite knowing what he’s done to Chan, Jihoon still sends him update texts.
“Chan has a new girlfriend,” Mingyu found out just last month about that.
“His grades are really good, but I wouldn't suggest asking him home for the holidays. He plans to spend them with me and my family,” Mingyu heard just a week ago.
And, well, despite the fact that his own son has rightfully disowned him, he still feels proud that Chan appears to be happy and doing well. Even with a father as useless as he is these days, he truly is proud of him.
So that leaves us here. Cool winter air outside, heated arguments and painful words left long forgotten to burn little patterns into every heart that was involved in the situation.
If there’s anything Mingyu can fuck up now, he can’t imagine the outcome being worse than it already is. He tried everything to fix the situation, and it appears that this is just how things are going to be from now on.
Without his son.
But not without you.
~
After a long and exhausting day out with your friends, you feel good. Happy, even. Genuinely happy for the first time without the weight of past situations weighing you down. You were happy to make it home and even happier to enjoy a nice and warm shower alone.
Because finally you feel okay being entirely alone. You feel comfortable.
That is, until you check your phone and notice that you received a text message hours prior to now. Your stomach instantly drops reading the name, because you really thought you’d never live to see the day where he reaches out to you.
Mingyu: can we talk?
Mingyu: just talking. nothing else.
The fact that he still had your number saved. The fact that you remember how the gravel of his driveway felt under your tires when you went to see him. The fact that you can remember the coolness his kitchen counter offered to you the last time you spent the night, and the warm bed you woke up in before it went cold.
Just like that, you’re back to square one. Reverting back to all that is Mingyu, and all of that silent, reluctant love he gave you despite the problems that would arise.
And upon Mingyu finally seeing you again, he really, really can’t help it.
Immediately, he’s giving in to a woman who ruined his relationship with his son without her so much as trying, giving in to the touch and feel of another person, and giving in to his own weakness.
He missed you.
He always fucking misses you.
And at the end of the day, that’s really all he can say about the entire situation. He misses you, and despite the fact that Chan will never forgive him for this, the truth of the matter is that sometimes two people grow feelings for each other regardless of the surrounding circumstances. Chan wasn’t going to forgive him to begin with anyway.
Regardless of losses and gains. Regardless of the whispering in town. Regardless of the pain and heartache that could inevitably come from this, Mingyu cannot keep his heart to himself.
Especially when you so willingly accept it. Here, tangled in the sheets of his bed, hands intertwined his with, hushed breaths and warm tears.
He doesn’t think he could ever regret what he’s done with you. In fact, it’s possible that he’d be willing to lose much, much more than to give you up again.
There’s only one thing that drives a person to go to such drastic lengths. It’s not selfishness, it’s not lust, and it’s certainly not spite. A nagging feeling so ingrained within the heart, digging and prodding until the sorrow overflows that empty piece and fills a person with so much dread and dilemma that all they can do is either rip their hair out or fucking bite the bullet.
Some would say it’s love.
Mingyu would say it’s you.
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