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moonlinos · 4 months

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Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh.

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

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lovelytsunoda · 4 months

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nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

#oscar piastri x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #f1 x y/n

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pseudowho · 6 months

Text

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.

✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨

- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--

- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"

- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't

✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder

- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move

✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind

- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now

✨ NSFW ✨

- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door

(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)

- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."

Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.

#jjk #jjk nanami #kento nanami #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #higuruma smut #Hiromi Higuruma smut #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jjk headcanons

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shidouryusm · 8 months

Text

Im not coming home

Gojo Satoru x reader

Content- angsty angst, just a lot of pain, reference to recent manga,

A.N -> i wrote this in a bus all teary faced with a concerned old uncle looking at me. I need my blue eyed boyfriend so bad. This is me mourning I haven’t been able to do it properly all day. Im sorry pls dont kill me. Not proofread this is a heat of the moment writing literally 😭

“See you guys tomorrow”, you say softly before sprinting out of the building. As if your body clock instantly knows when to chime in and draw you back to your nest.

You briskly get out of the room, offering a small wave to Shoko who just entered. Her concerned eyes following your trail.

The sun was floating in the horizon, the ground painted asphalt from the dying colours of the twilight and the air filled with intangible thickness of cold. In the midst of it, you walked. You walk with a rising tornado of emotions bubbling inside you, contrast to the drying winter.

You walked through the bustle of Roppongi. The town was back from the shambles it was two months prior. Always finding a way to bounce back into its original upheaval.

Amongst the skyscrapers decorating Roppongi, you eyes wander to the little sweet shop- selling the ever famous kikufuku — sweet cream filled mochi with Zunda paste. Satoru’s ever favourite.

“baby, this isn’t just a sweet.” Satoru gasps indignantly upon hearing your allegations of getting a cavity from it — “It’s a delicacy. Zunda and sweet cream— a work of culinary that you need to appreciate by savouring it as much as you can”, you roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend plops another mochi in one bite. “Well that doesn’t mean you can double it up as lunch , Toru. you need to eat some actual meal”

“In that case, I can eat yo— I’m sorry” gojo quickly moves away as you swivel the huge cushion towards him, sweet chuckles erupting from his chest as you look at him poutedly.

The little playback of the memory cracked a little smile on your face — the shop ever so reminiscent of your little late night trips with Satoru whenever you both feel insomniac.

You walk over to the shop, feet reflexively carrying you towards the whirlwind of memories you have with him.

The sun had already settled beneath the darkness when you arrived home. The huge compound of area void of any presence. You enter the room, turning the lights on as you settle on the table. The small bag of kikufuku carefully placed on it.

“I’m home” you say without any conscious thought behind.

How can you? When these words never failed to emerge a 6’3 white-haired nuisance, his large hands encircling your waist, his nose breathing in your scent as you get slightly levitated into the air from the insane height difference. The small whispers of “I love you”s and “I miss you”s exchanged in the small gap between your faces — as if it were eternities since you both met each other. Those cerulean eyes of his mirroring your pools with affection and love that ran miles after miles.

Followed by little kisses pressed to your cheeks, then to your eyes and lastly placed on your lips. Those soft rhythm of his lips like promises of eternity.

Your chest twists in pain like you hugged a teddy bear fashioned with sharp daggers, slicing through your soul.

A sharp throb of your heart against your ribs as if it��s begging to be freed and chase the one it’s destined to beat for always. Your body turns numb, the tears like rivulets against your cheek— while you let them flow freely after a day long facade. Your shaky hands wander aimlessly into the air, pleading to find the silhouette, the comfort, the warmth of his body.

A part of your soul seemed to die everyday since then and today another sliver of it withered into nothingness.

Your voice broken like the shards of mirror reverberates across the large room that no one but you occupy, “im home, ‘toru. Where are you?”

The bag of kikufuku lays on the table as it is but Satoru hasn’t arrived home.

A.N 2 -> Yall pls dont be mad this is my way to cope. Even though I wrote this Im clutching on to the littol hope that he will return. If not then understand gege snuffed the life out of me as well

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measuredingold · 7 months

Note

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all.

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter.

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything.

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it.

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?"

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

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paper-lilypie · 1 year

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late night bus trips

#fnaf #ball pit au #they deserve this #if only for a moment #please time…. be kinder to them #michael afton #gregory fazbear #fanart #forgot to post this lmao here! have babies

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hollytoshaw · 2 months

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noisy neighbour part one | harry lewis

summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 4.3k

a/n: this is part one of my noisy neighbour series!!! this is the first full length fic (non insta au) that i've written on here so hopefully it's not half bad and you all enjoy it. any feedback much appreciated xx

requests: open for insta au's and short storys xxx

rest of my work hereeee : masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

Y/N was having the worst week imaginable.

For just over a year, she had poured her heart and soul into her coffee shop, 'Sweetheart's Sip' (a cheesy name, she knows), that was located in the heart of Shoreditch, a few roads away from Boxpark. It had always been a dream of hers to open her own little cafe, and a few years after leaving university, she did just that. It was one of her biggest goals to spread the joy of enjoying a tasty slice of lemon cake or hearty brewed cup of breakfast tea to everyone in the area, and after searching for what felt like years, Y/N found a vacancy for a small shop in London that luckily had a flat free above it. With a few trips to Ikea and endless nights of painting and decorating, Y/N was finally able to call 'Sweetheart's Sip' her home.

Living above her shop was so convenient for her, as she opened at 7:30 most days, and when she was left closing late after a busy day of making flat whites, it was nice for her to just trod upstairs and into her peaceful solitude, not having to worry about catching a tube or bus halfway across the city.

The shop just next to her cafe had a flat above it that had been vacant for ages, long before Y/N had even opened her little place. However, recent weeks saw the arrival of many construction crews and noise, some with cameras, which she found quite odd but intriguing, signalling a new tenant for the adjacent flat was on their way.

And this is why Y/N was having a bad week.

Don't get her wrong; she was excited to meet her new neighbour. She had even made bets in her head that it would be some trendy hipster (it was Shoreditch after all) or hopefully a quiet office-goer who wouldn't make too much noise. But Y/N had lost her own bet; she was completely off with her guesses.

Instead, as the days passed and her neighbour moved in, all she could hear was loud house music and a male voice shouting for a good 6 hours out of the day—this was no trendy hipster or quiet office-goer.

The noise was so bad that the whole cute atmosphere of 'Sweetheart's Sip' felt completely disrupted, the loud music drowning out the conversations of her customers sipping away at their coffees.

So, a week passed before Y/N let the noise get the best of her. She'd taken numerous trips to Boots for paracetamol to try and numb her headache, but it wasn't enough; she needed to confront the noisy neighbour head-on. But Y/N hated confrontation; the thought of having to single out someone and tell them that they needed to essentially 'Shut up' was making her headaches even worse, especially when this person was someone she'd never met and now a person that could be living next to her for years to come.

She knew she had to do it, though. As much as it pained her to do so, the noise was so bad. Disrupting her in her own flat was one thing, but the fact that customers were reluctant to enter in fear that they'd hear thumping music that was enough to shake the teapots hung up on the wall was Y/N's breaking point.

She flipped the sign on the front door of the cafe from 'open' to 'close' as no one was in the cafe, a rarity for Y/N but no surprise with the past week's events. Taking three deep breaths, she rehearsed a little speech in her head, unsure of who would be waiting on the other side of the door. ''You can do this, Y/N,'' she thought in her head. Rehearsing a little speech was something Y/N always did whenever she had to talk to new people. Or if she knew she was going to a new restaurant, she'd have to rehearse her food order in her head about a hundred times before telling the waiter. It made her feel less anxious, and anxious was exactly how she felt right now.

Ringing the buzzer of the blue door, she heard a man's voice shout, ''One-second boys, think my Deliveroo driver's here.''

The sudden thought of turning back and going back next door was so tempting at that moment, but she knew if she turned around, there'd be no resolution to the issues, and one terrible week would soon turn into a terrible month.

A waft of aftershave hit her in the face as the door opened, and she was met face-to-face with the noisy culprit she'd been so apprehensive to introduce herself to. A rugged man, blonde-haired with scruffy facial hair and blue eyes, similar in age to her, stood in front of her. Expecting a food delivery driver, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her. She stood awkwardly outside his front door with her green apron on that she'd forgotten to take off before closing up.

She could still hear the heavy bass of house music pounding from upstairs, this time much louder.

Clearing his throat, the man spoke. ''Can I help you?'' His voice was deep and quite posh, but still nice, she thought.

''S-sorry. I mean yes,'' she paused, jumbling up her words, the rehearsed speech gone out the window. ''-I'm from next door, the cafe?''

''Oh right.'' he laughed, leaning against the door frame. ''Yeah, Sweetheart's shit or something like that?'' What a rubbish attempt at a joke, or maybe just plain rudeness, she thought.

''Sweetheart's sip, not shit,'' she stated, to which he smiled back.

''Oh right, well... What can I do for you?'' he asked, looking down at his phone to see if his Deliveroo app had updated an estimated time of arrival for his chicken burger, not half interested in what she had to say.

''Well, as I said, I'm from next door, and I've had a few complaints from customers about loud music and shouting coming from your flat, and I was just wondering if there was any chance you'd keep it down a bit?'' she asked. '’I hate asking, but it's sort of taking a toll on my shop.''

''What? The sweetheart's got nowhere to shit anymore?'' he tried, but was met with a stern look from the small girl standing on his doorstep. ''Right, not funny. Sorry, I'll try to keep the noise down.''

''Thank you.'' she smiled.

''Anything else?'' he said, eyebrows raised.

''No, that's all; I've got to get back,'' Y/N replied, pointing towards her cafe.

Turning on her heels, a sigh of relief left her lips as she retreated back to the shop. That wasn't too hard, she realised. The problem of loud music and shouting was finally resolved. She could get back to her sweet little cafe, and her regulars would finally have their quiet place back to chinwag again.

But as she was nearing the door, she heard the man clear his throat, shouting over the noise of traffic that passed them both. '''Before you go, any chance you know the person that lives above your cafe? You know the one that's next door to me upstairs?''

She turned back to face him, seeing his head sticking out the door, slippers clad on his feet so he would not step barefoot on the dirty London pavements.

''I do, yeah,'' she replied. She didn't necessarily want to let the man know that it was, in fact, her that lived next door to him. She couldn't be bothered to make small talk, as she needed to get back to work. And if her initial introduction was anything to go off of, she didn't think this man would be someone who'd want to make small talk with her anyway.

''Any chance if you see them, you'd tell them to keep their own music down? Kept me up the whole of Saturday and Sunday night listening to ABBA.'' he said, pinching in between his eyes as if to emphasise that he had a headache all weekend from it.

''Really?'' she said.

''Yes. Honestly, if you think my music is bad, you should have heard the screechy singing I had to put up with all weekend. Like nails on a chalkboard,'' he laughed.

Y/N was embarrassed. Not only had it taken all her courage, paired with a few rehearsal speeches, to come and confront her noisy neighbour, she had now been told that her music and singing were in fact much worse and the reason for his headaches. She wanted to hide away in her flat; she was mortified.

Turning back towards her door in attempts to get as far away as possible from the reason for her embarrassment, she muffled a quick ''I'll let them know.'' before retreating quickly into the front door of her cafe.

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since her awkward encounter, and luckily for Y/N, she hadn't seen the sight of her noisy neighbour since then.

She descended the stairs from her flat and unlocked the front door of her cafe, bracing herself for what she knew would be a busy day. Fridays were always Y/N's busiest, whether that was people popping in during their work break, tourists stopping by to try something 'authentically British' or just her regulars back to try the 'cake of the month', Fridays just always seemed to draw in more people than any other day.

The brief encounter she had with her neighbour had lingered in her mind the whole week. While the music and shouting had quietened down, every so often, Y/N would hear the start of a house tune or a loud shout that only made her wince and think that maybe her embarrassing confrontation was all for nothing.

Today, however, silence greeted Y/N as she walked into the cafe, ready to start the coffee machine and display her various sweet treats on the counter. She had never felt more grateful.

Throughout the day, customers came and went, their conversations having a soothing melody compared to the previous week's discord. Y/N felt like she could finally relax and enjoy the solace of their company, grateful for the return of the peaceful cafe that she had worked so hard to create.

As evening came around, Y/N was getting ready to close up her shop and retreat upstairs to her apartment, eager to unwind. She loved her Friday routine—she'd go upstairs, stick on a pair of cosy Primark pyjamas, light a scented candle, indulge in a simple dinner (usually the Gigi Hadid Vodka Pasta off Tiktok), and curl up on her sofa, flicking through the television and ultimately landing on an episode of Real Housewives.

Her back was turned as she began to clean the coffee machine. Looking at the clock, she could see it was 5 minutes to 5 p.m., and at this point, she doubted anyone would come in at this time, so she kept herself busy, cleaning away so she could rush upstairs.

4 minutes to close, and she heard the door chime. Her tranquilly was short-lived. Before turning around, she heard a man's voice: ''You're not closed yet, are you?''—that unmistakable man's voice that had been ringing in her ears and around her mind since the whole door confrontation moment. Y/N's heart dropped. Had he finally realised she was the'screechy 'neighbour playing ABBA at last?

''Oh hi.'' she smiled, throwing the cloth she was using to clean the coffee machine under the counter. ''What can I do for you?''

''Hello'' he paused. ''I'm in the mood for a sweet treat after a long day. You got anything like that?''

''Hmm,'' she hummed, her eyes scanning the very little treats she had left after her own busy day. ''I've got two slices of lemon cake or some chocolate cupcakes if you fancy?'' God, she hated this. Trying to act polite and unbothered, when in reality all she could think about was the fact that he'd probably heard her every move for the past two weeks.

''Oooh.'' He looked carefully at the baked goods, noting that there were many options. ''You know what? I'll have one of each. It's been a long day today.''

Y/N knew what he was doing. Nearly every customer did it. They'd drop subtly into conversation about how their day was going badly or what sort of plans they had later, in hopes that Y/N would entertain them for a brief second. She didn't mind usually; it was nice to hear about a stranger's life for a brief second, something to take her mind off the fact she was actually working.

But right now, she hated the fact that she probably had to entertain his huffs about having a long day. She'd look rude if she didn't—being a business owner and all—even if he had already heard her belt out the lyrics to 'Dancing Queen' not so long ago.

''Coming right up,'' she said, grabbing two boxes with branded stickers that said 'Sweetheart's Sip' on them—she'd gotten them off Etsy. ''Long day, you said? How so?''

He had taken off his backpack, leaning onto the counter. Oh, he was getting comfortable, she thought. Great.

''Just a long day of shoots. Feel like I've been around the whole of London ten times over.'' he sighed.

''Shoots?'' She looked up at him as she cut a slice of lemon cake.

''Yeah, like video shoots.'' He paused, his cheeks flushing a bit red. ''Like Youtube. I do Youtube.''

Y/N had never met a YouTuber. Sure, she'd seen a few videos over the years, her comfort watch being a classic Zoella vlog, but that was the extent of it. She much rather indulge in reality TV—'a true brain rotter', her mum would always say.

''Oh wow. That's very cool,'' she said genuinely, placing two boxes in front of the man.

He smiled and said, "That's nice of you to say. I usually get the classic 'Does that even pay well?' sort of response. ''

''Well, does it?'' she let out a small laugh, ''Only joking.''

Y/N felt proud of herself at that moment. The small talk wasn't as awful as she thought it'd be. The idea of her singing and him having an agonising headache all weekend had gone out of her head.

''Pays well enough for me to treat myself to a slice of lemon cake and a chocolate cupcake, if that's what you're asking.'' he laughed back. ''How much do I owe you?''

Usually, Y/N would have lapped up any chance to make some more cash, but considering she was serving the same neighbour she had been supposedly keeping up with all weekend with her own renditions of 'The Winner Takes It All', she thought she'd be nice.

''It's on the house.''

''You sure?'' he said, holding the two boxes in one hand and his backpack in the other.

''Of course.'' she smiled. ''Long day and all.''

''Well, thank you, then,'' he smiled. ''I'll see you around then; have a nice weekend.”

''You too,bye,'' she watched as he walked towards the door. She turned her back, picking up the cloth she had once thrown in haste, and began to clean again.

''Oh, actually,'' The voice began, and she realised he hadn't left yet. ''Did you manage to talk to my neighbour yet? Just the racket hasn't stopped since.''

She could have died on the spot. He was so dramatic. Since their little incident, she had toned it down on the ABBA tunes, stoically sticking to singing in the shower and the occasional hum of a tune as she cooked dinner—nothing outrageous.

''No, I haven't seen them yet.'' she lied.

''Right, okay. Well, I'll be off then,'' he settled. ''Also, before I go, I just want to say sorry for being short with you the other day; you just caught me at a bad time.''

She smiled. So maybe he wasn't as rude as he came across the first time they met.

''No worries, all forgotten'' she said. Lie, as if she'd ever forget that moment.

He gave her an odd thumbs up, and she watched him as he walked out of the shop, turning left momentarily and then stopping at his front door to unlock it.

'The racket hasn't stopped' She thought of his words. What a load of rubbish. If anyone had the right to complain about noise, it was her with his deafening screams that she now assumed had something to do with the whole 'Youtuber thing' and not to forget his god-awful drum and bass.

Even though he had apologised for their first meeting, Y/N sort of wished she hadn't given him those free treats now.

✩ ✩ ✩

The weekend passed with Y/N enjoying her days off, and luckily her days off were silent; there was no loud noise from next door. Y/N had seen no more of the 'noisy Youtuber' she was now referring to him as. She had wished she had gotten his name so she could have done some stalking or at least come up with a reason for all the shouting. She thought he must have been one of those crazy gaming channels.

Monday came around quickly after the weekend, a quiet day for Y/N. She'd get a few people on their work journey in for an Americano or the occasional little old lady to come in for a morning cup of tea, but that was about it. It was a slow day. But Y/N didn't mind; it meant she could do all the tasks that she had left from the week before—a little bit of admin, ordering new coffee beans, replacing any damaged cups—all that sort of thing.

She ran the cafe solely by herself, and while sometimes it felt like she was in over her head, it was also very peaceful. She was her own boss and also had no one to boss around, which she loved because she was very bad at telling people what to do - a bit shy in that aspect.

She had just finished serving an old lady a slice of carrot cake when she heard the door chime. In waltzed her noisy neighbour. For fuck sakes, not again.

He walked in, the sunlight from outside dancing upon his tousled blonde locks, casting what almost looked like a golden halo around his head. His cheeks were flushed and his face was shiny; he must have been coming from the gym.

Clad in a blue and white hoodie adorned with bold red lettering, he exuded effortless athleticism. Y/N thought if she hadn't been so hindered by his presence, she might actually fancy him. The way the fabric hugged his toned body, accentuating the contours of his chiselled frame, There was no denying that he was an attractive man.

As he moved closer to the counter, Y/N let out an exhale—a breath she didn't even realise she had been holding.

''Hello again.'' he smiled, placing a medium-sized box on the counter. She hadn't even realised he was holding anything when he entered the shop; too busy staring at his face.

''Hi.'' She smiled back at him, surprised she'd managed to even get any words out. ''What can I get for you?''

''Oh, nothing today,'' he paused. '',though the food the other day was amazing, honestly, no complaints. ''

''I'm glad.'' she grinned. She knew her baked goods were delicious, but hearing it from other people was always lovely.

''It's just that I got a parcel delivered to mine, but I think it's actually meant for my neighbour. I rang their doorbell, but they didn't answer.'' His eyes narrowed, looking at the name on the front of the parcel.

''Oh, right.'' she said. Shit, shit, shit. That's all that was going around in her mind. It's her bloody parcel, and he's got it.

''Yeah, I was just wondering if you had a way to get a hold of them. Says the name on the front is Y/N.''

She was screwed. Absolutely screwed. He knew her name. Well, he knew the name of his neighbour, but he didn't know that that same name belonged to her. All it took now was for one of her regulars to come through the doors shouting 'Afternoon, Y/N' and her cover was blown. She was truly fucked, she thought.

Y/N wasn't even sure herself at this point why she was so desperate for him to not know that it was her living next door to him. Maybe it was the fact that he had heard her sing every 80's song known to man in one weekend, but it can't have been because she'd heard him sing equally worse over the last few weeks. Sure, she had even heard his numerous shouts that still startled her; God knows what he was up to in there. But still, despite all that, she felt embarrassed at the thought of telling him now that she was the girl next door. It had gone too far now.

''I haven't heard anything from them in a while. Maybe they're on holiday,'' she lied further.

''No, I don't think so,'' his face screwed in a look of concentration as he tried to come up with something plausable as to what his'mystery neighbour' was up to. '' I heard them singing again last night. They're definitely about.''

''Oh, that's strange, then.'' The lie just kept going; she couldn't stop. She was in too deep.

''I'll have to try again later, I suppose.'' She wasn't going to answer if he came ringing her doorbell later. She couldn't even remember what she had ordered at this rate, but all she knew was that whatever was in that box was not worth the humiliation that she'd feel if her lie was exposed.

''I guess so.'' she paused. ''You sure I can't get you anything while you're here?''

He pondered for a second, his eyes scanning the menu hung up on the wall. Various coffees, teas, matcha, and cakes ''Actually, I'll take a chamomile tea if that's alright.''

''Coming right up,'' she smiled.

She moved behind the counter, grabbing a stainless steel jug to fill up with hot water. She could feel his eyes on her as she took a blue disposable cup, placing it in front of him. A little wooden spoon was placed on the side too.

Once the hot water had filled the jug, she took out a chamomile tea bag, placing it in the cup and pushing the tray towards him.

''There you go. That's two pounds when you're ready.'' she said, tapping two pounds and holding the card reader towards him.

He tapped his card and lifted the cup that held his chamomile tea on it with one hand, the box in the other.

''Thank you.'' he said. ''Hopefully, I'll see you later when you can get hold of my neighbour.''

''I'll keep you updated.'' She smiled back, the most unconvincing smile she'd probably ever made.

As he left, Y/N felt herself sink into the counter, her head hanging down. What was she going to do?

✩ ✩ ✩

The weeks passed in a blur for Y/N, each day blending into the next as she worked tirelessly to keep her cafe running smoothly. But no matter how hard she tried to push the thought to the back of her mind, the truth of her situation lingered in the back of her mind, a constant reminder of the lie she was living.

It wasn't until one fateful day, when her noisy neighbour walked through the door of her cafe, that she realised she could no longer keep up the facade.

''Morning.'' he grinned, stepping through the door, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of Y/N behind the counter.

''Hi.'' she replied, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her chest. ''What can I get for you?''

''Actually,'' he smiled. ''I was wondering if you'd managed to get hold of my neighbour yet?''

Y/N felt her heart sink at his words, a wave of guilt washing over her. She knew that she couldn't keep lying to him and that she had to come clean about who she really was.

''Actually,'' she said, her voice trembling slightly. ''I am your neighbour .''

He stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. ''You're joking, right?'' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

''No, I'm serious.'' she replied, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pounding heart. ''I'm the one who's been causing all the noise.''

Her neighbour's shock quickly turned to amusement as he burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty cafe. ''You're having me on.'' he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ''All this time, I thought it was some crazy person living up there.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''But you're one to talk; don't think there's a day that's gone by where I haven't heard you shouting.''

He laughed, holding his hands up in defeat. ''That is fair; I'm sorry as well.''

She smiled, and a sense of relief washed over her. He wasn't angry that she'd dragged her silly lie out for the past few weeks. And if anything, it was amusing to her too—the pair were both as loud as each other, complaining about the other's noise - a pair of idiots.

'''Honestly, I should have guessed it was you sooner.'' her neighbour said, still chuckling to himself. ''With your little cafe here, I never see you leave.''

''Home and work all rolled into one.'' she smiled.

A silence came over the two, and Y/N couldn't tell if it was awkward or not. But the truth was finally out. There was no dancing around her little lies anymore. All the awkwardness was gone.

He broke the silence. ''Well, now that we've got that sorted, where do we go from here?''

''I mean, a proper introduction on my part is probably needed,'' she laughed. ''I'm Y/N, but you knew that already, sort of?''

A smile tugged on the corners of his face. ''Good to put a face to the name.'' he paused. ''I'm Harry.''

Finally a name, Y/N thought.

Harry. Harry, her noisy neighbour.

a/n: thanks for reading!!! part two out soon!!! split up my writing into parts so it's not too long to read. hope u all enjoyed. bit of a slow burn but more to come!!! xxx

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

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avatar-anna · 8 months

Text

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

2013

"Mr. Styles? Mr. Styles, you need to get up. You have a radio interview in an hour."

There was no response, but Y/n expected that. Her boss had a tendency of sleeping like the dead, a side effect of partying too long the night before.

Sighing, Y/n stepped further into the lavish hotel suite. Her first instinct was to check the tour bus, but she should've known better. LA always meant a hotel suite. When she finally made it to her boss's room, she only had to follow the trail of clothes leading to the huge bed and there he was. She also noted a separate head of hair tucked beneath the covers. A headache, seeing as that meant a trip to the legal department and an awkward conversation with said headache. But that was the job. And Y/n was nothing if not exceptional at being Harry Styles's personal assistant.

Walking over to Harry's side of the bed, Y/n shook his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath her hand, but she didn't focus on that or the corded muscle that hadn't been there a few months ago. Those boxing lessons really were paying off.

"Mr. Styles, please don't make me get the bucket," Y/n said, shaking his shoulder one last time. When he didn't move, she stepped away to grab the champagne bucket she knew was in the fridge. Harry always had one in his room, but at Y/n's request, not his.

Before she could grab it though, a voice sounded from the mountain of pillows and blankets. "Please don't. I hate the bucket."

Shaking her head, Y/n told the voice, "If you woke up when you were supposed to, I wouldn't have to use it."

"Your hands are soft but cruel, Y/n," he said, his voice deeper than it normally was.

"You've got thirty minutes to wash last night off and get dressed," was all she said in reply, but there was a small grin on her face.

As far as bosses went, Harry Styles wasn't the worst. He was sweet and not a total diva, which made Y/n's life a lot easier. He was a young guy with a lot of money and fame, though, and that meant waking him up from deep, hangover-induced sleep was the norm, and getting him to arrive on time anywhere was pretty much impossible. But he didn't make her life miserable, and for that she was thankful.

When she made sure Harry was actually out of bed and getting ready, Y/n went about her usual routine—making sure a car was ready to drive them to the radio station, ordering room service, setting out a bottle of water, three Advil, and a bullet coffee from Harry's favorite coffee house when he was in LA on the dining table in the main room of the suite. Room service arrived as she heard the shower shut off, and after checking her watch, Y/n deigned to believe they might not be that late today. A win in her book.

Ten minutes later, Harry was out of the master bedroom in a pair of black skinny jeans and a Stones t-shirt. His hair was damp and unstyled—an easy fix in the car—and his face was surprisingly fresh looking despite his late night. His eyes landed on the water and Advil first, quickly swiping those off the dining table, then saw the plates of food Y/n was helping herself to.

"Leave some for me?" he asked, throwing the pills back and downing them in one gulp.

Y/n shrugged. "Got you something better."

"What's better than Belgian waffles and bacon?"

"I might've popped over to the Beachwood Cafe this morning," she said, grinning when her words dawned on Harry.

"Breakfast burrito?"

"Mmhm."

"And the toast with the special jam?"

"What do you take me for?"

"You're the best, Y/n," Harry gushed, coming around the table to squeeze her.

For a moment, Y/n’s senses could only process Harry's cologne, a scent that wasn't too overwhelming but definitely there. And when her nose pressed against his neck, she had to make a conscious effort to not breathe in deep. Instead, she shifted in his embrace and plucked a slice of bacon off her plate to hand to him.

As difficult as he could be sometimes, Harry Styles really was a sweetheart. Since she'd started working for him a year ago, he'd been nothing but gracious to her. He always went out of his way to talk to her when he didn't have to, he never raised his voice when things that were out of her control went wrong, he hung out with her in his dressing room when she worked on his schedule or answered emails before his shows, and the Christmas bonus he'd given her this year was unlike anything she'd received before. Y/n had been unsure of what to expect when she took this job, but after nearly a year, she and Harry operated like a well-oiled machine, and she liked to believe that even though he was her boss, they were at the very least acquaintances.

"Is the car ready?" Harry asked around a bite of bacon.

"Yeah, head down there. I'll handle…" Y/n's voice trailed off as she nodded in the direction of the master bedroom, where Harry's guest had yet to hear.

"Right, um…"

Y/n pinned him with a stare. "This is a new low, Mr. Styles."

"I know. I swear I know it, it's the alcohol fog," he insisted, but they both knew that didn't make it any better. "And for the last time, it's Harry."

Shaking her head, Y/n motioned to the door. "Go, or you're gonna be late."

He didn't put up much of a fight after that. He grabbed his coffee and breakfast and headed for the door, but not before squeezing Y/n's shoulder affectionately. "You really are the best, Y/n. I'm gonna give you a raise."

"That's my third raise this year!" Y/n said, calling after him as he walked out.

"You deserve it! Just say thank you!" he said with a wave, then he was gone.

Y/n sat in silence for a moment, her cheeks flushing involuntarily. She swore it was that he was uncharacteristically kind for a celebrity. Harry was just charming and endearing, that was why she was blushing.

"Harry?"

A voice coming from the bedroom brought Y/n back to earth. Harry might have gone to his interview, but her job was far from done. Sighing, she pulled out a folder where she kept all her legal documents out of her bag, rifling through the color-coded tabs until she landed on the purple one. She slipped a piece of paper out, then snagged a pen from a smaller pocket in her purse.

Readying herself for what would be a less-than-pleasant conversation, Y/n clutched the NDA in her hand and went to greet the woman who would no doubt be disappointed to see her instead of the man she thought she seduced the night before.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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meguvmii · 1 month

Text

I still want you.

Chapter 8

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

Falling in love with the Satoru Gojou wasn’t an easy task. You truly love him but will this come to an end?

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message on the box. Also super sorry for not updating but im back!

previous chapter ⤏ next chapter

Before you knew it, you had arrived back at your hotel, Sumire sleeping on your arms. With a sigh, you got up from the bus seat and made your way to the entrance. As you carried him to the room, you couldn't help but smile at how peaceful he looked.

As you walked to your room, constantly feeling your phone vibrate with messages and missed calls, a wave of guilt washed over you. You had just stormed out of your sister's wedding party in a fit of anger and now you couldn't help but feel selfish and regretful. You knew that your actions had caused a scene and potentially ruined her special day. The weight of your decision and its consequences weighed heavily on your conscience.

Was she really pregnant by Satoru? Do you mean absolutely nothing to him? Although you had shared an intimate night the night you went to the bar, you felt stupid for believing his lies. These thoughts were swirling around in your head, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn't believe that he would do this to you, especially after everything you had been through together. The trust you had in him was shattered, and you couldn't help but feel foolish for falling for his smooth words and false promises. It was a painful reminder that sometimes, people are not who they seem to be.

Maybe you should've taken that trip with Sumire, just the two of you, to clear your mind. But now, it was too late. You were committed to this path, no matter how unsure you felt. As you walked, the sound of your heels clicking on the concrete floor was a constant reminder of the life you were leaving behind. And with each step, you couldn't help but curse under your breath, knowing that your new pair of Jimmy Choo heels were now ruined.

You felt the tiredness of caring him hit you mid way to the elevator. You sighed with relief as the elevator doors opened, grateful for the brief moment of rest.

As you stepped inside, you couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this routine. But then you looked down at Sumire in your arms, and you knew you would do anything for him. You straightened your back and held him a little tighter, determined to make it through the rest of the day with a smile on your face.

"Well, someone looks happy." Turning to your side, you barely noticed the tall man with pink hair staring at you. Curling your smile into an awkward one, you turned back to continue trying to shove Sumire up, as he was slipping from your hold. Although the man's comment had caught you off guard, you didn't want to engage in a conversation with a stranger while holding your child. Plus, his pink hair and unusual choice of words made you a bit uncomfortable. You focused on sumire and decided to ignore him, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Yeah, well I'm happy to be with my son is all," you chuckled awkwardly. Despite the pink-haired man being oddly attractive, you weren't really looking for a conversation because unfortunately for you, Sumire was starting to wake up. "Do you need help carrying him? It looks like you're struggling," the man said, curling his lips into a genuine smile.

As you handed over your toddler, a wave of anxiety washed over you. You knew that letting a stranger hold your child was not a wise decision, but you were desperate for a break from carrying him. With a mixture of hesitation and aggression, you reluctantly agreed. The man's reaction was unexpected - he froze in place as your little white haired boy happily grabbed onto his neck and curled up. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Well since you're carrying my kid, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Y/N."

"My name is Sukuna." The pink haired man said, he silently checked you out. Looking at your heels to your dress he definitely knew you had some type of cash on you. All you were wearing was designer brands. "Nice to meet you." you said clutching your purse. You wondered if the man was here on a business trip because of the way he was dressed. He was wearing a suite which suited his body figure well.

You couldn't help but notice he looked a little like one of sumire's friends from school. However, his intense gaze and calculating demeanor made you feel uneasy. It was almost as if he was sizing you up, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that he had ulterior motives for wanting to meet you. You started to second-guess your decision to meet him, wondering if it was safe to trust him.

"Wait a minute... I know you." He said chuckling.

Realizing that you had never met this man before, you glanced back at the elevator sign, wondering if he had mistaken you for someone else. However, as you looked back at him, his chuckle turned into a sly smile and you couldn't help but feel suspicious. Who was this man and why did he seem to recognize you? You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off."why is this elevator so damn slow" you thought.

"You do?" You laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the fear in your voice. All you could do was pray that he wasn't some serial killer.

"Mmm yeah I do. You're Satoru Gojos wife right?" tilting his head a little. You sighed, he was definitely one of Satorus business partners.

The man continued to look at you curiously, his pink hair falling into his dark eyes. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his gaze. "Yes, I am. And who might you be?" you replied, trying to maintain a polite tone despite your growing irritation. It seemed like Satoru's business partners were always popping up at the most inconvenient times.

"Well im just associated with your husband because we both work for the same industry." nodding your head you couldn't help but feel relieved when the elevator doors finally opened on your floor.

"I can take him from here." reaching for Sumire the man just backed up a bit.

"Where's your room? I can take him there," he said. You sighed in defeat as you stepped out of the elevator. Walking down the hallway towards your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel frustrated with Sukuna's constant presence. You knew he was only trying to help, but having him follow you everywhere was starting to become suffocating.

You could also tell that he was most definitely checking you out as you walked towards your room. Where was satoru when you needed him.

"So how long have you been married for?" Sighing, you shook your head, feeling the weight of your failing marriage. Finally getting to your room, you opened your purse to try and find the keys, hoping to escape the tension and disappointment that had been plaguing your relationship.

"Just a few years," you replied, finally grabbing your keys and unlocking the door. You turned around to face the pink haired man, smiling with gratitude. "Thank you so much for your help. Please come in and put him in the bed."

He gently put sumire down on the bed, straightening him self he cracked his knuckles before walking back out. You followed him planning on thanking him before he left. As you followed him, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his help and wanted to thank him before he left. However, you also couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his knuckles as he walked, perhaps a sign of the physical strain he had endured while carrying Sumire to the bed. You made a mental note to check on him later and offer your gratitude for his assistance.

As Sukuna stood by your side, you silently closed the door behind you, leaving only the two of you outside in the hallway. Turning to Sukuna, you couldn't help but smile and say, "Thank you for carrying my son all this way."

"I'm just happy to help," Sukuna replied with a smile, "Your son is a great kid." You nodded, grateful for Sukuna's assistance in carrying your sleeping child out of the elevator.

Sukuna couldn't help but lean closer, and as he did, you caught a whiff of his strong, expensive cologne. Your heart raced, wondering if he was hitting on you. But as you glanced to the side, you noticed someone standing by you.

"Leave her alone," Toji stood in front of you, pushing Sukuna away. Sukuna groaned in disappointment, "Toji, nice to see you too." The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for Toji's intervention.

"What are you doing here?" you said in a low voice, toji stared at sukuna. Not paying attention to you as he was trying to get sukuna to leave. "Come on man, I can't talk to her?" Toji rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by Sukuna's presence. You couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of their argument.

With a sigh, Sukuna made his way out of the hallway, leaving you and Toji alone. Surprisingly, the tension that had filled the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm and understanding between the two of you. It was as if Sukuna's departure lifted a weight off your shoulders, allowing you to fully relax in Toji's presence. The atmosphere had changed into something more peaceful, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of tranquility.

"You followed me?" Confused you stared at him

"Yes, I did. I was worried about you," Toji replied with a concerned expression. "I saw you walk out alone and I couldn't just let you go without making sure you were okay." He squeezed your arm gently, his eyes full of worry. "Are you alright?"

Nodding your head you couldnt help but see that Toji's chest was going up n down fast. He had sweat beats forming on his forehead most likely meaning he sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?"

Nodding your head, you couldn't help but notice that Toji's chest was rising and falling rapidly. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, most likely meaning he had sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?" you asked, concerned for his well-being. Toji smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I wanted to make sure I got here in time to see you." You couldn't help but feel touched by his dedication and effort.

Toji was just staring, taking in your facial features. He couldn't help but admire your features, from the curve of your lips to the sparkle in your eyes. Every detail seemed to captivate him, leaving him in awe of your beauty. But as he gazed at you, he couldn't help but wonder, what was your secret? How could someone be so effortlessly and naturally stunning?

He leaned in, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. His intense gaze held yours, making you feel weak in the knees. You could feel your cheeks heat up and your body tense as his hand caressed your skin. The electricity between you was palpable, and you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your stomach. Maybe it was time for you to move on and find someone who actually cares about you. Someone who would treat you with love, respect, and kindness. You deserve to be with someone who values you and makes you feel appreciated.

You put your hand behind his head and pulled him closer, your lips inching towards each other. Maybe Toji was that someone, the one who could treat you with love and kindness, unlike the others who had only caused you pain and heartache. As you leaned in for a kiss, you couldn't help but hope that this could be the start of something real and beautiful. The fear of getting hurt once more overwhelmed you, causing you to hesitate and pull away from his soft lips. Memories of past heartbreaks and betrayals flooded your mind, making it difficult to fully embrace the present moment. You couldn't help but question his intentions and whether or not you were making the right decision by allowing him to kiss you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his face inches from yours. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at you.

Feeling a rush of desire, you leaned in closer to him, allowing your lips to brush against his. "Nothing," you whispered, before closing the gap between you and giving into the intense chemistry between the two of you. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

As his hand moved from your cheek to your waist, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. His touch was gentle yet possessive, and you couldn't resist the urge to lean into him. He hesitated for a moment, but then his hand slipped under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced along your bare skin. The butterflies in your stomach only intensified, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

You could feel the coolness of his fingers against your skin and you flinched, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Toji's gentle touch allowed your mouth to open just slightly, and Toji took that as an invitation, eagerly pushing his tongue into your mouth. The pleasure was intoxicating and you found yourself moaning in response, losing yourself in the moment.

You knew this was wrong, making out in the hall of your hotel. Anyone could come in at the moment and see you making out with Toji. But for some reason, it sparked excitement in you - the thrill of getting caught reminded you of your teenage years when you would sneak around with him at parties. It was a reminder of the carefree and rebellious nature of youth, and you couldn't help but indulge in the moment. However, you also knew that this behavior was irresponsible and could have consequences, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

"Mm, Toji..." Feeling his hand slide up, you felt a rush of excitement as he reached your breasts. Stopping for a brief moment to ask for your consent, he said, "Can I?" You didn't even have to tell him, you just grabbed him and pulled him into another passionate kiss. Taking that as a yes, he began to gently fondle and caress your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure throughout your body.

It had been a while since someone had made out with you, but it was clear that Toji needed you. Despite being with Satoru most of your life, you had never experienced a makeout session this passionate before. Satoru's kisses were always rough, but Toji's were on another level. They were gentle, yet somehow still intense and rough at the same time. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"We should stop," you said, looking away from him to see if anyone had passed by the hall. "Yeah, we should," but before you could say anything, he squeezed your breast, causing you to look at him. He laughed in a playful manner before kissing you one last time.

You rolled your eyes at him before looking at him with confusion. "Where's Megumi?" you asked. "He's at your sister's house," he replied. "I came here as fast as I could, so I asked if she could watch him."

"Are you serious? you left your soon with a bunch of strangers." you shook your head in disapproval.

"Let's go get him, I need to talk to my sister either way," you hesitently said. Turning around to get your keys out of your purse, you opened your hotel room, with Toji following behind you.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you watched your son sleeping peacefully. You knew you had to wake him up, but seeing him so content made you hesitate. You couldn't bear to disturb his peaceful slumber, but you also knew you had to stick to the schedule. You gently shook him awake, hoping he wouldn't be too grumpy about it.

"Come on, baby, wake up." You said in a soft tone, gently trying to rouse your child from their slumber.

Sumire awoke from a deep sleep, confused and disoriented as he found himself in a hotel room. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he was suddenly filled with joy when he saw you, his mother, standing by his bedside. "Mommy!" he exclaimed excitedly, relieved to see a familiar face.

Toji stood next to you as you gently picked up your son. "Hey, let me take him for you." You silently thanked him before handing Sumire to him. Without hesitation, Sumire wrapped his tiny hands around Toji's neck and buried his face in the warmth of his embrace. You couldn't help but smile at the sweet bond forming between him and your and son.

As you walked out, you made sure to carefully lock the door behind you before heading to the elevator. Once you reached the lobby, you made your way out to the parking lot, grateful for the car your sister had rented for you. You promised yourself to thank her again when you saw her.

"Can you drive? I want to sit with Sumire," you asked. Toji simply nodded and got into the car. You carefully picked up your son and positioned him comfortably on top of you, holding him tight. You quickly checked your phone to see if you got any messages from when you left.

3 messages from "Sister" 2 messages from "My love ♡" 5 messages from "Toji Zen'in"

Confused as to why you still had Satoru as "My love" you clicked on his contact. Quickly changing it back to "ex-husband." Curious on what he texted you clicked on his message.

Y/N please call me when you see this. Please tell me if you got safe with sumire if you can.

You scoffed seeing his message. You were filled with anger and resentment upon receiving his message. 'How dare he try to act like a caring father now? He should have thought about the consequences of his actions when he decided to cheat and get another girl pregnant.' It was too late for him to try and make amends now.

You hated him so much. You couldn't believe how different Sumire was from his father. His kind and gentle nature was a stark contrast to the man you despised so much. It was almost hard to believe they were related.

"So we get megumi, I talk to my sister and we leave, Okay?" You said.

"That sounds good," Toji said, placing a hand on your thigh before carelessly rubbing it. You realized he was driving with one hand and for some reason it made him look immensely attractive. His confident and nonchalant demeanor while driving added to his charm and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. The way his hand rested on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you want him even more.

Toji had a way of making you feel youthful, despite the small age difference between the two of you. Although he was only two years older, being around him made you feel more energized and alive. He had a contagious energy that could make anyone feel young and carefree.

"Toji?" Seeing him turn to look at you, you took in his features. His sharp jawline, dark hair, and piercing dark green eyes took your breath away. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach every time you looked at him. It was no wonder he was the most popular guy in school.

Everyone wanted Toji, even your sister had a major crush on him. She was a freshman when he was a senior. Little did she know you were lucky enough to make out with him the day before he graduated.

"Do you still remember how Highschool was?" With a squeeze on your thigh he began to think.

"Hmm, high school was quite boring actually," he said with a sigh. "Well, except for the fact that I could see you during passing periods," he added with a sly wink in your direction.

"You're dumb." You said, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm being completely honest with you. I had strong feelings for you, but I was told that you were in a serious relationship with Satoru, so I didn't want to interfere or make things complicated."

You smiled knowing Toji always thought of you in a romantic way, but you also couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if you had married him instead of Satoru. Would things have been easier or more fulfilling? Would you have avoided the heartbreak and struggles you faced with Satoru?

"We're here," he said, parking the car outside the house. As the music and chatter from outside filled the car, you felt hesitant and unsure if you should actually go in.

"Here, I'll carry Sumire." He said, gently picking up your son and holding him in his arms. You were still getting out of the car, and Toji extended his hand to help you. You gratefully accepted it, feeling a sense of warmth and connection as your fingers interlocked. Together you walked inside the house.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted by Jiyuu, who appeared to have been crying. "Couldn't my day get any better." She said before shoulder checking you and walking out the door. You were in disbelief, she really just said that in front of you. Scoffing you continued to walk towards the patio.

Satoru was frustrated, Jiyuu had ran out and he had to go after her. He began walking to where she had left before stopping in his tracks and seeing you. Toji was holding his son, his baby. He looked at Toji in disgust before his eyes followed to you, seeing that you were holding hands with Toji he chuckled.

Satoru couldn't believe it. After all the trouble Jiyuu had caused, she had just run off and left him to deal with the consequences. And now, to make matters worse, he saw that you were here with Toji, holding hands with him. Satoru couldn't help but feel disgusted and betrayed by both of you. He had always hated Toji, but now it seemed that you were with him. He stood there, unsure of what to do or say next.

All he could do was just walk past you, pretend like he didnt care that you were with another man. He had priorities now, and that was to catch his pregnant lover who had just ran out.

"What a scum." you said

As you walked outside, you noticed a group of people gathered and chatting. Your eyes zeroed in on your sister's fiance, who seemed to be the center of attention. You quickly made your way over.

"Y/N, I'm glad you're safe," he said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Where's Marie?" you asked, scanning the room for any sign of her. However, she was nowhere in sight. You wondered where she could have gone off to and if everything was okay.

"She's in her room, all the bridesmaids are in there," he said, gesturing towards the door before turning to greet Toji and your son.

Looking at Toji, he had just smiled at you and reassured you that it was okay to leave. "It's fine, go ahead. I'll take care of Megumi." His kind gesture put you at ease and you were grateful for his understanding.

You walked to your sister's room, knocking on the door before you were greeted by Utahime. She looked at you with a shocked expression, practically jumping on you. "Y/N! I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaimed.

Walking inside, you saw all of your friends gathered in the room, with your sister on the bed crying. You immediately felt guilty, knowing that your actions had caused this emotional outburst. Without hesitation, you walked over to her and embraced her in a hug, apologizing for the scene you had made.

"I'm so sorry Marie, I didn't mean to storm off like that," you apologized to your sister, feeling guilty for your outburst. You knew that your sister deserved an explanation for your behavior and you were ready to give her one.

She reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been through a lot, but you're here now and that's all that matters," she reassured you with a warm smile. "And I completely understand if you don't want to be a part of my wedding anymore. I love you and everything you have done for me, but I want you to be happy and comfortable with your role in the wedding." You quickly cut her off, reassuring her that her feelings and opinions are important to you.

"Absolutely not, I'm staying for this wedding. Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for anything," you said, hugging her again. You had been looking forward to this special occasion for months, and there was no way you were going to miss it. The thought of not being there to celebrate with your baby sister and witness her happiness was out of the question.

She smiled at you, happy that you were going to be in her wedding. "And as for Jiyuu i want her there too." you said, you're sister looked at you confused.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, concern evident in her voice. "I can take her off if you want," she reassured you, gently squeezing your hand. You could tell she genuinely cared about your well-being and wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the situation.

"No, it's fine, I have to go." you reassured your sister before getting up from the bed and giving her one last hug. "I'll be safe, don't worry. And I'll definitely text you." Your sister smiled and nodded before letting you leave the room. As you walked outside, you saw that Toji was getting along well with your sister's fiancé.

You walked towards him and gently took Megumi from his grasp, feeling grateful for his innocent and loving nature. "Hello, my sweet baby," you cooed in a soft, high-pitched voice. His eyes lit up with excitement and he wrapped his tiny hands around your neck, his pure and genuine love bringing a smile to your face.

"Well we should get going, thank you for everything." You thanked him before grabbing Toji's hand and walking towards the entrance.

Toji was walking with Sumire holding his tiny hand while you carried Megumi. You always wanted another kid. Just so Sumire wouldn't be alone. But having another child was basically impossible since his father was no longer in the picture.

However, as the wedding drew closer, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and sadness. Going home also meant finalizing your divorce and leaving behind the life you once knew. The impending changes and uncertainty made it difficult to truly enjoy the vacation.

Taglist; @allofffmypeaches @wo-ming-bai @nerdiel-has-no-braincells@creolequeen11210 @doughnuts-eater @narutosagemode@lilith412426 @meojjjsworld @pandoraium @dcvilxswish @cloudsinthecosmos

#gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk angst #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji jjk #toji x reader #cheating gojo #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo x you #gojo x reader #toji x you

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strwbrryeyes · 1 month

Text

𖦹°｡⋆ asahi as a best friend

⟡ cw: fluff, friends to lovers, mentions of panic attack, lmk if i miss anything

⟡ a/n: skipping tanaka for now. also chose to do it where they're in different years bc why not. this is also kinda bad so sorry.

⟡ best friend series: nishinoya, tanaka, daichi, suga, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kageyama, hinata || masterlist

best friend asahi who you met your second year of high school and his third year when you saw him lurking around the corner of the volleyball gym.

best friend asahi who you got closer to when you found out who he was and dragged him into the gym since you saw it as your duty as karasuno's new manager to bring everyone together.

best friend asahi who introduced himself to you properly once everyone was accepting of him coming back to the team.

best friend asahi who nearly fainted when he found out you were noya's friend because he wasn't sure if he could handle two of him but you assured him you were different than noya (barely different tbh).

best friend asahi who automatically got attached to you because of your sweet and comforting vibes.

best friend asahi who was questioning his life choices when you and noya were fighting over his attention during a group sleepover.

best friend asahi who went over to your house the night before the team played with date tech because he was having a small panic attack due to the last time he played them.

best friend asahi who ended up falling asleep on your bed that night after an hour of crying on your shoulder. you ended up sleeping on the floor because you thought he needed space (also literally because there was not enough room on the bed for the both of you). you both were the tiniest bit late to the bus departing.

best friend asahi who automatically ran to you once he scored the winning point because you were the reason he felt motivated enough to try his best on the court.

best friend asahi who decided that the night before any important game, he would sleep over at your house, don't worry though, he brought a sleeping bag from now on.

best friend asahi who got teased by the other third years by how much time he was spending with you which made him realize how whipped he was for you.

best friend asahi who you helped apply for fashion school by modeling his clothes for his portfolio. he swears hes never seen someone as beautiful as you.

best friend asahi who you gave a giant bouquet of flowers right after graduation as a way to congratulate him for all hes done this year and how far hes come.

best friend asahi who was surprised that you were going to a college near his school after your own third but was happy because that meant he would get to see you regularly again.

best friend asahi who you moved in with once you started your own college journey because he 'needed a model that he can work with consistently'.

best friend asahi who had an assignment to make two matching outfits and let it slip that if he was your boyfriend he'd make more matching outfits because he liked the sight of it.

best friend asahi who froze in place when he realized what he said but unfroze when you asked 'wanna be my boyfriend then?' 'are you serious?'

best friend asahi who tripped over a mountain of fabric running to you when you said you were 100% serious and were tired of waiting for him to make a move.

best friend asahi who is now boyfriend asahi who lived up to his promise and made endless matching outfits for the two of you.

#𖦹°｡⋆ 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #asahi #asahi azumane #asahi x reader #asahi x reader fluff #asahi azumane x reader #asahi azumane x reader fluff

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therealgloomygirl · 2 months

Note

Hiya, I loved your Yandere!Athena HCs! Could you maybe write Yandere Percy and Jason x reader HCs, like in a poly situation? Thank you! ❤️

yandere PJO! Percy Jackson x demigod! darling X yandere HOO! Jason Grace 🌊☁️⚔️ - general hcs

!!WARNINGS!!: yandere, obsessive and stalkerish behavior, manipulation, mentions of vi0lence and murd3r, overprotectiveness, jealousy, etc etc you know the drill

pairing/s: yandere pjo!Percy and Jason x demigod!darling

a/n: sorry it took so long anonie, i kept losing motivation lol

So let's start this off strong, if this was pre-Blood of Olympus Percy and Jason, they definitely would've killed each other for you soooo...

Let's just assume this is pre-Trials of Apollo Percy and Jason

You were one of the half-blood campers who went to New Rome for college

And by some stroke of luck (or not) you managed to catch the eye of two of the most powerful demigods ever known, Percy Jackson and Jason Grace

I'd assume that both of them would already be in a relationship with each other when you showed up

Jason would be the first one who would notice you

He had noticed Frank showing you around the campus while he was in one of the cafes and he was immediately intrigued by the reserved air you held about you

How you shyly thanked Frank for showing you around and how you looked around the campus like it made was straight out of Mount Olympus

In Jason's eyes, anyone who can appreciate the beauty of Rome is gorgeous to him

So naturally he developed an interest in you

Jason is a very communicative boyfriend and the second he realised he might have developed feelings for you, he immediately told Percy

Of course, it wasn't like he wasn't in love with Percy, it's just that you had caught his eye too

At first, Percy was pissed. Percy is a rather overprotective boyfriend to have and he immediately began digging up on you, to find out who had been attracting his boyfriend

However, when he started learning more about you, he couldn't stop himself from liking you

For some reason, you had the same effect on him that Jason did and he immediately understood why you had caught Jason's eye

The two of them had a long conversation and agreed to try to win you over

So they would start reading into you, finding out what you like, what your hobbies are, things like that

They didn't realise it but they developed quite the obsession with you, observing you late into the night, thinking about you constantly

Finally they approached you, on the pretense of wanting to welcome the new blood

You were quite flattered to have such important demigods willingly offer to be your guides and immediately took up their offer of friendship, starting to hang around with them more

I feel like Percy and Jason would genuinely want to be your boyfriends instead of kidnapping you or just making you fall in love with them so it would be easier to get you

They want a healthy, normal relationship with you but they don't realise that their love for you goes far too deep for a normal relationship

Your friendship would start off really simple, just things like picnics in the gardens of Rome, late night study sessions, the occasionally fighting monsters outside camp

Slowly they'd become more bold, starting to bring you gifts, surprising you with things that they had handmade from the Vulcan campers, just for you

They'd finally offer the option of joining their relationship to you one late night and they'd be absolutely over the moon when you shyly accepted

Once they're officially your boyfriends, you'd notice them competing with each other for your affection

It'd start off with small things, like if Percy took you out to a gorgeous beach on a weekend as a little relaxing surprise for you, you'd notice Jason eyeing him a little challengingly

Then Jason would take you on a surprise flying trip to wherever you wanted and and would have a lovely time with you, only to come back home to a rather grumpy Percy

Of course they still love each other, but they can't help but feel a little more competitive when it comes towards you

Honestly, it's one of the things that keeps their relationships going and it's rather interesting to watch at times too

I have this headcanon that Jason cooks really well so he'd learn your favourite food and make it for you <3 (just don't ask HOW he knows your favourite food since you never told him)

Percy is insistent that you learn how to swim so he'll drag you to the beach at random and try to teach you how to swim if you don't already know

If you DO know, he'll try teaching you tricks and will show off his own stunts underwater to general applause (although Jason keeps berating him for it since it makes Percy dizzy, he's usually on a lounge chair, watching you two)

Percy isn't very happy if you wear a revealing swimsuit but let's it go when Jason reminds him that not only can they both fight, so can you

He still glares at everyone who looks at you in even a slightly admiring way but usually Jason is there to restrain him from dousing them in sea water

I think they probably wouldn't punish you or such, since they didn't have to kidnap you to get you and since they don't like hurting you

I'd say the most they'd do as a 'punishment' is ignore you for a few days, essentially isolating you but just from them

And of course, since you love them so much, it's pure torture to you so you do everything you can to make up to them

Both of them looooove reminding you how gorgeous you are

Percy totally takes photos of you all the time with a Polaroid, no matter whether you're eating, studying, sleeping

When you stay up late to study at night, Jason is right by your side, providing you with an unlimited supply of coffee or hot chocolate, whichever you prefer

Percy would probably study with you since he isn't very good at studies either but he'd probably get really easily distracted by how pretty you were which results in Jason having to smack him on the head (and then kiss his forehead because he felt bad about it)

They NEVER forget important dates

Anniversaries, birthdays, special holidays you like, they will ALWAYS remember

Both of them spend hours with each other while pondering your gifts (and each other's but neither one of them tells each other that)

It's always a thoughtful, sweet gift whether valuable in sentiment or use

They spoil you as much as they can with what money they have

Jason leaves little notes for you all over your dorm, some reminders and some just sweet compliments <33

Percy definitely brings you random trinkets from his father's palace when he goes to visit <3

Both of them LOVE showing off their horses, offering rides to you at random odd hours of the day

If anyone dared to ask you out, usually Percy would pull them into his cabin to talk to them, with Jason by his side as he calmly tries to explain that you were already dating them

Usually, the demigods of two of the most powerful Olympians confronting them regarding a loved one, would have any demigod with any common sense immediately apologizing and promising not to do it again

If some idiot, however, ignores their (Percy's) warnings, neither Percy or even Jason can guarantee their safety next time they're in the air or the sea

They may not have as many powers over their respective domains but they have enough to cause 'accidents', small things that confuse, weaken or hurt the unfortunate fool who chose you to have a crush on

They wouldn't go as far as to kill anyone though, unless it's in a fit of rage (Percy) or they decide it's well deserved (Jason)

Overall, they're amazing boyfriends and the chances of you ever finding out about their obsession is almost zero since they're so sweet and loving that it distracts you from all the red flags <3

----------------------------------------------

a/n: the ending was lazy but kindly forgive me for that, it was like 3 am, I'm so sorry ☠️☠️

#pjo fandom #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #hoo #heroes of olympus #jason grace #percy jackson #jason grace x reader #yandere jason grace #percy jackson x jason grace #yandere #pjo x reader #pjo x you #percy series #greek mythology

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songmingisthighs · 3 months

Text

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. ii

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 3 k

warning : adultery, cheating, medical condition (?), mentions of loss/miscarriage, negative depiction of wooyoung

a/n : happy valentine's <3

It had been two months since the night you were intimate with Wooyoung and it was still suffocating to think about.

It hurts a lot actually. But you can't let your sadness take over you, especially when Wooyoung hasn't shown any concrete signs that you should be worried other than your feelings. So you kept it to yourself, you kept your anxiety in and with every trip and team dinner or client meeting, you convinced yourself that he was doing what he said he was doing no matter how nauseated it made you feel. The stress must've gotten to you badly because the nausea was starting to become unbearable and even made you vomit almost every day. You figured it was psychosomatic but since it had affected your housework (aka Wooyoung complaining that you were up late several times, Dayoung grumbling under her breath about you not even caring to make her breakfast, and Woohyun refusing to go to kindergarten because he was worried over you).

Today started quite roughly.

"MOM!"

You barely held onto the countertop of your sink when you heard your daughter huffing from the other side of the door. The pain in your head and the discomfort from your stomach made your body sway slightly and the second round of angry knocks felt like a hammer to your head.

"Mom, seriously, I'm gonna be late!" Dayoung sighed sharply. You could just imagine the look on her face and while you love your children to bits, the way your body was practically shutting down on you, it felt like you wanted to scream back at her to give you a break. But you kept reminding yourself that you're the parent, she's an angsty teenager and you can't create a hostile environment for your youngest.

By whatever force that was working in your favour, you managed to walk yourself to the door and though your hands were cold, clammy, and trembling, you were able to open the door to see your daughter glaring at you. "S-sorry sweetie, mommy's not feeling well right now," you sighed, wiping the cold sweat off your forehead with your palm.

Dayoung hated the way you referred to yourself as if she was still a child or something and she let you know her disdain with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. "If you were so against me taking the bus in the morning, you could've at least made an effort to be punctual. I had to dress Woohyun, you know that? He and his milk-drenched chin almost ruined my cardigan and uniform. How is it that I'm doing things you're supposed to? Couldn't you have gotten drunk during the weekends or something?" she sneered, oblivious that it had been a while since you touched alcohol because when you tried to have a glass the week before, you ended up throwing up for some reason. The throbbing was coming back along with annoyance and you couldn't help the sharp exhale that you let out, "Can you not be like this right now? You being disrespectful won't make me move any faster." At least Dayoung had the decency to shut her mouth but from the corner of your eyes, you could see her fists clenching. "Where's your dad anyways? He knew I was not feeling well, he could've taken you and Woohyun to school." Although you were sighing and struggling to move without keeling over, you still forced your body to cooperate, determined to prioritize your motherly duties above letting sickness take over you completely. Dayoung only leaned on the wall while texting her friend, completely aware that you had almost fallen over a couple of times as you changed into your jeans, "I don't know, Daddy seemed to be in a rush this morning. He went out like an hour earlier than usual, humming and mumbling something about meeting someone for coffee before going to the academy."

The lighthearted tone Dayoung used didn't hide the heaviness of those words. You had been rather preoccupied as a mom to really follow up on your instinct so when you heard that, you felt a chill down your spine. For a moment, you couldn't help but wonder what or why you felt like that. As quick as that doubt came, you brushed the thought away as you grabbed your bag, rushed your children out the door, and loaded them into your car.

Being a parent was truly a wonder because for a moment, while focusing on your children, you felt like your body was mending itself. The headache was gone, your joints were not achy, and the bloated feeling in your stomach was relieved. Maybe it was stress, a psychosomatic symptom because you had a feeling that something was wrong with Wooyoung and because nothing did, your body directed the feeling towards your health. It's possible, the body is mysterious and things that make almost 0 sense can happen in a blink of an eye.

But once you found yourself all alone after taking Woohyun to his class, you slumped against the side of your car, clutching your head as the pain suddenly returned all at once. It was then and there that you realized that something was going on with you and you needed to get it checked out immediately.

On the way to the hospital, your mind was at war. It was plagued with scary scenarios like cancer one moment before the logical side of your brain reasoned that it could be something as simple as indigestion, acid reflux or even stomach flu. The anxiety didn't die down and you thought that at moments like this, you needed your partner, you needed your husband. Your husband who in the past had gone above and beyond to nurse you back to health even when it was just your allergy acting up. It was ironic that as you smiled and reminisced about the things your husband did for you in the past, your phone let out a long dial tone that let you know that you couldn't reach your husband for the 5th time. The anxiety bubbled up at the pit of your stomach as your fear went on automation, immediately associating Wooyoung not accepting your calls as a bad omen. One by one, your brain started ticking off possibilities such as stomach cancer, bowel obstruction, and kidney problems. Then your daughter's jabs started popping in your head, her jabs about how you drink a lot. It wasn't like you get drunk on wine twice a week like a ritual but it was never like that. You do enjoy the occasional glass but even then, it was slightly less than the amount people usually pour and it never surpassed you feeling tingly. But maybe you had accidentally subconsciously increased your intake and what you were experiencing was liver failure.

Out of all the diagnoses you were fearing, you honestly weren't expecting the doctor to tell you that you were pregnant.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, the moment the doctor revealed the diagnosis, it was like a punch to the gut and you vomited all over the ER floor. On the plus side, you no longer feel bloated.

"I can't be pregnant, there's no way. I haven't been intimate with my husband in a long while," you said after gulping down the water one of the nurses brought for you. "Blood tests are rarely wrong, ma'am," the doctor pulled her stool closer to you and sat down to look at you straight in the eyes, "When was the last time you were intimate with your husband?" It was both easy and hard for you to remember the last time you had sex with Wooyoung. You couldn't even call it making love because it wasn't. He fucked you to shut you up and left you alone like a washed-up carcass. The urge to scream and go crazy was high as it seemed like such a joke to get pregnant from that one time.

You wanted to laugh, scream, cry at how ironic the situation was. How when you tried so hard to grow your family with your husband, you were met with heartbreak. But now that things were verging on collapsing, you were suddenly blessed with a person you didn't even know you'd been waiting for. But your brain hadn't caught up to that point, still in disbelief and maybe even shock.

The doctor's voice was merely a murmur at that point. You couldn't focus, you couldn't really comprehend what she was saying because you were so deep in your thoughts, your bitter thoughts of the situation. You were worried because after what happened to your last pregnancy, it took you a long while to be okay again. There was even a period of time when Wooyoung was the only functioning parent, taking care of the role of both mom and dad while you recuperate. Of course, you weren't expecting to lose this pregnancy too. Who would do that? But the fear existed, the fear remained a part of you and as much as you want to shed it, it was so hard.

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but let your mind wander and suddenly flicker into hope. Hope that this baby will bring your husband back, bring him back to the way he was before the loss you both experienced. Hoping that his distance was because he was also waiting for this same little stranger.

"Hey, (y/n)!"

You turned around and saw Yunho jogging towards you, huffing.

When did you get out of the ER? You felt a buzz in your hand from your phone and frowned when you saw the message. When did you make an OB appointment?

Whatever the answer was, you immediately tried to shove your worries away and put on a smile, trying to appear normal or somewhat okay in front of your husband's friend.

Before you could greet him back, however, he cut you off, "I came as soon as I heard," he panted. "What?" you chuckled awkwardly, not understanding what he meant but slightly worried because you had thought someone saw you in the ER and heard what you and the doctor were talking about and informed other people. "How's Wooyoung? Was it really a heart attack? I heard he hit his head or something. Which room is he in?" It felt like you were the one who hit their head because you had no idea what Yunho was saying. You waved your hands in front of Yunho's face to stop his rants, "Whoah, Yunho, what are you talking about?" Now it was Yunho's turn to be confused. "I-I was informed by the academy's front desk that Wooyoung got hurt. They said they called Wooyoung in because he missed his special trainee class and they got information that he was hurt and that he was admitted here so I thought that he was with you."

In a flash, you turned and dashed to the information desk, Yunho hot on your tail. the both of you stayed close as you go up to the room Wooyoung was admitted in, worry evident in the way you both looked but it was definitely more prominent on you.

Once on the floor, you ran out first to the nurse's station before Yunho could even register that the elevator door had opened. Your hands accidentally slammed loudly on the hard surface of the counter, making Yunho and the nurses in the station to jump slightly in shock, "Hi, I-I'm looking for Jung Wooyoung, he was just admitted not too long ago," you were on the verge of crying because you were so worried and you felt and that you didn't even know your husband got hurt. The nurse checked her computer for a second before looking back at you, "He is on this floor but I'm afraid I can't let you visit him just yet. His wife is in there with him and considering the situation, we were instructed to let him get his rest first. Visitors are permitted once Mr Jung's doctor clears him and you will be notified by his wife." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and so did Yunho at the revelation, "That... That can't be right, I'm his wife," you said, surprising the nurse. She produced a guest sign-in form on a clipboard and muttered to herself, "I- well, there was this lady who came in with him and she told the doctor that they were in their bedroom when Mr Jung had the accident. She mentioned- I- I think she mentioned that she was his partner, s-so I just assumed she was his wife because of the ring on his finger," she meekly showed you the signature on the clipboard but it looked unfamiliar.

"Yeon Harin? That's our backup dancer," Yunho scoffed from behind you, "What's she doing here with Wooyoung?"

Dread washed over you like the water from a river in winter. The look on your face was enough to let not only the nurse who talked to you but the other nurses around know what was going on. Guilt gnawed at them when they saw your face paled and eyes glazed over as if they were the ones who committed such betrayal towards you. However, it took Yunho a moment to realize. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lingered on the name as his brain replayed the information he received. Dots connecting one by one, Yunho felt like he was being punched in the gut. "Oh fuck," he cussed under his breath, realizing what just happened. Realizing what his revelation of the identity did, "(y/n), a-"

Before he could ask if you were alright, you had pushed yourself away from the station, eye unfocused as if searching for a way to escape. "I... T-thank you... C-can, uh... Can I come back later with my hus- Wooyoung's things? W-what time is the cutoff time for visitors?" You did not notice it but your voice trembled, breaking slightly even as you tried communicating with the nurses in a voice so small, that they had to not breathe to hear you clearly. It was obvious that you were trying to hold yourself together, but it was also probably because you were processing the information. The head nurse pushed past from the back of the station and addressed you directly with a gentle, motherly smile, it was a shame you didn't see it. "Cut-off time is in 2 hours which will be at 12 pm and it will reopen at 6-8 pm. But for family members, there isn't really a cut-off time, I'll make sure Mr Jung's visitor is out of his room soon," at least someone had the decency to do what's right.

You didn't even remember if you told the nurses thank you because when your senses returned, you found yourself already walking back towards the elevator. "(y/n)? Hey, are you okay?" Yunho called out, making his presence and proximity obvious to you. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, but how could you? Your assumption was just confirmed in such a public place in a situation the same hour you found out you were pregnant in the same place you found out that your husband was hurt and you weren't there for him. Although his side piece was there and considering that he was with her when he was supposed to be at a very important class due to the account and his own ownership of account management, he must've prioritized her presence more. Yunho didn't press you for a reply though, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, he wanted to make sure he could give you what you needed which was tricky since he had no idea what to do. He too, was still processing the information and trying to make sense of things. Was his assumption even correct? Was his friend really that much of a monster? So when you hopped in the elevator, Yunho didn't know if he was supposed to let you go by yourself or jump in and drive you home. Were you even going home? Why were you even there if you didn't even know that Wooyoung was admitted?

When you finally spared Yunho a glance, the door was starting to close and with a smile that haunted him for weeks, you spoke, "Don't tell Wooyoung about this, okay?" and the door closed, leaving Yunho worried and conflicted because all he wanted to do was go into Wooyoung's room and demand an explanation but with what you said, he couldn't. Could he?

When you heard the door closed, your body slumped to the wall and you felt your legs turn to jelly. Your intuition was right, he was being unfaithful and his timing, as always, was just perfect because the day you found out the truth just had to be the same day you found out that you were pregnant with the baby he fucked into you so coldly. A wave of nausea bubbled up in your stomach and your chest burned. The moment the door of the elevator opened, you ran out and your legs took you to the parking lot where you vomited out the bile that was probably the physical form of your feeling. Though the pressure was relieved, you could still feel the sting and burn in your throat, the bitterness in your tongue, and the dread washing over you.

Hunched over the bushes, you found it hard to straighten up and walk. At that moment, you want everything to stop because it was too much, it was too much for you to bear to bear alone.

Mere realization was not enough because you were in denial, you wanted to believe that it was just a dream, that you were hallucinating, that your husband was not the asshole but you were for wanting him to be a monster so much that your brain had somehow warped reality and created this scenario for you to hold onto.

Honestly, you didn't know what to process first.

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@staytiny816 @dearinsaniiity @scentednerdenemy

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter

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