18+ !

꒰ 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

zayne wishes he wasn't too cowardly to love you.

f!reader ⊹ canon au ⊹ fluff. not established relationship, but an established crush; plays on the cafe date ⊹ 744 ⊹ footnote. i fell so head over heels in love with him when he made a snowy kitten and seal in the palm of his hands omg. anyway, explored a bit with his pov. i deviated from the original dialogue.

zayne often fantasizes about having a pleasant conversation with you, offering you words that grant him the presence of your soft smile and melodious laughter, a casual exchange of the fondness for you he cradles in his palms and chest. but. he thinks loving you might be like oil and water mixing, two components entirely opposite in composition trying to blend to no avail. he thinks loving you feels like ice, comfortable only to his flesh but frozen on his breath.

his hands remember how yours feel in his own but his tongue keeps the words to ask trapped behind his teeth; his bones become a gentle prison for the failures of his courage. he never reaches. he never grasps. he never holds. but he freezes. he regrets. he curses himself in silence. although zayne prides himself on being knowledgable and quietly protective, the truth is he’s a coward.

he must be. it’s the only explanation for how he sits before you, someone he’s known as long as he’s understood what it means to know, unable to speak, unable to offer any kind of words that would spark a fluid conversation. each time he opens his mouth to speak, only huffs of silence follow. each time you awkwardly offer a ledge for him to find his footing, he slips and watches it crumble. he’s just not good at this.

you look lovely today. i love the way you smile. even your awkward laugh carries an undeniable cuteness. i wish i could say more than just ‘you need to take care of yourself better.’ i wish i could say ‘let me help take care of you.’

you ask me if i remember and i want to know how i could possibly forget. all of me wants to be soft enough to hold all of you.

“zayne?” your soft beckoning from across the table. he blinks away the swirling thoughts that are slowly becoming quiet pleas from himself to indulge in this moment, this fortunate opportunity for time with you he didn’t have to chip away at a glacier within himself to have. he knows by now he might not ever develop the strength to tell you he wants you to visit him for more reasons than the time that’s packed itself between you both and him being your primary care physician.

i want to see you because i miss you; i want you to see me because you miss me.

“yes,” he answers, his facial expression blank, carrying all of his stoic facade. “i-i’m sorry. what did you say?” the flutter of your adored chuckle. “i said i didn’t know you liked this place. we should come here together next time.” “oh, yes. i suppose.” he says. 

i think i would go anywhere with you, but here could be a good place to start.

your head falls and his heart starts to race, thumping in his chest with wild abandon. he can feel the avalanche of disappointment rolling off of you, on its way to bury him under the heaviness of his own guilt. he’s just not good at this. “we…don’t have to if it’s troublesome. i know you’re a busy man these days.” and you bubble back to life, shaking away the fleeting moment of visible despondence. inwardly, he panics. he doesn’t want to miss another chance to grow closer to you, to build on this connection that sits idly between you both, unspoken but painfully obvious. it takes him a moment to respond; it’s not right until he sees something flicker in your eyes that looks dangerously close to ‘taking the hint’ that the words fumble out of his mouth clumsily. “it’s not.” he finally says. and maybe it’s not awkward or unsettling but that’s how his own voice feels. he almost winces at the discomfort of the words lodged in his throat. “…troublesome…to me, at least…meeting here. we should…when the time permits...as long as it doesn’t deter you from following your doctor’s adamant orders…if it means…you’ll eat more frequently…consistently. we should.” when he finally stops speaking, relief blooms in his chest and expands, an all-consuming comfort in silence found again. when your reply is a sweet smile and your eyes become tender pools reflecting warmth back to him, melting his hesitation, his relief transforms into adoration and reverence. the truth is he loves you. zayne isn’t good at this, but for you, he really wants to be.

tagging @kissxcore + @maimochies bc honestly i feel like they’ve been in the thick of this brainrot, too. and @takaiko bc their brainrot is on the way lmao.

© 2023 elusivemoon. all rights reserved.

OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART TWO (EP9-17)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks ji changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, crying lol, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissing!, ji changmin dancing (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, im literally writing abt people who dance like gods but im a plebian w two left feet i have no idea what im looking at except for hips—, pining haha...ha (more subtle until the end), he's in a bathrobe near the end sorry children

▷ PART TWO WC. 17.6k

love in unity series m.list / otr part one

a/n: if u haven't read part one GO AWAY GO READ PART ONE ??? WHAT'RE U DOING HERE

EPISODE NINE: OFF THE AIR

IT was common knowledge that the week before finals week was referred to as the dreaded Dead Week. Campus was barren, coffee shops and libraries were packed, and almost everybody lived in some variation of sweats, hoodies, and eye bags. You were actually holed up in the research lab (yes, again) because your deadline to get this paper to your graduation advisor was literally looming over your shoulder, and though you were practically done, you were too paranoid of not catching some dumb typo before you turned it in.

Plus, the coffee in the lab break room was free and sponsored by your resident graduate student supervisor, and beloved older brother figure, Qian Kun. God rest his workaholic soul and empty pockets.

There weren't many people here this afternoon; most had retreated to their own homes or offices or wherever they dwelled during the Week of the Dead.

Then there was Ten.

"So do you guys just wither away here by yourselves?" Amongst the empty workbenches, his words seemed to unnecessarily resonate. From his perch in Kun's office, he spread his arms wide to gesture to all the empty space.

Kun pressed his fingers to the space between his eyes. "Yes, now let me wither in peace."

"No, I don't think I will."

You felt yourself smile. Ten had come in a few hours ago with lunch for both you and Kun. Supposedly, when he had heard that the two of you habitually ran on only coffee and dreams during Dead Week, he took it upon himself to swing by the nearest fast food restaurant and pick up a very belated lunch for you both. You’d chomped down on it with Kun in his office, but as soon as you were done, you retreated back to your desk.

The sky outside of the research laboratory was already beginning to bruise to a gray-blue-purple, the color of a dusty blueberry. Soon, you would have to surrender yourself to the night and head back home, but hopefully before that, you would decide that you were at least too tired to continue staring at these same seventeen pages for hours on end…

All three heads perked up at the sound of the laboratory building door opening and closing in the distance. None of you were exactly expecting anyone, especially when people usually indicated when they would come into work. You craned your neck from your workbench to see who had come in—

“I’ll only be a minute,” you heard and recognized your colleague Jacob Bae as he strode in from the outside corridor and into the main laboratory floor.

He met your eyes and smiled. “Hey, Yn.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

He let out a sigh as he jogged past your desk and headed toward a cupboard in the back corner. “I forgot that I left my—” His voice cut out as he ducked into the dark cupboard and withdrew a giant plastic tub. From the plastic innards filled with paper, he fished out a specific packet of paper shoved into a flimsy manila folder. “Forgot my thesis draft.”

You coughed out a laugh. “Dude.”

His grin was innocent and boyish, standard Jacob. “What? A guy’s gonna forget some things sometimes.”

“Is that what you tell your girlfriend?”

He sent you an unimpressed look. “Ha ha, Yn. Very funny. For your information, she’s more forgetful than me sometimes.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he passed by your workbench, and you, as the very mature person you were, stuck your tongue out back at him. It was only fair.

A cough sounded out from the entrance to the laboratory, and you turned your head to find Changmin, out of all people, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Peering out from behind the corner of the wall, however, was his friend Sunwoo from that other night. And yanking Sunwoo back behind the wall was Chanhee. Strange.

Someone (you suspected Chanhee) gave Changmin a firm shove into the laboratory, sending the latter stumbling in before he caught himself and regained his balance. He was swaddled in a dark colored puffer jacket and a red scarf, his red-tipped nose and cheeks bitten by the cold. For the first time, he looked smaller than he was, almost shy or nervous. You hadn’t encountered this Changmin in a long time.

He wasn’t one to look vulnerable out in the open like this.

As Jacob passed by Changmin, he clasped his shoulder in reassurance.

“Hi,” Changmin said slowly as he approached your workbench.

You were still a little dumbfounded that he was here again. “Uh, hi. What’re you doing here?” The argument the two of you had earlier in the week replayed in your mind, and you almost grimaced. You’d both said even more hurtful things, and you supposed you had just been so sensitive that your brain just automatically went into defense mode to protect yourself.

No, you hadn’t been there that night for him. You hadn’t expected to see anyone there at that time of night. That was the whole point of you going so late. You had been trying to get yourself to go into the practice room on your own, but the longer you had stood there, staring at the door, the more you realized you couldn’t do it. It still didn’t sit well with you, how affected you were by your mother’s past words.

Changmin kept his distance, but he came close enough that you could hear what he was trying to say without the others listening in too much. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

You blinked. “Talk? Like right now?” Your eyes darted to your computer screen and the practically finished paper displayed. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep working on it, but your heart beat startled at the sudden thought of having that very important conversation right now, when you weren’t ready.

He caught onto your movements though. “No, no—I mean,” he stammered, recovering with a quick swipe of his tongue over his lip, “just whenever. It doesn’t have to be now. I just figured it’d be best to get that… out in the air, you know?” I think it’s what we’ve been needing all this time. Something proper; no more yelling matches.

For a second, you thought you could see some of the old Changmin in this one. It wasn’t like he had changed, per se, it was more like he was finally showing that part of himself that you had been missing all along. You swallowed, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll, uhm, text you sometime tonight after I turn this paper in.”

He nodded back at you. “Yeah, cool.”

When you saw him begin to back away, a thought suddenly occurred to you. You called out to him to get him to stop, and you could have sworn that there was a gleam in his eyes then. “Changmin—about Sumin…” You inhaled deeply as you fought for the right words to express your next thoughts, “be gentle with her, okay?”

Even then there was a pang in your heart as you uttered those words. Sumin had texted you all about her interaction with Changmin a day or so ago regarding his “interview”, and she had been gushing about her crush on him. She had even asked you how much you knew about him and if you could give her a crash course in all things dance or even Changmin. Suffice to say, you felt trapped between a rock and hard place, but you didn’t want to let her down. (You’d always wanted to be a big sister; you didn’t want to push her away because of feelings that you were too petty to address.)

Changmin’s head tilted to the side as he made a confused face. “Huh?”

You sighed, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No, actually,” he quipped.

You pursed your lips; why weren’t you surprised? It wouldn’t be very cool of you to reveal Sumin’s crush on him if that wasn’t what she wanted. You would have to be subtle, but also not subtle, then. “Just—” you made a vague gesture with your hands, “—don’t be brash.”

“Brash?”

“Don’t be mean,” you amended.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You thought even Ten rolled his eyes from where he was in Kun’s office. “You’re hopeless, really.”

Changmin’s face pinched, and he was moving back closer to your workbench. “I’ll have you know that we’re both hopeless.”

You deadpanned. “Now I’m pretty sure we’re not even in the same ballpark,” you muttered in exasperation. “Whatever. Your friends are waiting for you, Changmin.”

His lips pressed into a line. He glanced quickly over his shoulder where his friends were pretending to not be eavesdropping, then looked back at you. “Okay, yeah. Just don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

EPISODE TEN: OFF THE MARKET

CHANGMIN glanced up at the entrance to the coffee shop, matching the sign in the window to the one he had searched up on his GPS app. It seemed to match from what he saw.

Today was the Friday of Dead Week, a handful of days after he dipped out of his interview with Sumin and confronted you at the laboratory. He had consulted Chanhee that day, regarding his mess of feelings about the situation with you, and Chanhee had practically forced him to go with him and Jacob to the laboratory. (Sunwoo just happened to tag along because he, apparently, felt left out.) Changmin wondered how Chanhee could have possibly known that you would be there, but Chanhee dismissed his worries by assuring him that after he asked you, he would feel a lot better and less like a hot pile of shit.

Chanhee was right, as per usual. Not that Changmin was going to admit that aloud to him ever.

But today was important because of two things in particular, and they both had to do with things that occurred several days ago. The first item on the agenda was going into this cafe to finish up that un-started interview with Sumin. After he had given her his number that day, she was swift to send a greeting text to him to set up a time and place to meet. Changmin actually had yet to visit this coffee shop in particular, but then again, he was a bit partial to the one Jacob introduced to the group last quarter.

Your words of advice, or caution, rang in his ears like the bell that twinkled above the door as he walked into the building. Be gentle with her. Don’t be brash. Don’t be mean. What did all of that even mean? He liked being interviewed, especially when it was about dance, so why would you think he would be anything but well-behaved? Part of him thought it was based off of the two of your interactions for the past three years, but he knew you had the good sense to know he didn’t treat just anyone like he treated you.

The thought remained fresh in his mind even as he scanned the room for a familiar face.

Sumin was seated in a secluded booth in the corner of the coffee shop. When she saw him, she waved him over excitedly, slipping her compact into her purse. Her laptop was left on the table in front of her, but unopened. Huh, maybe she just got here, too.

Changmin slid into the booth across from her. “Hi, sorry, were you waiting long?” He asked as he shouldered his jacket off and set his bag on top of it.

Sumin perked up a little bit. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. Did you have a good week?”

“Ah, as good as the week before finals can be, I suppose,” he chuckled, leaning back against the booth seat. His eyes darted to the unopened laptop still in the middle of the table and he cupped the back of his neck. “Did you wanna order anything to drink? Or have you ordered already?”

She shook her head, her hand reaching up to fidget with the end of one of her curled locks of hair. “Hm? No, I didn’t order yet! I was waiting for you so we could order something together—I mean, at the same time.”

“Cool, yeah,” he cleared his throat, signaling for one of the workers’ attention with a wave of his hand. “We can order and then get started.”

“Ah, ha, right.”

Once orders were taken, Sumin finally cracked open her laptop and got a couple things set up. Changmin patiently waited for her to get all settled, his eyes wandering about the shop and absentmindedly observing the workers behind the counter as they bustled about to prepare drinks and pastries.

Sumin coughed, “Okay, I figured that recording is a little unnecessary, so I’ll just be jotting some notes down on my laptop.”

Changmin bobbed his head. “Sounds good.”

She shifted in her seat, her posture straightening, as she figured out how exactly to start. “I hope you’ll be patient with me since I haven’t been doing this for a long time, but Yn gave me some pointers to start with,” she said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No problem! I totally understand; take your time.” He cocked his head to the side unconsciously, “Yn didn’t offer to sit in for your interviews?”

“Oh! Uh, she did, but I insisted that I was feeling confident enough to do them on my own,” she laughed lightly. “Definitely a bit nerve-wracking, but I think the interviews with Juyeon and a few of the other dancers went well earlier in the week.”

“Hey, I mean, I admire your courage,” he said with what he hoped was an encouraging enough smile. “Just take your time with it, Sumin. We’ll make sure to get you all the info you need.” There. Was that what you meant by not being mean? Wasn’t this just being considerate, though?

His foot tapped against the ground absentmindedly as he thought about the next thing on his agenda after this interview: talking to you. It was weird, having to almost set an appointment to have this very needed talk, but as you had said, you texted him your availability and the two of you just happened to both have this evening free. He just needed to finish this interview… There was still plenty of time.

His words to Sumin seemed to make her shoulders relax a little bit, and she jumped right into her first question. Changmin would answer as thoughtfully as could, which wasn’t too difficult seeing as he was literally talking about one of the things he was most passionate about in this world. He could probably talk about dance and his love for dance for days on end. Sumin, in turn, would skillfully and naturally continue the conversation so it felt a lot less like an interview, and more like an interaction between friends about dance.

Perhaps he didn’t even realize when the questions became less about his experience about dance and more about him; when Sumin gradually stopped typing notes down on her laptop and instead leaned her chin onto her hands to watch him; or when she suddenly asked—

“Is that your ideal first date then?”

Record scratch.

The words on Changmin’s tongue died instantly, and his brain scrambled to process what she had just said. “Sorry?”

Sumin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “I—I mean, you were talking about going to see live dance shows with your former partner and I just…” She shook her head with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, was that too forward?”

Changmin blinked once, twice; dear god, he must have been running his mouth without even realizing. “I was talking about Yn?”

That ripped Sumin right out of embarrassment—well, it was closer to mortification. The color on her cheeks had turned pale. “Yn is your ex?”

Fuck— “No, no, no! She’s not. She’s definitely not—”

Sumin covered her face with both of her palms in distress, a sentiment that was definitely shared between both parties in the booth. “Oh my god, and I’ve been telling her all about my crush on you, too. I must have looked so stupid.”

His eyes flew open. “Huh?!”

“Please, I’ve been so obvious, Changmin!”

Not to me, he thought. Jesus, was he really so blind? Was this what you meant this whole time? Changmin waved his hands around in an X formation, trying to reign the conversation into some level of sanity. “Sumin, I can assure you, that you definitely weren’t obvious until you literally just said it,” he began. “And so we’re clear, Yn is not my ex-girlfriend. She was my ex-dance partner and friend, but not a significant other.” As much as it sucked to admit that—

Sumin slowly lowered her hands from her face with the light reflected in her eyes wobbling. “Oh… okay, I guess that makes sense then.”

Changmin let out a haggard sigh, holding his hand to his head. “Yeah, well… I guess I should say that I’m sorry, but I don’t really share the same feelings for you?” He shook his head to himself, trying to rephrase: “What I mean is that I’m not exactly looking for a relationship. I’m kind of messed up right now.” Understatement of the century.

She pursed her lips, but nodded. “I get that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”

“Least I can do,” he said, clasping his hands together over the table.

“So,” she drawled with a wince, “I take it this interview is over?”

He brushed a hand through his hair. “If you have everything you need and there are no hard feelings?”

She inclined her head in the affirmative, and that was that.

— ✶

Even on a Friday evening, if it was the week before an exam season, the library study rooms were always packed, one occupier after the other. Attempting to score one was the equivalent of launching a stakeout, complete with charging cables, two cups of coffee, and a will of steel (to wait hours for a room to open up). Someone must have been looking out for you though as you managed to snatch a study room as soon as you arrived on the second floor of one of the main student libraries on campus. When you and Changmin had exchanged an, albeit brief, bit of texts, you both agreed that meeting somewhere that could serve as common ground would be good for the both of you. It had to be semi-private, as well, since neither of you wanted to let anyone else in on your private, personal problems.

The library study rooms were your solution, and maybe this was the universe’s sign that this discussion needed to happen.

As soon as the door closed gently behind you, you set yourself up in one of the chairs around the small, rectangular table at the center of the room. Changmin said he would be a couple minutes late because the bus had been late to pick up his stop and Chanhee was borrowing his car, so you texted him to let him know which room you were in.

While you waited, you attempted to ease your mind by scrolling through social media and flipping through emails and returning to social media, and wait, did you ever get a reply back from that one TA? All the while, your knee would bounce up and down ceaselessly, your fingers shaking and cold and numb. You were perhaps seconds away from your throat closing in on itself again, but then the door opened.

Changmin murmured a “hey” to you as he closed the door behind him and lowered himself into the seat across from you.

The room was quiet. “Hey,” you said back, clearing your throat.

You watched as his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled. “What did you mean by ‘when did I stop caring’?”

You were a little startled that he decided to start right away, but on the other hand, relieved that he did. You wouldn’t have known how to begin anyway. “When did you stop caring?” You parroted in case you hadn’t heard him right. If you weren’t mistaken, he was referring to what you had said that night in front of the practice rooms.

He gave a nod. “Yeah, I was thinking about what you said…” He scratched his jaw, continuing lowly, “...y’know, on the bus ride over here. And I just don’t understand where in the world you got the idea that I ever stopped caring about you.” He met your eyes then, and you could see the tightness in his jaw, but the gleam in his irises.

This wasn't about being right anymore; it was about making things right.

"You—" you grappled for words, finding yourself pinned down by Changmin's relentlessly piercing gaze, "—I just got so much radio silence from you."

"You were giving me the same excuses."

"Because it was the same, exact problem," you fired back. "And, okay, so they were excuses, but god, Changmin. I could just see how with each passing day, you looked at me differently because I was late or I told you I couldn't make it. Didn't I give you reasons why? Just that disappointment and cold shoulder…" It broke my damn heart.

Changmin's arms were crossed over his chest as he considered your words, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "I never," he began, "thought poorly of you, Yn." It sounded like he was struggling to piece together the right words, too, and he choked down a swallow. "I was going through a lot of shit around that time, and my patience was always paper thin by the time it was our usual practice time, y'know? It was never you specifically I was mad at."

He paused for a moment. His head hung, and he picked at a stray thread on his jacket cuff. "My parents said they wouldn't support me if I majored in dance."

Your heart stopped clean.

"They basically said I'd have to finance myself for all four years if I wanted to make dancing a career," he said with a flippant, helpless gesture. "I was given some scholarship money from the school, but it was nowhere near a full ride. So I was stressed the fuck out because I knew I needed to win those comps to get more money. They were cool with me dancing as, like, a hobby or a way to get into college, but as soon as I told them my intended major was dance?"

Well, shit.

Horror pooled in your gut, the kind that started up at your shoulders and spider-crawled down the length of your spine. "I'm so sorry, Changmin. That must have been so much pressure for you, oh my god."

This entire time, you'd been under the impression that his parents were fine and dandy with their son becoming a dancer. He'd always had a natural, prodigal talent for the art form. He was the absolute cream of the crop from your class, and you couldn't believe they could be anything but proud of having a son like him.

But you supposed you shouldn't have assumed. There was a cost to being a hypocrite.

Changmin nodded, but it wasn't very affirming. It was like he had heard it all before and had already accepted it all grimly and reluctantly. "Yeah, well… I won all those comps, but what did I lose in the process, y'know?"

He gestured to you. "I just thought I'd always have you to run back to, but you were going through your own stuff. I'm not trying to pin the blame on you—it's… just that… you were my best friend. My partner."

"It's funny you say that," you said then, drumming your fingers anxiously against your leg. "I thought I could rely on you, too. And I definitely drifted away from you, but it was because of my own reasons."

Changmin nodded, settling his hands on top of the table and leaning in slightly.

Still, every time you told someone, you could never get it right. But maybe you could get it right this time. "You know how my parents got divorced and I said that my mom had changed?"

His forehead creased then, and he nodded again.

"She started yelling a lot," you said. "Would always make me listen to her scream in my face about how dance was useless, how dance would never help me in the real world, how I was absolutely awful at it and that I should be focusing on something worth my time." You swallowed, continuing on, "And when I told you I couldn't make it or that I was late, it was because she started refusing to take me to practices and competitions and shows.

"And I mean—I tried really hard to keep going, Changmin, I really did." You raised your eyes to meet his and found him staring at you still, but this time you saw that glisten in his eyes again. The tension in his jaw had slackened, and had been replaced with that same dread you had while he was telling you what happened to him. "I thought that I could get past what my mom kept telling me, and that once I got to the practice room—I just needed to get to the practice room—it would all be worth it."

There was a stinging feeling in the back of your eyes, at your tear glands. Your vision was blurring and you blinked back the traitorous tears.

Changmin pursed his lips, his face contorting slightly as he too tried to contain the emotions welling up in him. "And then I shut you out."

"We shut each other out."

"Why—" he rasped, his hand coming up to cover part of his mouth, "—didn't you tell me? I would've—god, I would've—" He didn't know, actually, but all he knew was that he would've been better. Would he have though? Truly? Would you have?

"I didn't like talking about it," you confessed, sniffling. You were ashamed of yourself, both then and now. You raised your hand up to wipe the corner of your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, fuck, don't apologize." He stood, arms opening and palms turning upward like an offering, "C'mere."

Both of you, teary-eyed messes, stumbled out of your chairs to close the distance in each other's arms. It was the feeling of finally holding each other after three years that made the two of you break down completely. The study room's quiet was filled with sounds of messy, blubbering sobs—hands grappling at the other's jacket, faces shoved into the warmth of a neck or shoulder.

Two pieces of a puzzle having finally been reunited.

This was where you belonged.

"This was all I wanted," you bawled into his shoulder.

It seemed to make his body tremble harder. "I would've given it to you—god, I would've given you anything. I'm so goddamn sorry."

"Hey," you mused half-heartedly, "if I'm not allowed to apologize, then neither are you."

He gave a watery chuckle. "Okay, fine." His wet eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and tightened his hold around you. "That must have been awful, Yn. How…? Just how."

You rested your cheek against his toned shoulder. "Somehow… I don't really know. I'm proud of you, though, you know? I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too." He sniffled, mouth pressing against your shoulder. "All this time, I thought you hated dance and hated me."

"Oh, god no," you sniffled, sucking in a breath. "I—I knew I couldn't be strong anymore; I didn't want to disappoint you." And when you could no longer attend those practices, you had believed it would be better to not be there to drag him down. You thought that without having to wait on you every time, he would have been all the better. You see now that perhaps you were wrong in your logic.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the other's arms as words settled and feelings sunk in. The realization that this tension between the two of you was possibly over now was crazy.

"For the record," Changmin murmured, "you're a great dancer. No matter what your mom told you, you'll always be a great dancer."

You laughed a little, shaking your head. "Not anymore, I'm not."

"That's where you're wrong." He pulled away from you and you saw the tears staining his dimpled cheeks, but the smile he was giving you was something out of a dream. He gently, playfully punched your arm. "You're still my partner, after all."

EPISODE ELEVEN: OFF THE SHELF

EVER since Changmin, Chanhee, JC!Yn, and her roommate Kei decided to change the weekly grocery shopping session to Saturday mornings, Changmin had never been so grateful for such a change until now. It used to be on Sunday mornings during the fall quarter because JC!Yn volunteered at the local children’s club on Saturday mornings, but since the Sunny Side Up Club had begun closing its doors on the weekend until summer break, her Saturdays had suddenly freed up.

Kei, as usual, had waltzed off in search of her own shopping list items, leaving JC!Yn and Changmin with the shopping cart of groceries and Chanhee sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged and swaddled in a pink hoodie.

“That’s awful,” JC!Yn lamented as she slowly trailed after Changmin while pushing the cart. There was a frown etched into her face, as well as Chanhee’s, while and after Changmin had caught them up on the events of the previous day’s talk with you. “I mean, I know some parents are super strict about their kids studying, but…” She shook her head, “You’ve both been through a terrible amount of shit, man.”

Chanhee nodded his agreement, peering up at Changmin who was at the helm of the cart, staring at the label on a container of canned corn blankly. “Yeah, for sure. How’re you holding up, Changminnie?”

Changmin shrugged half-heartedly and rather mopey. “As well as I could be.”

“Well, are you guys good now?” JC!Yn asked. “Y’know, after clearing all the air?”

Changmin made a face at the canned corn, but handed it to Chanhee to place amongst the other things in the cart with him. “I mean, kind of? Not really?” He scratched the side of his head, and his two friends looked on at him, then exchanged worried glances. Usually Changmin was the one cracking jokes, but to see him in such a state… “It’s just a little awkward now because we’ve been on ice around each other for years. Going back to normal shouldn’t be easy, should it?”

Chanhee pursed his lips, his head tilting from side to side. “That’s true. When you guys were still in grudge era, you let all the angst between you do the talking.”

“Angst? I was not angsty, for your information.”

Both of his companions scoffed their disagreement. “Every single time her name was brought up around you, you gazed far off like some kind of angsty main hero,” Chanhee retorted. “Like Kevin at that one dinner when we were interrogating Eric.”

JC!Yn laughed. “That feels like so long ago.”

Changmin sent her a look, the corner of his lips tilting upward like the arch of his eyebrow. “That’s because you and Jacob act like you’ve been married for ten years.”

Her face heated at those words, but she held her chin up in pride. “I’m gonna pretend this is your jealousy talking.”

“Oh, please,” he quipped back and turned back to the shelves to hunt for any other familiar labels that would trigger his hunger. “If I wanted to be so grossly in love—”

“Then you’d go find Yn?”

“—Then I’d go find Y—HEY!” Changmin sputtered as his cheeks lit up like the can of roasted red bell peppers in his hand. Chanhee and JC!Yn exploded into equal fits of delighted cackles, the former extending his arm back so the latter could return his fistbump. Changmin scowled through his flustered haze. “Whatever; taking advantage of my vulnerable state is not cool, guys.”

Chanhee beamed up at his best friend with the kind of smile that no one could be mad at. It was impish, adorable even. “Aw, it’s only ‘cause we love you.”

“Gross,” Changmin muttered, wrinkling his nose dramatically, then nudging his glasses up his nose.

As she stopped the cart behind Changmin, JC!Yn rested her arm against the bar and let her chin sit atop her fist as she and Chanhee watched Changmin scour the shelves again. “Didn’t you say you had feelings for her back then, Changmin-ah? Would you say they were still present or not?”

He sucked in a breath at the question as he let the question marinate in his brain. After yesterday’s world-altering talk with you, neither of you were able to stay too long afterward to catch up. You’d both, unfortunately, been called to your own separate summons. But this morning, when Changin had woken up with the information having been properly processed in his brain and given him room to overthink as he did… Truthfully, he had no idea where the two of you stood with one another. It wasn’t going to be the same, not like childhood and not like the past three years.

He didn’t exactly know what to say to you now, only that there was still that emptiness in his chest. He hadn’t expected the feeling to go away, but he also hadn’t expected it to remain. What was he supposed to do? He was pretty sure you didn’t even like him like that back then, so there was no way your feelings would have changed in that sense over the past three years. Some said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and while Changmin wasn’t one for cliche lines, he did feel an ache for you. He wanted to make up for lost time. Even if you didn’t feel the same way he had back then, it didn’t mean that he still felt the same… right?

“I think we lost him,” came Chanhee’s very loud stage whisper.

Changmin shook out of his mind and leveled a glare at his two friends. “I’ll think about it.”

“Didn’t you just think about it?”

“Hey, if JC!Yn-ie can take an entire quarter to tell Jacob-ssi her feelings, then you can give me like, five minutes to think about mine!” He squawked, waving his arms around in the air like one of those car-wash balloon people that flopped around in the wind. Except this one was high on emotions and his round lenses were slipping down his nose, adding to his overall mad man-like look.

JC!Yn deadpanned, shaking her head as she began pushing the cart after Changmin. She muttered under her breath, “He’s just astounded that he has feelings for someone, JC!Yn. Let him be touchy today.”

Chanhee, who had heard her speak to herself loud and clear, twisted around to grin and pat her arm reassuringly. “He’s just malfunctioning because he might actually have a chance now.”

“I can hear you!”

Chanhee chuckled, and the sound was villainous.

The three of them, as per routine, met up with Kei at the checkout lanes. There was one occasion where one of the workers was so tired that they tried to scan Chanhee and make them pay for him, but other than that, most people just offered him a sweet from the jar on the counter. As groceries were bagged up, and Kei was caught up on the situation at hand in verbal bullet point format, she took only a moment to suggest: “Why don’t you invite her to the dance showcase?”

All eyes went to Changmin, even as JC!Yn pushed the cart out with the group.

Changmin chewed his bottom lip. “I would, but... I dunno. I don’t want to trigger anything for her.” He winced to himself, “It would be really cool to have her there, of course! But I literally saw her in the practice room a week ago and she looked like she was seconds away from having a full-on panic attack.” As much as inviting you to watch him perform for the first time in three years thrilled him (and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest), he had seen you that day—blanched, struggling to breathe. He couldn’t imagine just what thoughts were running through your head then, especially after hearing what you had told him yesterday.

He was so—god, he was so angry at your mother. He knew about the divorce and the negative effect it had on her, but for her to practically take all that energy out on you? It was something simply unforgivable. His heart hurt for you.

Chanhee dipped his head in a slight nod, mouth curved down into a frown again. "That's fair. But I mean, it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"

"I just don't want to come off as insensitive, especially after three years of the cold shoulder." Your words from yesterday had penetrated him deeply—he hoped to never make you feel abandoned ever again.

Kei peered around at Changmin from the other side of JC!Yn. "If it counts, I don't think she'll take it as being insensitive, Changmin."

"She might feel better about getting, y'know, a personal invitation from you," JC!Yn chimed in. "Even if she isn't comfortable with going, she'll know you're thinking of her."

Changmin pressed his knuckles to his lips, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. It was amusing, and perhaps a little concerning, for his friends to see him like this. He flapped the ends of his sweater sleeves in the air like he was hyping himself up. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll invite her to see me perform."

He raised an arm into the air toward the sky. "The next time I see her, that's what I'll—"

"Oh, look, she's right there," said Chanhee, pointing in the distance from his cart throne.

Changmin squeaked, "She's what?!" He slid behind JC!Yn in a very poor attempt to hide himself from the oncoming party.

Said party consisted of you, Yeri, Mark, and Ten—again. Except, instead of the coffee shop across the shopping mall, it was the parking lot on his friends' turf. Mark and Yeri were the first to see Changmin's friend group, both of them making unsubtle glances at Changmin. They passed by with friendly greetings, excusing themselves as they argued over the possibility of the store having watermelon (the answer was no; sorry Mark).

You and Ten lagged behind slightly, seemingly deep in conversation. The latter listened intently, but he felt eyes on him and looked up. His eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Changmin—Changmin couldn't tell whether or not he liked that feeling.

You realized that he was looking outward and onward, and so you followed his gaze. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of Changmin's friend group manifesting out of nowhere. "Hi guys," you said with an awkward smile when you and Ten met them in the middle.

"Hi Yn-ie," Chanhee giggled, turning around to wag his eyebrows at Changmin.

Changmin threw back a very unimpressed scowl. He let a smile grace his face just as he looked back at you. "Hey Yn, Ten."

JC!Yn unsubtly began pushing the cart to uncover Changmin. "Hey, you two. Changmin was actually just talking about you, Yn!"

Traitor! Changmin's jaw dropped.

Ten grinned. "That's really funny, 'cause Yn was just talking about you, Changmin."

You glared daggers at your friend with the same level of betrayal in your eyes as Changmin expressed. At least you were both getting thrown under the bus.

Kei nudged him. "Don't you have something to say to her?"

"We'll get out of your hair!" Chanhee chirped, patting the side of the cart as JC!Yn resumed her pushing on the cart past you and Ten. "See you at the car, Changminnie!"

As Changmin's last line of defense walked away with JC!Yn and the shopping cart prince, Ten inclined his head to you. "Should I stick around for this?"

You sighed under your breath. "Probably not. I'll see you inside?"

"Whatever suits your fancy," he mused, shrugging. As he passed by Changmin, he winked, then whistled some random tune as he went on his merry way.

"So what's up?" You asked him then. It seemed to be a cozy morning for you as you fidgeted with the ends of your big, woolen sweater. There was something delicate about the way the corners of your lips curled up into a smile.

Changmin cupped the nape of his neck. "Oh, uh, I know we had that whole talk yesterday, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come see my performance at the winter showcase on Friday?" He added quickly, "No pressure, of course. If you're uncomfortable, then you don't have to worry."

Your lips pursed together in a slight pucker. "I'd actually love to go. I mean—" you swallowed, "—I haven't gone to one since freshman year, but I'd love to."

"You can leave whenever you start feeling uncomfortable," he assured you, but he was smiling widely now. "It'll be cool to, y'know, have you in the audience."

"That means a lot, Changmin," you said earnestly, your smile sweet. It was almost weird to not have you frowning or glaring at him. It felt… good. It felt really good. “I will try my best.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to suppress the eager grin threatening to come out. “That’s all I could ask for.”

EPISODE TWELVE: OFF THE CHARTS

YOU were late. You were extremely late, actually, and to be honest, if you had known the bus was going to break down in the middle of the stupid road, you would have gotten off and walked. But then again, you were practically buried in all of the bundles of flowers you wanted to bring for your friends performing tonight. There were four bundles in total that you bothered to pick out just about two hours ago, one for Minho, one for Jungwoo, one for Ten, and of course, you could not forget one for Changmin.

When Changmin had personally invited you to come see his performance tonight earlier in the week, you couldn’t deny that the feeling made your chest warm and fuzzy. Even as you trudged your way up the stairs to the front of the performing arts building, you were filled with adrenaline and antsy energy. You’d waited so long for this, hadn’t you?

The last time you had come to see the winter showcase was in freshman year, the year the Daily asked you to write a review piece on one of the performers debuting that year, and even that had been enough of dance for the years following. It would be nice to know, this time, that you were wanted in the audience. (Changmin would have wanted you in the audience all this time, but you didn’t know that.)

Because you were unquestionably late, the doors to the hall would be closed shut now.

That was why having a friend like Boo Seungkwan was paramount.

“Thank you,” you gasped as one of the doors to the performance hall burst open and allowed you into the warmth of the lobby. You could hear the bass of whatever song was on and the audience’s cheers from here.

Seungkwan swept half of the bouquets from your arms with a click of his tongue. “Yah, you’re insane for taking the bus all the time. Yeri even asked to pick you up!”

“I know, I know!” You cried, the two of you scurrying over to one of the doors in the hall. “I panicked at the last second to get flowers and then I had to go all the way to the shop on fifth! By the way, did you know they’re open until 11?”

Both of your voices quieted as you slipped into the darkened auditorium. The stage was the only part illuminated in blinding, searing hot spotlights. You had just walked in on a brief break between acts as performers switched on and off stage. Seungkwan led you to one of the rows of seats in the nosebleeds that was relatively in the middle.

All of your friends practically occupied the entire row, and they lit up in delight at the sight of you.

“Yo Yn!” Mark whispered as he leaned over Yeri. “You’re actually here!”

Yeri reached over to squeeze your hand as you took the open seat next to her, and Seungkwan took the last seat in the aisle. “I’m so happy you’re here, Yn-ie.”

Doyoung and Kun peered out from around Mark, and you recognized a couple others from the NCT frat and RVE sorority further down the row. “Hey guys,” you said quietly to them as you wrangled your purse into your lap and adjusted the flowers in your arms, “how much did I miss?”

“Not much at all," Doyoung replied. "It's just been a few of the first years."

"We've got a little while until the older batch," Kun said with a wave of the program in his hands.

You nodded your understanding and settled into your seat to get comfortable. The performances went on one after the other. There was a mix of all different genres, ranging from contemporary ballet to tap and popping. Because everyone in the final winter showcase were in some kind of dance course on campus, a lot of the acts displayed a ton of experience already, even as first-years.

The longer the night went on, the less you believed your antsiness was a result of a nervous tick, but rather the bottled up adrenaline building up from watching all the performances. At some point, you realized you weren't even analyzing the performances anymore, but rather, sitting in awe of each one.

When a brief intermission was announced, Yeri and one of her sorority sisters squeezed past to head to the restroom while a few others from the row headed out to stretch their limbs and find some other friends. You and Seungkwan lingered in your seats, discussing your favorite performances so far, as well as how your finals weeks had gone for each of you.

"I'm just so glad we have spring break now," he groaned, his head hanging with exhaustion. "I might have skipped tonight if that meant I could sleep early."

"You would have regretted it though," you pointed out to him.

He gestured with his hand. "Right, you are." He let out a sigh as he raised his head and met your smile with a tired one of his own. "Well, Yn, you did it. You're watching your first full winter showcase. How do you feel?"

Your gaze flickered back to the stage. The house lights had come on for intermission, leaving the stage drenched in darkness. You could have sworn you saw the heavy red curtains shudder as if someone had poked their head out to view the audience. You remembered when you and Changmin used to do that when you were kids.

You turned back to Seungkwan. "I feel surprisingly okay," you confessed. "I was a little nervous before, but I think that I'm doing good."

He nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks, Kwan." You exhaled. "I didn't fully realize how long this was gonna be," you mused.

Seungkwan raised a brow at you. "Well, didn't you only stay for like, Changmin's performance last time you were here?"

"Well, yeah—"

The house lights suddenly shuttered off, and people rushed back to their seats. Your friends who were coming back squeezed past you and Seungkwan, effectively cutting off your conversation from before. The last half of the night would be handed over to the students who were majoring in dance and had been a part of the program for over two years.

You were properly in awe of the next performances. They had decided to put Ten out first, dancing to a song called Baby Don't Stop. He had mentioned the song to you once, but you hadn't really thought much about it until now. It was a side of Ten you hadn't seen yet since you had never seen him dance properly, but… you were definitely going to need to gush about this to him afterward.

You were pretty sure the crowd didn't quiet down for five performers in a row, as crazy-talented dancers such as Minho and Jungwoo followed after.

Each performance was incomparable to the next, and soon, you were sucking in a breath to the sound of Changmin's name being announced.

You slapped your hands onto Seungkwan's and Yeri's on either side of you, both of whom squeezed and shook your hands back as the curtain rose.

The lighting began a deep, electric purple, painting Changmin to look like a dark silhouette on stage. You almost couldn't make out the details of his white and black suit-like uniform. It was dynamic and unique with the suit cut outs and gloves, and he paired it all with an eye look that made his eyes feel darker and smokier.

He was still at first—until a set of horns, like trumpets, blared from the speaker's and he began striding forward.

You heard Mark gasp from two seats over. "Holy shit, he's dancing to Action Figure."

You vaguely recognized the title, but if you were thinking of the right song, then the room was about to get a lot louder. Unconsciously, you squeezed Seungkwan and Yeri's hands as you leaned forward and lingered on the edge of your seat.

The performance was everything you expected and more. Changmin was, as you had expressed before, the absolute cream of the crop. Each movement was brought with sharp precision, like the blade of a knife. Even during the slower bridge portion, he somehow executed the legato-like movements with a crispness of 4K HDR quality.

Everyone in the room held their breath (or screamed it out) with each sultry gaze, each lick of his lips, each smirk—a great dancer, a great performer; he would forever be one of the greats. That, you were very certain of.

When the song came to an end and he raised his head to peer at the audience through his bangs, you and everyone else erupted into applause, whistles, yelling—all the works. Your heart palpitated so hard in your chest that you thought it was trying to mimic his own dance. You were practically shaking from all of the bottled energy, and…

"Wow," you breathed out as you leaned back in your seat as the stage was reset for the next act. Your knee began bouncing fervently, sending the flowers in your lap up and down as well.

Seungkwan murmured his agreement, "Whew. I can't tell if I'm attracted or intimidated."

You snorted, patting his hand with your palm. "Both?"

"Probably."

You laughed, your hand lifting up to absentmindedly press against the base of your throat and sternum.

You couldn't help but think about what Changmin had revealed to you that day. How could a pair of parents not be absolutely floored to have a son as talented as Ji Changmin? It was so unbelievable to you, but you couldn't imagine how it might have felt to suddenly have all that support be ripped out from beneath your feet like his support had been.

The performances following would finish off those of the solo category. Afterwards, a handful of groups performed, including repeats of a few performers. Minho and Jungwoo had performed a stage together (Finesse, if you weren't mistaken), while Changmin and Juyeon made a return to the stage with another sultry hit by the name of Light a Flame.

By the end of the night, you were eager to head backstage to see your friends who had just performed their hearts out.

Plus, the bouquets were wilting.

Once the house lights had thunked to life, and the crowd was beginning to lessen, the row you were seated in with your friends stood together. Some of them were going to head straight home, but a few others planned to stay back to congratulate the performers on a night well done.

"You guys ready to head back?" Mark asked while nodding toward the stage with his hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer vest.

The high you were on was gradually fading out, and you had to clear your throat. "Can I meet you guys back there? I think I'm gonna take a quick breather and then just go in through the backdoor."

They were more than okay with accommodating you, encouraging you to take as long as you needed. Mark and Yeri both took the remaining two bouquets from your arms as Seungkwan ushered you out the door to take that breather.

As you hit the cool, early-March air, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and inhaled deeply. All around you, people lingered and chatted with each other, gushing about their favorite performances and reenacting the most memorable parts. You smiled to yourself when you overheard a group of boys near you talking about Changmin's tasteful choice in music, as well as the cohesion of his entire performance, ranging from not only the music choice, but down to the costuming as well. (And the choreography, of course. Everything about his performance, as emphasized, was breathtaking.)

With a sigh, you began rounding the building toward the back entrance.

Now that you had the space to deconstruct your thoughts, you realized that although you felt an indescribable amount of pride for your friends, you couldn't help the pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. In a way, you envied the performers onstage. You wished you had held on a little longer; maybe then, you could have been one of the people on stage tonight like you had wanted when you were just a teen.

When you reached the back door, you managed to gather your strength and let yourself in.

Like that day you had taken Sumin backstage, it was all hustle and bustle, but ten times that. Pandemonium erupted as performers raced past you left and right trying to find their friends, fellow performers, and even the location of their hairspray. (They should have put their name on it, you thought cheekily, but even then, it might not have worked still, you supposed.)

You kept your arms crossed over your chest as you squeezed past people toward where you were hoping to find your friends. As you walked into the dressing room corridor, you nearly collided with a silky dress shirt.

"Yn! I can't believe I found you," Ten chuckled.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in an affectionate embrace. "Ten! I can't believe you found me either. It's a madhouse here." You scanned the faces and bodies buzzing about for any sign of your friends. "Have Mark, Yeri, or Seungkwan found you yet? They have the flowers I was gonna give you."

Ten's lips curled up into a smile as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Gasp, you got me flowers?"

"Yes, and please never say 'gasp' aloud ever again," you winced.

That only made his smile grow. "No promises. But what'd you think of the show tonight? I'm glad you stayed the whole time."

"It was incredible! You were incredible," you amended with your eyes likely the shape of stars. "Who gave you the absolute audacity to be so talented, sir! I swear I heard some girl faint a couple rows behind me," you joked.

His eyes narrowed into sly, little crescents. "Oh? And did you faint for mine, too? Or did you save that reaction for another special someone?"

You flushed, your eyes averting to anywhere but the nosy feline before you.

Ten threw his head back in a loud guffaw. "Okay, okay. I see how it is. He's been looking for you, by the way."

Your eyes went wide. "And you wait until now to tell me?"

"I wanted my dose of Yn affection, too," he shrugged, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Plus, the look on your face was well worth it."

"Sometimes I hate you."

"Some is not all," he pointed out.

"—you said she was over here? Yn!"

Yours and Ten's heads turned and you watched as Changmin's eyes found yours in the crowded room. He began pushing his way toward you, sweat still dampening the strands of hair and falling into the collar of the dark blazer he wore for Light a Flame.

Ten snickered under his breath. "Well, I'm gonna go find Mark to get my flowers. Text me later, 'kay? Okay!"

Before you could blink, Ten had disappeared into the masses. You swore that man was so slippery sometimes.

You glanced back in the direction that you saw Changmin coming from,but when you couldn't find him, you frowned. It really was awfully hard to find people in here…

"Boo!"

You swore your soul left your body for five seconds. You whirled around, glaring daggers at the impish squirrel man who somehow ended up behind you. "You're such a menace."

Changmin grinned so wide it looked like even his dimples were strained. "Sorry," he wheezed, not sounding sorry at all. "The opportunity presented itself on a gold-plated platter."

"You should feel very lucky that I wasn't holding lemonade this time."

"Okay, but why were you drinking that without a cap on the cup? Did they not give you a plastic lid or something?"

You felt the corner of your mouth lift. How was it so easy to recall these things? "It's just the universe telling you to end your pranks."

He shrugged helplessly. "I can't help that you are so easy to sneak up on."

"You're gonna say that when I somehow heard you asking if I was in here from across the room?"

"That's because I let you hear that; there's a difference," he said, leaning against the corridor wall next to you. He looked you up and down, tongue darting out for a moment. "Thanks for coming tonight."

You leaned your shoulder against the wall next to him. "I enjoyed myself," you said in reply. "You did really well tonight though, Changmin. It was a great performance."

He grinned, and his tongue had to poke the inside of his cheek. "Just great?"

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided to bypass that question for the moment. "Did my friends give you your flowers?"

Changmin showed his empty hands and you deadpanned.

"What?" He giggled. "I'm just stating the obvious."

"You're so infuriating sometimes."

He gently bumped your shoulder with his. "Nothing new."

Nothing new, indeed. It was strange, actually, falling into this kind of easygoing, light-hearted banter. You'd seen how easy it was that night in the lab, but this was nice, you had to admit. Banter and arguing were two different things, you learned, and the latter always took such a toll on those involved.

How did the two of you stay away for so long? Maybe you were both too prideful, too afraid to break the ice.

Changmin's expression sobered a little as he observed your expression. "What're you thinking about?"

You blinked, glancing over at him. "Nothing, just…" Your voice lowered to something like a whisper, "I missed this." I missed you.

And as you met his eyes again, you knew that he had heard you. He swallowed, roughly. "Me too."

EPISODE THIRTEEN: OFF THE CUFF

THE quad was in bloom with the coming of spring and spring break. It was tradition at your university to take pictures and to take a stroll through the freshly bloomed cherry blossom trees lining the rectangular lawn. Only in spring did the trees reveal their beautiful, baby pink flowers, so it was optimal to go frolic amongst them while they were full.

Changmin had been dragged out by Chanhee. Well, he liked to say that Chanhee forced him outside, but in reality, Changmin had put just as much effort into his appearance today as Chanhee did, just not as formal. And luckily, it wasn't just the two best friends who were out with them among the crowd of people, but also the entirety of their friend group—plus the significant others, too.

"I hate this more than Valentine's Day," Sunwoo grumbled as he blew a curl out of his eyes. He was referring to the couples all around them taking pictures and holding hands and kissing.

"You're telling me," Kevin sighed as he messed with the settings on his camera for the pictures he wanted to take of the scenery. "At least on Valentine's Day, people won't photobomb you."

Sangyeon had his phone out and was already taking photos of the blooming flowers around him and in the trees. He suddenly turned his phone around, set at point five zoom. "Hey guys, look here and smile!"

Everyone in the shot (all the singles: Chanhee, Changmin, Sunwoo, Kevin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae) slapped smiles onto their faces. As soon as Sangyeon put the phone down, their smiles dropped.

"Who was that for?" Juyeon asked as he slung an arm around Sangyeon's shoulder to peer at the eldest's phone screen. He made a groaning noise before peeling away. "Ahhhh, 'The Girlfriend'. I see."

Sangyeon cocked a brow at him. "Have you finally accepted that I have a girlfriend?"

"Nope."

Sangyeon's eyes looked up and away in exasperation, before he shook his head and returned to doing whatever he was doing.

Changmin surveyed the crowded quad with disinterest. He scanned all of the faces present around him; too many to count that was for sure. Jacob and JC!Yn had separated from them almost immediately; Eric and his girlfriend were off being cute or something; Younghoon and his partner hadn't even traveled here with most of them; but at least Haknyeon and his significant other stayed with them for the first five minutes to make conversation about the dance showcase a few nights ago.

He sighed. That was how long ago it had been since he last saw you. (My god, he sounded like some kind of lovesick teenager, waiting by the landline for his lover to ring him up—)

On the other side of the quad, you and your friends had just arrived to do the same exact thing Changmin's friends were. But as soon as you saw the crowd, you were five seconds from simply giving up.

"We'd get like, one flower, and that's it," Seungkwan argued to Yeri who was trudging forward despite the load of people around.

Yeri huffed. "Not if you don't try, Boo Seungkwan."

He made a noise of disgruntlement, his head lifting up and nostrils flaring. "Oh my god—"

"Yn, my wife, defend my honor!"

You snapped up straight, tuning back into the conversation. Mark and Jungwoo trailed somewhere behind the three of you and if you weren't careful, you'd lose them, too. "Huh? Oh, well, Seungkwan…" Your voice trailed off, and your eyes wandered to a specific gathering of trees further down the lawn from where you currently were.

It was unfair how he was framed like a K-Drama shot: the slow motion pink petals drifting around him, his lithe body gracefully leaning against the dark bark of the cherry blossom tree, the green sweater vest layered over a white shirt and pants. You gulped—he looked way too pretty to just be standing there—

"—hello? Earth to Yn?" A hand was waving in front of your face and someone was poking your shoulder.

You shook away from them, eyes wide like a child with your hand caught in the cookie jar. "Huh?"

Seungkwan and Yeri sent you curious looks. "You were staring at Changmin," said Yeri, arms crossing over her chest.

Seungkwan let out a dramatically wistful, little sigh as he scratched the side of his head. "You're so lucky that Ten's not here; we are so very merciful compared to him."

You rolled your eyes, even though they were right. "I wasn't staring! I just—I couldn't tell if it was really him or not."

"Because I'm just so breathtakingly beautiful?"

"Definitely n—what the fuck," you yelped, nearly leaping out of your skin again at the right of Changmin's dimpled smile as he seemingly appeared out of thin air right next to you.

Changmin erupted into howling laughter, folding over onto his knees as he slapped his leg once, twice—

"You're not even that funny," you grumbled, side-eyeing both him and your friends. (Guess you really did lose Mark and Jungwoo…)

Seungkwan and Yeri did not hide their own laughs very well, but they definitely weren't knee-slapping themselves.

"How'd you even cover so much ground that fast?" You queried, whirling back on Changmin.

He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, his hands resting in the pockets of pants as he stood in a relaxed posture. His skin was unfairly pretty in this lighting, like his smile. "I harnessed my inner squirrel."

"You mean your inner furry?"

Seungkwan and Yeri chose this moment to slip away, calling out something like "we're just gonna go walk a tree" before bowing out. Changmin feigned an expression of offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Rude! It's called athleticism."

You wrinkled your nose. "Like you know what athleticism is."

"I'll race you to the stairs over there right now—HEY, CHEATER! I DIDN'T SAY GO—" Despite his indignant squawk, Changmin's cheeks hurt from how hard he grinned as he raced after you toward the stairs at the other end of the lawn.

— ✶

"So… no Ten today?"

After a daring race, you and Changmin settled on top of the stairs overlooking the entire lawn. The sun hung at golden hour position and painted the landscape and people below in beautiful, buttery gold wash. You even swore you saw Chanhee chasing after Sunwoo with a handful of loose cherry blossom petals, no doubt to dump into the latter's hair.

You looked over to where Changmin was leaning back onto his palms next to you. "This again?"

He pursed his lips. "Well, I mean," he drawled, "you guys are pretty close. I just figured you'd do this kind of thing together."

"That's fair," you conceded. "Uh, he's actually on a trip with a couple of his frat brothers this week. Something like backpacking in Switzerland."

Changmin gave an indulgent nod of his head. "Wow. Switzerland."

"I know, right?"

He peered out into the distance, eyes squinting against the strength of the sun, but he looked like an art piece nonetheless. “You and Ten aren’t, like, together? Are you?”

You tilted your head to the side. Interesting question. “No, we’re friends. I think in the beginning it might have felt like something on that level, but we’ve both—I think we’re both on the same page where we stand with each other.” You didn’t know why you were telling him so much; he’d only asked you a question. But speaking of being together with someone… You coughed, “Sumin told me what happened during the interview a couple weeks ago.”

Changmin smiled sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, ha, she did? I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“That she liked me? No,” he laughed with a shake of his head. He leaned forward onto his knees then, turning his head to the side to look at you with his fingers laced over his knees. “Who do you take me for, hm? I couldn’t just assume she had a crush on me.”

You feigned a look of disagreement, and he gasped, shoving your upper arm playfully. “I’m not that bad!” He exclaimed.

“You could be that bad,” you teased.

You watched as his expression cooled and the air around the two of you shifted. There was an earnestness in his eyes now, emphasized by the brilliance of the setting sun reflecting across his smooth lines of his face. “Have you ever thought about, you know, like trying to dance again?”

You weren’t sure what prompted this change in subject, but you gave it a thought. “I definitely have,” you said honestly, “I just can’t really step into a practice room without getting nervous.” You picked at a stray thread on your pants as you spoke and felt his gaze on you. “That night—the one when you saw me in front of the performing arts hall really late at night—I was trying to get myself to go in. To at least… try, y’know. Maybe prove to myself that I could work up the courage to go in, but I couldn’t.”

Changmin was quiet for a moment. His knees angled themselves toward you, and he leaned forward so his chest practically laid over his legs. “I said a lot of bad things to you in senior year,” he said lowly. “They were stupid—I was stupid. And—and if your anxiety with practice rooms comes from me, then—”

“Changmin,” you interrupted and captured his attention. You shifted to mimic his body positioning, so your eyes were level and you were both just as small as the other. “I said really shitty things to you, too.”

“I told you that you should quit,” he rasped. He had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see the silver pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Yn; I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You heard his sniffle over all of the chatter from the lawn below and you moved closer to him until your legs and arms were pressed together. You wrapped an arm around him, only for him to raise himself up and practically drape himself over you, his arms looped around your upper body and his face tucked into the side of your neck. Your heart tripped over itself in surprise, but you let yourself lean into his body heat.

“I’m sorry, too. I know you didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t mean any of what I said either.” You breathed for a moment and sighed, simply allowing him to stay in your arms for however long he needed. “I think,” you started, “even after three years, I still blame myself for letting all of that get to me. Sometimes, I want to go back in time and slap some sense into myself; maybe tell myself that I shouldn’t have let what my mom said bury itself so deep inside me. I mean… where would I be now had I not listened to her?”

Changmin pulled away then, resting his forearms on his legs again, but he didn’t back away from you. “You were just a kid, Yn. You can’t blame yourself.”

You rested your cheek against your fist. “I know. It’s hard not to, though.”

“I know.” He took another look at you, and you felt his eyes really take you in for a moment. The corner of his lips lifted. “Are you happy?”

“With?”

“With how you turned out? Where you ended up?”

You held your breath. It was a good question, and as you turned to search yourself inwardly, you came to a couple of conclusions. “In a way, I am. It’s probably just bitterness and regret I feel when I wonder what could have been, but maybe things happen for a reason.”

He nodded, his hand reaching up to pick out a stray leaf that had fallen into your hair. “We can always make up for lost time now,” he said. “We never did get to finish that duet.”

EPISODE FOURTEEN: [GET] OFF THE GROUND

THE next day, you found yourself standing outside the back door to the performing arts building. Because it was spring break, a large helping of the student population had abandoned campus as soon as their finals were over, leaving the place barren except for the area with the cherry blossoms. You stood next to Changmin, the latter holding his bag by the strap over his shoulder. You had been staring at the door for more than a minute now, trying to slow the palpitations of your heart.

“We can leave whenever you want to,” he murmured to you, the back of his hand nudging yours. “Let’s just try.”

You got yourself to nod.

The hallways were uncharacteristically quiet compared to the previous couple of times you had been back here. Since there was no one else here, you and Changmin got to pick whichever practice room you wanted. The largest one was the winner, and the lights flickered on to wash the shadows away. You immediately moved to one side of the room to set your things down, and Changmin went to his corner by the speaker. He was already hooking up his phone to the aux cord, but kept one eagle-eye on you as you inhaled the sight of the empty room around you.

As usual, your throat began closing in on itself, and you coaxed yourself into taking deep breaths.

You started out on the floor in front of the mirror, your legs crossed over each other and Changmin’s phone in your hands. Changmin had shouldered off his white athletic jacket, and began stretching as you swiped through the selection of music on his phone. The two of you collectively agreed for you to start off just watching. Once you were comfortable in the practice room environment, and if you wanted to dance, you would join him whenever you were ready. If you were never ready, then you could continue to just watch him and cheer him on during the practice.

You watched him card a hand through his hair as he peered at himself in the mirror behind you. “I always thought this mirror made you vain,” you chuckled, your hand having settled into your lap instead of at the base of your throat.

He furrowed his brows at you. His hands rested on his hips, the muscle in his forearms emboldening from the action. “Rude. I think you were the one who made me vain.”

“The fuck? How so?” You challenged.

“You always said you admired my facial expressions and my pretty smile,” he grinned at your reaction, snickering to himself. “Did you pick a song yet?”

You watched him dance. For the first few songs that played on shuffle, he was simply warming up his body and freestyling to whatever he heard. You knew Changmin was no stranger to people watching him dance, but there was something still so intimate about watching him in this space. You could watch him create things like magic, as well as watch him fumble and laugh at his own misgivings. Except, instead of doing it all by himself, his eyes would find yours and smile.

Next quarter, Changmin was supposedly signed on to be a TA for one of the dance courses, so he asked for your opinion on a few of his ideas for choreographies he could teach.

After showing you his second idea, he gestured to you then looked back at himself in the mirror. “What do you think? I’m not sure if writing something for each nuance in the beat would be a bit too much or if it’s something that should be used as a challenge routine.”

You hummed in understanding. “Well, if it’s an intermediate dance course, then I think it could be worked up to. Are these people dance majors or… maybe minoring in dance?”

He nodded when you said the latter. “Supposedly, they aren’t necessarily dance majors. But yeah, I agree—it could probably be brought out later in the quarter instead.” He made a motion with his hand as he backpedaled a couple steps to give himself more room between you and him. “Could you rewind to the first verse again? I wanna see something.”

You obliged him and rewinded the song to his desired timestamp. He tried out another possible set of choreo, but ended up stopping halfway through the chorus.

Again and again, you rewinded the song for him to try something new, but each time, he was met with his own dissatisfaction.

You suddenly stood, setting his phone on the ground with the song having been rewinded just slightly before the intended timestamp. Your hands were shaky and your heart was probably beating at an unhealthy speed, but you needed to try out something.

Changmin’s eyes opened wide as you came to stand next to him, but he said nothing. Instead, he let you loosely show him what you had concocted in your head while watching him go through trial after trial.

Before you knew what was happening, the two of you were weaving your ideas together, taking pieces of his original choreography and amending it with yours. You had watched him from the beginning so many times that you didn’t need long to pick up on the rest. By the end, the two of you had danced the entirety of the song together, your chest rising and falling fast with the speed of your breath.

Changmin released an exclamatory yell, thrusting his fist to the ceiling, then clasping your hand with his. “Let’s go! I really like that, Yn,” he said with his face split by a shit-eating grin.

Your heart was bursting again, not with nerves, but something you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You brushed the hair from your eyes, a satisfied beam set on your face. “I like it, too.”

There was a sheen akin to pride in his eyes. “I wanna show you something,” he said, walking over to his phone with a skip in his step. “Stay there! I wanna teach you this bit of choreo that’s been living in my head for a while now.”

And so, you followed Changmin’s instructions as he put on a groovy-type beat. The routine was simple enough—looks-wise. But if you knew anything about the things Changmin choreographed, the difficulty was all in the subtlety and technique. When you were younger, the appeal between you and Changmin as partners were that you were practically foils for each other. While Changmin ruled the arena of sharp, focused isolations and movements, your area of expertise laid in bigger, fuller movements like that of a brushstroke. When you had watched Juyeon and Changmin’s performance during the winter showcase, you supposed that was why they were able to complement each other well. It was essentially what you and Changmin were, in combination.

The longer you and Changmin danced, the more your chest filled with air and warmth and love and happiness. The guilt and fear from before had melted away to reveal this suppressed portion of you that had been hidden for a long time.

At some point, the two of you were just messing around, and ended up sprawled on the polished wood floor of the practice room clutching your stomachs while choking on laughter.

Changmin rolled onto his side, eyes still squinted in delight as he tried to get a grip of his breathing. “Is your back okay?” He managed to wheeze between gasps and howls.

You wiped a tear that crept out from your eye. “No! I just tried carrying a fifty-something-kg man on my back. Do you think I’m okay?”

“In my defense,” he said, peering down at you as he rose into a sitting position and leaned back onto his palms, “you claimed you were stronger than me and could be the base.”

“A warning would have been nice!” You exclaimed. You rolled onto your stomach, laying your chin over your arms. “No one in their right mind just jumpscares people like that.”

“Have you met me?”

“Fair enough.”

A remnant of that merriment remained on his lips as he felt around the floor around him for where his phone had fallen out of his pants pocket. He caught a glimpse of the time, sighing, then raking a hand through his hair. “It’s already one o’clock. Are you hungry? Wanna get lunch or something?”

“Sure, what do you feel like?” You asked, eyes following his movements as he clambered up to his feet and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

He pressed his lips together in thought, humming, “Dunno. Fast food maybe?”

You rolled into a sitting position, similar to the one he had been in just moments before. “Okay.”

“Come on; let’s get up then.” He offered a hand out to you, and you clasped his forearm tightly.

In one fell motion, Changmin swept you upright and to your feet—but he used a little too much pulling force, and you were stumbling into him, palms pressed flat against his chest, and his arms coming around your waist. You held your breath as the two of you fought to stabilize the other.

“Shit, sorry about that,” he muttered from above you with a low chuckle.

You opened your mouth to reply, but as you raised your head to meet his eyes and not just his Adam’s apple, you lost all your breath. There was barely a hairsbreadth distance between your face and his. Changmin came to the same determination as you had and his eyes went wide.

A curious thing happened. His pupils dilated, and his eyes darted down to your mouth and his tongue swiped over his own to dampen them.

Your breath as you exhaled was as unsteady as your heart rate.

You felt his hold on your tighten slightly; his Adam’s apple bobbed. And then he was leaning forward, his eyes fluttering closed—

He kissed you then.

His lips were soft over your own with the slightest bit of pressure, nose nudging the side of your cheek.

Your hands moved up the plane of his chest to grasp his toned shoulders; he shifted his left hand to cradle the back of your head.

Wait, what is happening—

You both pulled away, as if the same thought had echoed through both of your heads at the same time.

Panic leapt into the two of you and you jolted away when the distinct sound of Boss by some group called Neo Culture Technology blasted throughout the quiet practice room.

"Fuck," you swore. You glanced back at Changmin and saw the question, the uncertainty, the—you couldn't even tell. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. You could still feel his mouth on yours. "That—that's Doyoung's ringtone. I have to take this."

"Okay," he whispered inaudibly, and you slipped out from his hold.

With your back to him, he rubbed his hands down his face and an indescribable emotion seized his chest. He rubbed a thumb over his lips…

"Doyoung, you need to calm down," you said as Doyoung's voice quite literally rambled at lightspeed into your ear.

You heard your friend take one deep breath, then repeat, "I think one of these final draft files are corrupted. I'm freaking the fuck out right now, and I know you're not out of town, so if you could please—for the sake of my sanity—come to the office and help me!" He was pleading, begging, and Kim Doyoung did not beg. He sounded like one hair-pull from dropping down to his knees.

In any other context, you would have wanted to record this for the history books. Any other context.

Your eyes darted over to Changmin who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, and gaze pinned to you.

You couldn't just—leave? Could you? Not after that—

Then you caught Changmin nodding his head in the direction of the door, his head cocking to the side in silent question. Do you need to go? He mouthed.

You pursed your lips with a reluctant nod. Something's wrong with the paper.

Then go. We'll talk after.

Talk. Yup. You started grabbing your things and you squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder. "—okay okay, Doyoung. Can you stop wasting your energy for me, and tell me exactly what the screen is telling you?"

You began making your way to the door, but halted in the doorway. You hesitated, turning back to look at Changmin. You really shouldn't leave—but you had to.

"Yn."

You grabbed your phone and pressed the speaker into your shoulder. "Yes?" It sounded breathless.

Desperation gleamed like silver in his eyes. One did not often see that emotion from Ji Changmin. "Don't shut me out."

EPISODE FIFTEEN: OFF THE BOOKS

THE first person that came to mind was Choi Chanhee. "What—"

"I kissed her!" Changmin blurted, hand slapping over his mouth.

"You what?!"

— ✶

You were breathless, brain muddled, a hot mess of a shitshow, when you got to the Daily. The rest of the Board members were on break, including your resident tech expert, so you had assured Doyoung that you were free if he needed anything. (If you weren't deeply regretting that now though.)

You had fast walked all the way from the performing arts center to the Daily's newsroom, effectively cutting travel time down from ten minutes to seven, even with your bag of items. Though, it definitely didn't help your headspace. You could hardly think about Changmin, the kiss, and a corrupted file all at the same time. Not to mention, you finally managed to wrangle Doyoung off the phone with you so he could go splash water on his face to calm the fuck down.

The newsroom was dark when you got there, but you saw the light from Doyoung's office shining down the corridor. He was seated behind his desk, his expression a lot more calm than he sounded from the phone, but his face and bangs were a bit damp, meaning he had actually gone to wash his face. Good.

He saw you trudging down the hall, your baby hairs flying everywhere, and your breath coming out in pants. He noticed the bag slung over your shoulder and had the nerve to ask, "Oh, were you on the way somewhere?"

You sent him a pained stare and collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"You look stressed."

"Changmin and I kissed."

Doyoung's eyes nearly fell out of his head and his body was half an inch from falling out of his chair. "HUH?"

Your head craned back against the back of the chair. "I know."

"Girl, why are you here then?"

"You said it was an emergency!" You cried, straightening. You didn't even acknowledge the fact that Doyoung had just called you "girl". "Now, let's work this file situation out."

Doyoung moved his laptop further away from you. "Oh, nuh-uh, Missy. You're gonna just send me your copy, and then you're gonna go on your merry way back to Mr. Dancer Man and kiss him again."

Your face scrunched up. "Hello?" What was in the sink water in this building…

"Did you talk about it? Are you two dating now?"

"Doyoung," you whined, scrubbing a hand over your face, "you literally called right after we kissed."

Doyoung made a noise of disappointment. "Damn, I'm never gonna live this down."

"Seungkwan's gonna call you a cockblocker for the rest of your life," you muttered in agreement.

He snorted. "You said it, not me." He sobered then, closing the lid of his laptop so he could lace his fingers over it and fix you with a serious expression. "So how do you feel? Tell me what happened."

You twisted and dropped your bag to the ground by your feet, moving your chair closer to the desk so you could drape your upper half on top of the cool surface. "We were dancing—"

"Really?"

"Mhm," you hummed against the table. "It was… it was really nice, Doie. I actually had fun. And then we just—I don't even know—we played around a little and he was helping me up off the ground, and suddenly we were kissing."

Doyoung's brows furrowed together. "Ah, I see. Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"

"He kissed me, but I didn't stop him." You could recall the look in his eyes with a striking amount of clarity. "I… I don't really know what it all means, or what it means to me. I'm a little confused, if I'm honest."

He sighed. "And that's okay. I think this is something you definitely need to go back and talk to him about though, hm?"

"Yeah."

"But Yn," he continued, reaching over to rub the top of your head and get you to look up, "did you ever have feelings for the guy?"

You slowly raised yourself up from the table with a frown on your face. "When I was a kid, I didn't really see anyone else but him," you confessed, almost unconsciously. You hadn't known what the feeling you harbored for him was back then, but maybe you could seek to understand it now.

Doyoung made a vague gesture with his hand as he sat back in his chair. "Well, that's a start for sure. But you and he have been on rocky terrain for years now. You're not kids anymore and a lot of things have changed." He was right, in some sense. You and Changmin had spent three years convincing yourselves you didn't need each other. Perhaps it had been the opposite the entire time, but what did it all mean?

"I'm glad to have him in my life again," you said quietly. "I think I've always felt… different about Changmin than any other friend I've had before, y'know? It was just unconscious in a way."

"Would you want to act on that then? See where it goes?"

You let his questions resonate around your head for a minute. But the more you thought about it, the more certain you became of your answer.

— ✶

The back corridors of the performing arts hall were just as dark as it was when you had left. For a moment, you were afraid that Changmin had left. But as you neared the practice room from earlier, you could make out the sounds of voices drifting from the cracked open door of the room.

You strained your ears—who was that with Changmin?

You reached the door, quietly pressing yourself against the wall to peer in through the cracked doorway. There, sitting opposite Changmin on the practice room floor, was Chanhee.

"—think about it, Changmin," said Chanhee as he dropped his friend by the shoulders to keep him from sulking. "She kissed you back. Don't you think that means something?"

"She could've just been caught up in the moment," Changmin countered. "She could've—" He made a frustrated noise and threw his hands out in front of him, "Maybe I just don't want to be disappointed."

Chanhee frowned. "Disappointed… that she doesn't return your feelings? Changmin, can you be honest with me for a second?"

He gave a solemn nod.

"Those feelings you had for her when you were a kid—have they ever gone away?"

You had to back away from the door and press your palm against your mouth. But because of that, you weren't able to catch Changmin's answer. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your hands shaking as your thoughts raced in your head. You had to open the door now. You'd already intruded when you eavesdropped on their conversation.

Sucking in a breath, you pushed the door open wider. No going back now.

Changmin and Chanhee were both frozen in place when you poked your head into the room. The former paled in the warm-toned practice room lights, and you saw him gulp.

"Yn!" Chanhee laughed nervously as he and his friend both scrambled to their feet. His car keys jangled noisily from where they hung on a clip from his belt loop. "Uhm, I think I should leave," he said, clearing his throat and brushing past you.

You grabbed your arm as you shuffled into the room and gently kicked the door closed behind you.

Changmin cupped the back of his neck. "How much did you hear?" He asked, not even bothering to hide the open glisten in his eyes, the pure vulnerability lying stark on his face. It felt like you were seventeen again, standing alone together in the practice room, not really sure what the other person would say or do or feel.

"What did Chanhee mean by you having feelings for me when we were kids?" You asked.

The silence was palpable. "You really didn't know?"

No, you shook your head, definitely not. "I—I mean, no. Not really. I guess I always thought… I don't know what I thought."

He braced both hands behind his head now, his eyes tilted back toward the ceiling. "Yn," he said before looking you in the eyes again, "every time I saw you, I saw someone who put the fucking stars in the sky. If you watch any of our videos from back then—" He pushed out a haggard breath from his mouth. "I could never not care for you, could never stop caring for you. It hurt a lot when we stopped being us because I thought I…"

His hands fell to his sides, helpless. "I thought I lost you. And then it felt like you hated me, so I tried to hate you, too. And then we worked shit out. And then…" Changmin brushed his bangs back and was unable to look you in the eyes for longer than a second with each glance. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't want to lose you again, Yn."

Your heart thundered in your ears so loud that you almost thought he could hear it, even from so far away. You got yourself to take a step forward, and then another.

Changmin waited as you walked closer to him, his lips pressed together.

You inhaled. "Changmin, I can't say for sure what I felt for you back then, and I definitely can't articulate my feelings for you as well as you just did—" His eyes clashed with yours, that energy colliding, "—but I'm not sorry you kissed me, or that I kissed you."

You thought you heard his breath hitch for a moment.

"I don't want to lose you again, either," you said and tentatively reached for his hands. Never in your years of knowing him had you known a moment where his fingers trembled like they did now. "And I—I really want to see where this goes. Would you want to see where this goes with me?"

His fingers curled around yours as he nodded. "Yes."

EPISODE SIXTEEN: OFF [MY] FACE

"WHAT about that one?"

"Don't touch that one."

"Will it burn my skin off?" Changmin asked in a sleepy daze as one hand rubbed his eye and the other reached for the gallon of liquid that sat behind a locked cabinet with a clearly marked DO NOT TOUCH. DANGER. plastered on the side.

"Yes," you said without looking up from your organic chemistry textbook.

Changmin's hand dropped immediately and he turned to send a look your way. "Well, that's not very safe."

His hoodie-covered head began bumbling back over to you through the maze of workbenches. It was the first week back to school from spring break, thus, the very first week of the spring quarter. You and Changmin were currently in your regular lab space that you unofficially dubbed your study area. Kun was in the break room probably half asleep over a bag of shrimp chips, and Ten… Ten was somewhere around here. Maybe he got lost down the hallway looking for the bathroom or something.

Changmin had come to hang out with you though, even though he was practically a walking baby giraffe as drowsiness possessed his whole being. But he insisted on staying until you went home.

"It's actually just distilled water," you said with a chuckle. "The lab professors just don't want people using it because for some reason, the convenience stores around here are always out, and they don't want to go hunting for more."

You felt him drape over your back with a fwump. "I love when you talk dirty to me," he said through a rather large yawn.

You grinned to yourself, shaking your head. "Okay, I think we need to get you home."

"Not before you take me to dinner first."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

You packed your things up quickly, especially when you saw Changmin nodding off while standing upright. It was already around nine o'clock by the time you said good night to Kun and located Ten (yeah, he'd gone looking for the bathroom and almost gotten locked in a supply closet instead).

Changmin tried to convince you he was okay to drive, but by the way he couldn't even figure out that his keys were hanging on his belt loop, it was safe to say that you were driving tonight. The drive over to Changmin and Chanhee's apartment was an easy one since they lived in the university district and the streets were quite barren at this point. You helped him up to the apartment, greeting Chanhee who was in a fluffy pink robe and matching headband.

"Hi Chanhee," you sighed as you pushed Changmin into the bathroom to shower.

Chanhee looked on in ill-concealed amusement. "He'll be much better after he showers," he reassured you from his perch on the couch. You saw the page-long math problems spread out on the coffee table and held in a gag.

"Dear god, I hope so."

Chanhee directed you to where Changmin's room was and you dumped both yours and his backpacks on the floor by his desk. You actually had yet to step foot in here until now, so while Changmin was doing his thing in the bathroom, you let your eyes roam all around the room. It was relatively clean (emphasis on relatively) with walls that were minimally decorated. There was a whole separate rack of shirts and jackets left outside the small wardrobe, and you recognized a couple of them.

You leaned over his desk to see what he had posted on the wall above it. There were a couple dozen printed photographs of him and his friends, as well as an award or two that were big in name and no doubt special to him. You felt yourself smile; you didn't have to be up here, but you liked seeing his smile in all of these pictures.

And then you saw it.

There was a printed copy of a review pinned amongst the pandemonium of memorabilia. The layout of the page was incredibly familiar, and with widened eyes, you realized that it was a review from the Daily's Opera Glasses.

In fact, as you squinted and skimmed, it was your review from freshman year. It was your (anonymous) review about his debut winter showcase performance.

Wow.

You barely registered Changmin shuffling into the room in slippers and a bathrobe of his own, his dark hair still dripping with water.

He passed you a glance while heading for his wardrobe. "Hey, do you wanna stay over?"

You definitely weren't prepared for that question. "Stay over?" You parroted dumbly. "Also, you have an Opera Glasses review printed out?" Your hand gestured to the sheet of paper pinned to the wall.

Changmin's head turned and he abandoned the wardrobe to walk over to you and his desk. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side to give him space to look. "Ah," he said with a boyish grin, "that was yours, wasn't it?"

"How the hell could you tell?"

He leaned in close to you, bracing an arm above your head. The smell of his shampoo was strong and you came to the realization that he was still in a bathrobe. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You don't think I could tell what your writing voice sounded like?" He asked, his voice suddenly lowered.

You inched forward, a dare. "Are you gonna get dressed, Changmin?"

His smile widened. "I could," he teased.

"Hey! Can you guys close the door or keep it down? Some of us are single and have math homework!"

Both you and Changmin laughed at Chanhee's outburst even though your face was definitely heated up.

Changmin took advantage of your unassuming state and pressed his mouth to yours, tasting your laughter on his tongue until you could only taste his in return. It was a dizzying sort of kiss, his arm still above you and his other curled around your waist.

When he pulled away, he bit his lip around a smirk. "I'll get changed now."

Criminal. Absolutely criminal.

He indeed got changed. And so did you. Apparently, he was being serious about you staying the night, and soon enough, you found yourself buried beneath his covers and swept in his very clingy arms. Not that you were complaining; he smelled nice.

You and Changmin laid facing each other in the darkness of his room. Round spectacles sat awkwardly on his nose bridge since the side of his face was pressed against the pillow, but he said he wouldn't take them off until he was just about to drift off.

"Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

He giggled, turning over and reaching over the side of his bed for something. You were about to question what he was doing until he quite literally shoved his wretched Chucky doll into your face.

"What the flying fuck—" You glared at the toy and its creepy stitched face. You had been startled by it, but you had grown used to it after having to deal with his obsession with the damn thing in the last two years of high school.

Changmin hugged the abomination to his chest as he snickered loudly.

"I thought you got rid of that thing."

"You clearly don't know me well enough."

You began to sit up and make a show of throwing off the covers. "I'm leaving—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" He blubbered, grabbing your upper arm and yanking you back down onto the bed next to him.

He leaned over you, his Chucky doll still tucked in the crook of his arm, as Changmin pouted. The glasses were practically sliding off his nose and his hair was sticking up in the back. What a duality. "I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not cuddling with Chucky, Changmin."

"But—"

"I will go ask Chanhee for an extra blanket."

Changmin's pout contorted into a scowl. "I'll murder him."

You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this conversation. "I think you need to go to sleep."

He flopped back onto the bed next to you, reluctantly setting Chucky back down on the floor next to the bed where the wretched thing had been hiding this whole time. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally able to breathe easy, you settled back into Changmin's arms. He tucked you against his chest, his chin settled on top of your head. You felt him shift as he took his glasses off and reached behind him to set them on the nightstand.

You were just drifting off to sleep to the melody of his heart beat when: "Yn?"

"Hm?"

His lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I missed you."

You knew what he meant. You pressed a kiss to his chest and heard the shuddering breath that fell from his lips. "I missed you, too."

EPISODE SEVENTEEN (EPILOGUE): [ON OUR TERMS]

THE problem with the restaurant was that it reminded you of something like the word "home". The sign above the door was made with some common font that one could find on Microsoft Word and you were pretty sure they only took cash, too. There was a reason you had chosen this restaurant in particular, and it was because you thought that eating at a place with your comfort foods would, well, comfort you. But you had been staring at the front for a minute or two now, and you weren't sure it was working.

From beside you, you felt someone take your hand in his. "We don't have to go in," said Changmin, his expression blank and reserved as he looked at the eatery, but softened a considerable amount when he looked over at you.

Your mother was waiting for you in there, somewhere. You wanted to finally talk to her—maybe make some peace with yourself. You'd told Changmin about it, and he insisted on coming as moral support.

You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "I can't just not go, Changmin."

His touch was gentle as his thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles, just as gentle as his voice was, "You don't owe her anything, Yn. You deserve an apology from her and you deserve closure, but you don't owe her anything. Not after what she put you through."

You were quiet for a moment and your free hand brushed over the hollow of your throat where the tightening sensation was.

Changmin added, "I'll support whatever decision you come to."

You considered the restaurant again. It had always held a great amount of significance and comfort for you. Did you want to ruin that with a potentially sour conversation? For all you knew, this could end incredibly poorly.

But… there were some things that needed to be done.

You steeled your resolve. "Ready?"

Changmin, all dapper in his dress shirt and pants and styled hair, flashed you a dimpled smile. "Whenever you are."

a/n: wow ... anyways lol thanks for getting through that madness, and hope u enjoyed!! pls do consider reblogging, commenting, or sending an ask to my inbox teehee i would really appreciate it ! now, onto hyunjae's ! >:)

permanent taglist: @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @ethereal-engene @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @justalildumpling @hyunjaespresent-deobi @hongyangi @pxppxrminty @nerdypastacalzonespy @jcmdoll @kflixnet

taglist: @oi-miya @loveliestfelix @sickvision @jaerisdiction @stealanity @magnificentjudementmoneyhands @inthesunnn @igotkpoopsss @letsnotdoanything @starryjww @sodafy @rreneeeeee @dajanxekiwi @sseastar-main @jenowithjaem @moonyswolf @sleepymoon27 @floatingpluto @fictionlover100 @winterchimez @softie00 @sseuyeon @qkyuscult @hwanunjin @zlebooks @mcu-incorrect @nctzennikki09 @hrt4cheol @moontyuns @quill-ink

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

~

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

~

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

~

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

~

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

~

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

~

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

~

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

~

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

~

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

 He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

~

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

~

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 04.

levi's pov #2. :: a deleted scene from flashback two. this is levi's pov of recruiting james to the gang.

happy silver underground friday! thank you for your patience as i write up ch20. i know many of you requested more levi pov content, so i give to you the initial recruitment (levi's version). this is unedited. 3.5k words / mentions of violence, angst, language, pining. :: please remember: this is additional deleted content, not tied to the current canon of the story.

Three years pass and she still won’t leave his goddamn brain.

The girl with the stale bread.

The girl with the kindness that’ll get her killed down here.

Maybe you're not even that kind — he’s seen how ferociously you take down kids double your size when he’s passing by with Furlan, keeping tabs that you’re still breathing week to week.

Not long after the one and only fight he’s had with you, Kenny disappeared. The son of bitch gave some shitty excuse — something about teaching him all he could — leaving Levi Ackerman in a deathly quiet room for the second time in his life.

Just happened to be alone this time, that’s all.

He almost came to you then, but thought better of it. Getting mixed up in that bitch’s affairs, the one you call Mother, wouldn’t do him any favors.

Maybe she’d up and ditch you the way Kenny ditched him.

Maybe fate would have it—

No.

Dreaming’s a waste of time.

He should keep his distance.

He should never try to speak to you—

“Hello?” 

Furlan waves a hand in front of his face, waking Levi from a dissociative state. His steel gray eyes flicker up to the other boy, expressionless.

“I’m listening,” he curtly replies.

“No you weren’t,” Furlan mumbles, before flopping down into a rickety wooden chair.

This house isn’t much, but it’s home. Better than living on the streets, that’s for damn sure. Somehow him and this kid made enough money to get by and then some — but that’s probably because they’ve found the literal Underground City jackpot.

Two idiot MPs from the surface.

Two sets of Omni-directional Mobility Gear.

(The steal would be much easier than others think. Making the story sound impossible meant other thugs in the area wouldn’t ever try their hand at it.)

Crime’s a hell of a lot easier when you can fly.

Only problem now is that the jobs — and subsequently the money — are harder to come by. Furlan’s insistent on expanding. Levi has no interest in banking on trust beyond Furlan.

Until that idea hit him like a static shock—

All when he realized you were still fighting.

Still, after all these years.

“If you’re still trying to convince me,” Levi boredly starts, “then I might have a name to throw in the ring.”

Furlan perks in his chair, scooting closer. “Well, damn, you coulda said it earlier.”

“I just think you won’t like who I suggest.”

“Huh? Why? One of our guys—”

“No,” Levi cuts off. “Not one of the shitheads we split scraps with. I’m talking about a third.”

“A third… in command?” Furlan slowly inquires. Levi nods once. “So who is it?”

“A girl I knew once,” the dark-haired boy suggests, arms crossed over her chest. When Furlan squints, he continues. “She’s in the fighting rings. Goes by James.”

“She’s a kid?”

“No. Knew her when she was, but now she’s in the adult circuits.”

“So how old is she?”

“Maybe fifteen? Fourteen?” Levi supplies. “Our age.”

“Huh.” Furlan pauses. “And you… think she’d be good? Like how good?’

“Probably the best option we have.”

“Levi Ackerman talking highly about someone else… now that doesn’t happen every day.”

Levi squints in annoyance. 

“Are you cool with me asking her, or not?”

Furlan makes a face. “Well— here’s the thing. If we just add her, chances are the guys we kinda fumble the numbers with will get jealous. We’d probably need to initiate her.”

Levi doesn’t mean to, but he glares right back. Furlan must realize right away that his partner is a fan of the idea — a reaction he’s never offered.

“Five people aren’t jumping her, Furlan,” Levi insists in a bite.

“I— three?”

Three.

He’s seen you take down people double your size and weight. He’s watched you put popular contenders on their backs in seconds. The kids they hire are just that — kids. 

As much as he doesn’t want to agree to it, there has to be a compromise.

You can handle five.

You can certainly handle three.

“Fine,” Levi murmurs. “Three. She has a fight tomorrow.”

“Damn, you’ve been scouting this one?”

Something like that.

.

.

.

.

.

And just as he suspected, you knock them square on their asses.

Truth be told, it’s an unfair fight.

Levi stakes his claim at the corner, in the shadows, and watches the beat down in real time. All goons looking to show off like they know what the hell they’re up against.

They don’t.

Levi does.

When you scramble down the alleyway to get to safety, he takes off into a casual stroll. Taps an unconscious moron or two in the head to make sure they’re seriously out.

(They’re out, alright. Like a snuffed light.)

And when Levi finally catches up to you, you’re swallowed whole by shadow. Your hands are assessing each part of your torso — smart — while your breath exits in a controlled wheeze.

He’s sorry.

He really is, for once.

“You look like shit,” he comments, watching you rip your gaze from your scratched hands towards his voice.

Like a feral, scared animal you watch him.

Blinking once. 

Blinking twice, three times, as if you’re trying to figure out who the hell he is.

Levi knows it’s not from the injuries. You were smart and protected your head as much as possible. He was banking on quick precision from your technique.

“Mind your fucking business,” you snap back at him, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from smiling ear to ear.

(So that’s what you sound like.)

“How bad did they get you?” he casually asks, stepping forward with a boot.

You blink several times once again.

Yeah, you recognize him.

Just like he recognizes you.

“Why do you care?” you hiss, pushing away from the brick wall.

Levi stops moving to give you space. “I don’t.”

(But, fuck, he does. He really does.)

Breathe through the pain all you want, he catches the way you wrap your arm around your abdomen as if he’s going to try and take you on at your weakest.

Maybe those bastards did get a good hit or two in.

“I guess the answer is bad enough.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sure.”

Except he doesn’t want to.

If you let him, then he’ll stay.

“You can leave, you know,” you tell him, and he draws in a slow inhale. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine so long as those shitheads don’t get up.”

Your head whips behind you to see the alley as if Levi’s spotted anyone. 

No, they’re not actually coming. 

In fact, you knocked them out so thoroughly that it’s a little bit funny.

Then you turn, and his stomach clenches. “I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

“I get that a—”

“Whoa.”

His heart seizes when you stumble. Immediately he shoots to the other end of the wall, ignoring the hand that shoots out to stop him.

“Hold on. What the hell are you doing?” Your nostrils flare. “I said I’m fine.”

Damn it, James. Don’t be proud right now.

“Yeah, and I”m six-foot fucking three.”

And he steps closer.

Closer.

Until the expanse of his chest hovers right at your palm.

Well — you aren’t trying to beat the shit out of him. That’s a plus.

You really do remember me, that sad sack of shit you were nice to.

“Roxy’s is close,” Levi slowly states, hoping you’ll connect what he’s thinking about. That you’ll get to where he’s trying to go with this before he has to spell it out.

“I know.”

“They have back rooms with supplies.”

“I know.”

“So why not go?” he grunts, very much over the bravado he’s very much guilty of himself. “C’mon, dumbass.”

You squeak, but it’s too late — Levi breaks that illusion of distance with a smack of your outstretched hand so he can get to the part he’s been agonizing over all day.

Helping you.

Because he sure as hell isn’t going to let you go through this alone.

(Not when he’s practiced this pitch for a week straight.)

You don’t push him away when he touches you. Hell, you just stare — Levi’s worried he has something in his goddamn teeth.

Then you ask. “Why?”

Surely you know.

Surely by now, you must know the why of this.

Because I owe you.

Because you have left my fucking brain since the day you asked my name.

Levi answers. “Because.”

Cautious with every step, Levi lets you call the pace. You’re surprisingly mobile all things considered, and he just acts as your anchor as you make your way through the winding rounds of the Underground City.

“You have a key?”

He has to force himself not to snort. “No.”

The staff at Roxy’s will forgive him.

Or not — he doesn’t give a shit.

Gingerly placing you against the wall, he musters up the energy to use the strength of his short but mighty legs. Levi kicks the wooden door with gusto, waiting a moment for the noise to dissipate, before grabbing you again to continue on.

Eventually he places you on a nearby chair and brushes off his hands, coated with sweat.

What the hell, Ackerman? Get your shit together. Now’s not the time to get nervous.

Especially over you.

God, not when he’s almost got you.

You’re too busy staring at the disjointed door to notice his expression soften when he’s staring at your face.

It’s so… pretty.

Why is it—

Wait.

“Oi.”

He snaps, and you blink and turn your chin back to him. All the air whooshes clear from his lungs. 

You’re worried. He can tell. 

“Eyes on me. They aren’t coming.”

“What makes you so sure?”

(God, he’s such an asshole.)

Choosing to ignore the question, Levi keeps himself busy by searching the cabinets in the room for the med packs he knows they keep here. Way too many wayward souls pass through. They always got some—

Ah.

There.

Turning on a heel, he eagerly brings the med kit and unfurls it, holding it to you.

You stare back, not moving.

(You don’t have a concussion, do you?!)

“What do you want me to—”

“Hold it, idiot,” he snips in his own minor panic. “I can’t do everything.”

Please let me fix my own mistakes, James.

Your hands uncurl like a clam, waiting for the med kit. Levi carefully places it in your hands and takes what he needs.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur. “Why are you doing this?”

Taking a cloth, he douses it with antiseptic and presses it ever so gently on your skin. 

You don’t even flinch.

“Levi.”

Time freezes.

His gray eyes meet yours, and suddenly he forgets to breathe.

You remember.

He never told you, but —

He’s pretty sure Kenny may have said it back at this godforsaken fucking bar.

Should he tell you he remembers you, too?

(You never told him your name. He’ll show all of his cards in one fell swoop.)

“Does it matter?” he gruffly responds, pressing the cloth to your cheek.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s harder to help than to ignore.”

“Kind of like giving bread to a strange kid, right?” 

Shit.

Levi blurts before he can take it back.

This wasn’t how he thought this would go.

Banter here and there, maybe, but—

“I don’t know,” you finally answer. “I’m not a saint for giving you food.”

Of course you’re not.

Saint James, the patron deity that hasn’t left his mind since.

Levi’s nostrils flare as he dips lower, too afraid to touch your torso. “I could have killed you — broken?”

“Bruised,” you reply. “I’ve felt broken before.”

“Positive?” 

“Yes. And I was trying to kill you back then, too. It wasn’t our fault.”

Were you?

Trying to kill him?

Makes sense, with how hard you went at him. It was the only match he felt nervous in.

“I wasn’t trying to,” Levi woefully answers.

“But you could have.”

His fingers pause for a fraction of a second. “Yeah,” he laments. “I could have.”

Just like tonight.

And just like every night after this, if you tell him yes to his bullshit plans.

“I thought maybe something happened to you,” you begin. “I never saw you on the circuit again, so I thought—”

“That was the first and only time I fought in that nasty shit.”

He pushes back his own fears and tips your chin upward. You easily obey.

“...so you weren't sold into it?”

Shit, was she? Too preoccupied by the feeling of how soft your skin is, Levi shakes his head.

“I was your only fight?”

“Technically,” he says.

“So then why were you—”

“Practice, in case I ever met someone who needed to kill me for quick cash.”

“That's a morbid reason. You were just a kid.”

“So were you, but for some reason you’re still in it.”

Gritting his teeth, he knows his temper is getting the best of him. It’s better to stay neutral in these types of talks but you… you’re so nonchalant about something so dire.

You could die.

Hell, he’s spent week after week hoping to hear your name so he’d hear you’re still alive.

Choosing to let that go, he drops his hands away from your face and flexes his fingers.

“Good news: you look like shit, but you’re not in deep shit. I can’t do anything about your ribs, but your face should be fine. You have a bad habit of leaning into your hits.”

It’s true. It’s like she likes getting hurt, as if it fuels her own rage.

A strategy, sure, but a shit one at that.

“Excuse me?” you growl. “What do you mean, I have a bad habit?”

Levi can’t help but give you a look. “Did those shitheads make you hard of hearing, too?”

“No, shithead," you mock right back and it’s actually… impressive. You keep up. It does something weird and unenjoyable to his stomach. “I don't lean into them."

“Yes, you do.”

“What, so you’ve watched my fights?”

Ah, shit.

Found out, yet again.

(Great job, Ackerman.)

“I watch fights. Not just yours,” Levi quickly retorts. “You're not special, so get your head out of your ass.”

“Oh fuck you, man.”

Damn, you really do speak his language.

Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t—

And you don’t give up, either. “Leaning into them makes an opponent feel like they have the upper hand. Let them hit, then you strike.”

“It’s a shit strategy.”

“I’m smaller than a lot of my opponents.”

“So?"

“So? Coming out to a fight like you own the place puts a target on your back.”

Right.

Self-preservation, a tactic often used by the pimps who bring these poor kids to the rings. It’s a loophole to make sure your fighters don’t know their own worth so they can’t wail on you.

Kenny told him that.

Levi wishes he could have told her, too.

“Did your Mom teach you that?” he flatly responds.

Your nostrils flare. “Maybe she did, but your Dad sure as hell forgot to teach you manners.”

He snaps faster than he means to. “He wasn’t my father.” 

A beat passes, and his shoulders slump. 

“And you’re a better fighter than that,” he softens, exasperated. “Making yourself look weak is a shitty strategy for someone who can't land a punch, let alone someone who can. You take the punches because you damn well know you're better than every opponent they match you with. If you didn’t play the theatrics, then those idiots would all be dead in minutes.”

When you don’t spit in his face, he gently takes a step forward. Then another.

“I met you three years ago. I thought by now you would've found a way out." 

But you need help. 

This is his return payment. This is all he can offer in this shitstain of a city.

“Do you want out?” Your eyes widen, like he’s told you he’s secretly the king of the Walls. His tongue gently darts between his dried lips. “...if I had a way to get you out, would you take it?”

“...I don’t have a way out.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” you croak, and it breaks his heart. “I’ve tried. You know people in the circuits—”

“You have a way out."

“Levi—”

“James.”

In defeat, he calls to you — your name, that name everyone else calls you.

All of his cards are on the table.

He can’t take this back. 

“This isn’t a charity hand out. We need a fighter.”

“Who the hell is we?”

“Furlan Church and myself.”

“Furlan fucking Church? That’s where you ended up after all this time, with that idiot?”

Levi blinks.

(Wait, what’s wrong with Furlan?)

Nevermind — he’ll ask later. He has a mission here.

“If you stay in the circuits, then you will die,” Levi finally states. “That bitch has been trying to put you in the ground for years. Do you really want her to win?”

Please say no.

Please listen to me.

Except you stagger backwards, and he’s terrified that somehow he’s botched this pitch. That somehow you wouldn’t be interested in a team—

“Wait — did you send those guys after me?”

Oh.

Shit.

“The three in the alleyway,” you continue. “They attacked me after the fight. It was really convenient of you to find me in the nick of time. So was that one of his initiation stunts?”

He wants to swear he was going to tell you, but that would sound like a cheap lie.

He wants to promise this wasn’t what he wanted, but that would sound like a patronizing lie.

“Dirty trick,” you growl and turn away, and worries seizes his heart.

“We need muscle for our next heist,” he quickly states, firming up his voice. “You would get a cut. You would have a permanent place to sleep. You would have routine meals, day and night."

You don’t turn to him. “I’d be selling myself for one contract to another.”

Levi shakes his head wildly, but you don’t see it. “You're free to leave whenever you want. If this doesn't work out in a week? Fine, then you can go. But if you do this, then you would never have to see that woman’s face again.”

“She’d find me.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he swears.

No, he wants to say. I’ll burn this city to the ground if she so much as tries it. I owe you.

“You would be protected with me.” 

But it isn’t just him.

You had a visceral reaction about Furlan. He has to be honest.

"With us."

Finally you turn back to him, and he’s woefully hopeful once more.

“Levi…”

The way you say his name…

Shit, he could hear you say his name like that every hour of every goddamn day if you’d just say yes to this deal he’s offering.

"You'll be paid,” he adds.

"I don't give a shit about pay,” you retort. “I have no money to my name as it is. Your... proposition just sounds too good to be true, that's all."

He needs more incentive.

He needs you to say yes.

"What do you need to be convinced?” he pleads, but it comes out monotone. “We sent our three best brawn and you cleared them in minutes. You can see why we'd want you."

"And if I say no?"

Fear seizes every cell of his body. You stare at him like he’s the enemy.

“Are you two going to keep sending people after me?”

(Would he finally stop searching for you?)

Swallowing, Levi knows he cannot keep you.

He barely knows you.

He just has a feeling he needs to.

“No,” he promises. “I'd let you live your life. This isn't an intimidation tactic. You would never hear from me again.”

And he means it.

He’ll give you anything for nothing.

It’s some kind of sickness he hasn’t quite recovered from since he was small.

Something about you has just infected his veins faster than the plague.

You turn your gaze to the door, and his face falls.

What can he do?

How can he convince you?

Your name exits his mouth in a fractured plea. “James—”

“I’m in.” 

Wait.

Did he hear that right?

You turn back to him with determination, chin lifted and shoulders squared. 

He can’t help but stare at you with a mixture of relief and admiration. 

Levi wonders if you notice. If you know, just how much you’ve been on his mind.

“I’m in,” you repeat. “I’ll go where you go.”

(And we'll never look back.)

will we make it through?

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader | 7.7k + words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, hurt/comfort/smut, oral (receiving), very emotional and loving sex, over stimulation, cream pie, mating press if you squint. i don't think anything else but please let me know if i missed anything!

the doors of the winery seem heavier than usual as diluc pushes them open, the parlor quiet and cold like the night outside and it makes his chest ache as much as his hands that held too tightly onto the hilt of the claymore tonight. usually the manor would blanket him with warmth the moment he stepped inside, especially when he knew you were waiting for him. finally being home, in your arms, simmered the flames of his duties that pushed him to work harder and harder and ignited a softer flame, one of love, more fierce and all consuming.

of late, that flame had been accompanied by a black smoke and uncertainty, clouding the once clear and comfortable distance between you. before it had been enough so that you ran as free as you pleased, for he would never hold you back, but close enough so he could reach out and pull you into him, watch over and protect you. bath in your light and love even when a man as shrouded in darkness and broken as him did not deserve it.

it started off manageable at first. a clench of his fist at his side when he had gone in to kiss you passionately, to convey how much he missed you, but ended up hurting you instead when his fingers tangled into your hair painfully. you yelped out in sudden pain and he pulled away so quickly, as if he had burned you, but it had only made it worse. he had swallowed down the lump in his throat when you sweetly told him it was okay and stood on your toes to kiss him softly but it was only the first of many loving intentions that did not turn out as he hoped. 

a pang in his chest when the only time he saw you was when he came home from being the dark knight hero, your tired form half sat up and in an uncomfortable sleep, the light in the bedroom still on and an askew book in your lap. he took great care in tucking you in with gentle movements and felt so badly when you woke up anyways, welcoming him home and whispering ‘i missed you’s before falling back asleep even if you tried to fight it off in order to be with him for just a little longer. 

his heart was torn between his selfishness to want these small moments with you and the need to protect you in any way he could, including your health and your sleeping habits. just because his own suffered at the cost of his duties should not mean that yours should too. he needed you to be well and with a reluctant heart told you not to worry about waiting up for him, that your sleep and well-being was far more important. 

the distance, that smoke that hidden you from him, had only grown since that day. 

reluctant and displeased in your own right, you still did as he asked and stopped waiting for him to return late in the evening, each night getting farther and farther from him, your sleep not improving at all. with the seasons changing it always made the winery grow busier, the threats to the city more eminent and with it all the moments you spent together becoming fewer and fewer. it was agony being away from you, diluc thought each time you popped into his mind, so frequently throughout the day, and yet you continued to be out of his reach, three or more paces ahead and he was falling even more behind. 

and as each of you passed by the staff at different times throughout the day, the same light missing from your eyes, they began to wonder if either of you knew the other was in just as much pain.

he trudges through the heaviness of his own whirling thoughts. as if every step he took through the manor the loneliness of years past came flooding back; the coldness of the first night without a father or a brother, ice in his bones and blood on his skin. an untouched room left to collect dust and remained familiar but was not quite home when he returned years later. except this time it wasn’t burned pictures and items full of bittersweet memories that haunted him, it wasn’t secrets and death at his own hands that followed everywhere he went. it was the fog of what was becoming of your relationship that painted his fears in every room he passed.

the emptiness of life without you..

and how could it not when your rescheduled dinners together have become forgotten entirely or when every day it felt like you were no longer on the same page, off sync and so unsure of the others feelings. when he’d go in to kiss your forehead in a brief moment of passing, just for you to move at the wrong moment and instead of a sweet kiss meant to show you his affection, remind you he was thinking of you, you hit heads, hard. you try to act like it wasn’t affecting you too. having you knock quietly on his office door, unaware of the important business partners in front of him but hurrying to apologize and leave before he can excuse himself for a moment to tell you it’s okay and that he’d come find you once he was finished, so please wait for him. thinking he’d have the night off work and you try to surprise him with dinner only to find he would be unable to join you and when he did the same in return, your schedule too wouldn’t allow for it. you smiled despite it all, a silent promise that you were okay even if your eyes told a different story.

to say it had been hard recently would be an understatement, trust him he is feeling it so strongly too. but even if it had been this way and he was getting by, barely, it doesn’t stop how much it rips his heart from his chest when he slips into bed tonight, strong hands with a slightly detectable shake to them caressing your lovely visage, moving hair from your face. he drinks you in, takes in every inch of the person he loves more than anything else in this world, tries to memorize your face like he hadn’t already a thousand times over, like he might never see you again, and with such attention it’s impossible to not see the dried tear streaks on your cheeks in the moonlight coming from the window. 

who knew one's heart could feel like it was still beating and breaking outside of their chest while the hole in their ribcage bled without mercy.. diluc felt just that knowing he was the cause of your pain and your tears and he wasn’t here to do a damn thing about it. how many nights had you spent like this while you were trying so hard to be strong? his thumbs caress the soft skin of your cheeks, as if they were attempting to wipe that which had already long passed and make up for a moment he had already missed.

diluc had always thought you deserved better, so much more than him because, even if he would give you the world, surely his darkness would take you like it had others and perhaps that was exactly what-

“‘luc?” your raspy and tired voice brings him from the words that surely wouldn’t be well for his heart but your bleary eyes, slowly blinking open and immediately collecting more tears, are just as telling to what he already knows. your tone wrought with lingering pain that you suffered in alone and it’s killing him, “y‘re home?”

“i’m home,” he assures you, his own voice unsteady as he pulls you close to try to hide, to not let you see the tears pooling in his eyes because he felt them burning the moment yours started to water at the sight of him. right now, in the middle of the night when you were both so close and yet so far, he didn’t know what else to do but try to be strong too and hold you against him while wishing he could carry the pain for you both, even if it broke him.

he can feel you shaking in his arms, knows the wetness of his shirt where your face is buried in his chest is from your silent tears but before he can speak, sooth you with a voice already breaking, your words stop his every function. he swears he’s not even breathing when you weakly ask him.

“diluc.. are- are we going to be okay?”

with the breaking of his heart, his whole body flexes and he holds you so close, in a vice grip you might have found crushing had you not needed it so badly yourself. one hand cradling the back of your head, burying in your hair, the other around your middle and keeping you pressed to him so nothing could get between you. he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t let you go for even a second, like every part of his rationale told him you would slip from his grasp if he gave even an inch. 

“yes. of course.” despite the tear escaping him when he speaks, he says the words tenderly, reassuringly, strongly as he believes them, feeling your hands bunch the fabric of his shirt in a tight grip in a silent reply. he could not even begin to imagine a life where you were not together, where you were not beside him until the end of his days. you had to be okay and he would do anything to see that through.

* * *

bustling life in the winery started early in the morning. even if the master bedroom remained quiet and peaceful, the rest of the manor had workers coming and going and maids floating from task to task as soon as the sun began to rise from behind the hills of mondstadt. diluc and the many tasks he had to see to were not immune to the earliest hours of the morning either, no matter how much his body and heart begged him to stay in bed with you.

this morning had been the hardest of all. how was he supposed to leave when you had cried yourself back to sleep in his arms last night and held on to him tightly even in your slumber? when he rose with the sun anyways he did his best to let you rest, with the intention of getting as much work as he could done early before coming to wake you up with breakfast, behind the closed door of your bedroom where it was only the two of you and he could take the time to have a proper discussion and tell you that he loves you.

but it seems yet again you were not aligned when not forty minutes after he settles into his study with large stacks of paper on either side of him, waiting for his immediate attention, you quietly knock on the open door frame and smile. one that makes his chest both flutter and ache. 

“morning ‘luc.” 

“good morning darling.”

you both say at the same time and are just as quickly flushed with heat and a kindle of hope. he stands from his desk and with long strides makes his way towards you as you stumble over what you were going to say next while diluc falls silent against the strike of the match deep within his heart, so full of conviction and the truth of the words he spoke to you last night. you were going to be okay. he had meant it with his entire being. 

the shy chuckle and smile you give him only fuels his hope more; so genuine and beautiful, full of the brightness he worried he was taking from you when all he ever wanted to do was preserve it, let himself get lost in it when you pulled him in so easily and found your own comfort in his shadows. the dress you wore, one you often put on when picking grapes in the vineyard that he recalled purchasing for you, one he knows well, only served to amplify how much he misses you, how absolutely divine he finds you. he would do absolutely anything for you. 

“i.. um, i know it’s busy around here but i just wanted to let you know i’ll be around the winery today if you need anything,” you say, that sweet smile still on your face. all he needed was you.. your smile falters when you hesitate to speak your next words, your gaze moving from his handsome face to the floor beneath your feet. feeling his heart pick up speed at the sight of your distress. he moves closer to you, his gloved hand ever so gently grabbing yours and it catches your attention. when your gazes meet again, he sees determination behind your sparkling eyes. “.. could we have lunch together later?”

he’s eager to answer you, wants to ask if you’ll stay in his study with him the rest of the day even if it’s a selfish request, even if it means not much work will get done when he’ll need to have you right in his lap. his grip on you tightens, his pink lips stretch into a loving smile but as the words leave him, they meddle with the sound of quick footsteps and elzer calling for the young master, unaware of the moment he was interrupting. had he known, he would have done more to delay himself even if this was rather urgent.

“master diluc, is the paperwork for the wangshu inn order ready? the shipment from liyue is -” elzer stops in his tracks, green eyes widening when he sees the two of you at the threshold of the study nearly chest to chest. diluc still holds onto your hand but both of your gazes are now on the butler. “i’m so sorry -”

“it’s okay,” you interrupt with a squeeze of your beloved's hand, trying to reassure you both that your words weren’t a lie. you smile despite the snapping of your heart strings. the universe was hell bent on keeping you apart, wasn’t it? “i was just headed out,” the words felt strained coming from your throat but you knew right now you were only interrupting and needed to let diluc get back to his work. 

as you let go of dilucs hand, your eyes return to looking up at him and you see emotions that seem to mirror yours, like in the deep ruby shade of his eyes you can make out how much it hurt him to hear you say you were leaving even though you would not be far. the push and pull of the many duties he carries on his shoulders and how painful it was when you pushed yourself away so he could focus on another, though he understood why.

“i’ll come find you.” a promise that you wouldn’t be apart for long but archons it was utter misery to have you be away from him for even a moment and watching you walk away and disappear from his view before he was ready had only made it worse, had only made his chest ache.

he wonders if you are holding back the tears you had, and hadn’t, shared with him last night as you push the front doors of the manor open, trying to keep your head up when he could see the heaviness of your heart like a blanket weighing down on you. it wasn’t until he couldn’t see you anymore that he returned to behind his desk, forcing his feet to move in the opposite direction of you when they screamed to follow, and did all the work he could before he could not hold off being with you for a moment longer.

the melody of your voice coming from the open window, distant but close enough that all it would take is a minute to get to you. his hand twitching at the remembrance of holding you for such a brief time hours prior. the picture of you from this morning, in that dress, smiling and blushing at him, flashing behind his eyes with every blink. your sweet scent lingering on his clothes. the love and devotion he holds for you, the distance and tears that had torn you both apart, the need to be close to his very heart and never ever let you go- it all stopped diluc so suddenly and he knew he was at his limit.

he needed you. more than air and water, more than his strength and the fire that had always been within him. more than anything else in this world and celestia he needed you. 

his footsteps are determined, not stopping for even a moment and only slowing when he nears the front doors, seeing adelinde among the few others in the fourier having finished the worst of the workload already.

“adelinde that will be enough for today. please excuse the staff for the rest of the day.”

“yes master diluc,” she doesn’t question it and is quick to let the others that hadn’t already overheard know, looking forward to any early day they rarely got.

the afternoon sun paints the fields in a lovely yellow, bringing out the shine of plump purple grapes and the brightness of the lush green leaves. among it all he easily found you and feels his heart surge at the sunlight illuminating the exposed skin of your chest and legs even at this distance. 

you hadn’t asked for the dress you adorned today, hadn’t even seen it before unwrapping the gift box he gave it to you in. it wasn’t extravagant but simple, comfortable, and of a shade that had always reminded him of you. it was years ago now but he remembers from the moment he saw it he knew how beautiful you would look in it and he was right. every time you wore it he had thought so and today that felt especially rue.

you caught a glimpse of bright red in your side view, the bounce of crimson locks and the darkness of his black coat in contrast to the vibrant day, before he made it to you but just the slightest sight of him had you paying not another thought to what you had been doing mere moments ago. the butterflies in your stomach began to flutter about wildly, the invisible tether of your love, that tied your hearts as one, going taut and bringing you to his side quickly, having you reaching for him as soon as you could.

“diluc~.”

“my love.”

he was just as eager to feel you, pulling you close to him with a large hand on your lower back as soon as you were within arms reach, the fingers of his other curling to caress your face tenderly. you melt against him, leaning into his touch, lashes fluttering closed, your hands holding onto his jacket tight. 

yes all he had needed was you. and in your hold, he felt how much you needed him too.

“spend the rest of the day with me?” he asks, voice little more than a whisper as he leans in to place a kiss to your cheek. the warmth it left on your skin was like the nourishment you had needed so desperately and you love how it lingers when he moves to kiss your lips, delicate and reassuring. 

“really? what about-” 

“please.”

“i- i would love that, so much.” 

your lips meet again, long and gentle, and you smile into his replying kiss, feeling that heavy weight of worry and anxiety melt away under his affections, the way he held you and kissed you softly with no intention of letting you go.

he had missed your smile against his lips, had needed it more than he thought possible and relishes in the way it lingers on his lips. it makes him feel lighter, as you always had, but in comparison his next words are serious, dripping with conviction and truth, telling you he needed you to hear his words and never forget them. 

“i am unable to envision a universe in which we are not together,” he pulls you closer so you’re now chest to chest, forehead to forehead, sharing every breath, every heartbeat. 

your chest tightens at the remembrance of last night. the thoughts that overtook your every worry, dug into every wound deeper and deeper until you weeped and dreamt of the terrible outcome of everything keeping you from him. a life full of still and dark numbness because truly how could the world keep spinning and moving so easily when you were without diluc.

“i cannot be without you,” he says, stopping your every thought, your every worry, kissing you again and again, whispering when he comes up for air, continuing to steal your breath. “not now. not ever.”

* * *

your feet hadn’t touched the ground since diluc lifted you into his arms bridal style, carrying you past the workers leaving for the day who didn’t disturb the soft gazes and wordless affections you shared as you disappeared past the front doors and into the now quiet manor. the heaviness of dilucs boots and the sounds of your lips now on his were the only sounds to be heard until the door to the master bedroom was flung open and you gasp at the intensity of which diluc presses you between his broad chest and the wall with a groan that made your core ignite.

the familiar wall cools your burning skin but it wouldn’t be too long now before the entire room was as warm as you and diluc were when entangled in each other. before the back of your head can be pressed against it too, with you so eager and pliant to accept everything he gives you and him so very desperate to not hold back, a large hand cradles the back of your head and keeps it from ever touching the wall as diluc kisses you deep, so full of love and desire. you can feel it with every movement of his lips on top of yours, the way his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and into your mouth, his fingers sinking into your hair, pulling you into him.

you can feel every heaving breath he takes, the weight of it on your body and the heat of it on your face. mixed with his normal scent of oak and wine it had you lightheaded, your thighs squeezing around his thin waist, your hands clinging onto his shoulders for more purchase even though he could easily hold your entire weight on his own and loved to do so. having you depend on him in any way always made his chest swell and right now, while he held you there grinding his hard clothed cock against the dampness of your panties, the fingers of his hand not in your hair squeezing the plush of your thigh, the flames of his heart threatening to devour every inch of you both, was no exception. 

how long had it been since he had touched you more than in passing or late into the night? since he could remind you in this way that you are everything to him? you had been a constant on his mind even if physically he was far away. every moment without you was spent yearning, worrying, aching and now that he had you in his arms once more, nothing to interrupt you, and the universe be damned, he would not be ever letting you go again.

he groans your name against your lips at the feeling of your fingers sinking into his hair and tugging on his roots when he grinds against you particularly hard, in perfect time with you chasing after him. “i need you so badly.” his kiss is consuming, nearly teeth clashing and absolutely breath stealing and with every thrusts of his hips, he swallows your sultry moans. 

he untangles his hand from your hair and grabs your other thigh, lifting you further up on his waist and easily carries you to the bed, each step confident and steady even with you distracting him, cupping his face in your palms, not wanting your lips to be apart from his for a even moment and he's sure to stay close as he crawls onto the bed. like you were the most precious of glass, he lays you in silky sheets and pillows slowly with your legs straddling his, your hands still holding onto his face, his strong arms keeping him from crushing you completely with his full weight.

you don’t realize you’ve started to cry until you taste the tears on your lips, warm and salty against the sweet taste of each other. diluc attempts to pull away, not far, but enough to check that you're okay and wipe your tears but you don’t falter in your hold on him and he cannot resist your gentle urgency. you can only deepen your kiss, tasting his tongue and lifting your hips to feel his cock that was making his pants incredibly tight.

neither of you know how long you stay like that, unable to part but when you finally pull away for air you desperately need, you’re panting and trying to tell him how much you need him too but it’s so hard to put into words right now. all you can get out is his name while you try to wipe your tears that just won't stop no matter how much you try to will them to.

“i’m here,” he assures you, bringing up one hand to wipe your wet cheeks with his thumb, watching your tears collecting on the dark of his gloves, feeling his own eyes burning. “i’m yours.”

“i’m yours,” you repeat in earnest, even if your voice is weak from your uncontrollable tears. your grip on him grows tighter as you pull him into a kiss, salty wet and desperate for him to know just how true your words were. “i’m sorry ‘luc. i’m so sorry..”

sorry we’re in this mess, that i can’t stop crying. sorry that i worried we might not make it through this, even if only for a night.  

he hushes you with a gentle caress of burning fingers along your face and through your hair, the press of steady lips against your cheek. “there’s no reason to be sorry, my dear. everything is  going to be alright, we will be alright.”

you nod your head, his words wrapping around your spine and seeping throughout your body, every ounce of you thrumming with the belief and the love you found in his words. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” he doesn’t miss a beat in his confession to you. he nuzzles into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent and the feeling of you underneath him, letting himself sink further into the mattress with nearly his whole weight enveloping you but it was more comforting than crushing and it had been exactly what you both needed. “more than i can put into words.”

your body was bursting with all kinds of heat, that from your beloved that he so naturally emitted and the burning, blazing flame within your heart that was a twin to his own. fueled by your love, by your devotion. and there was no denying the heat pooling between your legs either, the way your panties already felt so wet and the press of dilucs impressive erection against your inner thigh was not making it any better.

he felt it all too, wanting to let its fire consume him, bright and burning hot with his feelings for you, how he would do anything for you, how badly he needed you in any and every way. a familiar heat that he had felt for you since you stole his heart but even when he thought it impossible, it had only grown since that day and his inability to live without you grew with it.

his lips meet the skin on your neck, soft kisses placed along the length of your neck to below your ear and back down again, making your skin burst out in goosebumps. “can i have you?” he asks when his lips return to where they started.

“please.” you say with eagerness, your hands tugging at any part of his clothes that they can hold onto. 

every move diluc makes is delicate, intentional, showing you the truth and intensity of his love. first, he removes his gloves, needing to feel all of you against his skin. vivid, hungry, scarlet eyes never leave your figure as he pulls off the leather from each hand and tosses them onto the nightstand, feeling you shudder under his touch when one hand grabs your thigh, spreading your legs further apart and the other ghosts over your collarbone, skilled fingers dipping below the strap of your dress, moving along the hem that plunges to your breasts.

“you are so soft,” he murmurs as if he hadn’t known he said it outloud, as if it had been the first time he had ever felt your skin in a way only he should touch you. the pads of fingers ghost along the tops of your breasts, barely moving below your dress to feel all of you but still hardening your nipples under the fabric. 

your chest is heaving, like his touch was burning into your skin for you to remember for all time, your heart hammering in your chest every passing moment, every touch diluc gives you. your back arches to allow space for his hand snaking around your waist to your back and in his endless strength, he lifts your figure, your arms wrapping around his neck for stability. his movements are swift as pulls up the fabric of your dress, your arms leaving his embrace so he can take it off you completely.

in your needy movements you try to reach back with one arm to undo your bra but a strong grasp holds onto your wrist before you can unclasp the prongs. you feel it more than see it, the shake of his head in protest.

“let me take care of everything,” he says, deep and rumbling against your body, his breath fanning against your neck where his lips have once again found their home. 

diluc guides your hand to his chest and you grip onto the fabric on his coat, wishing he was just as bare as you, especially when he unclasps all the hooks of your bra in one motion, pulling the fabric from between you and discarding it by your dress.

with a last kiss and a small lick of his tongue against your skin, his hand still splayed on your back, he guides you back down into the plush mattress, staying on his knees between your spread legs. now only a thin pair of lace panties keeps him from seeing all of you and he takes his time revealing you to him, unwrapping you like the gift you were and making you tremble with his hands and lips.

he kisses you, strong hands squeezing your waist when you moan into his lips and you might have cried in protest when he breaks away but they don’t leave you long, finding your collar bone and moving across your chest, down your arm, each finger, every knuckle and back up again only to move to the other arm, not a bit of you going unloved.

you shudder as his lips cascade down your middle, leaving a humming warmth in their wake all the way to the edge of your panties and back up to your breasts. he kisses the underside of one while grabbing the other with a gentle squeeze that has you mewling, arching for more. his breath fans against your sensitive skin, hot and heavy with parting of his lips as he envelopes your hardened nipple and presses into you, letting you feel how hard he is with a roll of his hips against yours.

every sweet suckle and lick of his tongue, attention that he gave to both of your breasts, had the pooling wetness between your legs soaking through your panties and your hips bucking to feel more of him. when diluc finally does part from your chest, he sits back on his knees, his tall frame towering over you and archons you swore you could cum just from the sight of him like this.

his muscles flex as he gets himself out of his coat and vest, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, throat bobbing, his cock painfully hard and thick in his pants, a familiar stickiness already smearing along where it rests in his boxers but it’s the last thing on his mind. there's a deep flush to his cheeks, his eyes rich with longing and love and behind it there's no hiding a lick of flames that are that of a man starved and so beyond desperate for his other half.

you’re not even sure you’re breathing watching him tug off his tie with one hand, your gazes never breaking, his other hand traveling down your leg to behind your knee and lifting it to his chest. long dark lashes flutter closed as he nuzzles his nose near your ankle before placing a kiss there and another and another, your legs already getting a light shake to them.

“you are so beautiful my love,” he whispers against your skin, his hand on your leg squeezing your flesh. another kiss, chaste and sweet and full of devotion, it’s heat lingering on your ankle even after he’s pulling away and tugging at the hem of your panties, lifting them up your legs.  “i could never be without you.”

“‘luc..” you feel the tears pricking at your eyes again, hear the way your voice is wrought with emotions you’ve held back, tried to deny, pent up when you couldn’t be near him like you need to. “please, i need you.”

he knew all the ways you meant it, for he felt it too and knew what lay within the heart that he swore to protect and cherish. the very one he had been apart from in so many ways for far too long and that lay in front of him now, completely his to take again and again even if he didn’t think he deserved such a wonderful thing.

with your leg easing over his shoulder, his hair tickling the inside of your thigh, he spreads your legs further apart to allow space for his broad shoulders and doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath after seeing him between your legs looking like heaven before his tongue, hot and flat against you, licks your dripping pussy with a deep moan that rumbles the bed under his chest.

the taste of you melting on his tongue makes him drunk so quickly. in a way wine and alcohol couldn’t attempt to rival and even more potent with intoxication. your reactions to his lapping tongue only add to that state of euphoria, diluc always finding that your pleasure was his own.

any other night this could have been enough to ease the overwhelming need he felt for you. sucking your clit between his lips, hearing soft and hazy curses drifting down to his ears, your fingers tugging at his hair with every intense shake of your legs that he kept pried open with strong arms when they threatened to close around his head. not that he would ever mind suffocating in between your thighs but this gave him the perfect angle to taste you and thrust his tongue in and out of your tight hole and tonight, he isn’t sure he’ll ever get enough.

every breath you took was deep but it was never going to be enough against the man you love utterly devouring your pussy, spreading your legs wider and diving his tongue deeper into you, his nose pressed against your clit until you worried he wasn’t even breathing.

your orgasm came before you could even try to hold off for a little longer, bursting on his tongue and eagerly drank down. your body writhes in his persistent hold, your hand buried in the mane of his hair pulling him closer and farther away, his name a melody of pleasure and need for more on your lips. 

diluc doesn’t pull away, the languid movements of his tongue turning soft and soothing, letting you ride out every last bit of release without over stimulating you too much, allowing him to capture every bit of your essence on his tongue and feel your small shake when he rolls his tongue over your clit, too much and somehow not enough on your electrified body.

at the release of one of your legs, your warm skin rests over his shoulder again and he sighs against your clit at the contact.

“ah..!” you can’t help the jolt of your body at the feeling of skilled and calloused fingers parting your folds, the mixer of you both wetting them perfectly enough to slip one into you with ease, knuckle deep and curling right into the perfect spot. “diluc!”

he keeps a steady rock to his finger, lewd wet noises following every pump and lick on your clit that he gave with so much fervor, rebuilding that knot behind your tummy in seconds and when he added another thick finger, there was no holding back how quickly he could have you creaming and clenching around his digits.

you cry out, sweet and shaking and feeling like you might die if you didn’t feel him inside of you, if you couldn’t look at his handsome face and show him in this way just how much you loved him, how much you missed him, too. and before you can even fully come down from your high, with diluc still kissing your pretty pussy, you’re begging for him.

“love - please.” 

he pulls away from your cunt with lidded scarlet eyes, your juices sparkling against his chin and nose as he sits back on his knees. it leaves you so incredibly empty when his fingers follow but your wanton whimper was due to the way he licks his fingers clean, long soaking digits slipping past his pink lips with a groan, dark lashes fluttering closed at the taste of you.

tugging at his shirt, you plead again but you never have to with him. all you ever had to do was ask and anything he could give you would be yours. “need these clothes off you. need to feel you against me.”

any worries, any self doubts, of what your touches could perhaps do to the other, hurt you again, not be attuned like you once were, melt away in the heat of every touch you give one another with no hesitation and no question on where your heart would be from here on out.

your fingers overlap as you help each other with every button of his shirt, the buckle of his belt and ties of his pants. your hands roam his body with each article of clothing he takes off and throws to the side, mapping out the scars you know every place of and a new scratch you had never felt before on his right pectoral.

it made your heart ache that he got hurt and hadn’t told you, that you hadn’t had the chance to care for it yourself but knowing him, you’re sure he hardly called this ‘getting hurt’. it wasn’t deep, likely nothing more than the tip of a blade nicking him that was nearly healed but you can’t stand the thought of any harm coming to him. let alone during a time where you were so apart. 

using one hand to prop himself up, diluc slides out of his pants and boxers, cock resting against the thin red trail of hair adorning his lower abdomen, his tip sticky against his skin. with him hovering above you, your lips replace where your fingers touched over his injured skin, gingerly kissing him, pouring your love over every heartbreaking inch of his injury.

as if he had sensed the worry swirling in your heart, he lifts your gaze back to his with a gentle pull under your chin that you easily followed but he didn’t speak any words and instead he calmed you with a loving kiss to your lips that told you it was okay. he was okay, here with you now and forever.

he follows your lips as you lay back down, now resting on his forearm to be closer to you, chest to chest, the heat of his fingers like butterfly wings down your stomach to line his cock with your aching sex, sliding his tip between your wet folds until he could feel the mix of saliva and slick on his fingers.

the thickness of his cock head was a lovely mix of pleasure and burning stretch that had you clinging to him when he was barely inside you but he could have cum from the small, squelching thrusts into your perfect pussy alone. deeper and deeper with every few roll of his hips, he groans your name between his kisses that steal every bit of your sanity and diluc feels his own slipping with it. 

“fuck angel,” a rare curse falls from his lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you, so tight around him, and stilling his hips to allow you to adjust to his size. his forehead finds yours, crimson hair now completely free from its ribbon falling on the sides of your face and wafts the scent of his shampoo into the air. “you are so perfect.”

shaking your head with a breathy chuckle, you cradle his face with both your hands and instantly he melts into your touch, feeling the small rock of your hips letting him know you were ready for more. he doesn’t part from this closeness, each heated breath shared with the thrusts of his hips that start slow and deep.

you try to force them away but you can’t help the tears that well in your eyes being so full of him, being close to him again, the love you share so evident you were overwhelmed in the best of ways. but you still wanted more, wanted to be overtaken and drowning in it until it was all you knew because for so long, longer than you thought you could endure, you were without and right now, as you held him with as much need as he held you, you hardly knew how you survived up until this moment.

more of him wasn’t something you had asked for. he was yours for the taking in heart, body and soul and in every delicious roll of his lips, in and out of your sweet tightness, each one with more fever than the last, you were lost in the scent of sweet wine and smoke, the burning flames of your beloved that cradled you and protected you and the undeniable love that was sewn between you in an unbreakable bond.

diluc brings you ever closer, a large hand sliding underneath your head to cradle the back of your skull and kiss you. your lips meet, full of so much love and longing and muffled murmurs of pleasure. you feel his hair tickle your face with the pace he set, his chest following to get closer, pressing right against yours and loving the way your breasts bounce against him each time he bottoms out, hitting the perfect spot in your gummy walls. he was pressed so close you wondered if it was his own heart beat you were feeling or your own, not knowing where his body ended and yours began.

he was so deep inside you with every snap of his hips, so close in every way possible, and when you felt him picking up the pace of his thrusts, using the arm not holding the back of your head to grab onto your thigh, strong fingers sinking into your flesh with gentle power and bringing your leg to rest at the side of your chest, you couldn’t help but whimper against his kiss swollen lips.

“oh gods… ‘luc!”

your back bows off the bed, at least the best it can with diluc pressed against you but you were unable to control the way your body reacted to how well he split you open on his cock, his leaking tip always hitting your g spot, perfectly fitting inside you like you were made for each other.  

but it's the way he says your name, dripping with liquid fire and the stars he would pull from the dark night to show you how much you meant to him, that sent you over the edge of euphoria and when dilucs ruby eyes flutter open to see your crystalline tears that sparkled with the light of your love, love he had always been sure he didn’t deserve but couldn’t live without all the same, his own release followed, heavy and throbbing in the tightness of you.

he stays inside of you, feeling his cum leaking from your hole and down towards your bum but thoughtfully he moves your leg to a more comfortable position at his hips and lifts a bit of his weight off of you to allow you to take deep breaths, his arm flexing as he moves but not being able to be far, both because he couldn’t bring himself to, not yet, and because your hold on him remained snug with your arms around his neck.

all you could do was hold onto him, never wanting to leave this moment, and confess your love over and over, every one returned in kind with a burning passion.

“we will always be okay darling,” he whispers, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before placing a sweet, long, kiss to your lips. “i swear it.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->