#I’m replying to these asks slowly I’m sorry

[hoonstrology]

error 404 sunghoon missing a date with reader and him trying to do everything to apologize for it but he's so bad with his words he just makes it worse lol

＃ apologies for the delay .ᐟ

   ⤷  ꒰ an e404-boyfriend!sunghoon drabble. ꒱

⤷  can be read as a stand-alone. ┆ for context, read e404 here! ⤷  contains — 1.7k+ words. softbf!hoon, est. relationship. angst, fighting, mentions of cheating, comfort and fluff at the end. lame attempts at humor. seyoon as sunghoon's sister. not proofread. ⤷ main masterlist.  ┆ series masterlist.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs and replies are highly appreciated! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

the waiter looked at you— at first, with curiosity. like he wasn’t used to people coming in unaccompanied. then, after having to order twice and still be in your lonesome, the look morphed into one of sympathy. an expression you’re sure he’s made a thousand times whenever patrons get ditched by their dates.

if this were any other man, you’d have gone home already. but he’s rarely ever late and he never let you down. so the first half of the hour was spent patiently sitting down and digging through your plate of salad.

somewhere near the full hour mark, your confusion turned into mild irritation.

to: pengoo. 🐧 — hey, it’s been an hour. can you please let me know if you’re still coming? i feel a little shy here. :( 

you’ve sent him a couple of texts intermittently, all of them having been unreplied. 

you put your phone away with a sigh, trying your hardest to look unbothered while internally burning at the looks you’ve been getting from some of the customers. 

just as your third meal was set down, the doorbell's chimes rung and you caught the waiter’s look of relief. your boyfriend came walking through the door with a bouquet of what looked liked beaten tulips, prompting the server to leave you two alone.

he jogged to your table and set the flowers down with a smile. a fucking smile. you looked at him, face void of any amusement before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“thank god i made it.” he sighed in relief, wiping the sweat off his forehead before taking your glass and bringing it to his lips. rather than picking up your cues, he picked up the menu.

no explanation, no apologies. just a useless review about how nice the appetizer choices are.

“park sunghoon.”

you rarely ever used his full name– only when he’s really pushed your buttons. you’ve found it to be an effective way of reprimanding him without using much words. true to its efficacy, he stilled in his seat before looking at you, the brown cover of the booklet covering half his face.

"yes?" he asked, slowly putting the menu down.

“you’re late. more than an hour late.”

he shifted in his seat, all of a sudden finding the plain white table cloth interesting while his fingers poked on the stems of the wilting flowers atop the table.

you didn't shout. you didn't need to. the steady gaze you had on him was enough to make him feel hotter, urging him to slip off the leather jacket he had on.

“i’m sorry. really. i’m sorry, angel.” he whimpered, head hung low. when his eyes tried to take a peek, you’re still looking at him deadpan. perhaps even more irritated than when he came in.

sunghoon just frowned and reached for your free hand which you gladly let him do, but you didn’t hold it back.

he picked up on what that meant. 

“enough apologies. explain yourself.” you demanded. 

he sat up properly and flashed you those damn puppy eyes but you’re far too annoyed to even entertain his attempt at making you swoon. no matter how cute he looked. 

“i swear i didn’t mean to be late! i finished prepping about two hours early, and i was already going to head out but this girl—” 

he was wearing the shirt you got him last week. and he wasn’t wearing his glasses today either which was a change you always welcomed. on his neck, a thin silver chain that he got to match the bracelet on your wrist.

as your eyes went further down to inspect your boyfriend, it caught a stain. you don’t even hear the rest of his words. your eyes just continued to zone in on the right sleeve of his shirt.

a light, almost unnoticable beige stain with what looked like smeared red ink towards the hem. except you’re not stupid. 

that’s not ink. that’s makeup. 

“why do you have lipstick on your shirt?”

“oh fuck, she must have left some on me—”

she?

“excuse me?” you whispered, brows furrowing together in disbelief. 

you waited for a look of guilt, of surprise, of anything from him. but he just shrugged his shoulders like having a girl close enough to leave makeup smudge on his shirt was normal.

“yeah, she was crying and begging me to stay but i told her i had a date with you, but don’t worry, i’ll just meet her after thi—” 

yeah, no.

you shook his hand off of yours and grabbed your purse, knuckles tightening around it as you walked past your confused boyfriend.

he stood up to follow but the server who sensed the tense atmosphere from a distance came just in time to lay the bill on the table which allowed you to create some distance from your scumbag of a boyfriend. 

the tears don’t come. not yet. you just feel numb. this wasn’t something you’ve experienced. all your past relationships ended in ghosting or in mutual decision that growth was more important than love, never cheating.

you don’t want to assume the worst in your boyfriend. he wouldn’t do that. surely, he wouldn’t. not your sunghoon. 

you heard his footsteps before his voice. “babe?”

you turned around to look at him holding the bouquet and looking panicked, carrying the demeanor similar to that of a kicked puppy. it’s so hard to be mad at him when he’s being like this— so you turn your back again.

your footsteps carried you away, the previously confident strides turning into upset stomps as you felt the quiet rage bubble up into something bigger, something more ugly.

“b-baby? where are you going?” 

“away from you.” 

“wh– huh? what did i do?” he asked with the same genuine confusion in his voice, trailing behind you while keeping a safe foot of distance in between.

he stops walking when you do, and you turn around, chin tipped slightly upwards to meet his face.

“you show up late for our date with lipstick stains on your god damn clothes and expect me not to walk out?” you sneered, angrily pressing on the smudges on his shirt to prove your point.

his eyes briefly glanced at the stain, and they widened. “oh– baby, no i swear it’s not what it looks like–”

you laughed, but it’s not the bright one that sunghoon loved hearing. it’s forced. it’s sarcasm mixed with hurt and betrayal. “and to say to my face that you’re planning to meet her afterwards too? the balls you have, sunghoon.”

“angel, i swear! she’s.. like.. my sister.” he whispered in between pauses and you cut him off with an exasperated show of your palm.

“i don’t give a flying fuck if she’s like a sister to you!” your voice finally rose to match your rising temper.

“no i didn’t mean it like that, i mean she's—”

“then what did you mean? because every evidence is pointing to the fact that you’ve broken my trust. willingly so.”

he looked at you with conflict behind his brown eyes, and did it again. he reached up to scratch his throat. the words that left your lips stabbed him like icicles: cold, sharp, and painful. 

“spit it out.” 

he walked forward, holding your hand and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, just soft breaths and inaudible mumbles. what if he can’t explain it properly? what if he makes the situation worse than it already is? 

so he knelt on the pavement and kept his eyes glued on it, which took you by surprise. while you did want him to apologize, you didn't want to bruise his pride like that.

"sunghoon, get up right now." you muttered, trying to pull him up by your connected hands.

"no."

"get up right now or so help me—"

“it was seyoon, okay?” he starts, a hollow spot appearing on one side of his face as he bit on the tender skin of his inner cheek.  

his sister?

“i got held up because she visited and cried about her cheating boyfriend and i wanted to be a good brother but she was telling me not to go but i really didn't want to be late." he explains.

"i hugged her but maybe some of her makeup got on my arm— y/n. angel. i swear i wouldn’t ever do something as disgusting as that to you and i'm so sorry for being late but she just wouldn't listen, i swear i tried my best—"

now you just felt like an asshole.

"you should have just mentioned her name before anything else, you idiot." you grumbled, letting go of his hand to go on one knee, cupping his cheek to tilt his head towards you.

the dejected look he wore made you feel like you've guaranteed yourself a spot in hell.

"i know, angel. i'm sorry for not explaining it better." he whispered again, wrapping his arms around you. you took that opportunity to make him stand up, giving his butt a loving pat.

"i'm so sorry too, my love. i should have listened to you."

when sunghoon refused to break the hug, you leaned back with raised eyebrows. he gave you a smile but you can tell he still had a lot in his mind by the way he's rocking on his heels and squeezing on your waist.

"what is it, love?"

"just.. please don't shout at me like that again, angel. it really scared me." he confesses with a pleading voice so soft that it made you want to hurt yourself. how dare you think so little of your boyfriend who was just trying to be a responsible brother?

you coo and cup his cheeks, placing an apologetic kiss on his lips. "i'm sorry. no more shouting at my hoonie." you hum, peppering kisses all over his face which was enough to pull a giggle out of him.

"so are we going back to the restaurant?"

"are you kidding me?" you scoffed. "we're heading to the grocery store. ice cream, salty chips, whatever seyoon likes. i'll have a girl-on-girl with her, and you're going to hunt the bastard who broke her heart."

sunghoon broke the hug and gave you a two finger salute, nodding. "yes, ma'am."

꒰ from ! 🐰 yan ꒱⠀⠀ i.... hope this was enough. i can't tell if anon wanted this to be an angst-centric drabble or humor-centric so i tried doing a little bit of both. if i failed..... don't let me know. < / 3 i want to expand my masterlist so send more requests for other members juseyo ! ♡

⌗ taglist (open) — @zerocoded

© hoonstrology 2025. please don't translate, plagiarize, steal, or repost any of my works.

[bittybeanscafe]

Oh, They’re So Weird (☉-⚆)

“You recently got laid off of your job. Thankfully, you found an ad on Craigslist that paid quite a bit for you to just housesit! 🍩”

DAY TWO

Previous Day -> Next Day

Contains: Curt and Rod, The Hanks, Farya, Miranda, Kopi, Chairemi, and Mac

🍰 Café Menu 🍰

The sun hit your face like a judgmental slap.

You groaned, turning over with a squint. The curtains were wide open, sunlight pouring into the room like it had something to prove. You definitely remembered closing them last night. In fact, you even did a double take before bed.

Now? Fully open. Like someone had reached in and yanked them apart with dramatic flair.

You sat up slowly. “Okay. That’s weird.”

Above you, the curtain rod gave the softest metallic creak, like it had just finished laughing.

“Finally,” Rod sighed. “I thought we’d have to dump water on them.”

“Oh please,” Curt replied. “They needed the sun. Their under-eye bags had under-eye bags.”

“I’m window dressing, not a miracle worker.”

You ignored the growing suspicion that the curtains were developing a personality and stumbled to your bag to unpack a few things. The wardrobe opened with a cozy creak, revealing several rows of neat wooden hangers.

You grabbed one without looking, and… CRACK

One slipped from your hand and hit the floor. You knelt to pick it up, and froze.

The hanger had split down the shoulder. Clean break. One side barely hanging on.

You knelt down, frowning. “Damn. Sorry, dude…”

It was just a hanger. You knew that. But it felt like more than that. Maybe it was the weird owner. Maybe it was the quiet stillness of the wardrobe. Maybe it was the look of the other hangers, now swaying ever so gently, like they were watching.

You grabbed the first-aid kit that you moved upstairs to make yourself feel better and carefully bandaged the crack, one small beige bandaid, then some tape. You aligned the pieces with care, not rushing it. When it was done, you held the mended hanger in your hands for a moment, then smiled faintly.

“There,” you whispered. “Not perfect. But you’re still good.”

You hung the hanger gently back on the rod, giving it a little pat like you were saying welcome back.

The wardrobe went still.

But inside that quiet world, just beyond your reach, the Hanks stirred.

Hank 5 shifted closer, pressing his smooth edge gently against Hank 2’s side. “You’re alright, brother. You’re home.”

“Does it hurt?” whispered Hank 1, nudging the edge of the tape.

Hank 2 blinked, the warmth of the bandaid still fresh against his splintered frame. “No… it’s okay. They fixed me. They saw me.”

The other hangers closed in, swaying side to side like a gentle group hug. The rod above them creaked as if lowering its shoulders to cradle them all.

“We’ve got you now,” murmured Hank 3. “No one’s tossing anyone out of this family.”

From the nearby window, Curt and Rod had paused their usual commentary.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Curt said, a bit quieter than usual.

“They fixed Hank 2.”

“And didn’t even call him ‘cheap trash’ like that last sitter.”

“…Maybe this one isn’t the worst.”

Upstairs, tucked in the drawer you just put her in with gauze and love, Farya the first-aid kit felt it ripple through the house like warmth in the walls. She had barely even been touched, and yet, her purpose had been honored. Quiet compassion. Careful hands. Seeing what needed fixing and doing it without being asked.

“They’re one of us,” she thought.

And just like that, the house loved them a little more.

You stretched your arms overhead with a yawn, still thinking about the hanger as you padded downstairs barefoot. The house was quiet except for the soft tick of the kitchen clock and the distant drum of rain dripping from the gutters outside.

You made it to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and stared at the stove.

Too early. Too tired. Too much effort.

You rubbed your eyes. “Yeah, no. Just toast today.”

You popped two slices of bread into the toaster sitting peacefully on the counter, bright red and retro-looking, with shiny silver buttons that gleamed under the morning light. She had a little dial that you didn’t touch, because it already seemed… right somehow. You pressed the lever down and stepped back.

The coffee machine stood in its usual spot: sleek and silent like it had been waiting.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, grinning as you turned it on. “Let’s see what you’ve got today.”

It whirred to life again, warm and purposeful. The scent of fresh coffee filled the kitchen almost immediately: strong, creamy, with that perfect, sweet richness that made you sigh in relief. The kind of smell that made a bad day feel like a fresh start.

Click.

The toast popped up, golden, perfectly warm, exactly the crispiness you liked without being burnt.

But more than that… there was a heart.

Not drawn. Burned in.

A soft, round heart seared gently onto the surface of the toast like it belonged there.

You blinked. Picked up the slice and tilted it in the light.

“…How?”

You hadn’t touched the dial. Hadn’t set anything fancy. But there it was, right in the center.

Unseen to you, Miranda smirked to herself. “What, like I was gonna let them start the day without a little love?”

At the counter, your coffee finished brewing, this time with a leaf pattern etched into the foam. Not the same as yesterday. Different. Thoughtful. Specific.

You held both the toast and mug in your hands and smiled down at them.

“…Thank you,” you said softly, to no one in particular.

But two kitchen hearts beamed in return.

Kopi gave a quiet hum of pride.

Miranda clicked her heating coils once, just to show off.

You munched your toast on the way to the office down the hall, mug warm in your hand, heart still full from the gentlest, strangest morning you’d had in a long time.

Somewhere behind you, the kitchen glowed with quiet pride.

The office was tucked near the back of the house, down a quiet hallway with wood that amplified your footsteps. You hadn’t explored this part yesterday, too busy resetting fuses and bonding with broken hangers.

The door was slightly ajar, like someone had left it open just for you.

You stepped in slowly.

It was small, but cozy. Dark walls. Two windows letting in a soft wash of morning light. A smooth desk that looked like it’d been polished just this morning. A computer sat front and center, silent and gleaming like a well-fed cat.

You lowered yourself into the desk chair and immediately stilled.

“…Huh.”

It was comfortable. Weirdly comfortable. The kind of comfort that knew your posture better than you did. The cushion hugged your hips and back like it had been molded just for you. You sank into it, tension slipping from your shoulders.

You stared at the desk and murmured, “Okay. You’re definitely all haunted.”

The chair made a soft creak beneath you, like a it was laughing.

You wiggled the mouse and the screen lit up, a soft digital glow humming to life. Then, a message:

Software update available.

You groaned. “What the hell. Fine.”

You clicked “Update,” expecting the usual sluggish chaos: endless restarts, spinning wheels, a half-hour of waiting and maybe a crash or two for good measure.

But instead?

The screen flickered for a few seconds. A smooth, quiet restart. Then… done.

Just like that.

No errors. No lag. No crashes. It even booted up faster.

You blinked at the screen. A familiar document was already open.

Your project.

The one you’d been meaning to work on, the one that sat half-finished in your inbox for weeks, collecting dust.

Only… it wasn’t half-finished anymore.

It was done. Edited. Organized. Perfect.

You scrolled in stunned silence. Every file in place. Every sentence cleaned up. Graphs, images, titles, transitions, all lined up neatly like someone had reached into your brain and said “Let me take care of that for you.”

You leaned back slowly, heart thudding.

“…I didn’t… do this.”

Somewhere beneath your fingertips, Mac buzzed softly with pride.

They didn’t need thanks. They just liked being helpful.

“Took someone long enough to update me,” they thought with a soft, content pulse. *“I’ve been waiting for this since forever!”

The chair shifted gently beneath you, a quiet little bounce of support. The desk stayed solid and warm against your arms. You felt… safe. Cared for.

And just a little unnerved.

But you smiled anyway.

“…Thanks, I guess,” you whispered.

The screen glowed just a little brighter in response.

The rest of the day passed in a gentle blur.

You explored more of the house, moving through halls that seemed to stretch and contract depending on how curious you felt. Every door you opened led to something charming: a weight room that somehow felt more like a gym then any gym you’ve ever been to, and snacks, fresh, plated, waiting, left on counters and tables like someone knew exactly when you'd feel hungry.

You didn’t question it too much.

You didn’t want to ruin it.

The couch in the living room was your next conquest, a giant piece that hugged your whole body like a weighted blanket and a therapist all in one. You swore you’d just close your eyes for a second. When you opened them again, two hours had passed, and you’d drooled on the pillow. Just a little.

You muttered a soft “sorry” into the couch cushion, and the cushion somehow fluffed itself back into shape.

It was the most cared-for you’d felt in weeks.

But now, the sky outside the windows had turned dusky purple, the rain long gone and replaced by stars peeking through the clouds. The house had grown quiet again, not empty, just… restful. Like it was winding down with you.

You climbed the stairs slowly, passing the quiet kitchen, the humming hallway, the soft creak of the office door gently swinging shut on its own.

The bedroom was just as you’d left it, only the bed looked a little more inviting now. The blanket folded down slightly. The pillow plumped. It was like it missed you.

You smiled to yourself, crawling in and tugging the covers up.

“…Goodnight, everyone,” you said softly to the room. “Thanks for today.”

No one answered. But the air around you felt warm. Safe.

Curt and Rod shifted in their mounts above the window, just enough to adjust the curtain for the moonlight.

The Hanks rested quietly in their wardrobe, Hank 2 wrapped gently between his brothers.

And downstairs, the heart of the house sighed in unison.

You didn’t see the smile forming in the lightbulb above you.

Or the content twitch in the toaster’s dial.

Or the faint glow in the bandaid on Hank 2’s side.

But they saw you.

And in their quiet, unseen world, they whispered back:

“Goodnight.”

And you slept soundly once more.

Tags: @nightlark100 @stinkyboyfaliure

(If you’d like to be tagged for this series, comment, send an ask, or pm me!)

[itsnesss]

Hello ! Could i ask for something like the trust me one you did with Max but with kimi and the picture he took with his classmate that everybody was talking about he thank you

𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | you saw the photo and felt replaced. kimi noticed, reassured you, and reminded you that he chooses you, always

warnings | gf!reader, angst, fluff, insecurity, emotional hurt, jealousy, social media drama

word count | 0.9 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

You were lying in bed, your phone in your hands, and not in the mood for anything. The day had been long, but what really had you upset wasn’t the exhaustion. It was that photo. That photo.

You had already seen it like five times, even though you tried to ignore it. On TikTok, on Twitter, on Instagram… everyone was talking about it.

Kimi smiling, with that girl wrapped around his waist, and his arm casually resting on her back.

“Just a friend,” you thought at first. “It’s nothing.” But then you saw she had liked comments like ‘what a cute couple’ or ‘they look better than Kimi and his girlfriend’.

And that wasn’t so innocent anymore.

“People just want to start drama,” you muttered softly, setting your phone aside.

You knew you couldn’t get mad at every little thing, that he cared about you. But you were human, too. And when everyone kept talking about how good they looked together, how well they matched… it hurt. A little. More than you wanted to admit.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice when Kimi walked into the room.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. His Italian accent always sounded sweeter when he spoke gently to you.

You looked at him but said nothing. Just nodded.

He frowned a little, as if he knew you weren’t being honest.

“You saw the photo?” he asked then.

And that’s when you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Yes. I saw it. And I saw the comments. And the likes. And all that stuff that’s supposed to ‘mean nothing.’”

Kimi stayed silent for a few seconds. His eyes searched yours, but you looked away. You didn’t want to seem dramatic, but you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

“I didn’t know she was liking those comments,” he finally said, slowly walking toward you. “I just took a picture. I didn’t think it would turn into a whole thing.”

“Well, it did,” you replied without looking at him. “Everyone’s talking about you two. About how you look together, if you’re ‘something’... like I don’t even exist.”

Kimi sighed. You heard him move around the room, and then you felt the bed shift as he sat down near you.

“I can’t control what people say. But I do know what I feel. And that doesn’t change because of a photo.”

“And what about her?” you asked quietly. “Because it sure looks like she wants people to think there’s something between you two.”

Kimi looked at you more seriously now.

“Do I really need to explain?” His voice was firmer now. “Do you honestly think I’d be with someone else when I have you?”

His words made you swallow hard. Because yes, you knew. But still… it hurt. Not because of him. Because of what that photo represented to everyone else. Because of how it made you feel.

“It’s not just the picture, Kimi,” you finally said. “It’s how it made me feel. Like I was invisible. Like anyone else could take a picture with you and suddenly, the whole world would rather see her with you than me.”

He moved a bit closer, his knee brushing against yours.

“You’re not invisible. You could never be invisible to me. And if that made you feel that way… I’m sorry. Really.”

He looked at you with eyes full of sincerity. And even though your chest still ached, you were starting to believe him. Because it wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it.

“Trust me, okay?” he added softly. “Not because of what I say. Trust how I make you feel when we’re together. That’s real.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You just sat there, facing him, feeling your eyes sting with tears even if you didn’t want them to.

It wasn’t the photo.

It wasn’t her.

It was that stupid fear that shows up when everything’s going too well. That fear of not being enough. That someone else might be more perfect, more right, more like him.

Kimi seemed to sense it, because he leaned in a little more and gently took your hand.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just tell me how you feel. I don’t want you keeping it all in. I want to know, even if it hurts.”

You looked at him, swallowing hard.

“I felt replaceable, Kimi. I felt like... someone else could take my place at any moment. And I don’t know if that’s just me being insecure or if I’m right to feel that way, but… it hurt.”

He squeezed your hand tighter, but not too tight.

“You’re not replaceable,” he said firmly. “Not even a little. And I swear, if I had known that photo would hurt you, I wouldn’t have taken it. I don’t care if she’s a friend, a classmate, whatever. You come first.”

His words made you lower your gaze, but he didn’t let you shut down. With his other hand, he gently lifted your chin so you’d look at him.

“I choose you, okay? Every day. Even if I don’t post a million pictures with you. Even if I don’t say it online. Even if the world doesn’t know... you do. And if you ever doubt that, then I’m failing to show you.”

Your heart flipped in your chest. You stayed quiet, but inside, everything hurt a little less.

“Do you believe me?” he asked, his voice even softer now.

You nodded. Just barely, but you did.

“Then come here,” he said, gently pulling you toward him until you were in his arms.

He hugged you tightly. Not like you were fragile, but like he was afraid to let go. Like he was holding you with all the things he couldn’t say out loud.

“Trust me,” he whispered against your ear. “Only me. Because there’s no one else.”

[iammclovinn]

number neighbors!

summary: you decided to try out the number neighbor trend going around. (fluff & crack-ish) (proofread and lowercase intended) (little bit of an smau)

pairing: alex albon (23) x fem!reader

content warning: reader is american but her race isn’t defined, cursing

parts: part 1 part 2

note: probably needed a hug, goes to the other side of the coin and writes fanfics on tumblr. this one is a little long so enjoy 😊

note 2: wrote the the intro while watching silverstone at 4am and i’m posting this on the 14th… let that sink in

you and your friend find yourselves on your couch once again, talking about the same topic… once again.

“sooo…” your friend pauses the show, turning to you. “his name is alex.” you say, picking up the remote to unpause the tv. your friend is quick to snatch the remote from your hands. “nuh huh. we are talking about alex right now.” she says, emphasizing his name.

you groan, “i mean, what’s there to say? we talked, exchanged insta’s-“ your friend cuts you off, “you have his account?!?! show me him!!” you roll your eyes “he hasn’t accepted my request yet..” your friend ou’s, “so he’s a private man? did you find out if he lives here?” you shrug slightly, “i dunno, i forgot to ask.” your friend groans dramatically, “let me see your guys text?” she says, extending her arm and holding her palm out, waiting for you to place your phone in her hand.

“you’re so annoying,” you say as you reach for your phone on the coffee table, unlocking it and going to imessages before giving her the phone. she says a small sarcastic ‘thank you’ as she begins scrolling up to the beginning of the texts. “imagine he’s like this rich cool guy” your friend says, emerged in your phone.

“err wrong.” you say, snatching your phone back from her hands. your friend huffs, “you suck at flirting by the way, and he left you on read??” you hit your friend in her arm. “literally shut up and unpause the show” your friend kissed her teeth, mumbling an ‘mkay’ as she reachers for the remote, unpausing the tv.

__________________________________

your phone buzzes on your desk, taking your attention away from whatever you were doing.

@/alex23_a accepted your follow request.

@/alex23_a started following you.

@/alex23_a sent you a message.

__________________________________

instagram

5:24 pm - july 2nd

alex : hey

alex : sorry for late reply’s i’ve been busy with work and what not

you : that’s okay! i was just worried you ghosted me lol

alex : who hurt you?

you : shhh 😭😭

alex : sorry if this is weird but i just went through your highlight and you’re beautiful

seen

__________________________________

your friend picks up the phone on 4th ring, “hello? i saw you texted me SOS. is everything okay?”

you take a deep breath before responding, “okaysohefollowedmebackoninstagramandadmittedtogoingthroughmyhighlightsandthenproceededtocallmebeautiful.”

silence

“yeah i’m gonna need you to repeat that but a bit slower, mkay babes?”

you sigh, sitting down as your legs are now tired from pacing around. “he followed me back�� admitted to going through my highlight… and then called me beautiful”

“what’d you say back?!”

silence

“no..” you friend says slowly, realizing that you didn’t say anything back… cause you left him on seen

“oh my god- it’s over, i fumbled.” you say, sinking into the pillows on your bed

“go respond! now!!!” your friend says before hanging up on you, not waiting for a response.

__________________________________

5:30 pm

you : hi sorry for leaving u on seen i was freaking out

you : but thx sm

alex : 😂😂

alex : are you always easily flustered?

you : only when they’re good looking

alex : me?

you : maybe

alex : 👀

alex : so how was your day?

you : pretty boring tbh

you : i’m assuming yours was busy?

alex : yep, was traveling for work

you : ohh what do u do?

alex : woah take me out to dinner first…

you : it’s only funny when i do it 😒

you : will u at least tell me where you traveled to

alex : i’m actaully back in the uk

you : omg we should meet up

alex is typing…

you : if that’s okay with u ofc

seen

__________________________________

“mate, are you okay?” carlos asks an alex that’s pacing back and forth. alex sighs loudly, taking a seat next to the concerned spaniard.

“there’s this girl…”

carlos laughs

“oh cmon, it’s not funny” alex protests

“whats her name?” carlos asks, putting all his attention alex

“um…” alex starts, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact

“bro…”

alex winces, “i know, okay? just- let me show you our texts.” alex says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to carlos.

“you flirt like shit.” carlos states, handing alex his phone back.

“no here- look at our chats on ig.” alex says, handing the phone back into carlos’ hand.

“wh- you left her on seen?!”

alex rubs his hands over his face, “i know!! i’m not sure what to say. i mean- what if she doesn’t like me when she sees who i am?”

“she just liked one of your post.”

“huh?!” alex says, quickly snatching his phone back from carlos.

__________________________________

@/youruser liked your post.

alex23_a

view 3 more photos

liked by youruser, carlo55ainz, logainsar2, and 12 others.

alex23_a i don’t eat fast food but my flicks still popeyes 🥶

view comments

logainsar2 caption was my idea, where’s my credit

alex23_a logainsar2 just let me have my moment

carlo55ainz alex23_a horrible caption, no matter who came up with it

alex23_a carlo55ainz smooth ‘brain’ operator

__________________________________

“oh my god, i’m cooked.” alex says, tossing his phone into carlos’ lap and shoving his face into his hands again.

carlos puts the phone into alexs’ lap saying a quick, “you’re welcome” while getting up, patting his shoulder whilst doing so.

alex eyebrows furrow in confusion, not knowing what carlos did.

__________________________________

5:42 pm

alex : yeah i’d love to

alex : sorry for leaving u on seen, i was freaking out

you are typing…

you : so who’s the flustered one now?

alex : 😒😒

you : where do you want to meet up? and when

alex : silverstone gp? maybe this new cat cafe? it’s called cats and dreams.

you : yeah that sounds nice

alex : and maybe tmrw?

alex : sorry if it’s too soon but i’ll be busy after that

alex : does that work for u?

you : yes! that actually works perfect

__________________________________

“it does NOT work perfect” you tell you friend on the phone, pacing back and forth once again. “well then why’d you agree?” you groan at your friends response.

“oh my goddd, im so cooked.” your friend sighs heavily, “you’ll be fine, okay? you can improve over night if you need to, which you don’t… and plus you guys haven’t even established a time!”

you breath in and out, “okay, you’re right…”

silence

your friend sighs, “do you want me to come over to help pick an outfit?”

you let out a breath of relief

“oh my god, yes please, i thought you’d never ask”

“okay i have to go now, i’m actually employed” you roll your eyes, “i-“

“getting paid to review songs on spotify is not a job, do not start. i’ll call u later?”

“i’ll pick up” you say as you remove the phone from your ear, hanging up the call.

__________________________________

“carlos!” alex shouts as carlos finally pick up the phone

“aye cabron, don’t yell at me”

“this is your fault! she said she wants to meet, TOMORROW.”

“how is this my fault again?” carlos asks, rubbing his temple with his free hand

“you texted her, as me! i- i don’t even talk like that!” alex says, pacing back and forth

“she wants to meet? tomorrow?”

“at- wait hold on.. hold on i’ll call you back in like 5 minutes!” alex says, hanging up the phone to going to your chats.

__________________________________

5:53 pm

you : so what time works best for u?

alex : i was gonna ask the same thing 😭

you hearted a message!

alex : umm maybe 7:30pm?

you : that’s perfect!

you : are you sure you’re okay with this? you can say no if you want cuz ik it might be early

alex : yes

you : ??

alex : yes, i want to meet you

alex : sorry that sounds weird

you : LMFAOO

alex : don’t laugh 😭

you : bless ur heart

alex hearted your message!

__________________________________

“call me one more time and i’ll block you”

“what? i- anyways, she said 7:30.. no i said 7:30 and she agreed” alex says, completely ignoring what carlos said

“congrats hermano, do you want a tie? maybe some dress pants?” carlos teases through the phone

“okay so one, you’re suppose to support me, and two, we’re going to this small cafe so i wouldn’t even need a tie… or dress pants.” alex states matter of factly.

silence

“god i’m so nervous, i- what if she sees me, and just.. i dunno, not like me? i know it’s stu-”

carlos cuts alex off, “it’s not stupid— and she’d be a fool not to like you”

alex sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “do you really think that?”

“mate, you’re like the hot girl of f1”

alex laughs softly at carlos horrible attempt to reassure his nerves, “thanks, carlos. i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“anytime my friend.” carlos says, hanging up the call

__________________________________

“7:30” is all you say once your friend picks up the phone.

“pm i suppose?”

you hum a yes in response

silence

“how are you feeling?” your friend asks, breaking the short silence

“i have no idea what to wear.. i mean, god, what if he sees me and just… doesn’t like me?” you say softly, afraid that if you say it too loud it’ll be true.

“quit that, he’d be a dumbass not to like you— and if he is a dumbass, i have a back up man.”

you laugh, “shut the fuck up, no you don’t”

silence

you laugh louder, “holy shit you do!”

“listen, i’ll come over to your place around 3:30, okay?” your friend suggests

you hum a yes. “thanks for.. everything, really.”

“please, this is the bare minimum-“

you cut your friend off, “maybe, but it means a lot…seriously, thank you.”

your friend sighs, “you’re welcome. remember, 3:30.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you tomorrow.” you say, hanging up the call

__________________________________

part 3 coming soon 🤫

[vylosinbound]

Hey everyone! Just a little message to say I’m really sorry for my recent absence, I took a small break to rest and reset.

To those of you who’ve sent in requests: you haven’t been ignored at all! I’ve seen every single one (I’ve got around 35 in the queue 😭), and I’m already working on them bit by bit.

Thank you so much for your patience, I want to give each request the love and care it deserves, so stay tuned! 💌

Oops, I mean… Partner?

MC gets called something unexpected.

Part two

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, Raphael, Thirteen, Mephistopheles.

Genre: Fluff / humor / slight emotional tension.

The side characters accidentally call MC their spouse and must deal with the aftermath of their slip-up.

DIAVOLO

Diavolo was giving a speech at RAD’s charity gala. The ballroom was full, his smile was charming, and everything was going smoothly... until he gestured toward you. "And a special thanks to my..." he paused, laughing nervously, “my beloved spouse for helping organize this with me.”

The crowd went still. Lucifer visibly choked on his drink. Your own eyes widened. “Wait—!” Diavolo laughed a bit too loud. “That was just, uh, a slip of the tongue! I meant assistant! Advisor! Hahaha!”

Later, he pulled you aside with flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile. “I… uh, I guess I’ve been thinking about you a little too much lately,” he admitted softly, gaze warm. “Do you mind if I don’t take it back?”

BARBATOS

It was during tea in the royal gardens, the silver tray perfectly arranged, the tea steeped just right, as always. “If you’d allow me, I’ll prepare your favorite blend, as I always do for my spouse.”

There was a clink as you nearly dropped your teacup. Barbatos didn’t even blink. “I meant… my honored guest,” he corrected after a beat. But the faintest smile tugged at his lips as he poured. “Unless you prefer the first title.”

When you asked if he was joking, he simply raised a brow. “Do I seem like the type who jokes without meaning?”

SOLOMON

The two of you were in the library researching binding spells. Solomon passed you a dusty tome and said with a smirk:

“Here you go, spouse— ah, sorry, I meant MC.”

You stared at him.

“No, you didn’t,” you said slowly. Solomon laughed, leaning back in his chair with maddening calm. “No, I didn’t. But you have to admit, it has a nice ring to it.”

Cue one full hour of him referring to you as his “spouse” with the most casual tone possible. When you threatened to hex him, he grinned. “Wouldn’t be our first lovers’ quarrel, huh?”

SIMEON

You and Simeon were baking together at Purgatory Hall. You handed him a bowl and he chuckled:

“Thank you, dear spouse—” his eyes widened. “I mean—! I didn’t—!” Simeon looked mortified, cheeks pink and hands halfway to his mouth. He muttered a thousand apologies while fumbling with flour and cinnamon. “I’ve been reading too many romance novels, clearly,” he said bashfully.

But later that evening, as he helped you clean up, he murmured, “Still... I think I’d like that future. If you’d ever want it too.”

RAPHAEL

You were sparring lightly in one of the Celestial Realm’s training courts. Raphael gave you a nod of approval. “Well done, spouse,” he said smoothly, then blinked.

Silence.

You blinked back. “...Spouse?” A beat. Then another. “I misspoke,” he replied, voice flat.

“Oh? That wasn’t some holy vision of the future?”. “Focus on your form,” he said, turning away, but the tips of his ears were definitely red.

THIRTEEN

You were helping her test out a new prank when you tripped and fell right into her arms. She caught you with ease.

“Careful, spouse. Wouldn’t want my one true love dying before the prank’s even done.” “…Thirteen???” She winked. “What? I’ve got to warm you up to the idea somehow.”

You weren’t sure if she was joking or dead serious. (With Thirteen, it was always both.) “I’ll start drawing wedding invitations tomorrow!” she sang. “Black roses and skulls for centerpieces, oh, and you have to wear something spooky.”

MEPHISTO

You were arguing over the layout of the RAD student newspaper, again.

“I told you that headline font was dreadful, who would even read that, spouse—” he froze. Your jaw dropped. Mephisto’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights. “Don’t you dare repeat that!”

He spent the next ten minutes trying to correct himself while tripping over his own tongue.

“I meant… that in the figurative sense of partnership in… editorial endeavors.” “Oh?” you teased, “So we’re work spouses now?”. He glared. “I’ll have you know I have very high standards for marriage, wait, that didn’t come out right either!”

@spiderbaby123

[httpssturns]

♫ 002. valentina . . . c.s

⋆.˚ 𓅆 Never Enough Writing Marathon ⋆.˚࿐

cw: SMUTTT, cheating, NOT x reader, sexyyy, Mr. steal your girl, etc. main masterlist for more fanfic reads! 💙

Holy. shit.

She’s fucking beautiful.

 And she has a boyfriend.

Chris can only ogle at the girl, the way her hair subtly bounces with every movement she makes, her smooth, milky looking skin—her eyes.

This girl has to be his.

Chris's feet lead him to her, the effort seeming like he just blacked out before he was right in front of the girl.

“Hey, I'm Chris, and you are?” Chris murmurs, his voice smooth and sexy as he shoots her that smirky grin of his. He knows what he's doing.

“oh, hey Chris. You can call me Valentina.” She smiles, “Valentina, hm? Cute name.” Chris responds, shaking her hand with such a grasp, a lingering hold, that her heart jumps in her chest.

“uh..t-thanks!” She replies, almost uncomfortable now at the way he's looking at her like he wants to just eat her up.

“So, Valentina,” Chris purses his lip, “Can I have your number?” “I—um, I'm so sorry, I have a boyfriend!” She squeaks, backing away slowly.

“Loyal hm? I respect it.” Chris drawls, and before he can even continue the conversation, she's already gone; timidly disappearing to go find said boyfriend.

She cannot believe that just happened. She's never felt more.. turned on.

And guilty, guilty of course. She loves her boyfriend.. right?

————

The party only goes on, everyone getting drunker, looser. Including Chris and Valentina.

Valentina finds herself stumbling towards Chris, why Chris? She herself doesn't even know.

“Oh, the mysterious Valentina is back, hm? Done with your disappearing act?” Chris pokes,

“It wasn't an act.. you just—intimidated me.” 

“Really? Did I make you feel all..warm inside?” Chris teases, his grin smug and evil. He knows he's getting to her.

“..no! Chris, I have a boyfriend.. stop hitting on me..” Valentina pleads, though her body is itching for more.

“Looks like your boyfriend doesn't really care about that rule, now does he?” Chris grunts, cupping her chin to turn her head to the betraying view of her boyfriend, the one that supposedly loves her, quite obviously hitting on another girl.

“I—” Valentina starts, her voice cracking as she feels her heart drop down to her stomach.

“He could just be..talking to her.. talking isn't cheating..” Valentina protests weakly, “he's not just talking to her,” Chris points out.

And she sees it. She sees it so clearly, the one she swore she loved with her whole heart—now feeling up with other woman. One that's prettier, skinnier, everything she isn't.

 Fuck, that really really hurts.

“C'mon baby, don't you want to get him back?” Chris purrs, his warm breath hitting her ear.

“You’re an idiot.” Valentina breathes, but despite the hurt she feels, she also feels something else; Want. Desire. Need.

“mmh, but you're not going to think so after i’m done with you.” Lips. Crashing onto each other, tongue and spit and everything messy—latching onto each other like animals.

Chris slides his hands up her thighs and picks her up effortlessly, her legs hooking around his waist as he stumbles desperately to an empty room. Any room. He just needs her.

The lock clicks as he closes the door, and then he's tossing her onto the bed like some kind of toy.

“Oh.. Chris…” Valentina whimpers, her face already flushed red with need and her body trembling.

“So needy already..” Chris coos, “i bet you can't wait for me to have my way with you..”He slides his warm hands up her thighs, eyes never leaving hers as he slowly, slowly pulls down her shorts—leaving her in the black lacey panties she had put in earlier.

Chris lets out a breath—like he's been knocked out and is scoffing all in the same moment.

“Does your boyfriend really deserve all of this?” Chris asks, his eyes boring into hers. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead tugging the textured fabric down her plush thighs.

“N-no..” Valentina chokes, her glossy lips dropping into a parted moan.

“s’what I thought. This ain't for him, only for me. Hm?” Chris grunts, fingers travelling to the backs of her thighs and spreading her out for him.

“ye—ngh-” Valentina blubbers, but is cut off by the sudden plunge of his index and middle finger, splitting her open already and this isn't even the real thing.

“what was that, baby? I need to hear you say it.” Chris whispers, his tongue then going to trace the shell of her ear.

His fingers scissor in an out of her dripping cunt, thumb rubbing smooth circles over her clit.

“I—only for you.. only you—” she moans, her head already lolling back to face the ceiling.

“mh, what’re you looking at the ceiling for? The show is all over here. Look down.” Chris commands, giving her thigh a stinging slap.

Valentina gasps, loud. But it's not because it hurts, it's because it felt so good.

“Oh? You liked that, hm, baby?” Chris’s grin widens, looking almost evil as the glint in his eyes only grows.

“Maybe I should leave a few marks, show that boyfriend of yours that you're mine.” Not long after, Valentina is spasming around his fingers, clenching around them so tight its a little surprising.

“Oh baby… you're about to cum, huh?” Chris coos, “you want to cum on my fingers, honey?”

 “p-please.. I need—more.. just a little!” Valentina whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut, and as soon as she's about to climax, he withdraws.

“W-why?” she cries in a watery tone, hips rolling desperately to chase that release she already feels crawling away.

“i want you to cum on my cock, that's why.” Chris grunts, almost frantically pushing down his garments and grasping his length in his hand.

“face down, ass up.” he gruffly orders, watching with a smug smirk as she scrambles to get in the position he told her to.

Chris almost gasps at the sight, her plush ass and folds fully on display. “god, you're fucking beautiful..” he breathes.He pumps himself a couple of times, letting his pre-cum coat the base of his cock before dragging the head across her sopping slit.

“Baby, I'm gonna go rough, and I have to make sure you're okay with that.” He breathes, hand resting on her ass.

“mmh- please.. I'm okay with it! Please Chris I need you!” Valentina whines, her back arching further.

“fuck.. do you want to kill me?” Chris gasps, before steadying her hips and pushing in. His eyes almost roll back at his warm and wet she is, practically sucking his cock in.

“So fucking greedy—sucking my cock in like this..” He grunts, his hand smacking her ass roughly.

He begins to plow into her, holding her head up from the pillow by her hair as he takes her in the dirtiest way possible.

All that can be heard in the dark room are the sounds of skin slapping skin—desperate whiny moans and loud grunts.

“Chris… oh my God!” Valentina squeaks, her cunt squeezing his cock in a vice-like grip as he pounds into the hole.

“fuck—baby,” he croaks, “so fuckin’ sexy, just made for this cock. Made to be used like this, made f’me.” Chris slurs, practically fucking the mattress into the drywall as he lands smack after smack on her ass.

It burns, it burns so much. But it also burns so good. So good there will probably be prints left over.

“takin’ my big cock so well, such a good fuckin’ girl.” he moans, gripping your thighs hard as he thrusts into you.

“nngh- so big! So big Chris.. so big-” Valentina cries, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate his hefty shaft.

“Fuck—gonna cum if y’keep saying shit like that..” Chris pants, “You close?”

She only cries out his name in response, hole spasming around him. “C-close! Gonna—fuck! Cum!” 

The taut band in her lower stomach breaks, pussy gushing around him as she slumps against the mattress. The sight has Chris on the verge of cumming as well, fucking into her and chasing his release.

“baby—fuck- gonna cum.. where do ya want it?” He gasps, his hands grip on her turning painful. “o-outside—cum.. cum on me.” She breathes out, and soon enough she feels like hot load spilling onto her ass, painting the red cheeks with a creamy finish.

“fuck.. that was hot.” Chris breathes, pulling her close to his body and rubbing her stomach. “you okay?” He asks, “s-so good..” She mumbles, her face fully fucked out as she curls into his arms.

This only causes him to smirk, sitting up and bringing her to his chest. “you wanna get outta here?”

“m-mhm..”

 “c’mon, let's show that douchebag of a boyfriend what he's missing.” Chris smirks, before he clean himself up and her. He doesn't bother making either of them look presentable, that defeats the whole purpose.

One look at Valentina and you can tell what they did. Hickies litter her neck and her hair is messy from being pulled, the redness of her cheeks and the slight limp in her walk doesn't help either.

The two of them stumble out of the room, looking and smelling like the embodiment of sex. Chris makes sure to walk them over right to her boyfriend, that's right by one of his friends.

“Wha- Val! What are you doing?” the guy scoffs, seeing how she's leaning on Chris with the most blissed expression and marks all over her neck.

“Listen, dude. She's mine. Whether you like it or not, I stole your girl. And you've just lost a whole lot.” Chris spits, before bringing her in for a passionate kiss right in front of the guy. 

When they break apart, Valentina looks more than blissful—almost drunk off of Chris. She only leans into him more, eyes bleary and wide.

The man only scoffs, a scowl on his face “We’re fucking done Val!” he shouts, before stomping off miserably with one of his buddies.

Chris only laughs, picking Valentina off of her feet and cradling her to his chest while he walks to his car.

“i think I made that pretty clear.” He chuckles to himself, kissing the sleepy girls head and buckling her into the passenger seat.

“C’mon baby, let's get out of here.”

Dividers by @cursed-carmine !!!

☆ soph's notes: day 2 of my album marathon!! I hope you guys are enjoying it so far 💙

proofread by @lilssturns 🐳

[charmedntruer]

FORTRESS — clark kent x reader

summary: tasked to take clark to the safest possible place he can recover from the pocket universe, you come to a few new revelations of your own upon seeing where clark was raised in the countryside.

content warnings: contains light spoilers from superman (2025), some spoilers but like one-off mention style so you should be ok, established (?) relationship, semi-proofread writing, not the biggest fan of the ending but writer’s block hit

authors note: this could either be really bad or subpar, but bear with me i’m only on my first watch 💔 this is also technically my first fic 💔 will be going back to see it again tho dare i say peak superhero film in recent years??? and i don’t take my love for the Lego Batman movie lightly

wc: ~1.4k

The Kent family farm feels isolating in the best way.

It’s something you’d come to notice instantly. You’ve never been too deep into the country; Metropolis, as it stands, was all you’d ever really known and probably ever will know—a place with its downs and ups, sure, but nevertheless the big city in which all your dreams had flourished since before you could even really see them.

And yet, even despite the circumstance—that is, hauling the 6’4 brick wall that was a mostly immobilized Clark Kent up the path to his parents’ front door—you could take even the briefest of moments to appreciate the silence, the tranquility of the farm. There wasn’t the whisper of crowded noise for miles upon miles, and you liked it. Stillness was something hard to come by in your life back home, whether that be due to the demands of heralding upcoming events back to back at the Daily Planet, or even trying to wrap your head around this not-quite-relationship between you and Clark for the last few months, you were kept on your toes. Being raised here, though, you thought, how wasn’t Clark supposed to become the humble, honest person he was today? It wasn’t all about being metahuman.

You introduced yourself briefly to his parents upon exiting the shuttle, explained as best as you could the situation from which you both crash landed from without giving them too much more to worry about. Johnathan and Martha were quick, unraveling Clark’s form from your caving shoulders as you all walked to the front door. They ushered you both with gentle words that reassured your own ears as the four of you made your way down the hall towards his childhood bedroom.

God, his room. Sometimes you had trouble imagining what life was like before for Clark. You knew some of what he told you about his adoptive parents, about what life was like here on the farm. He’d even mentioned taking you to visit someday. You were certain it was something he’d shrug off, but he’d insisted he meant it. And though the circumstances could’ve been better, sure, as you walked around slowly observing the figurines, posters, and books that made him him, you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how similar you both were.

You watched on as the Kent’s continued to comfort their son, replying with all the calm reassurance you could offer when Johnathan asked if their boy would be okay, until both of them stood, Martha with the intention to bring you back a cup of tea. You thanked her with a smile, watching as she left until the room grew silent.

Then you heard a rumble.

“Geez, don’t act so shy”.

The words almost made you jump a bit, regardless of how strained they sounded. You looked over at the previously presumed to be knocked out Clark making the effort to stare back at you, and the sight brought an awkwardly breathy laugh past your lips. “Sorry,” you apologized quietly, straightening from your position beside a bookshelf. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake back up”.

“Neither was I,” Clark’s grin is a mere raise of one corner of his mouth, but it’s enough to warm you just like it always does. “You don’t have to stand so far, y’know. Come sit down”.

He tries to pat the (little to nothing) space beside him on his childhood bed, and you grin at the effort. You make your way over, the bed dipping beneath your weight as you settle against his side. You fold your hands in your lap, then unfold them, pacing in your mind over what to say, if you should even say something more to begin with—he’s barely conscious after all.

You find some words finally when you feel his eyes burning into your skin. “I really like your parents,” you offer, turning to him slightly. “You can just…feel how much they really care about you. That’s really special”.

Clark gives something between a grunt and a hum of agreement, tilting his head on the pillow to look at you better and offering you a real smile. “Yeah. They’re incredible”.

And though his words are kind, certain, you feel like you can sense a sadness behind his eyes as he looks away from you. You think you know why, but you won’t pry on it, not now. You’d heard his heartbroken whisper to Martha about his birth parents, more resigned than how he’d spoken to you about the same thing before leaving to turn himself in. About how their message wasn’t what it seemed—how he wasn’t who he thought he was. And then Clark looks at you again and says your name softly, forcing your thoughts away from all of that. “I’ll be alright”.

“I know,” you nod swiftly, “I heard Terrific—“

“No,” Clark shakes his head in a definitive whisper. Then, he extends one of his hands to take yours where it rests on your side, his palm swallowing the back of your hand, encouraging you to really look at him and not speaking again until you do. “I don’t mean just my body. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you now. I’ll be alright. All of me”.

You blink at him for a moment, your brows softening, but you don’t try to pull your hand away. It’s like the simple enough words are all it takes to ease that nagging in your brain, not just about this and all that had happened not even an hour before, but all that’s to come when he recovers and faces the world again.

“I know that it might not be much comfort at this point,” you start suddenly, “but I believe you. I meant to say it back at the apartment, before you left, but I—“

You pause, trying to find the words to explain your way of going about all of this but coming up short. If you were being honest you thought you took it all really well, but maybe you hadn’t. You knew Clark wasn’t a monster, but what did your word matter in a pool of hundreds of thousands?

It meant everything.

Clark is silent for enough time after you’ve spoken that you start thinking that he might’ve fallen back asleep. Then he asks, “That’s all you meant to say back then?”

You know what he’s referring to instantly, you just hadn’t thought that despite how battered up and drained of practically all of his energy sources he’d still manage to bring something like that up. His confession (confession? It didn’t feel very confession-like. It felt like a statement, the most normal thing in the world. Clark Kent somehow managed to make “I love you” feel like the least conditional thing in the universe). You could groan about now, but you don’t. You keep holding his hand.

“You know it’s not,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can’t tell whether or not you meant for him to hear it, but Clark does. He squeezes your hand once. “Ok. That’s good. I won’t make you say anything, but…that’s good to know”.

You hum, nodding softly. You think that finally might be the end of it.

“Give me a sign?”

You raise a brow. “A what?”

“A sign,” he repeats casually. “ Don’t say the words until you’re ready, but give me a sign that you reciprocate, maybe. If you want. If you do”.

You’re not really sure how to respond at first. And then you feel your heart flutter. Here he was, as he’d always been. Letting you do things at your own pace. Letting you know that superheroes needed reassurance, too.

Your lips curve up into a faint smile as you look down at him to see he’s already smiling lazily as well. You’ve had your sign since the second he asked, and now Clark knows for sure.

“The Mighty Killjoys,” you say finally, lifting your opposite hand to brush a stray curl away. “They’re not trash”.

In the dim light it’s like Clark’s eyes begin to glimmer before they flutter shut, full of content. “Yeah. That’s a good one”.

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head at him. Then you lean forward, just enough to plant a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Clark,” you say against his skin, not leaving any room for further discussion or debate. “I’ll be here”.

Clark’s eyes remain closed when you pull away, and he obliges you. With another squeeze to your hand, the gentle swipe of his thumb, he takes an exhale that signals that he’s finally succumbed to the weight of slumber.

It’s then that you really get it. The fortress that is this home, this whole farm. The kind of place that could only nourish good and wholeness. Could nourish a hero.

[branchclangen]

BRANCHCLAN WRITINGS #5- ASPENFALL

“C’mon. That’s enough of that.”

Aspenfall’s voice was gentle as he looked down at Burnkit. He had his paw firmly but not painfully pressed on the gray tabby’s back. Burnkit was grumbling and growling in protest, his small tail bristled and lashing back and forth. He tried to lash out an unsheathed paw, but Aspenfall barely flinched.

I’ve felt worse than that. He wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” Scrub meowed, looking at Aspenfall with an exasperated expression. Berrykit was held firmly between the she-cat’s front paws, trying to squirm away from a bath. “This is the…Fifth? Yes, the fifth time he’s gotten in trouble today!”

Aspenfall nodded slowly, looking down as Burnkit tried to lash out again.

“Stop.” He grumbled, and for once Burnkit seemed to listen. The kit pressed his belly low to the ground, his pupils wide and his eyes filled with tears.

Aspenfall slowly lifted his paw, prepared to restrain Burnkit again if he needed to. Burnkit stood, shook out his pelt, and stalked off with the tip of his tail twitching. He went to his nest, nosing Ashkit out of the way roughly enough to make the darker tabby squeak before curling into a tight gray ball.

Scrub watched him pad off, and sighed. “I wish I knew why he acted this way…”

“I think I have an idea.” Aspenfall said, whiskers twitching. The brown-furred tom stood, starting to make his way out of the nursery. “Need me for anything else?”

“Oh, no, thanks.” Scrub replied, looking down at Berrykit. “I’m about to put this one down for a nap and then get some rest myself. Thank you for everything you do, Aspen.”

“Of course, Fawn-...” Aspenfall stopped himself. “...Scrub. Sorry. I’ll bring you something for dinner a little later, okay?”

Scrub nodded, and Aspenfall padded into the clearing. He looked around, eyes narrowed as he tried to see what was going on. He was looking for a specific cat.

He saw Icewish near the apprentice’s den with his kits. The white tom looked exhausted, and Honeybird seemed to be explaining something to him. He saw Gorgefleck sitting by the fresh-kill pile with Thistle, and Cloudshadow returning from a patrol with Tigerpaw, Hareleap, and Octet Rulekite. 

Finally, he laid eyes on the cat he was targeting.

Atticus.

The dark tabby was sitting in a shady patch with Mushroomsight. They didn’t seem to be talking. Just…Enjoying each other’s company.

Aspenfall padded over to her, clearing his throat to get her attention. “Atticus.”

Atticus looked up with a flick of her tail. “Aspenfall.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go on patrol with me…” Aspenfall said, forcing a smile. “You know I can’t leave camp alone.”

“Oh! I can go with you!” Mushroomsight offered, starting to get up from his spot. Aspenfall stopped him.

“No, no, Mushroomsight…I needed to talk to Atticus.” He insisted. “Oh- Maplepool wanted to talk to you, by the way. I think she’s in the warrior’s den.”

“Okay!” Mushroomsight cheerfully said, standing and trotting off. 

Aspenfall watched him go, then turned to Atticus. “Come.”

It was no longer a request.

It was a demand.

Atticus sighed heavily, standing. “Fine. But this better be quick, and you better not be wasting my time.”

Aspenfall ignored her whining, turning and making his way out of camp. Atticus trailed behind him, eyes narrowed.

They walked for what felt like hours, before they were finally far from prying eyes. Aspenfall checked behind him every now and then, to make sure Atticus was still following and didn’t sneak away.

Once they were far enough, Aspenfall stopped. Atticus nearly bumped into him, letting out an annoyed hiss. “What’s wrong with you!?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Aspenfall muttered, barely audible.

“Wh-”

Aspenfall whirled to face Atticus, fur bristled and claws unsheathed. “Do you have ANY idea of the damage you’ve done?”

He let out a low growl, shaking his head. He dug his claws into the ground, worried that if he moved, he’d hurt Atticus. Atticus stumbled back a bit, keeping her gaze on him. Her pupils had narrowed to slits, the fur on her own back risen and the tip of her tail lashing.

“Damage? Oh, stars, Aspen, not you too!” Atticus hissed. “You brought me out here to chastise me about those kits? Why can’t you just let it go! I’m grieving, and-”

“I’ve been grieving for THIRTY MOONS, Atticus! And I’ve lost so much more than you!” Aspenfall snarled. He began to shake, the aching feeling that always lingered in his heart intensifying for a moment. “I lost my apprentice. My mate. My kits. My mother figure, my daughter figure…Oh, the list goes on and fucking on!”

He took a step closer, watching the way Atticus seemed to shrink back for just a second before trying again to make herself look tough. 

“I know it hurts. I know Peachshade meant a lot to you, and I’m sorry you lost her. But…” Aspenfall flicked his tail. “How could you treat her children like this? You know better than everyone that if she were alive, she would’ve loved these kits. She would have-”

“She’s not here anymore.” Atticus stated coldly. “She’s gone. Dead. Buried in the ground. Just like your mate that you can’t seem to get over after all these years.”

Aspenfall fixed Atticus with a stare, his expression full of shock, then grief…

Then rage.

With a yowl, he lunged at Atticus, pinning her down to the ground. He glared down at her, his claws digging into the fur on her chest.

“How. Dare. You?” He asked, his voice low. “How dare you say something so…Evil? Especially when you KNOW how it feels!”

He leaned in, so that his nose nearly touched Atticus’. “Your kits…The ones who YOU CHOSE to bring into this star-damned world…Are miserable. And it’s YOUR fault.”

Atticus growled, bristling, but made no attempt to move. “It’s not my fault. They were always brats!”

“No, they weren’t!” Aspenfall’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe what Atticus was saying. “Were you really so neglectful that you can’t see a difference in their behaviors?”

He paused for a moment, sighing, before speaking. “Ashkit was the most creative kit I’ve ever seen. Always drawing. Always coming up with a new story to tell anyone who would listen. You wanna know what she does now? Nothing. She stares at the nursery wall in her nest. And when she does draw, it’s…Different. Disturbing.”

He noticed that Atticus didn’t seem to care, and he continued. “Cinderkit. Always knew what to say to the other kits to make them happy. I’ve heard her call younger cats idiots at least twice, because YOU told her that and now she’s repeating it. Now Flamekit. One of the sweetest kits ever. He used to smile so much…Now he just cries.”

Atticus’ whiskers twitched. Aspenfall looked into her eyes, hoping to see something reflected in them..But he was met with nothing.

Atticus truly didn’t care.

He let out a heavy sigh. “And now…Burnkit. He’s troubled, Atticus. All he wanted was your attention and love, and…I’m worried about him.”

“Why?” Atticus asked. 

Aspenfall wanted to yell at Atticus at that moment. How could she be so clueless?

But instead he glared down at her.

“He’s destructive, and…Violent. Way too violent for a kit his age.” He said, lowly. “He hurts the other kits, Atticus! Especially smaller kits! He tried to kill Dewkit the other day!! Do you think that’s normal behavior, Atticus?”

“No, but-”

“But what!? That’s the way he is? That’s just how he’s always been? No!” Aspenfall took some steps back, finally getting off of Atticus but keeping his eyes on her. “I don’t know why you’re trying to ignore it, Atticus, but you have got to find a way to fix this before these kits grow up and kill someone.”

Atticus rolled onto her side, staying still. When she spoke, her voice was a low hiss. “I never wanted kits. I never wanted to raise them alone.”

“Then you shouldn’t have had them.” Aspenfall said coldly. “I would kill to have had a litter like yours, Atticus. Something to remind me of the cat I loved and still have a part of them here with me…But I don’t. And I probably…Never will.”

Atticus just stared. Aspenfall kept speaking. 

“I just…I hope that one day you wake up, realize how much things are ruined, and at least…Try. To make things better. At the very least...Tell those babies that this isn't their fault.” Aspenfall allowed his voice to soften a little. “...I’m done here. I’m going back home. Stay here if you want…Or don’t.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Atticus alone with nothing but her own thoughts.

He began to trudge back to camp, his tail drooping low to the ground. 

He hadn’t ever gotten that angry in his life. If he hadn’t moved away when he did, he probably would’ve…

Aspenfall shuddered.

No.

He wasn’t a murderer.

The second he pushed through the bushes of the camp entrance, he was almost instantly greeted by Emberwhisper. The elderly tortoiseshell looked exhausted, the tip of her tail giving a few irritated twitches.

“Thank goodness you got back when you did!” She meowed. “I hate to bother you, but Burnkit is…Well, to put it nicely…Being a little terror again. Could you please come get him?”

Aspenfall sighed, turning to look at the nursery. He heard the tantrum that was about to greet him, heard the sound of Pearfur and Scrub trying desperately to calm Burnkit down. 

He had a feeling he wouldn’t be heading to bed anytime soon, like he planned.

He looked back at Emberwhisper, forced a smile, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” He mewed, softly. “I’ll have a talk with him. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

With that, he padded after Emberwhisper, following her into the nursery.

[pucksandpebbles]

Sunshine on Leith, LH⁴³

Luke Hughes x Scottish!reader When Luke Hughes meets you at your work at a coffee shop in Edinburgh, something special forms between the two of you, even though he is on holiday and has to leave anyways.

People and Places collection

a/n : this is a scheduled post, but i hope you all enjoy this until i come back from my hols!!

When Luke arrived at Edinburgh airport, drunk on exhaustion and disoriented by the busy day of travelling and jet lag, he immediately knew that he’d much rather be in Michigan for the summer. The breeze was cool against his skin as he stepped out from the taxi into the bustling city; he took a big deep breath full of air before following his brothers into the hotel. He was in his own head all throughout the check-in process, letting his brothers take the lead as he stared out onto the old cobbled streets. Shutting the door of his hotel room behind him, he let out a deep sigh, shoving his large and bulky suitcase into the corner - then, instead of curling up into the clean, white sheets like he should have done, like his brothers were doing, he took a shower, pulled on some fresh clothes and stepped back out into the hallway. 

It was already a little dark outside, the sun slowly lowering over the ancient city and Luke felt slightly unsteady on the worn-away cobblestones of the Old Town. He wandered for a little while, hands stuffed in his hoodie - still adjusting to the different weather - peering into the little glass windows of shops and cafes. Then, eventually, when he had really felt the effects of his sleep loss, he stumbled into a little cafe.

It was quietly murmuring with activity even late at night as Luke pushed his way in, just past an exiting customer who was still in corporate dress and chatting lowly on their phone through those shitty little wired Apple headphones. There you were, stood behind the bar, humming along to the music playing over the speakers, and cleaning up the counters.

Borderline vibrating with nervousness, Luke stepped up to the counter which summoned your attention, and you looked up at him with big blinking eyes.

“Hi,” Luke looked down at the cleaning supplies in your hands, “Oh, sorry are you closing?”

You smiled, putting the supplies to the side and leaning over the glossy marble counter, “Yes, but I can get you something to go?”

Luke was mesmerised by the foreign inflections in your voice and accent, and he couldn’t help but reciprocate your movement when you leaned over the counter, “Can I just have a latte please?”

His voice was soft and lilting in its question and behind the bar, you just smiled warmly in response, tucking yourself back behind the bar and the hissing machines. You peeked out from behind your station to get a look at the curly haired boy, who was certainly tall but still seemed small in his uncertainty. He had an obvious american accent, but he wasn’t loud or brash - it made him seem very sweet.

“What makes you order coffee this late at night?” You asked, carefully pulling the shot into the branded tea cup.

He looked up, startled like a deer in headlights almost, and replied, “Trying to fight the jet-lag.”

So you were right, one-hundred percent a tourist.

Busying your hands with drink-making, you pondered aloud, “Been to Edinburgh before?”

Leaning his back against the bar in a way that screamed American, Luke cocked his head and responded gently, a hint of resentment of coming all this way just for his brothers, still evident in his voice, “No. I’m here with my brothers for the summer, they wanted to try out the golf.”

You laughed aloud, bright and lively, a sound filled with warmth which made Luke’s chest vibrate a little, “Golf is pretty popular here, especially with the tourists.”

A soft silence mellowed between the two of you as Luke nodded in response, replaying in his head the soft roll of your ‘r’s and the rounded ‘o’s in your speech.

Pouring the soft frothy milk into Luke’s drink, you said, “I take it you’d much rather be someplace else?”

Luke sighed, turning around to pick up the drink in it’s little takeaway cup, the heat and steam rolling off it, he huffed, “We usually spend the summer in Michigan, there’s a lake house. I just don’t like the change.”

Placing your arms onto the till counter, you beamed, “Aye. I get ya,” then you gestured to the slowing city out of the window and said, “But Edinburgh’s a beautiful city, you’ll regret not enjoying it.”

Taking the coffee into his hand, he raised himself back up and followed the your line of sight out of the window, and then turning back to you, he said, with soft optimism, “You might be right.”

“You’ll let me know if I am?” You asked, a hesitant smile, a metaphorical outstretched hand. 

Luke grabbed onto it like he was drowning, drowning in your gentle, mellow gaze, “Maybe if I can get your number?”

Grabbing a napkin out of the petite dispenser to the side, you took a pen and scribbled out a line of numbers on it, passing it over to him, “Can I at least get your name?”

“Luke,” he said, pocketing the napkin delicately, “My name is Luke.”

You had just gotten back to your flat, a minute one, just below the ground with a little hole which peeked out onto the street above so you could see the passing feet. Bones heavy with exhaustion, you scrambled to get out of your work clothing and within minutes, you had curled up into your bed. 

As you lay there, studying the feathered plaster ceiling above you, you could stop replaying your interaction with Luke earlier. The American boy who’d come in exhausted, close to closing and who had against all odds asked for your number and gotten it.

You had had half a mind not to give it to him, giving your number out to a stranger seemed a really risky act. However, there was something about him, something so different. He was quiet and mellow and nervous and all you craved was to just reach over that counter and run your hands through his tight curls - but you couldn’t so instead you settled on leaning over as far and you could, so you could get a better look on the peach fuzz around his chin and his welcoming eyes. The American lilt to his words drew you in, and whenever you spoke, you could see the corner of his mouth tug up into a smile. 

It was when you were lying out, like a starfish, on your grey waffle bedding that a text from an unknown number pinged onto your lockscreen. An American number, which read.

Unknown number: Hey. This is Luke, it was good to meet you today

Cheeks heavy with a smile, you rolled over and tapped out a reply.

You: Me too, if you don’t have any plans I’d like to take you up Arthur’s Seat tomorrow?

Luke (coffee shop boy): I’d love that.

Luke didn’t expect his brothers to notice that he wasn’t exactly participating in the holiday’s golfing activities. But he was sneaking out a lot, getting up at the crack of dawn to hike up Arthur’s Seat, grabbing coffee with you when Jack and Quinn had already gone to bed. And when Luke and you weren’t together, he was on his phone, texting back and forth with you.

Quinn and Jack did pass each other glances however, when Luke wasn’t looking and it didn’t slip their notice that Luke wasn’t around as much as possible and was constantly sneaking out of the hotel.

Their little brother was falling in love, and they were so happy watching it unfold. It was a miracle that they’d come to Scotland, and whilst Luke might not have been happy at first, he had definitely grown to love the place. And the people. 

Luke was miserable the day he had to leave, packing his clothes back into his suitcase almost brought tears to his eyes and felt like it was tearing his heart into shreds. Jack and Quinn knew that he was down but they also they that there was little they could do about it, Luke would manage it, sort it out himself, if it was something that he really wanted.

That night, the night before he was supposed to leave, Luke turned up at the cafe like a mirror image of how he had the night that he arrived, and you two sat.

Luke and you were in a booth, sat amongst the emptied out cafe that you were supposed to be closing, two half empty takeaway cups in front of you. You were curled into Luke’s side, your head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you; his fingers brushed calmly through your hair.

He sighed, his warm breath ghosting over your head, “I don’t want this to end.”

You tucked yourself in further to his side, “You can’t stay forever.”

“Will you see me off at the airport tomorrow? I want to make this work.” He pleaded, his voice strained and low.

“Of course,” you said, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.  

The airport was bustling with movement but Luke felt like he was in a bubble all of his own with you, like a circle that was drawn around you both.

His lips were soft against yours, your teeth tugged gently at the chapped skin and you curled your arms around his neck, bringing his head further down.Lips moving his sync, you let yourself relax into the delicate movements and the strong support of his arms around you. It was sweet and unhasty, like you had all the time in the world but the clock was still ticking; you placed a couple of kisses up his neck and buried your head there and he grasped your middle, one hand holding his boarding pass. You held on until your blood circulation failed and your arms felt limp and then you pulled away with one final chaste kiss and a touch of your foreheads. With the release, you stumbled back, coming off your tiptoes and out of his hold, brushing away the tears that had gathered under your eyes. It was goodbye, you knew.

But you also knew it wouldn’t be forever.

When you left the airport, the sun beamed down over the city you loved; when Luke’s plane took off from the airport, he smiled brightly as he thought of you, gripping his phone with a picture of you set as the lockscreen, as he looked down on the sunshine on Leith.

[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

CHAPTER 2

Synopsis: Childhood best friends, a girlfriend, and a love realized too late. As Minju watches you fall for someone else, she tries to stay by your side — until silence replaces laughter and distance grows. But when the truth about your relationship unravels, you’re forced to ask: Were you ever really hers… or were you always almost Minju’s?

Word Count: 4000+

Kim Minju X Male Reader

Sunday afternoon. Inside the mall. Your girlfriend is walking out of a bookstore — with him again. The same guy from her course. Close. Whispering. Laughing. Your friends — Jaemin, Seungmin, and a few others — watch from a table just outside

Jaemin stood up. Fast.

"Okay, I’m not letting this slide anymore."

"Bro—" Seungmin tried, but Jaemin was already halfway across the walkway.

She didn’t notice him at first. She was too busy laughing. Too busy touching the guy’s sleeve, letting him lean close to say something in her ear.

Then—

"Hey." Jaemin’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Your girlfriend blinked. The guy beside her flinched.

"Oh. Um— Jaemin, right?"

"Don’t ‘Jaemin’ me." His jaw was tight. He wasn’t yelling. But every word was sharp. "Where’s Y/N?"

She blinked. "At home?"

"Because you didn’t want him to come out today, right?"

"...I needed space," she said quickly. "He knows that."

"Space? To study?" Seungmin joined him now, arms crossed. "This what studying looks like now?"

The guy beside her shifted uncomfortably.

"Look—" she started, but Jaemin cut her off.

"Don’t lie. We’ve seen it. This isn’t the first time, is it?"

"I don’t have to explain myself to you," she snapped.

"You do when you’re messing with our best friend like he’s a damn placeholder."

She looked caught — a flicker of something in her eyes. Guilt? Or just getting caught?

"You think he won’t find out?"

"You think he won’t believe us?" Seungmin added. "We’ve kept our mouths shut for too long, trying to respect his choices. But this—"

"—this is the last time we protect you instead of him."

She tried to keep composure. Swallowed hard. "Y/N doesn’t know anything. He trusts me."

Jaemin leaned in, voice quiet but fierce. "Not after today."

"And if you don’t tell him… we will."

Later that evening. You're back at your dorm, lying on the couch with your phone, scrolling without focus. A playlist hums quietly in the background. The air feels… heavy. Off.

[Buzz.]

"Baby, I miss you. 🥺"

[Buzz.]

"Let’s go on a date this week, yeah? My treat. You pick where 🫶"

[Buzz.]

"I’m sorry if I’ve been too clingy lately. I’ll be better, I promise 😔❤️"

You stare at the messages.

Something twists in your chest.

Not because of what she said — but how she said it. Too sweet. Too sudden. Too unlike her.

After weeks of cold replies, snapping at you, getting mad over nothing — suddenly she’s sending hearts and “I miss you”s?

And then you remember the way Jaemin messaged earlier.

Jaemin [4:17 PM]

“Can we talk later? Just us. Please.”

And Seungmin’s reply when you asked “what’s up.”

Seungmin [4:19 PM]

“Not over text. Just… trust us, okay?”

You sit up slowly, phone still in your hand.

Your girlfriend sends another message.

"You’re online but not replying 😞 did I do something wrong again?"

There it is. That tightness again. The way she always makes you feel like you’re the problem.

But this time… something’s different.

You can’t name it yet. But your gut is louder than your guilt.

Something happened today. And for once — you’re starting to wonder if your friends aren’t just being protective. Maybe they saw something you didn’t.

Outside the mall. A breezy afternoon. You finally agreed to meet Jaemin and Seungmin — they said they wouldn’t talk about it over text.

"You guys have no idea what you're saying," you snapped, stepping back, fists clenched.

Jaemin’s voice was tight. Controlled, but pissed. "We literally saw it happen, Y/N. We’re not guessing. We’re trying to protect you."

"She wouldn’t do that to me."

"She already is!" Seungmin shot back. "You're just too deep in it to see clearly."

You shook your head. "You guys are unbelievable. You hate her, so you’re making shit up to—"

"Don't twist it," Jaemin growled. "We wanted to like her for your sake. But lying? Controlling you? Cheating? We’re done pretending it’s fine."

"Stop acting like you know my relationship better than I do!"

A few people nearby started turning their heads. You didn’t care. Your voice had risen. So had theirs.

Meanwhile: Across the walkway — Minju and her friends had just stepped out of a store.

Minju laughed at something Chaewon said— But her smile dropped immediately when she saw you.

There you were.

Arguing. Loud. Chest rising and falling. Eyes sharp.

Minju slowed her steps. "Y/N…?"

She couldn’t hear what was being said — but she recognized hurt when she saw it.

Then she saw Jaemin. And Seungmin. And the tension that wrapped around all three of you like smoke.

Her heart sank.

"What’s going on?" Yuna whispered beside her.

But Minju didn’t answer. She couldn’t move.

Not even when your girlfriend appeared.

[Back to you — still arguing.]

"You're blinded by this idea of her, man," Seungmin said. "You think that's love? Look at what she’s turned you into."

Before you could fire back—

"Y/N?"

Your head whipped to the side.

She was standing there.

Your girlfriend. Hair brushed, dressed nicely — not at home. Exactly how she said she would be.

Your throat closed.

"What are you doing here?" you asked quietly.

She hesitated. Looked from you to your friends.

But before she could say anything, you noticed something — A guy. Just behind her. Holding two drinks. Paused.

And the look on your friends’ faces?

Told you everything.

Silence hung in the air. Thick. Heavy. Unforgiving.

"Get her to talk," Seungmin said under his breath, stepping forward.

Jaemin didn’t need the push.

"You said you were at home," he began. His tone was cold now. "You lied."

She glanced at you, then back at him. "It’s none of your business—"

"Y/N is our business," Jaemin said, eyes sharp. "And I’m tired of watching you screw him over while he blames himself for everything."

"Look—"

"Tell him the truth."

Your girlfriend crossed her arms. "There's nothing to say."

Seungmin stepped forward. "Alright. Then we’ll say it."

"You’ve been meeting up with that guy from your class. The one you ‘barely talk to’ but somehow keeps showing up every time you ditch Y/N."

"And it’s not just once. It’s every time he couldn’t hang out with us. Every time you picked a fight for no reason."

"And you don’t even feel guilty, do you?" Jaemin said lowly. "You just wanted him to feel small. Keep him under control."

"I didn’t cheat," she spat, but her voice cracked.

"Then what do you call what we saw?"

She looked at you.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You were just… staring.

Not with anger. Not with hate. Just… tired eyes. Broken quiet.

"Y/N," she said softly, reaching for your arm. "I didn’t mean for it to get that far, okay? I—"

"So you did lie," Seungmin said, cutting in.

"I didn’t want to hurt you!" she snapped, almost pleading. "You were just so— so distant lately, and I— I don’t know— he was just easy to talk to—"

Jaemin scoffed. "Distant? You’ve been picking fights over nothing. Controlling who he sees. And now this?"

"That’s not fair—!"

"No," you finally said.

Just one word.

But it silenced everything.

"No more excuses."

She froze.

You looked down, then back up at her.

"You didn’t want to hurt me?" You swallowed. "You already did."

And with that, you turned around.

Didn’t yell. Didn’t fight. Just walked away.

Seungmin and Jaemin followed in quiet support, leaving her there with her guilt and the cold evening air.

From a distance, Minju watched it all unfold. Her heart ached. She didn’t hear the words — but she saw the way you stood. The way your shoulders dropped as you walked away. Like something inside you just gave out.

A quiet bench just outside campus. It’s evening now — golden hues long gone, replaced by cool indigo skies and flickering streetlamps. You’re sitting alone, hoodie pulled over your head, phone resting face-down on your thigh.]

You heard footsteps before you saw her. But you didn’t look up.

"Y/N?"

Minju’s voice.

Soft. Careful.

You lifted your gaze slowly. She was in a cardigan, hair tucked behind her ears, eyes searching yours.

"...How’d you find me?" you asked, voice low.

She gave a little shrug. "This is your usual spot when you need to think. You’ve brought me here before. Remember?"

You smiled faintly. "Yeah."

She didn’t sit right away. Waited.

"You can sit," you mumbled. "Unless you’re still mad I ignored you all week."

Minju sat beside you. Close enough to feel the warmth, but not too close to overwhelm.

"I'm not mad," she said. "You were going through something. I just… didn’t know how to be there without making it worse."

You nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

"I should’ve listened sooner," you whispered. "To you. To everyone."

Silence.

Then:

"I kept defending someone who… didn’t even like who I was when I was happy."

Your voice cracked slightly at the end.

Minju looked at you — really looked.

"Y/N..." she said quietly. "You don’t need to apologize to me."

You finally turned toward her. Eyes a little red. Tired. Soft.

But for the first time — open.

"I missed you," you said.

It came out like a confession. Like it had been sitting on your tongue for weeks.

Minju blinked quickly. Swallowed. "I missed you too."

You both sat in silence for a while. The kind that heals instead of hurts.

[Later that night — group chat with Jaemin, Seungmin, and the rest.]

You:

I’m sorry. For not listening. For pushing you all away. You were right.

Jaemin:

Took you long enough lmao But hey. Proud of you, man.

Seungmin:

We’ve always had your back. Even when you were being a dumbass.

You smiled at your phone.

Then… you tapped on her chat. The last one you needed to close.

You:

We’re done. I’m not going to list the reasons. You already know them. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. But it’s not me anymore.

Blocked.

You exhaled. It didn’t feel explosive. It felt... quiet. Like letting go of something you didn’t realize you were holding so tightly.

Then, without thinking — you messaged Minju again.

You:

Are you still up?

Minju 🐰:

Always. Want me to come over?

You:

Yeah. Please.

11:47 PM. Your dorm room is dimly lit, bathed in the soft flicker of the TV screen. A movie plays — something old, something comforting. The volume is low. The air is still.]

Knock knock.

You opened the door, and there she was.

Minju. In an oversized hoodie, a messy bun, and a tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“You really came,” you said, surprised by how warm your voice sounded.

Minju stepped in with a small smile. “You asked me to, didn’t you?”

You closed the door behind her.

“I brought snacks,” she said, holding up the bag. “And hot packs. Just in case.”

You blinked. "...How are you real?"

She laughed. That soft, breathy kind of laugh that always made you feel like things might actually be okay.

You both settled onto the couch — pillows fluffed, blanket over your laps, an old movie you both knew by heart playing in the background. You didn’t even pretend to care about the plot.

She handed you a cookie. You took it. Gratefully.

“You seem lighter,” she said, glancing at you.

You stared at the screen for a moment before nodding.

“I feel lighter.”

She didn’t say anything — but you felt her lean a little closer.

Eventually, your head found her shoulder. Slowly. Carefully. Like it belonged there all along.

She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just… smiled to herself and rested her cheek lightly on top of your head.

The movie played on.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want the night to end.

“Minju?” you murmured sleepily, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m finally breathing again.”

She looked down at you — soft eyes, soft smile.

And whispered, “Took you long enough.”

You didn’t reply.

Because by then… you were already asleep.

Next day. Campus courtyard. You’re sitting alone on a bench, sunlight trickling through the trees. You’re sipping iced coffee Minju made for you that morning. And then—your ex appears.]

"Hey."

You looked up slowly. It was her.

Your ex.

She had that carefully composed look again — like she'd practiced what she was going to say in the mirror.

"Can we talk?"

You hesitated. But then you nodded, just once.

She sat beside you, but you leaned a little away, keeping space.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she started, voice quieter than usual. "About us. About… what happened."

You didn’t respond right away.

"I messed up," she said. "I got scared. I was jealous. I didn’t know how to handle your world — your friends, your closeness with Minju, all of it."

You still didn’t speak. She took a breath.

"I still care about you. I just… I wish we could start over. I wish I could’ve done better."

That’s when you noticed movement behind her.

Minju.

She’d been walking by — and saw the two of you. She stopped mid-step. Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t turn away. She walked over.

"Hey," Minju said calmly, hands in her cardigan pockets. "Didn’t know we were letting liars into this part of campus."

Your ex stood up slowly. “Oh. Look who it is.”

"Yeah," Minju said. "It’s me. The friend who’s actually been by his side. Not the one who cheated and tried to flip the narrative."

Your ex scoffed. “You’ve always wanted him. Don’t act like you’re so pure.”

"I wanted him happy," Minju said. Voice steady. Firm. “That’s the difference.”

"You’re just the safe choice."

Minju stepped forward — closer. Face calm. Eyes cold.

"No. I’m the one who never made him question his worth. I’m the one who didn’t try to shrink him when he started to grow."

"And guess what?" She tilted her head. "You lost him. You can’t guilt your way out of that."

You stood up now.

Both of them turned to you.

But your eyes were only on one person.

"Minju."

She blinked.

You took a step closer to her — voice soft but sure.

"I loved you," you said to your ex, "but you didn’t love me. Not really. You loved having control. You loved the power. You saw me like a project. An object to win."

Her eyes welled up.

You looked away.

Then turned to Minju fully.

"But you," you said, "made me feel like I was enough. Even when I wasn’t sure I was. Even when I couldn’t see it in myself."

Minju’s eyes widened just slightly — heart thudding in her chest.

"So no, you’re not the safe choice," you whispered to her. "You’re the right one."

A soft beat of silence.

And then?

Minju grabbed your hand. Firm. Warm. Honest.

Your ex stepped back, blinking rapidly. But she didn’t say a word.

She didn’t have to. You’d already made your choice.

“Y/N, slow down, you’re going to leave me behind,” Minju said through a laugh, trying to keep up as you pulled her toward the taiyaki stall.

“I told you they run out fast!” you shouted over your shoulder. “I’ve waited all week for this!”

Behind you, Jaemin and Seungmin were arguing over a map of the booths. "You’re holding it upside down!" "Maybe you are upside down!"

Minju’s friends trailed behind — Yuna, Chaewon, and Haeun — all chatting, sipping boba, and watching you and Minju with increasingly knowing smiles.

Taiyaki Stall

You bought two — handing the cuter, fish-shaped one to Minju without a word.

She blinked. “You remembered I like the red bean one.”

You grinned. “I remember everything.”

Minju looked away, cheeks warming, mumbling, “Show-off.”

Haunted Classroom Attraction

A girl screamed behind you. Loud.

Minju yelped and immediately grabbed your arm, clutching it tight.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she whispered, eyes darting.

You leaned close and whispered back, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you… unless something grabs me first.”

“Y/N!” she smacked your chest.

A ghost popped out of a locker. You didn’t flinch. Minju screamed and buried her face in your shoulder, holding on for dear life.

You walked through the rest of the attraction with her half-hugging you the entire time.

"Okay… maybe this was a great idea," you said, smiling into her hair.

Outside the Haunted Hall

Seungmin was visibly shaken. “I don’t wanna talk about what I saw in there.”

Chaewon handed him a juice box. “You okay?”

He blinked at her. “…You brought juice boxes?”

She grinned. “You looked like you needed one.”

Jaemin elbowed you. “Dude, Seungmin’s done. He just fell in love.”

You and Minju both turned to see Seungmin awkwardly sipping the juice, trying to act cool, while Chaewon giggled beside him.

You and Minju shared a look — and burst out laughing.

Golden Hour – By the fountain

The sky was blushing orange. Music slowed to a more acoustic vibe. Couples took pictures by the lanterns and koi pond.

Minju leaned against your side, still holding your hand.

“This was the best day I’ve had in a while,” she whispered.

You kissed the top of her head. “It’s only the beginning.”

She looked up at you — eyes shining.

“No haunted classrooms next time, though.”

“No promises.”

The crowds had thinned just enough. Your friends were somewhere behind you, bickering over snacks or saving spots, but none of it really mattered now.

Because it was just you and her.

Minju looked up at the lanterns strung above the stalls, eyes reflecting every tiny flicker. She held your hand like she’d been doing it forever — no hesitation, no fear.

“Thank you for today,” she said, swinging your hands a little. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

“It’s only fun when you’re around,” you said without even thinking.

She turned to you.

You froze.

Minju stared at you for a second too long. You almost panicked — until she smiled and looked away.

“You’re getting too smooth,” she murmured.

“I’m just telling the truth.”

Minju looked up at the sky. The first firework hadn’t launched yet, but you could hear the announcer getting ready over the speakers.

“Hey,” you said, quiet enough so only she could hear. “Can I tell you something?”

She turned her head, eyes curious.

You licked your lips. Took a breath.

“I think… I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t see it until recently.”

Boom.

The first firework exploded.

Minju’s breath hitched, but not because of the sound.

You kept going.

“You were always there. When I was happy. When I was hurting. You never tried to change me — just... stayed.”

Minju blinked rapidly, eyes shining.

You turned, facing her now fully as the fireworks burst into color behind you.

“I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t feel this. I like you, Minju. A lot. And if you let me, I’d really like to be yours.”

Minju’s lips parted.

Then, without a word— She leaned in.

And kissed you.

Right there, under the glittering sky. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t movie-perfect.

But it was real. Sweet. Warm. A little shaky.

When she pulled back, her smile was trembling.

“I thought you’d never say it.”

You grinned. “What, the kiss or the ‘I like you’?”

“Both,” she laughed, nudging your shoulder.

Then, softly—

“I’ve loved you too. For a long time.”

Another firework bloomed behind you. But you weren’t looking at the sky anymore.

You were looking at her. And for the first time in forever—

Everything felt right.

[almundtofu]

heh.. hi mootie😼 may i request high school sweethearts with Rin PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS I mean, thank you if u do😽

our spring, our story ₊˚⊹ ᰔ itoshi rin

note: HI MIMI thank you for being my first request i hope this was to your liking... i legit got stuck in the middle of writing this BUT !!! i did finish it so ENJOY :3

Itoshi Rin wasn’t someone who believed in distractions. Not when he had goals, not when the weight of his brother’s shadow loomed behind him, and especially not in high school—a time when most students were worried about tests and dances, while Rin was thinking only about soccer.

But you were an unexpected variable in his well-ordered life.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t flashy. You weren’t the kind of person who barged into someone’s life—you were the kind who simply walked in, made a home there, and left your scent on the air like blooming jasmine. You were just... you and he liked you for it.

The first time Rin noticed you was in the library. You were sitting two tables away, your brow furrowed as you chewed on your pencil, frustrated with a math problem. He wasn't going to say anything at first, but then you groaned under your breath and whispered, “Why is x always hiding? Just tell me the number.”

And he snorted.

Audibly.

You looked up, surprised. Rin looked just as shocked, both that you were talking to yourself and that he responded. Your eyes met, and you smiled, a little sheepish, a little curious.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to distract you,” you said, feeling guilty.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, a little too fast.

That was the beginning.

From there, things bloomed slowly but surely. You’d see each other in the mornings when he arrived early for practice, and you'd wave from the front gate as you munched on a convenience store sandwich. You always ate breakfast late, and Rin started bringing an extra onigiri, pretending it was “extra”—though he never forgot a day.

One afternoon, after school, you found him brooding outside the field. His team had lost a practice match, and though it was meaningless to most, Rin took it hard.

“Why’re you sulking like you lost the World Cup?” you asked softly.

He didn’t reply.

So you sat next to him, offering your favorite drink—strawberry milk.

He glanced at it and raised an eyebrow “Seriously?”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

He drank it. Every drop.

It became his comfort drink after that. And you’d bring it to every game, every training, every time he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. No one else knew. Only you.

Then came the day when Rin finally confessed his feelings to you.

You were late, on purpose, maybe. Rin had asked to meet after school, voice low and unreadable like always. He didn’t explain why, just said, “Come to the courtyard. The tree near the bench.”

You knew which one. It was your spot. The one you both ended up at without meaning to—after tests, after practice, after long days when words felt too heavy and just sitting near each other was enough.

When you arrived, he was already there, as expected. He didn’t say anything when you approached, just glanced at you once, then looked away.

“…You said you had something to tell me?” you asked softly, brushing a sakura petal off your sleeve.

There was a pause. A long one.

“I’m not good at this,” he said, frowning a little.

You smiled a little. “At what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at the space between you. “Feelings. Saying things out loud.”

Your heart did a quiet backflip.

You stepped closer, just enough that your shoulder nearly touched his.

“You don’t have to say everything perfectly,” you murmured. “I’ll understand.”

Another pause. Rin took a slow breath, then turned toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I like you,” he said finally. “More than I should. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. You… make things quiet. When everything else is loud and annoying, you don’t get in the way. You just… stay. And I want that. I want you.”

The wind picked up, petals swirling around both of you like the moment had been waiting its whole life to happen.

You bit your lip, then reached out and took his hand.

He looked down at your fingers entwined with his. You gave a light squeeze.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, too, Rin,” you whispered. “But I was waiting for you to be ready.”

Rin didn’t smile often. But right then, under the cherry blossoms, he did. A soft, rare smile that felt like the beginning of something quiet and permanent.

“…Thank you,” he said, his fingers tightening around yours.

And just like that, the space between you disappeared.

Your first real “date” was a spring festival. Rin didn’t like crowds, but you promised it would be quick—just the food stalls, and then you’d sneak away to the park near the river. He was stiff at first, quiet as always, but when you held his hand through the crowd, his fingers curled around yours.

Under the paper lanterns, he saw how your eyes glowed. How your laughter made even the fireworks seem dull in comparison.

“I don’t get why people like stuff like this,” Rin muttered, eyes tracking a sparkler you were waving in the air.

You nudged him with your shoulder. “Because even people who want to be alone deserve good memories.”

He turned to you and kissed your lips so fast you almost didn’t process it.

When you looked at him in shock, he looked away, face tinged pink.

“You’re one of my good memories,” he muttered.

You became his safe place. The one who could tease him out of a foul mood with just a touch. The only person allowed to nap on the grass next to him while he took a break between drills. The person he texted after every match—even if all he said was “Won.” or “Training sucked.”

And when he got into Blue Lock, and had to leave your school behind, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t good at goodbyes.

But he hugged you for the first time that day. His arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. Breathing you in like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

“I’ll win,” he whispered into your hair. “For you. For me.”

You squeezed his hand and whispered back, “I’ll be here. Always.”

Years later, when Rin stood on the world stage, his stoic face as unreadable as ever, the camera zoomed in on a familiar charm hanging from his bag—a tiny, hand-stitched soccer ball with your initials sewn into the seams.

And in the crowd, you were there, wearing a jersey with his name and a smile that never changed.

Because some spring loves don’t fade. Some bloom, and keep blooming—year after year.

[opiumwings]

prank'd — kim minjeong

kim minjeong x female reader – you tell minjeong that you scheduled your breakup – 674 words

minjeong was peacefully lounging on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, completely unaware that you were about to turn her day upside down. when she got up to grab a drink from the kitchen, you used the opportunity to set up a camera in the corner of the room. your heart pounded as you made sure the ring you bought a few days ago was secure in your pocket.

once she returned to the couch, you let a few minutes pass, casually watching tv with her. then you turned the volume down slightly and shifted to face her. minjeong picked up on your change in body language instantly. she set her drink down and gave you her full attention.

“we should probably talk about what we’re gonna do when we break up,” you said, trying to keep your tone serious.

“huh?” she blinked, caught completely off guard.

“it’s happening pretty soon, so we should start preparing,” you added.

“what do you mean it’s happening soon?” minjeong asked, brows furrowed.

“umm... have you not noticed?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“i didn’t think there were any problems,” she said slowly.

“i just think it’s time to stop dating,” you said carefully.

“but why? i thought we were doing well?” minjeong’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

“it’s just about that time,” you shrugged.

“it doesn’t need to be, though,” she countered.

“it could be though,” you said, keeping your cool.

“and if i don’t agree?” she challenged.

“i personally just think this is better for the both of us,” you replied.

“better for you, maybe,” she muttered. “what led you to this? was it something i did?”

“i just don’t wanna be your girlfriend anymore,” you said, watching her face fall.

“that’s wild considering we were just talking about how much we loved each other last night.”

“i do love you,” you said quickly.

“but not enough, apparently,” minjeong looked down at her hands.

“i’ll always love you.”

“you’re saying that but also want to break up with me at the same time?” her voice cracked with confusion.

“well, yes.”

“have you always been like this?” she asked, visibly hurt.

“nothing’s different about me,” you chuckled gently.

“okay, so you’re just a really great actor,” she sighed, still trying to make sense of everything.

“hmm, maybe i am,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“maybe this is for the best, since you’re showing your true colors right now,” minjeong said bitterly.

“we really should get it all out there before we get married,” you added casually.

“what?” minjeong’s head snapped toward you.

you stood up, heart racing. “i’m really sorry for being like that. but i really hope you’ll stop being my girlfriend,” you said, walking around to face her.

“you’re so confusing today,” she shook her head.

“and become my wife,” you finished, dropping to one knee and pulling out the ring.

“y/n,” minjeong said, breath caught in her throat.

“yes, my love?” you looked up at her with a grin.

“i’m gonna fucking kill you,” she muttered, eyes already watering.

“i’d let you. but marry me first so i can put you in my will and you can get all my money,” you said.

“why would you do it like this?” she asked, voice caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief.

“because i’d never miss a chance to fuck with you,” you said, smiling.

“you’ve been fucking around a little too much lately, and i should say no,” she said, but her hand was already inching closer.

“but you won’t,” you said confidently.

“you’re lucky i love you too much,” minjeong murmured.

“and you love me enough to marry me, right?” you said, offering her the ring.

“unfortunately, i will marry you,” she sighed, holding out her hand.

“thank god!” you beamed, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a hug.

“i’m so getting you back for this,” she said against your chest.

“you can do whatever you want to me,” you whispered, grinning into her hair.

[tsukkimi1]

160725 - roommate!tsukishima / FULL

wc: 2.5k

cw: [nsfw] [slight dom tsukishima] [teasing] [brat taming] [fingering]

AN: likes and reblogs appreciated <3

You walk into your shared apartment after a long day at work to find Tsukishima at the kitchen counter with his laptop. The room is barely lit by the warm, dim glow from outside and the small lamp in the corner. You continue walking toward the island when he peers at you over the rim of his glasses.  

“What’s wrong with you?” he questions.  

“Long day,” you shoot back, glaring at him.  

“You get so bratty when you’re tired,” he mocks in his usual dry tone.  

You scowl at him as you continue making your food.  

“Oh, I’m sorry… are you going to cry about it?” you snap while mixing your rice.  

He smirks, closing his laptop with a deliberate slowness. “Keep glaring at me like that and see what happens.”  

You roll your eyes, “What are you gonna do about it?”  

He stands and leans against the island with both arms watching you cook with that unbearable smug look on his face that just makes you want to push his face into the ground.     “God you are so insufferable...beautiful, but insufferable” he mutters just barely quiet enough for you to hear  

You pause, spoon halfway to your mouth as you try to recall what you just heard. “Excuse me? Was that meant to be a compliment?”    He shrugs mockingly, eyes glinting with a pinch of thirst “Depends on how you take it”  

Despite his face reflecting some emotion beyond the usual enjoyment he gets from teasing you, his voice remains as dry and monotone as ever.  

You smirk, setting the spoon down. “Careful. Flattery might get you nowhere.”  

He shrugs, stepping closer just enough to close the gap but not too much. “I’m not exactly counting on flattery. More like your usual stubbornness getting in your way.”  

Your heart skips, but you keep your tone steady. “So, you’re saying I’m a problem.”  

“More like a pain,” he replies dryly, lips twitching into a small, rare smirk. “Looks like I’m stuck with it.”  

You meet his gaze and flash him a sly grin. “Pain’s got nothing on how annoying you are.”  

His eyebrow raises, amused by your quick wittedness, “was that supposed to be upsetting?”    You step a little closer closing most of the distance between you two, “Well, that’s up for you to decide.”    

His eyes narrow but there’s a hint of something unclear building in them, “You’re impossible.”  

The air feels like its starting to suffocate you. The tension building with each word that comes out of his mouth. You can hear your heart beating through your ears and you’re almost positive he can hear it too for a moment it seems like the world stopped-- Neither of you moved until --  

Without any warning he leans in just enough for his breath to graze of your ear, “don’t think im going to go easy on you just because youve had a long day..”  

As if your heart already wasnt beating hard enough before, you’re sure its pounding now.  

“Oh? Is that so..” you whisper, voice dripping with curiosity. 

Before you can even think of a response, you're suddenly caged in between his arms, back to the island. He watches you through the lens of his glasses, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck. 

He leans down, breath ghosting over your lips. “Is that a challenge?” he asks, voice low and alluring. 

Your eyes dart to his lips and back up — he noticed. 

You lean in slowly, as if waiting for him to reciprocate. His hands find the curve of your waist as he pulls you in and closes the distance, his lips following suit. Gentle at first, until it seems like you aren’t getting enough — you need more. You wrap your hands around his neck and comb your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. Small goosebumps dance down his back at the sensation. 

He pulls back slightly, leaving you confused, until he lifts you onto the edge of the counter. The cold surface of the counter meets the backs of your thighs — a stark contrast to the heat starting to pool in your stomach. He settles himself between your legs. 

“Still want to pretend you hate me?” he asks, one hand steadying your hip while the other removes his glasses and sets them on the counter next to you. 

“Who said I hated you?” 

His lips brush against yours again, slower this time — almost calculated, like he wants you to feel every second of it. You can feel the heat from his neck, and it feels like it might burn your hand. 

His hands slowly creep up your shirt, leaving an intense sensation each time they pass over your midsection. He breaks the kiss and gazes at you, unreadable, until he pushes your hair out of the way and dips down to the side of your neck — earning a low whine from you. 

“You’re bad at hiding what you want,” he murmurs, still basically attached to your neck. 

“Then how about you stop teasing me?” 

He retreats for a moment and glares at you, lips pressed tight. His silence is calculated, as if he’s waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

“Tell me you want this.” 

You can feel your core starting to heat up at the few words that just left his mouth. 

“What?” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Did I stutter? Tell me what you want.” He leans in, mere centimeters from your face. 

You avoid eye contact slightly, and even though you haven’t said anything, that’s all the confirmation he needs. 

He leans back down and nips at your neck — not hard, but just enough to tingle and pull another sound from you. He soothes the spot with his tongue, letting out a small chuckle into your skin. 

His hands trail higher, brushing your midriff, barely grazing — just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. One hand grips your thigh while the other slides up your spine; fingers splayed out on your back — warm and possessive. 

He pulls back from you. “Say it, or I stop right here.” He smirks, smug, anticipatory — like he knows exactly what gets under your skin. 

You inhale, and a long, shaky breath escapes you. “Fine. I want you.” 

He pauses, looking you dead in the eyes. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?” — as if he’s testing you. 

“How many times are you going to make me say it?” You scowl. 

“Until you're begging,” he asserts. 

You glare at him. 

His hands still wander. “Fine... no turning back now,” he purrs. 

He leans in once more, more intense and sensual this time. No teasing. No hesitation. His mouth drags down to your collarbones, each kiss more powerful and passionate than the last. Your legs wrap around his waist, giving you a faint feel of the bulge pressing through his sweatpants. His grip on your thigh tightens. 

You catch a glimpse of something darker in his eyes — not something soft, but fervent. His movements pause for half a second, like he’s holding himself back — until suddenly, he doesn’t. 

He tugs at the hem of your shirt, hesitating just long enough to give you a chance to stop him — though he knows you won’t. His hand runs up your spine again, this time with more purpose, lips trailing back toward the front of your throat. 

He lightly pushes you backward, signaling for you to lie down. His hand on your back guides you, keeping your arch exactly where he wants it. He pulls away again, just to watch you squirm underneath him. His hand trails beneath your chin. 

“Eyes up here. I want you to watch what you got yourself into.” 

Your thighs tighten around his waist. He notices, grabs you by the knees, and pushes your legs apart. 

“Don’t get shy now.” 

You roll your eyes. He leans in close — so close that you can feel the threat in the air before he even opens his mouth again. His thigh presses hard between your legs, restricting your movement. 

“Well?” he murmurs. “Why so quiet now?” 

He drops down and presses a kiss right below your bra line, causing you to squirm. He moves lower, slowly — until he pauses right before reaching your pants button. 

“You want this so badly and you can’t even say please? How sad,” he teases, watching you from his spot between your legs. 

You attempt to shift forward on the counter in desperation for some sort of sensation. You’re cut short by his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place. 

“When did I say you could move?” he glares at you as you squirm. “Ask politely, or you get nothing.” 

You scoff. “Just how arrogant can you get?” Dismissing him, you roll your eyes — his smug face boring into your skull. 

Still unfazed, maybe even amused, he mutters, “Still running your mouth?” 

He leans down, planting a soft kiss right above your waistband, taunting you. He unbuckles your pants and places another kiss just above your underwear — infuriatingly slow, letting it linger. He pulls your pants down with the same grueling pace. 

“God, Tsukishima, just do it already!” you plead. 

He pauses and stares. “Are you going to ask politely? If not, then you can forget about it.” He smirks and kisses you once more on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to the apex. 

“Fine. Please,” you mumble. 

“What was that?” he mutters while marking your legs. “I couldn’t quite hear you...” 

“Please, Tsukishima, please,” you let out with a breathy sigh. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he whispers, like it’s all part of a game. 

He finally increases the urgency in his kisses and nibbles — but only by a smidge. You may be getting your reward, but only on his terms. He slides a finger slowly over the fabric of your underwear. 

“This soaked already?” 

In a feeble attempt to get some friction, you try to grind against his fingers — only for him to instantly pull away. 

“Didn’t I just tell you to stay still?” he scoffs. “Almost pathetic.” 

He places his hand back and slowly rubs at the pulsating heat between your thighs — just enough, not too much. You squirm once more beneath his touch. 

“This whole time you’ve been acting like you can handle me, and you can’t even handle this,” he chuckles. 

“How about I give you something to look at?” he smirks, pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion, revealing his lean torso — which only worsens the ache in your core starting to build. 

He catches you staring too long and tilts his head mockingly. “That look on your face,” he smirks, “don’t tell me you're already falling apart from this?” 

He brings his thigh back to your core and applies a smidge of pressure, deciding to give it some attention. 

“Still not saying thank you? Ungrateful and desperate. What an impressive combo,” he snickers. 

“I can’t be grateful if you haven’t done anything yet,” you retort. 

He responds by pulling away once again. “I guess you need another reminder of who’s in control.” 

He lifts your chin with his fingers and glares his honey-brown eyes into your skull as he slowly puts his knee back between your legs, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You keep saying you want it, right? So here it is.” 

He lowers himself back down to your heat, hooking his fingers into the elastic of your underwear and sliding them down slowly until they fall to the floor. 

He takes the same two fingers and drags them over the wetness of your opening. “Fuck...” he mutters. “You sure talk a big game for someone who's barely touched me,” you say, low and daring, with raised brows. 

He bites your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to shut you up. He freezes for a second — just long enough to make you regret opening your mouth. Then, without warning, he comes back up and his hand wraps around the back of your neck, not tight, but enough to tilt your head up and force your eyes to meet his. 

“Say that again,” he says quietly — too quietly. His tone is flat, unreadable, but his grip and the slight twitch in his jaw say enough. 

Your heart skips, but you keep your smugness, barely. “I mean... was I wrong?” you manage, though your voice is thinner now. 

His lips curl into a tight smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You want rough, or just stupid?” he mutters, dragging his thigh back up between your legs, pushing into you hard enough to make you gasp. “Because I can promise you, you won’t be able to mouth off like that again if I’m actually touching you.” 

His other hand moves to grip your jaw now, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he watches you start to squirm under the pressure. “You forget I’ve been going easy on you,” he continues. “And clearly that was a mistake,” he mutters as he lowers his other hand to rub at your aching core at a rapid pace while he glares at you, watching your expressions as closely as possible, face nearly blank. 

You let out a tiny moan and his eyes glint. “That’s what I like to hear...” He slows his pace, careful not to push you over the edge too fast, keeping you in a steady place. 

After working you open with his fingers and listening to every sound you make, he pulls them out suddenly. Without giving you time to react, he leans in and replaces them with his mouth. No teasing licks, no words, just blunt pressure, slow at first — his erection throbbing the more whines and moans you let out. 

The sounds you’re making only provoke him more. He speeds up, tongue relentless, sucking and lapping up your wetness until your thighs begin to tremble. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly, trying to ground yourself — but it only makes him groan against you. 

When you finally cry out, shaking, he doesn’t stop — only slows, riding out every twitch and breathless moan you offer him. Only once your legs give out does he lift his head, lips wet and eyes smug. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans over you, one hand on your stomach as your chest heaves. “You said I hadn’t done anything before,” he murmurs, voice low. “Still think that?” 

You don’t answer — you can’t. 

He leans in, presses a slow kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself. Then he grabs a dish towel nearby and gently wipes the sweat from your brow, from your inner thighs — his touch still firm but no longer demanding. 

“You alive?” he murmurs, smug but quieter now. 

You nod weakly. He hums and helps pull your underwear back up, then hooks an arm around your waist and holds you against him. His lips brush your temple. 

“You’re lucky I like you bratty,” he mutters. 

You sigh into his neck. “Told you I could handle you.” 

He chuckles — slow and deep. 

“Barely.” 

[supi-wupi]

The Margin Theory - Wonwoo

pairing: Wonwoo x librarian!reader

synopsis: The boy who once loved you in parentheses is leaving his heart in the margins—hoping you’ll read between the lines and come back.

wc: 2.4k

genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Slowburn, Second Chance

warning: Emotional Miscommunication, Past break up, Healing After Emotional Distance

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY WONWOO!! Had alot of fun thinking of meaningfull quotes that reader and wonwoo could relate to, was the easiest part to write. This banner is also the best banner i think i’ve made.

The rain came down in ribbons, tapping gently against the library’s front windows like a polite reminder of the world outside. It was nearing closing time—just you, the dull flicker of overhead lights, and the quiet hum of book returns sliding down the metal chute.

You liked this hour. It felt suspended. Still. Like the universe paused for a breath before turning the page.

The cart creaked under your hand as you wheeled it toward the return bin. You were halfway through sorting textbooks and novels when your fingers brushed against a familiar texture. The spine was cracked, the cover creased. The gold-foiled title had long since faded.

Winter of the Lantern.

Your hand froze.

You knew this copy—not by the barcode, but by the worn corner, where you'd once spilled tea in sophomore year. The dog-eared pages, the ink-smudged notes. The indentation on the back where a heavy keychain had once pressed against it in your backpack.

It was your book.

You opened it slowly, like muscle memory. Page 1.

There it was.

Below it—one you hadn’t written.

Your handwriting, looping and small in the top margin:

Annotation on “He left without warning.”

Is it still abandonment if it’s silent? Or does silence make it worse?

You swallowed.

Faint pencil. Angular strokes.

Annotation on your note:

Worse. Because you imagine kinder reasons than the truth.

It was his.

Wonwoo.

You hadn’t seen him in two years. Not since he left the campus early, not since you sat in that café for 40 minutes past the time he said he'd come. Not since he stopped replying to your messages with no explanation other than time and space—neither of which had ever felt as cruel until they were used as reasons to disappear.

You turned to the title page.

A new message was scribbled in small, apologetic letters just beneath the author’s name:

You sat down at the return desk and stared at the book.

I kept it longer than I should have. I’m sorry.

—W.

He could have written you a letter. Sent a message. But of course he wouldn’t. Not when he knew what this book meant. Not when this had been your shared language—underline, margin, pencil, thought.

And now here it was again, returned not to the shelf, but to you.

You ran your fingers along the edge of the page, and in that moment, you remembered something he once told you:

“People leave bookmarks in books they plan to finish. Not the ones they abandon.”

You never did finish this one.

And now?

Now you weren’t sure if you were being asked to pick it up again—or if he was simply returning what he owed.

But one thing was certain.

And maybe—just maybe—you would reply.

He’d spoken.

In ink.

In margins.

To you.

—

You don’t open the book again until two nights later.

It waits on your nightstand like it’s always belonged there. You tried to shelve it with the others, but your fingers hesitated at the spine, then quietly placed it next to your lamp instead. Familiar weight. Familiar ache.

Winter of the Lantern begins slowly—lush prose, snow-drenched metaphors, grief between every comma. You know how the story unfolds: a girl and a boy in a seaside town, speaking in glances but never at the same time. Misunderstood silences. Love letters never sent.

You hadn’t realized it then, but it had always been about you and him.

Or maybe you made it that way.

At page 17, you find it:

Your old note, scribbled in haste years ago under a particularly sharp piece of dialogue.

Your handwriting in the margin:

“You never said anything.”

“You never asked.”

Beneath it—new, precise:

Annotation:

How can two people be so close and still miss each other?

You pause. Pencil smudged just slightly, like he’d hovered too long. You read it again.

Annotation on your note:

Because one assumes silence means safety, and the other thinks silence means indifference.

Because one assumes silence means safety, and the other thinks silence means indifference.

Which one were you?

You flip ahead.

Page 28. No notes.

Page 33. Your underlines.

Page 41. Another one.

Quote:

She watched his figure blur behind the lantern-lit fog and wondered which was heavier—words unspoken or words too late.

His reply, quietly tucked under yours:

Your annotation back then:

Annotation:

Late. Always late.

A lump forms in your throat.

Annotation on your annotation:

I didn’t know it was already too late. I thought I had time.

You close the book gently and let it rest on your chest, the weight of paper and memory pressing against your ribs. Maybe this is his way of talking again. Quiet. Careful. Like always.

And maybe this time, you could talk back.

You pull open the drawer by your bed and find an old mechanical pencil. The eraser is hardened and cracked. You open the book again, return to page 41.

You add:

And you leave it there, like a dare.

Annotation on your annotation on my annotation:

Then say what you would’ve said, if time hadn’t run out.

Like an invitation.

You close the book, not all the way—just enough to mark the page. You don’t need a bookmark. Not yet.

If he comes back to the library—if this was more than a return, more than an apology—you’ll know.

You’ll know if he picks up the story again.

—

You leave the book on the return cart.

Not the shelf, not behind the desk. Not somewhere obvious. But not hidden either.

You’re not sure what that says about you. Maybe that you still want to be found, just not caught.

Three days pass. You don’t check.

On the fourth day, you come in early. A nervous habit leads you to the cart. The book is gone.

Your hands hover over the gap it left on the metal rack. A notch of empty space where he must have stood, reached out, taken it with that same quiet certainty you used to hate. Not because it was cold. Because it was always unreadable.

You spend the rest of the day pretending not to hope.

That night, the book is back on your desk.

You recognize the page before you even open it. The corner of page 52 is slightly folded — a mistake he wouldn’t usually make. You smooth it out. You remember what’s written here.

Original line (highlighted):

“If I tell you now, will it make up for all the times I didn’t?”

This time, no note beneath it.

Your margin note, years ago:

Annotation:

Only if it sounds like the truth.

But halfway down the page, beside a quieter line—almost a throwaway sentence in the story’s dialogue—there it is.

“I used to think we were reading the same story.”

His handwriting is smaller here. Slanted. Less sure.

Your breath catches.

Annotation on the line:

I think I read ahead. I think I misunderstood the ending.

He’s left something this time. Folded once, trimmed from a torn piece of graph paper. Not a full letter—just one sentence:

You turn the page slowly, like it might vanish.

Page 53. A note tucked beneath a taped corner.

If you were the one writing the ending, would you still leave?

No name. But you know it’s him.

And you know, suddenly, how this book will go. Not the story inside it, but the one stitched between ink and pencil.

He’s reading back through what you left behind.

You’re not the same people who wrote those first annotations.

But maybe you’re not so far gone either.

No. But I didn’t know you’d want me to stay.

You take the paper, press it flat. Find your pencil.

Right beneath his question, you write:

You close the book. Not with finality, but with the kind of silence that asks to be filled.

You hope so.

You place it gently in the staff returns box.

Maybe he’ll find it tomorrow.

Because tomorrow, you might be brave enough to ask:

If we start from the same page now—can we rewrite the ending?

—

You don’t leave a letter this time.

You go back to the language you both understand best: margin notes and underlines. No explanations. No defenses. Just a pencil and enough space between the lines to finally say what you couldn’t before.

Page 77 is quiet. Not a major plot twist. Just dialogue between the book’s couple—characters who once mirrored the two of you so well, you’d laugh in disbelief. Now they feel like ghosts of what you had. Or maybe what you almost had.

You underline it twice.

Original line (underlined):

“You never said anything.”

Then, in the left margin:

Beneath it, like a response arriving days later:

Annotation:

I was scared you'd say, “I know.”

You trace his words with your thumb, not because you need to feel them — but because you need to believe he meant them.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

I would’ve said, “Me too.”

A few pages later, you find another note from him. This time not near a sad line. Just a throwaway phrase where the characters are laughing again, after too long apart.

“It’s still you,” she says, “even when you’re awful.”

His handwriting leans more open here:

You stare at it for a long time. That line doesn’t belong to just the book anymore.

Annotation:

Sometimes I waited for you to get tired of me. I think I got there first. That’s the part I regret most.

In the margin across from it, you finally answer:

On the next page, you find he’s already circled a phrase:

Annotation (yours):

I was never tired. I was just waiting for you to come back.

“Let’s just start where we left off.”

Underneath, a hesitant pencil scrawl:

You write back immediately.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

I don’t know where that is anymore.

—

Your Annotation:

Then let’s start somewhere new.

The book is winding toward its climax now — the characters are still talking past each other, misunderstanding motives, assuming the worst. You wonder if they’ll make it in the end.

Wonwoo has underlined an entire paragraph this time, the first time he’s done that.

“I thought if I said something, I’d lose what little I still had of you. And silence… silence at least let me pretend nothing had changed.”

In the margin, his note:

Your breath catches. You can picture him writing this—slowly, like it hurt. You almost don’t want to reply. Almost.

Annotation:

This is how I lost you anyway, isn’t it?

But you do. In the smallest handwriting you’ve used yet:

A few pages later, he writes again. This time it’s beside a line where the female lead says, “I reread your old texts, even the ones where you said nothing. I made them mean something.”

Annotation (yours):

No. This is how we hurt each other.

You stare at that line so long, you forget to turn the page.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

I still have your voice memos. You never said much. Just street noise. Humming. Once, you said, “Come home soon.”

Eventually, you find the courage to write beside it.

The next margin is blank.

Your Annotation:

I meant it. I didn’t know how else to say I missed you.

Not empty — just waiting.

And at the very bottom corner of page 110, almost tucked under the printing:

You don’t write anything back this time.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

Can we finish this one together? Just the last chapter. I’ll bring snacks. You bring whatever you forgave me with.

But you dog-ear the page.

—

Page 112 — A Line from the Male Lead:

"I thought absence would make the heart grow fonder. Instead, it only made me forget the sound of your laugh."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

Funny how I remember the silence more than your laugh.

I think I stopped listening.

Page 115 — Female Lead’s Confession:

"I was scared of being vulnerable. So, I built walls of words I never said."

Your Annotation:

I built walls too. Not with words — with quiet.

Page 118 — A Scene Where They Almost Talk:

"If only I had said what I meant, maybe we wouldn’t be here."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

If only I could rewind just one conversation.

I’d say I’m sorry differently.

Page 120 — A Simple Question from the Female Lead:

"Do you still want to try?"

Your Annotation:I

want to. But scared.

Wonwoo’s Annotation (written just below yours):

Me too.

Page 122 — Male Lead’s Thought:

"Love isn’t perfect. It’s messy, quiet, loud — it’s everything in between."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

Maybe that’s what we need to learn — to live in the in-between.

Page 124 — Male Lead’s Thought:

"I never realized how much I missed the ordinary moments until they were gone."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

I miss the small things, too — your sigh when you’re tired, your smile after coffee.

Page 127 — Female Lead’s Whisper:

"I thought you stopped caring. Maybe I was wrong."

Your Annotation:

I stopped trying to hear you. Maybe I was wrong.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

We both were.

Page 130 — A Scene of Distance:

"We were speaking, but never really listening."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

That’s the hardest part — to hear the silence between words.

Page 133 — Female Lead’s Hope:

"Can we start over? Or is this just another ending?"

Your Annotation:

I want to try, even if it’s messy.

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

Me too. Messy is better than silent.

Page 135 — Male Lead’s Regret:

"I should have held your hand tighter, instead of letting go."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

|I’m still holding on — just hoping you’ll take it again.

Page 138 — Male Lead’s Thought:

"Maybe the hardest part is saying ‘I’m sorry’ first."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

I’m sorry, for all the words left unspoken between us.

Page 140 — Female Lead’s Whisper:

"Sometimes the first step is the hardest, but also the most important."

Your Annotation:

Then let’s take that step — together.

Page 143 — Male Lead’s Hope:

"We might fall, but at least we’ll fall forward."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

If you reach out, I’ll catch you.

Page 146 — Female Lead’s Promise:

"No more silence, no more distance."

Your Annotation:

I’m ready to talk, to listen, and to be here.

Page 149 — Final Line in Book:

"Love is imperfect. It’s messy. But it’s ours."

Wonwoo’s Annotation:

Our story isn’t over yet — can we try, for real this time?

If your heart still whispers my name,

Your Annotation (written last):

Between these pages, I found the courage I lost.

then let us write the next chapter,

not in silence, but together.

masterlist ♪

[mitchko11]

ICE CREAM ◞♡

mingi and you having the biggest crush on each other

warnings: reader is shy. female reader.

guys i wrote this almost a year ago LOL

( the song “ice cream” by f(x) inspired me )

fluff below the cut !!

“she’s so pretty..” mingi expressed, sighing softly watching you. his best friend, jongho sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

“why don’t you just tell her that?” mingi’s eyes widened as he looked at his best friend. “are you insane? look at her and look at me.” mingi rubbed his head over his face.

“are you sure i don’t look crazy right now?” you asked your friend, seeun for the third time. “y/n, your constant questions are making you look crazy!” she groaned out.

“why did no one tell me he was coming? i would’ve definitely put on better clothes.” you pout as seeun ate her watermelon, ignoring you completely.

jongho and seeun were annoyed with their lovestrucked friends, so they devised a plan.

“great idea, jongho. i was practically melting in that sun. ice cream will definitely cool me off.” mingi rambled as jongho rolled his eyes.

“yeah, totally..” as mingi was walking to the stand, jongho looked behind him and give seeun a thumbs up. he then quickly walked away from mingi.

“hey, y/n, do you want some ice cream? let’s go get some.” she grabs y/n’s hand and drags her there. “okay.. you just got done eating a whole watermelon. now you want ice cream..” seeun gave y/n a look that immediately shut her up.

“i need to go to the bathroom, you know what i want.” she immediately walks a different direction. “okay.. wait, i actually don’t know what you want.” y/n shrugged and made her way towards the ice cream stand.

“what would you like sir?” the worker asks him. “may i get two scoops of strawberry ice cream and for my friend-“ jongho turns around and sees that jongho is not there. he is instead met with y/n, who looks equally confused and slightly petrified.

“uh.. what would you want, y/n?” the way mingi said her name had her heart doing somersaults. “um vanilla please. one scoop.” y/n replied softly. she knew that blonde head looked familiar.

“that would be ten fifty.” mingi immediately reached for his wallet while y/n spoke up. “i’ll pay for mine, it is okay!” y/n digged through her purse for her wallet that somehow was invisible.

“it’s okay, it is on me.” mingi replied with a small smile. he paid the worker and got the two cups of ice cream.

when mingi handed y/n the ice cream, their hands touched, and they both stung each other. the tip of mingis ears turned red and y/n bit her lip.

“wanna sit on the bench?” mingi suggested, hoping and praying you wouldn’t reject his proposal and completely embarrass him.

“sure!” y/n says a little too enthusiastically, which mingi doesn’t catch since his heart is beating loudly.

mingi lets y/n walk in front of him as he tries to calm down. how should he act? should he start the conversation? should they just be quiet? why does she look so pretty?

y/n tried not to trip when walking. she worries if he thinks she’s walking weird. she thought she was going to faint when he smiled at her. and when he paid for her ice cream. why does he look so pretty?

y/n sits down first and mingi after, leaving some distance between them. y/n was a little bummed out. why was he so far away? with a frown, she ate her ice cream.

mingi was trying to come up with ways to speak to her. his eyes were on his 2 scoops of ice cream, which were slowly melting. he looked at her and saw that she was frowning.

“i’m sorry-”

“i’m sorry-”

mingi and y/n both apologized at the same time. they both looked at each other and giggle slightly. “you go first.” mingis says. “no you.” y/n replies fighting back a smile.

“i wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable. i noticed you looked upset and i can’t help but think it’s because of me being awkward.” mingi confessed as you tilt your head in surprise.

“that’s crazy because i feel the same way. i felt i made you uncomfortable because you say so far away from me..” mingi immediately slid over to her, closing the gap. you laugh immediately.

“sorry, i didn’t want to make you uncomfor-. okay, no more with that word.” he sighs to himself as you giggle. “it’s okay, mingi.” his face lights up immediately as he hears his name from your voice.

“your ice cream is melting.” you tell him as he quickly licks the dripping ice cream on his finger. you laugh again and cover your mouth. mingi loves your laugh. even though you try to cover it, it’s still loud and silly.

“nothing is that funny.” seeun snickers as jongho shakes his head. “she’s making him bigheaded. he already thinks he’s hilarious.” both of the friends were watching you two behind a bush.

“i like your outfit today, y/n.” mingi compliments after the laughing died down. you immediately freeze before smiling softly. “thank you, i like yours too.” you bump your shoulder into his and he looks at you and smile.

you both stare are each other before mingi clears his throat, “so um, why are you here?” he asks. “i was here because seeun invited me. she actually wanted ice cream but had to go to the bathroom.. it’s been awhile.” you look at your watch.

“same with jongho. he basically disappeared when i was going to ask him what he wanted..”

you both look at each other before shaking your heads and laughing.

“no way they actually tried to set us up.” mingi said while eating some of his ice cream. “right, i’m sorry mingi.”

“mhm, for what?” he asked while he locked the spoon clean. “for basically wasting your time. i know you don’t like me.” you forced out a laugh as you looked at your shoes.

it was silent for a moment before mingi spoke up.

“who said that?” you immediately snapped your head up and saw him looking at you with an unreadable expression. the atmosphere shifted into something serious.

“nobody! i just know you don’t like me.” “okay but how do you know?” he replies backed immediately. your heart is beating rapidly and you don’t know why but it feels like everything went silent and it’s only you and mingi.

“i mean you kind of avoid me. plus, you are basically you.” mingi cocks his head to the side.

“i didn’t know me avoiding you was that obvious..” mingi says to himself but quickly speaks up again. “i do it so i don’t make a fool out of myself. every time i see you, i can’t look away. my heart starts beating really hard like it is now when im close to you.”

“and what do you mean “you are basically you”? you are out of this world…” you don’t miss the way he subtly checks you out when he says that, which causes heat to rush up your face.

when he realizes what he says, he chuckles awkwardly and looks away. you have a permanent smile on your face. you grab his hand and when he looks at you, your kiss his cheek.

“i’m sorry, i dont know what to say.“ you giggle slightly as you look at him. “you’re not embarrassed?” mingis hand is sweaty but you don’t mind. “no.. i really appreciate what you just said. i really like you mingi.”

[chloesimaginationthings]

Why is he kinda...

These two asks were right next to each other, and I think that’s beautiful