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2plussize · 2 years ago

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Making of a big boy (Version 2)

Matts journey into a big life

Our character, Matt, is an athletic young guy. He falls in love with eating and – me. As kick start for a big life, I feed him up to 300lbs. We both find it a turn-on to fatten him up, and much to our delight he properly gains weight. He has his ups and downs, but his gigantic appetite ensures that he always goes on with his gluttony. Later, we start to force-fatten him. Some day, he weighs in at 550lbs. And eventually it happens that he gets immobile …

I had fun writing it, hope you enjoy reading it.

The first 50

Matt is a student, 21 years old, a handsome, well-built guy with a weakness for food. Although he does a lot of sports, he has put on weight over the last years and now weighs 210 pounds on a 6'0 frame. He is a bit embarrassed by the flab on his waist and his ample butt and would like to lose some pounds, but he has such a hearty appetite ... I invite him to an AYCE buffet. He can't resist the delicious food and eats four servings before he's full. Because it's fun, we make buffets and BBQs a routine. I push Matt to the limit every time. After a few months, the results become apparent. Matt proudly proves how much more he can eat now – he manages six servings! But he has also gotten properly bigger. His ample butt now fills a pair of size 38 trousers, and the shirts tightly span his plump waist. He's a little embarrassed that he now weighs over 240 pounds, but he's gotten so used to the good life and is constantly hungry. He pleads with me to continue the fattening diet .. And I agree.

Matt eats oodles. He often makes fun of eating my portion as well and ordering another serving. He really puts on weight and bursts out of his clothes. And when it comes to sports, it's no longer so easy with his now over 260 pounds. His family and buddies pat the heavy pounds on his waist and make mocking remarks. Although I assure him how well the weight suits him, he becomes insecure. In the following months, he is unhappy and loses a good 40 pounds. What can I do? I persuade him to give eating another try. A deep, relieved smile crosses his face. I'm happy to pay the bills – but in return, I want him to weigh in at 280lbs on his 23rd birthday. He swallows ... but I know that he cannot resist the thought of permanent gluttony. And rightly so, he willingly accepts the challenge and vows to properly put on weight.

A bit deceived

To give him a break from his studies (and to fatten him up), I invite Matt on a 3-week cruise to the Caribbean. Endless buffets, ice cream, snacks at any time of the day. Matt doesn’t need encouragement to eat. Instead of the gym, he’s working out at the buffet and stuffs himself to the brim. His swimming trunks get skin-tight, and the flab wobbles over his waistband. Four weeks before his birthday, he's above schedule at 274 – but I can't resist fooling him. I manipulate the scale to 263 and insert 3 inches into the tape measure. The clueless Matt grabs his flab roll in disbelief. We make a force fattening. King-size meals, second servings, desserts, ice cream. If he wants to give up, I force him to eat even more. "Another bite, yes, well done. You're a good boy, aren't you?" - until he groans. He gains pound after pound and puts on a fat, wobbling belly. When I weigh him and measure his waist, I blindfold him so that he doesn't see that he's already fat enough. Secretly, I feel a bit guilty for fattening this young guy like that ...

His birthday ... my goodness, he's so fat! His massive butt fills the new 42 jeans neatly, and the shirt we bought for his birthday is already tight at his waist. A little embarrassed, he takes it off. His massive flab rolls make my mouth water. He now weighs in at 291!! I hug him, aroused by the fat belly he carries in front of him, and pinch him into his fat hip rolls. My cunning dawns on him, and he feels fat and stupid. At dinner, however, his huge appetite takes over, and Matt makes two complete three-course meals disappear. Even though he protests, I order him another family portion of dessert, which he also handles. Satisfied and breathing heavily, he leans back; oops - his shirt pops open over his belly (we're sitting in a booth). He looks helplessly at me, blushing. I just open more buttons and pat his massive, wobbling flab roll appreciatively. Then I praise him for eating so bravely and gaining more weight than promised. He's my hero! Embarrassed, he stutters that he loves to eat so much and enjoyed being fattened. Then he takes heart and looks at me. He wants to get massive and asks me to continue with the fattening. At Christmas, he wants to weigh well over 300 pounds. And on his 25th birthday, he wants to have doubled his starting weight to 360. He looks at me. On his 26th birthday, he wants to weigh in at 400 and then ... he swallows audibly ... reach 500 and weigh a quarter ton! And finally, fatten himself peacefully into immobility. He whispers if I still love him when he gets so fat? I am blessed .. He can never be fat enough for me. We seal the plan with an infinite kiss.

He moves in

After graduation, he moves in with me to live peacefully and eat without limit. He is glad that his parents can no longer comment on his weight gain all the time, but also a bit afraid of being helplessly fattened (and that's exactly what I intend to do!). In December, however, he is "underweight". Time for a fattening diet. Huge meals, constant snacks, regular naps in between and heavy cream in the evening make him gain a lot of weight. At Christmas, he's solid over 300 pounds, and really proud. His shirts are now so tight that he just spends his days topless, proudly showing off his wobbling spare tire. When he notices my excitement, he takes my hands, puts them on his soft belly flab and faithfully promises to add properly to that. OK! We make the days a constant feast. He eats tons - almost all the turkey, king-size meals with extra portions, cream pie, tons of cookies in between. I encourage him if he wants to give up. Stuffed and short of breath after the meals, Matt spends most of the days on the couch. His stomach bulges tremendously, and he moans with relief when I give him belly rubs. On New Year's Day, he's so fat that he can barely get the 42 jeans over his voluminous butt, and he's officially wearing the top two buttons open. He shyly asks if I'm satisfied with him. I can't help but grab my fat hero, his wobbling belly, his massive hip rolls and his immense butt. I enjoy so much how he gets out of breath now when he is aroused and how his fat belly gets in his way. When he realizes this, he whispers to me to fatten him properly up for next Christmas. I can hardly tell you how much I love him.

In June, on the beach. Matt is a handsome 24-year-old. The masculine beard on his handsome face covers his chubby cheeks and incipient double chin. With his solid 320 pounds, however, he has also become a weighty fellow. His huge thighs and ample, but still well-shaped butt have properly grown. But he also has a massive flab roll on his waist that wobbles with every step, as do his mighty buttocks. When he hears people scoffing at his corpulence, he becomes uncomfortable. Although he is still stuffed from a huge picnic, I order him an extra large family portion of ice cream. Of course, he can't resist and polishes it off. But he is ungracious. He accuses me of feeding him so fat and says that he is by far the fattest of all his friends. He refuses to eat. I feel bad. After a few days, however, he makes up his mind. He hugs me, and as his wobbling belly presses against me, he whispers to me that he wants to get fatter than ever, no matter what people say. We seal it with a huge dinner.

No more sports

Next Christmas, however, Matt is down to 310, and not happy. I cheer him up and suggest to work partly from home so he has more time to eat ... and to weigh 40 pounds more on his birthday? Somewhat hesitantly, he agrees. I ask Josh, a young feeder, to help me, and he fattens Matt skillfully. When he has eaten up, the next portion is already on the plate, and when he is full, Josh squeezes in another helping ... Matt eats constantly more than he actually wants. I secretly leave out the seams of his clothes, and when weighing or measuring his waist, we blindfold him so that he doesn't realize how well he's putting on the heavy pounds. Josh is eager to feed him fatter than all the other gainers ... Matt's appetite is huge, but of course he doesn't suspect anything.

Although he is not enthusiastic, I often take Matt to the gym. Once a regular, he has now grown so much. His belly and fat thighs get in his way, and he gasps pitifully. When the trainer sees the fat Matt on the treadmill, he weighs him and banishes him because he is now too heavy. The other guys make fun of him behind his back. To train him anyway, we take his bike for a tour around the city. Matt hasn't driven for a long time. He's so fat that I have to help him get on and go. He is not amused when I say that next time we need a pulley to get him up there. I can't deny that it turns me on how his huge butt hangs over the saddle and his massive belly roll wobbles out of control with every bump. On the first climb he gets out of breath and gets a red head. He has to give up. We turn back. He realizes that he has simply become too fat and heavy for sports, and is depressed.

To distract him, Josh fattens him according to all rules of the art over the next few weeks with heavy food and frequent snacks. This makes Matt's mood rise significantly. He proudly shows how much he can eat, and we often encourage him to eat an extra portion. Success is inevitable. He gains pound after pound and blows neatly up. Summer is here, and our Matt weighs in at a whopping 350 pounds...

Starting weight doubled

On Matt's big day, the buddies of the gainer community come to the BBQ. Matt's stomach is already pressing against his shirt, and Josh takes it off him. There stands the once so sporty Matt and turns red with embarrassment. His wobbly belly bulges over the waistband of his boxer shorts, and his thighs, butt and hip rolls have become massive. Josh puts him on the scales - 361 pounds! Matt has been aware that he was properly fattened, but not that he has now more than doubled his starting weight and is only 30 pounds behind Pete, the undisputed champion. Josh appreciatively pats Matt's massive waist and shows how big he will have fattened him next year. Matt almost sinks into the ground in agony. There, Josh calls for an eating contest! Matt tries to get back control. Josh's training pays off; he manages a full dish more than Pete. But Josh shows off the stuffed and heavily-breathing Matt again. He gleefully pats his fat cheeks and says: "As much as you eat, you'll be the fattest on your next birthday. Then a butcher will measure out your sumptuous flab and check if you're ready for slaughter." Matt blushes hard. "When he sharpens his knife, you panic. But you're way too big and fat to run away. You're begging for your life, but in order to be free, you have to promise to eat as much as a whole family. We'll lock you in a cage, fatten you up and check weekly to see if you're putting on enough fat”.

The round becomes quiet. I see it flash through Matt's head. His dream comes true. To be helplessly fattened. Seeing the numbers on the scales rising. Nevertheless, to eat as much as a whole family. To eat himself fatter and fatter, and finally become immobile. – Finally, Matt clears his throat and says, "I'm ready to be fattened up to be the fattest guy here."

To make sure Matt stays healthy with his weight gain, I take him in for a checkup. When the doctor weighs him and takes his measurements, he casts a contemptuous glance at his mass. After a few squats (Matt can only do three), Matt lies on the patient's couch, breathing heavily, and the doctor asks him how such a young guy can fatten himself like that. Matt feels like a fattening pig being led to the slaughter and stammers that he has a healthy appetite. But the doctor urges him to lose weight. He loses his joy in eating.

It is not until late autumn that he grasps his belly. "Gosh, I'm way too skinny," he says, looking down. "We have a lot of catching up to do! I want to weigh in at 400 pounds on my next birthday. I want to eat for three!" He's down to 325 pounds, so plenty to do..

A growing boy

Josh is moving in with us. He trains Matt to become a champion in eating and takes him firmly in his hands. Matt only wears boxer shorts so we can see his progress well. We make BBQ or pasta every day. Matt eats more than plentifully. But Josh regularly stuffs him a little more after that. Matt complains that he feels like a Christmas goose, but at the next opportunity he mightily tucks in again. His appetite increases. After some time, he can already eat more than the two of us together at our daily BBQs. Josh makes sure that this becomes a daily routine. But soon he forces him to eat a little more to expand his stomach. It works. Over time, Matt, breathing heavily, manages to eat an extra portion of BBQ. He gets a recliner to relax his bulging stomach. This allows us to pour him another pint of ice cream. Matt is amazed at how much he can eat and how wide he gets, and Josh is satisfied with his progress. At the weekly weigh-ins (blindfolded!), Matt now weighs in at a whopping 4 pounds more each time. He becomes a heavyset athlete. A thick layer of fat spreads over his body. The spare tire on his waist and his wobbling belly become massive. And soon there is reason to celebrate! Matt's huge butt and waistline require a larger pair of boxer shorts. We celebrate with a huge fattening day, and Matt eats for three for the first time. As he lies groaning in his recliner, Josh grasps his massive flab roll and says, "You're so fattened, why don't we grill your bacon?" Matt gets nervous and wants to get up, but in vain, he is too stuffed and heavy. He gasps helplessly and is anxious whether he will be fattened like this again the next day .. and he should be right. Josh crams Matt, who only weakly protests, to the brink again. By the middle of the year, Matt has gained a good 45 pounds and is fatter than ever.

Matt's parents are concerned that their son is getting so enormously fat. They approve of me and our relationship, but of course they have no idea that I'm fattening Matt on purpose. He reassures them that he will cut back ... (Of course, I will prevent that!) - The next time we see them, Matt has properly gained again and is nervous. Although he eats almost nothing the 2 days before, they complain that he has become bigger again. At home, we take a deep breath. Matt is starving and eats a dinner big enough for three. I tease him that with such a diet the next time with his parents he will be even fatter. Defiantly, he says he can eat as much as he wants to, and forces down an extra piece of cream cake, even though he is already full to bursting. Well, the next time with his parents is his 26th birthday. Josh has sneakily fattened our Hansel, who could never resist, with extra snacks, cream cake and ice cream in the weeks before and brought him to a record weight of 381 pounds! Now Matt is nervous and tries to suck his belly in, but in vain; the heavy pounds press against the shirt. When the parents ask what he weighs now, he simply says "340". They look doubtful, but they seem to have resigned with his weight. At dinner, hungry Matt eats two full three-course meals without them commenting further, even though his shirt is dangerously tight. At home, I tell him that no matter how fat he gets, his parents will always love him. He sighs, but I'm right.

Fat token of love

He wakes up at night, unhappy .. he is worried that he has gotten so fat now and asks me what will become of him when he gets so big that he can no longer move, and he sobs heartbreakingly .. I can hardly calm him down, he cries and is depressed. He wants to lose 150 pounds and be a normal-weight young man. Oh dear! We talk for a long time; it's five o'clock in the morning. The dinner is 7 hours ago .. I sneakily ask if he could do with a snack, and after a moment he nods. I make him a fat 18oz steak with double fries and three beers (I doubt that he can eat that much). Oops, he's unsure if he'll be able to handle it after the high-calorie evening, but he’ll try his best. He puts in a mighty effort, and with belly rubs and a lot of encouragement, he manages it, without leftovers! He is breathing heavily, but proud that he has mastered this challenge. I hug him. When he notices how his bulk turns me on, he takes my hands and puts them on his soft, ample hips. Then he gently pulls me towards him. I now feel his mighty belly between us and stroke his huge, soft ass. The feeling is priceless. 2 hours ago he wanted to lose weight .. now I press the massive, still heavily-breathing Matt close to me and whisper that I want to make him even fatter. He is blessed. As token of his love, he asks me to force a pint of heavy cream into him; he can hardly breathe now. With a heavy 3900 kcal in his stomach – and straight on his hips – he falls asleep.

The next day he comes late, but he doesn’t want to miss a meal and eats as if nothing had happened, even if takes him a mighty effort. In the evening, his belly bulges like never before. I praise him. He can be proud! He has eaten more than ever before lately and slowly is becoming a true heavyweight champion, and he will get even fatter. – Oh dear. He looks at me, visibly torn by his feelings... After all, he wanted to lose weight, and now he eats more than ever ..

To distract him, I make him a 2500kcal breakfast the next morning. He bravely forces it down. Oof! To our great delight, his appetite remains gigantic in the next time, and he eats heroically. XXL breakfast, pasta, second serving, BBQ for three, 5 pints of beer in the evening, cream cake, ice cream. He regularly feeds himself to the limit. To support him in his heroic efforts, I encourage him to eat more and massage his stomach twice a day. This makes it easier for him to handle the huge meals. I'm thrilled to see how he's visibly blowing up and his belly gets massive ... He just sighs. But there is no longer any talk of losing weight. He can't stop eating. Helpless against his gigantic appetite, he looks on as due to his gluttony his waistline expands by the week and he puts on pound after pound of fat on his belly and hips. Soon his pants become too tight for his massive thighs and huge butt ... To no one's surprise, Matt passes 400. We praise him for how much he has put on. And we celebrate our heavy hero with a 3 days feasting. Grateful and touched, he wants to try to eat half as much more as Josh and I together at each meal, and with our help, he succeeds. He's bursting at the seams, but proud. Reverently, we pat the soft fat on his belly and hips. He has stuffed himself like a true heavyweight champ, and he is heavily rewarded (the scales show a whopping 409). When Josh teases him that he is now fat enough for slaughter, Matt gets nervous...

A huge boy

With his weight, my sporty boy from the past has now become very big. His enormous belly has a will of its own. it wobbles out of control at the slightest movement and gets often in his way. When he ties his shoelaces, he struggles with the bulky fat roll, and he gasps and gets a red head from exertion. When he gets up, he often has to try several times because of his weight, or we have to help him up. He moves much slower. Halfway up the stairs, he has to take breath. His thighs are so massive that his legs are already a little apart. Shopping for clothes with him is a special pleasure. To see my fat boy being measured by the astonished salesmen, then the fight in the dressing room, when he has to pull pants over his gigantic butt or can't get the shirts over his belly, how he then gets out of breath and sweats .. his dress size is now 4XL shirts and 56' pants.

But we have incredible fun in bed. We both enjoy his indescribable corpulence, the massive, soft pillow he carries in front of him, his plump hip rolls, his thick thighs and above all his gigantic butt. At his weight, he is no longer so agile. But I do all sorts of things with him, I move and shake him and make him gasp, sweat and squeak with pleasure (I sweat too, with a guy more than twice as heavy as me). The way his ample flab wobbles out of control is incredibly arousing. The bed creaks in all hinges under his weight .. It's heavenly. As he got so wide on his butt and thighs, he got cellulite there. I tease our fattening boy, and he is a little unhappy, but it suits him excellently.

I warn Matt to go out. If a butcher sees this well-fattened, heavy boy, he could sharpen his knife and catch him to slaughter him and get his fat bacon. Matt is distraught. In the meantime, he has become much too big and fat to be able to defend himself or even run away. To calm him down, I cut the cream cake. Matt takes a deep breath. Josh encourages him to properly tuck in after the scare, and Matt manages to eat 4 pieces for the first time! The shock is forgotten, and Matt is proud. With a nap he prepares for an extensive dinner. In the following days, we often make him repeat the record, and he’s always proud when he manages it. Our Hansel is getting properly fatter.

Can 't stop eating

His birthday BBQ! Matt comes at Josh's request only in a gigantic pair of boxer shorts. He has become very corpulent. Josh asks the buddies to measure Matt and guess how much he weighs now. Matt blushes with pain and gives Josh a desperate look. But eventually he has to allow the buddies to pat his ample hip rolls and huge butt and have fun making the massive flab on his belly wobble. You guessed it, Matt is a double champion. At 434 pounds, he is now 14 pounds heavier than Pete. And in the eating competition, thanks to Josh's training, he manages one round more than Pete. Pete winks at Josh about how fat he'll make Matt next time. The boys laugh. Josh pats the fat belly of the heavily-breathing Matt, who is unspeakably embarrassed by this, and says with a smug smile, he bets a quarter of a ton! Matt gets restless. It dawns on him that there is no turning back. He is anxious. He is already the fattest, and soon he will be fattened to a quarter of a ton. He wonders what life will be like when he becomes immobile. As a result, he becomes melancholic, no longer eats and loses a lot of pounds.

Force fattened

But when he gets under 400, he comes back to his senses. The food helps him to displace the gloomy thoughts, and he dreams of surpassing his maximum weight. Josh takes advantage of this and familiarizes him with the funnel. First of all, he makes sure that Matt always eats to the limit. Matt is a little anxious when he gets a heavy shake poured in, already stuffed to the brim. He then becomes very quiet and has to lie down to relax his bulging stomach. But with Josh's gentle pressure, it becomes a habit, and Matt gets better every week. His weight goes properly up, and he puts on pound after pound of flab on his butt, hips and especially on his belly. Sometimes Matt is a bit queasy about how he is blowing up now - especially when we weigh him and see that he has properly gained weight again. He needs new shirts and pants. The tailor measures him, astonished at its corpulence. And when Josh asks the tailor to leave room for future pounds, Matt is terribly embarrassed. But Matt gets a corselet that girds his lower belly and soft hips so that the flab doesn't wobble so helplessly. This makes his appetite grow even more. He looks dapper despite his size.

At Christmas, he weighs in at 450 pounds - a good 15 pounds above his maximum weight and two and a half times his starting weight! He is in seventh heaven. Josh gleefully sees that he has a hard time bending down with his corpulence. He has a plan and sets up a Christmas fattening diet. Matt has to manage at least 10,000 kcal a day and put on a good 1 pound of bacon. The unsuspecting Matt wonders why he is being taken so firmly in hand, but he willingly goes along with it. Between the fattening courses, we massage his belly; that increases his capacity. And when he can hardly go on, Josh helps with gentle pressure. Regular naps ensure that the flab sticks, and Matt perfectly puts on pound after pound. At the end of the year, he can hardly believe how wide he has become and how tightly the corselet is already sitting on his hips. Matt weighs in at a whopping 459 pounds. He takes time off to recover for a few more days. But Josh just continues the fattening diet. He rather increases the amounts of the shake. Matt devotedly lets it happen and watches helplessly how his belly and hips swell. He now weighs in at a hefty 468 pounds. Josh sneakily asks the fattened Matt to bend down – Matt can't do it anymore; he's gotten even fatter. He gets a red head from the exertion and has to breathe heavily. Josh is amused, but Matt is confused. - We reduce the pressure with eating so that he can breathe again.

But the fattening diet has increased Matt's appetite. With Josh's strong help, he continues to eat more than plentifully. He also doesn't want to give up the daily heavy late-night snack, and after a while, Josh also puts the funnel back on ... and Matt's weight reaches new records. Matt sighs at how much he now puts on, but that doesn't change his gluttony. Josh grins silently when Matt, to his pain, has to have a larger corselet and new clothes made by the astonished tailor.

On his 28th birthday, Matt weighs in at 500. Oh my goodness, a quarter-ton man .. He looks back on the 5 years of our friendship and is grateful that food has become such a fulfilling passion for him. With the extra 300 pounds he's put on, he's feeling better and happier than ever, and he can't wait to put on even more. He wants to get up to give me a kiss, but he's too heavy and falls back, the sofa creaks dangerously and his flab wobbles for seconds. He then tries to lean forward for a hug, but he is too fat and has to give up, breathing heavily from the effort. I kiss him and grab his ample bacon. I love this boy more and more the fatter and helpless he gets.

I thank Josh that he has helped me to get Matt so fat. WeHe has relentlessly pushed Matt to his limits and trained him to eat ever more. He has literally become a heavy eater. His voracious appetite doesn’t allow for a cutting back. And with his immense corpulence he is a real heavyweight champion.

However, life is getting harder and harder for Matt. With his enormous corpulence, he finds it difficult to get into the car, and he can hardly get out without help. His stomach threatens to block the steering wheel. He gets out of breath when he moves. We need to help him get dressed. If, as is often the case, he has eaten for three or four, he can hardly get up on his own and needs help. At work, he needs a special chair, and his colleagues do not stop teasing him with his weight. The situation has become uncomfortable for him. He's actually considering losing weight, but he's always so hungry and doesn't want to give up gluttony after all! OMG, my depressed boy.. I offer him to give up work instead of eating and to live a peaceful, fat life. He looks at me, unsure .. Then he sobs and whispers that this is what he has always dreamed of, and he is more than ready. How can he thank me other than to eat more and get fatter?

Fat life

Matt's life is now entirely dedicated to food. He often stays in bed. In the morning, he already starts a nutritious breakfast that makes him breathe hard. In the fall, he weighs 545, and that means .. he has tripled his weight!

Josh can't wait to fatten Matt into immobility and begins to prepare everything for it, although Matt can still move reasonably well. A heavy-duty bed for a weight of 1000 pounds, a pulley with built-in scales to lift and weigh Matt, an oversized wheelchair, a heavy-duty scale, a built-in heavy-duty seat in the shower. The workers look at the 560-pound Matt and suspect that we are about to grow a really heavy guy. The fat Matt panics. He feels like Hansel, fattened and far too fat and stupid to run away, and that's the way it is. Desperately, he doesn't eat anything and even tries some mild sports, and he really loses some pounds. But that doesn't last long. His heavy appetite is stronger, and after 3 weeks he asks us to resume fattening. Josh seizes the opportunity. He fattens him to the limit every day and now applies the funnel three times a day as Matt has to catch up. Matt admits to his fate. He literally explodes.

His 29. Birthday, at 612. Getting up has become a challenge for him. He's already panting as we help him sit on the edge of the bed. Josh and I help him get up.. One, two, three.. Oops.. He falls back on the bed, it trembles dangerously .. he takes a minute .. Next try .. One, two, three.. he stands .. he needs a moment to catch his breath .. then he leaves, and his flab wobbles considerably .. OK.. for this heroic deed, he deserved a fat reward, cream cake ... he packs away 4 1/2 pieces. Not satisfied, he wants to create 6 pieces in the next few weeks.

Becoming immobile

After Christmas, at 660, we try to get him up, but he pants like hell and his heart beats extremely, and we give up. We prescribe a strict slimming diet and exercise (as far as possible at his weight) to our big boy. Well, he drops below 600, and his agility comes back well. But in December he is unhappy .. he has now lost a year of fasting. He does not live to starve, but wants to eat, eat and eat! Food for a family of four in one meal! Well, we start again with a fattening diet. Although he is gaining weight more slowly, he is content to weigh over 650 pounds again in the fall.

On his 31st birthday, at 710 pounds, Matt wants to get the funnel 3 times a day. It is obvious that he wants to become immobile. Josh is thrilled and fattens him around the clock. At Christmas, he reaches 750, and eventually is too heavy to get up. He is deeply satisfied when we officially declare him immobile. Matt makes it very clear that he wants to go ahead and put on hundreds of extra pounds. He asks me to stay with him, to encourage him, to fatten him fatter and heavier, and to help him in daily life. I promise, and I do it with deep love.

In order to be able to lift him, we install a pulley above his bed and make sure that he can also be weighed in this way. He is proud every time we weigh him and he has become heavier, and we celebrate with a feast. He enjoys the fact that he is now panting and sweating at the slightest movement. He aims to weigh over 840 on his 33rd birthday, four times as much as the athletic guy I fell in love with, and eventually exceed 1000 and be one of the fattest people ever. and to live a life full of delicious food that makes him bigger and bigger, fatter and heavier ..

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simpleserendipity · 4 years ago

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After Practice | Calum Hood | Mature

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (friends with benefits)

Warnings: swearing, blowjobs, masturbation, praise kink, degradation

Word count: 1695 words

The door slams shut and echo through the house. The only sounds that can be heard in the house are his footsteps stomping through the house, his grumbling, and Duke’s quiet barks. Calum trudges through the house with his soccer duffle slung over his shoulder, heading to Duke’s crate to let him out. There weren't many drawbacks of being a professional soccer player, he has a nice big house, a great dog, his dream job, and the money to buy anything he ever wanted. However one of the biggest drawbacks is he is perpetually alone. It wasn’t by choice because of course he had girlfriends or others he was interested in but things were always complicated with his job, the schedule, and traveling. He got to the crate where Duke was, whining and wagging his tail.

“Hey, buddy,” Calum coos at the dog as he kneels in front of the crate, “Missed you.” He laughs as he lets the dog out of the crate. Duke runs straight for the dog door making Calum break his scowl for a quick laugh. Calum shakes his head as he turns on his heels heading up the stairs then down the hall. He gets to the master bedroom and opens the door quickly. As soon as he steps into the room, Calum drops the duffle in the corner, a corner he long designated his soccer corner. He was pissed today was a tough practice, the coach had them running harder drills, faster plays and was on Calum about every little mistake today which was bothering him. Calum has always held himself to the highest of standards when it came to soccer, so he didn’t the coaches harping on him bother him outwardly, on the inside he was fuming though. He kicked his trainers off on top of the duffle and went to the bathroom. Calum sets his phone onto the counter beside the sink. Then he looked at himself in the mirror before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He looked beat up, soccer had been taking a lot out of him recently, and being the captain of a professional team was really starting to eat him away. He was barely sleeping or relaxing, all his time was spent training. Calum turned to the shower, one of the best things in this house. It was one of the things that confused him at first was why someone would need such a large space, the shower was bigger than his entire bathroom in his childhood home but now it was easily one of his favorite places in the entire house. The shower was lit by overhead lights and surrounded by black tile and glass walls. He turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up.

Calum turned back to the mirror to undress. He peeled the team warm-ups off slowly, throwing them into the hamper beside the shower. Next, he took off the practice uniform, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers. Calum stretched upwards, the sports tape on his hip was beginning to peel at the motion. Calum stripped completely and chucked the remaining clothing into the bin, stretching again. His fingers traced down his hip bone, finding the peeled-up edge of the tape, rolling it off his skin, leaving a red mark in its wake before crumpling it, leaving it on the counter, deciding it’s a problem for later. The room was steaming up much more so he decided it was time to hop in. He slides the glass open slowly before stepping in. He was hoping the shower would relieve some tension. He got in and rolled his head around, the curls wetting down to his head as the water rolled down his tanned muscles. He runs his hands through his hair while washing it. Calum’s hands ran over the smooth expanse of his muscles, trying to rub the muscles to relieve any tension he could.

After a few moments some of the tension had disappeared but not all of it, “Fuck…” He groans in irritation as his hand runs down his stomach, coming down to grip his cock. He figured it may be worth a shot to try to relax a little more. He starts to run his hand up and down his cock gripping firmly. He quickened his pace, trying to get this over with. It wasn’t the fact that Calum was embarrassed about jacking off but he just didn’t like to take longer than necessary. His head falls back and the water drops down his face as he continues to go faster. His mind was wandering trying to think of what would help him finish the job. His mind wanders to you, his casual hookup, an arrangement that perfectly suited both of you. You were too busy and so was Calum for a real relationship so you two would hook up occasionally to keep your needs taken care of. Calum stops stroking his cock, letting his hardened member fall out of his hand. None of his ministrations were doing enough to get him to release, only making him more frustrated, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He huffs to himself, trying to muster up any thought that could help him. He tries to think back to the last time you had seen each other, it must have been close to two months since you’ve seen each other. Calum sighs, “How could it have been so long?” He wonders to himself. Calum turns and shuts the water off, walking out of the shower, shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair. He turns the towel rack, picking up a towel to wrap a towel around his waist. He steps over in front of the mirror, picking up his phone, starting to text quickly.

FROM CALUM: How fast can you get over here?

TO CALUM: Hello to you too…

FROM CALUM: I’m serious.

TO CALUM: I’m busy.

FROM CALUM: Well get not busy.

TO CALUM: Fine. 10 minutes.

Calum would normally feel bad about being so demanding with you but after the day he’s had he couldn’t care less. He also knew that you would never say no to him. Something about him was always so hard to say no to. He walks out of the bathroom, setting the phone onto the bedside table before collapsing on the bed, his hair drips a little on his bed. He sighs and lays on the bed waiting. He didn’t have to worry about you getting past the gate of the neighborhood or even into the house. The gate code and a spare key was something he gave you a long time ago so he had no worries about you being able to get into his house. Calum laid on there patiently waiting, wondering what the hell was taking you so long.

“Calum?” You called out.

“Back here.” He called sitting up, leaning back on his palms. He could hear your feet coming up the stairs. You opened the door to the most amazing sight you’ve seen in a while. Calum sat on the edge of the bed and you couldn’t help but stare, “Are you going just fucking stand there?” He snapped.

You came further into the room, still acting shy as you did so. He hated when you acted and so mousy like this because he knew you better than that, “You’re pissy.” You laughed a little.

“Yeah, today sucked.” He huffed, standing up facing you, he towered over you slightly.

“Tough practice?” You questioned, stepping closer so that you’re pressed chest to chest.

Calum nods before he sets a hand on your shoulder. “So down on your knees baby,” He pushes you down to your knees, “Now suck.”

You dropped to your knees without a moment of hesitation. You pulled the towel down to expose his muscular thighs and his prominent cock waiting to be touched. You stared for a moment, “Oh wow.” You eagerly wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and planted kisses around the length.

“You really are such a whore aren’t you?” He laughs, “You drove over here at my request and now you look at you, on your knees so desperate for my cock.”

You nod, “I am, I really am.” You opened your mouth and slowly took the length in, letting your hands leave his cock and rest on the sides of his thighs, as you increase your pace.

Calum’s hand was quick to come down and wrap your hair around his hand, “That’s right baby. You are my little whore, my little plaything. I could call you at any time and you would come, wouldn't you?” You hummed as you worked your mouth up and down the length. You moved down his length until your nose was at his pubic bone and you were gagging around him, “Fuck you always take my dick so well.” Calum’s hand in your hair pulls you back off of him, “So fucking well.” He praises you as you looked up at him before thrusting back into your mouth. Your hands come up and dig your fingers into his thighs as your throat tightens around him again. You quicken your pace as Calum’s moans got louder. You peered up at him through your eyelashes to see his head thrown back in pleasure. You swirl your tongue around the tip as his grip tightened on your hair, “So close baby,” He sighs, “Stop let me paint your face.” His tone was breathless as you pulled off, a string of saliva connecting the tip to your lips. Your left hand came off his thigh, reaching up to grip the base before jerking it aggressively, “Please Calum…” You were begging him to finish at this point, you were so desperate to get him off. You continued to whine and beg, so desperate for him to cum. Only a moment later, white spurts of cum painted your face.

Calum’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, “Good job baby,” He releases your hair, “But how about you bend over the edge of the bed so I can reward you baby.”

#calum #calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum imagine #5sos imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fic #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #calum smut #calum hood smut #calum x reader

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naoyas90dayfiance · 3 years ago

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Ghosthunting gone wrong | Naoya Zen'in

SFW but Spooky! (I think)

Naoya Zen'in & GN!Reader

Characters: Naoya Zen'in, Chad (whoever you want him to be), and you.

Summary: Naoya and his team go to a hospital looking for some scary footage for his YouTube channel but it quickly turns into a race for survival.

Word count: 4.3k

Author's note: this is a piece for ChaoticYuna's Summerween collab! I hope it spooks you ♥

Naoya abruptly closed his eyes as the shining white light of the camera hit his iris. The lens of the device adjusted itself to focus on his funny face with a wrinkled nose and eyes pressed shut.

"What a face, boss." Chad laughed at the microphone from his trailer. The image on his left monitor distracted him from focusing on the one in the center.

"Shut up, fuckface." Naoya replied to the discreet microphone attached to his earpiece. "Y/N, you almost made me fucking blind." Naoya turned his back to you while you kept adjusting the camera so it'll have a good take on Naoya's body. Chad couldn't help but giggle at the live video that got to his computer.

"Who the fuck thought it was funny to come to an abandoned hospital?" Naoya said when looking at the building that was in front of him.

"Haunted hospitals are trending right now. Chad's projections show we could get up to 100k subscribers with this video along."

"I hope he's fucking right or else-"

"Gotcha, boss," Chad replied; now, his gaze focused on the monitor at the center of the desk. The blue light washed off the color of his face, and the sounds of clicks filled the small cold office.

"Let's record the intro while he does his thing," Naoya walked around the hospital with you. He found a place that looked creepy enough and stood patiently in front of it. He waited for you to get a good angle of him and the infrastructure he had behind.

"And action." The red light beeped from the camera when you finished the sentence.

Naoya's face lit up. He showed his perfect teeth as his features gracefully expressed his acted cheerfulness; his hands articulated perfectly his introduction, on which he explained that he was in a haunted hospital to search for some evidence of paranormal activity.

"Cut." Naoya's face dramatically changed, his once-raised brows now lied flat, his hands went to his side, and his smile was gone. He turned around and faced the hospital that Chad had picked for his video. It was a significantly tall building.

"Make sure to change the building for the thumbnail. This one isn't scary at all." Naoya told his assistant through the discreet microphone.

"It looks exactly like my gradma's hospital," Naoya smirked at your remark.

"Roger that. Boss, did you read the history of the hospital that I sent you?" Chad asked him.

"I read it, and it was stupidly fake."

"It's what I found, boss. People here said that it happened."

"If you keep believing liars, I'll fire your ass."

"People will love it, boss. Don't worry."

"You're going to be the one worried if we don't get the 100k."

"Boss, it'll be cool if we record you walking around the building," you told Naoya.

Naoya agreed with your comment. He fixed his hair and let his face go numb and expressionless. He hid his hands on the pockets of his jeans.

The young man heard you giving him the sign that the camera was recording. And so, the crackling of the autumn leaves and dried branches under his feet sounded throughout the landscape of the abandoned proximity.

As the recording continued Naoya kept making surprised faces, which were composed of raised eyebrows and parted lips. He also pointed to random broken windows of the hospital with his black-manicured index finger.

"I don't know if Y/N can catch this for you guys," Naoya stopped and turned his whole body to face the camera. He pointed to his left side. "But this hospital is in the middle of nowhere. Behind all of those trees, there's nothing. It's all forest. This was supposed to be a hospital for local factories that are about 26 miles from here; but as you can see, it was abandoned." You slowly moved the camera to film the forest Naoya was talking about, but you only got dark shots, as the sun was almost gone.

"And I'm not sure if you noticed it while we were walking around this building," The camera focused on Naoya. "But there's only one entrance door and an exit door. Not the optimal architectural choice for an important hospital such as this one was meant to be."

"No wonder why this place was abandoned," you mocked behind the camera the poor architecture. Chad chuckled at your comment from his desk, but then went back to his task when you finished walking around to the old medical center.

"Done," Chad muttered to himself and changed windows on his main screen. The red light that filled his office turned green when he clicked on the main button.

"Boss, we're ready," Naoya heard Chad’s notice through his earpiece.

"Let's go inside," he told you.

Naoya stepped on the metal steps of the hospital. You remained two steps down as Naoya positioned himself in the middle of the shot with the entrance door behind him.

"Alright, guys. We're about to enter this haunted hospital. If you are enjoying the video thus far, make sure to press the like button, subscribe and ring the bell. The team and I appreciate it very much. Especially for this might be the video where we might not come out ali-"

As Naoya was speaking, the door behind him slightly opened. The sound of rusted metal against itself made Naoya visibly shake his body and almost bite his tongue. He felt an electric sharp going through his spine. The frontman turned around, and gave a brief look back to the camera, then bravely placed his hand on the door. He lightly pushed it to open further. This time Naoya established eye contact with the camera and winked at it.

"Let's go."

You went up two steps to catch up with Naoya, who held the door open for you after he had gone into the hospital first.

Before your right foot could take the final step, a hand with claw-like nails came out of the spider-web-filled space in-between of the steps; it took the seam of your jean and pulled it towards it. The front of your foot hit the metal staircase. You let out a sudden gasp as your skin got goosebumps for the unexpected move; you instinctively directed the camera to your sports shoes.

"Something grabbed me by the foot, boss," you said in a tense and low voice. Your camera was still exploring the vicinity of the staircase, but you only caught on tape leaves and branches, confirming that the area was clear.

"Better get out of that staircase then," Naoya smiled when you pointed the camera to him. He invited you into the hospital once again. He held the door opened wider so you could go inside. Once the both of you were in the building, Naoya let go of the door that hit with a loud bang the steel frame. Your nerves made you shake the camera when you heard the loud sound. But, in contrast, Naoya kept walking with an expressionless yet beautiful face into the main hallway that led to the reception.

You strolled three steps behind Naoya, catching his left side that showed so well his piercings and his lined eyes that were looking at the lack of decoration in the building. Naoya turned his face towards the reception desk, leaving you to record the back of his bleached hair.

You took the cue and moved the camera around to show how the hospital had two long hallways, one at the right and another at the left. Both of them met at the center, which was the reception center.

"Y/N, light over here," Naoya instructed you. He had gotten behind the reception desk. You rapidly moved towards where your employer was.

"It seems nothing's here," Naoya said to the camera once you were filming his long fingers opening the drawers of the desk.

"Probably the people that have visited this place," Naoya paused as he opened another screeching drawer, "took each document."

"By the way, if you didn't know, we chose this building for a particular reason," Naoya was fully facing the camera; his back was to the dirty white wall of the reception center. "It's said that on October 31st, 1991, this whole building was on fire. The victims of the incident: some patients, doctors, and other members of the staff said that they were being burned alive. And people outside of the building recall having called the firefighting department because everyone was screaming in agony, from little children to the grown men of the factories. Hell broke loose here," Naoya left his position behind the front desk and began walking towards the left hallway of the hospital. You followed his movements with the recording device.

"But, there's another side of the story,” Naoya kept talking to the camera as he was walking. “when the firefighters, ambulances, and the police arrived here they saw nothing. There was no fire, no people with crispy burned skin, not even cigarette smoke," Naoya paused. "A firefighter that we interviewed said that when they got inside, they only saw that everyone in the hospital had passed out," Naoya’s gaze set itself in an arc made of shiny letters that welcomed them to the kid’s area. He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed to it so you could film it.

"The people that were outside of the hospital when everything happened insisted they saw this place on fire. And when the police tried to calm them down and told them that there was no fire, they kept insisting that there was a fire. It seemed like they were the only ones that could see it," Naoya had passed three doors with children's paintings on them. "And when some of those people finally got reunited with their family member that was in the hospital, they broke down into tears," Naoya stopped. You circled with your camera around him and took a spot in front of him. "That day a woman was screaming at the paramedics that her kid was dead, that she couldn't see his face, it was all burned. The only thing remaining was a black goo that covered his bones," Naoya shuddered for the camera and stopped next to a door, which had pink foamy letters, and it read: Playro m, the second "o" was missing.

Naoya grabbed the golden handle covered with grey dust and turned it downwards. He opened the door that made a squeaky sound as Naoya opened it slowly. His eyes went from the camera to the entrance. "You can look it up if you don't believe me," Naoya finally said and pushed the door open; microscope spores of dust traveled through his nostrils and almost made him sneeze.

Naoya found inside the room a plastic blue table with many toys on it. The light of the camera was capable to catch on tape their worn-out state.

"It is said that her kid was here when the paramedics arrived," Naoya added, giving his back to the camera. He got near the table and took one of the toys, closely inspecting it.

"Witnesses said she was a crying mess. Her whines could be heard throughout the whole building and the outsides. She kept saying that her kid's body was decimated, but the paramedics saw that none of that was the truth," Naoya showed a dirty teddy bear to your camera. He put the toy down and kept talking to the device. He was browsing the room with his gaze, and you slowly followed it to catch nothing on the footage. "Her kid had fainted, but he was breathing and didn't have a single scratch on his body."

"Creepy, ain't it?" Naoya suddenly locked eyes with the camera and quirked his eyebrow; then he turned on his heels. You exited the room, but neither closed the door of the playroom. You kept your position in front of Naoya and walked backward as both walked to the next room.

"People don't know the motive of the group hallucination, some say it was some chemical in the wind, others are convinced that the victims were lying, and some of the people that knew the staff swear it was a curse the hospital has. As it was founded by a doctor that took ill people and offered them as sacrif-," Naoya's sentence was cut short. "FUCK," He shouted. He had bitten his tongue as a reaction to the loud bang that almost burst your eardrums. You jumped in fear and pointed your camera light to the room you had just visited.

"Don't leave me in the dark for fuck sake," Naoya's hand was in his mouth, trying to soothe his pain as he walked next to you.

"Boss, the door," you said in a whisper as you zoomed into the door of the kid's playroom. It was shut.

"I guess the rumor was true," Naoya removed his hand from his lips and played out a cheeky smile that you caught once you had taken the shot of the now-closed door.

"Everyone at home. It's 7.30 PM," Naoya gazed at his smart-watch. "We only have the moonlight coming from these windows," Naoya pointed to the windows on the opposite side from where the rooms were. They gave enough light to distinguish walls from nothingness; however, the details were left in the dark. "And we have found a haunted place to do our investigation," Naoya looked at the lens of the camera and winked at it.

"Let's go, love," Naoya commanded, and you followed your boss' steps deeper into the left hallway.

"It is said that the doctor had worshipped a God, but no one knows which one was. Maybe we can get some info about it if we go into his office," Naoya gave a brief look back to the camera and stopped his strolling next to a door with a golden plaque that read "Director". Naoya placed his hand on the handle and turned it. The metal door separated from its frame and let out a cloud of dust that had Naoya coughing. He pulled the neck of his black t-shirt to his nose.

He pushed the entrance open, but he only found a wooden desk in the middle of the room, with no chair behind it. There was graffiti with an unknown symbol for Naoya on the wall.

He entered the room, and so did you to get a 360 shot of the room, showing how the many shelves in there were empty. Naoya looked at the camera from his side angle when it focused on him again; his nose was still covered with his t-shirt. Dust was accumulating on the camera.

"People that leave nothing behind are more suspicious than those that do, don't you think? Was he trying to hide something?" Naoya's steps headed to the exit of the room, and you were in front of him once again, walking backward.

"You'll have to find out in the next part of this video series," Naoya was standing in the hallway now. "where we are going to go to the right hallway of the hospital," Naoya pointed to the hallway on his right. "It is said that the Emergency Room was there, and it was where the sightings of the fire started that day," The camera centered on the darkness of the unexplored hallway and closed its shot when it caught a small shadow standing in the middle of it. A few seconds of silence reigned in the hospital.

"Okay, I got it," you said.

"Boss, I'm still trying to synchronize the rest of the stunts. My computer is having issues connecting with them."

"How did I look in those scenes?"

"Wonderful job as always," you replied. Naoya winked at you.

"Sorry, boss. Did you say something?"

"I asked how I looked in those scenes," Naoya heard a sudden static sound on his earpiece. He immediately took it off. "That idiot, I almost lose my hearing," Naoya grunted between his teeth. He pocketed his device.

"What is it?"

"That fool lost connection with the earpiece; I bet he kicked the cable or some stupid shit like that."

"Don't worry, boss. When that little light there turns green," you pointed to an emergency light that had a weak beaming red light. Naoya had to squint his eyes to see it. "it means that everything is ready to go."

"What the fuck?" Naoya replied in a low tone. He shrugged off the technological nonsense and pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe off the sweat on his face. "Whatever, that piece of trash better have it ready before I quit this shit. You talk to him. I can't stand this," Naoya handed you the earpiece.

"Hey, boss. Look we're ready to shoot," you turned on your camera and set it up to record the empty right hallway. Naoya squinted his eyes again when looking at the emergency light and noticed the green beam discretely coming from it.

The host of the show stepped forward, placing himself in the middle of the shot. He audibly cleared his throat and put his hands in front of him, ready to help him articulate the introduction of the new episode.

"Hey, guys. It's us again. We're here at the haunted Saint John's Hospital. You can check out its back-story on our first video, and watch what we just experienced in those rooms," Naoya pointed at the children's room on his right. You followed his movement with the camera before focusing on the fake blonde again. "This time, we're going to explore th-."

In less than a second, Naoya had lost his balance and loudly fell. The palm of his hands landed after his knees on the floor. His good reflex saved him from hitting his face against the dusty floor by less than an inch.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" Naoya shouted facing the floor. His eyes became watery for the dust had entered them, his inhalations became deeper, and the wings of his nose were flaring up. He prompted himself up with his feet and looked at the camera in front of him, his face was completely red, as were his eyes, and the tip of his nose had some visible dust on it.

"Boss, I don't know. Let me rewind the video," you nervously said.

"That piece of trash. He'll know what's good now," Naoya demanded the earpiece back from you. His grip on it made the soft plush on the sides mold to every line of his fingers.

"Chad, fucking son of a bitch," Naoya said on the mic after he put his piece back on. "I'll fucking show you what's funny after we're done filming," Naoya let out a loud shout of pain as he slammed the device on the floor. You tried to hide your neck with your shoulders as you also heard an insufferable screeching sound coming from the earpiece. Naoya walked towards the communication tool and stepped on it harshly until the sound stopped and the device was nothing but small pieces of broken plastic.

"Boss, check this out," you handed Naoya the camera, and he played the clip on the tactile screen. He saw himself standing in the middle of the shot, and how a hand with nasty long nails grabbed his shoulder. The next second of the film showed when it pushed him to the ground.

"What stupid stunt is that? It’s so fucking cliché. I look like a fool," Naoya said between his teeth. His jaw bone was visible through his skin.

Naoya's anger didn't last long, as he let out a loud yelp for he heard deafening bangs coming from every room of the hospital. He dropped the camera, which turned itself off and left you in the dark.

Naoya covered his ears with his hands and tried to adjust his eyes to the dim moonlight coming from the windows. He tried to look for the source of the sound, but it was too dark.

You quickly crouched down once the camera hit the floor and picked it up. You tried to cover your ears from the loud noise, but your right hand was occupied with turning on the device.

As the welcome ringtone played from the camera device and joined the bangs, a ear-piercing scream came from the right hallway. You dropped the camera once again while Naoya visibly shook his body. You firmly clenched your jaw and felt tears rolling down your face for the immense stress that the continuous screeching made your bodies felt.

Naoya sprinted towards the entrance door, and you followed his steps. The camera was far gone as it wasn’t your priority anymore.

When you got to the entrance, Naoya pushed and pulled the door repeatedly; you joined him in forcing the other door. The sounds of the maddening bangs and the ear-shattering scream almost made you start desperately screaming yourself.

"How the fuck did that bitch think this was funny?" Naoya grunted and kicked the door, but it didn't budge. He let out a loud shout in frustration that only made the screeching voice become louder and, somehow, closer to you.

"Boss, let's get out of here now," Naoya realized how now he could see every detail of the hospital thanks to a mysterious orange light. He turned around and saw how the building was being engulfed by flames. Both of you felt the overwhelming heat of the fire making your body’s temperature unbearably high.

You quickly ran into the nearest window, and with shaky hands tried to open it. As you both struggled to lift it, you heard how the nerve-wreacking screech was getting closer to you. And just before the window sprung open thanks to your forces combined, Naoya managed to see from his peripheral view an demonic creature standing next to him, reaching out to grab his shoulder with its familiar human-like hand.

Naoya pushed you out of the way, and he threw himself out of the window. He landed abruptly on the concrete floor of the entrance. His body shook at the impact; he could feel blood running down his face, which clouded his view with red.

“Boss! Help me!” Naoya heard your plea behind him. He turned his bloody face around and saw the tall creature taking the right side of your body to forbid you from leaving the place. Naoya made eye contact with the goat-like face of the force that was man-handling you, but before fear took over his body, he saw your crying and desperated face.

Naoya used his hands to prompt himself up. He grabbed your left hand that was reaching out towards him and violently pulled you outside. You hit your hip with the window frame but managed to free your right arm and jump out of the window.

Trying to look for a way out, Naoya looked at Chad's trailer but it was being devoured by fire. Then, he instinctively looked at the car that was parked near it and saw how Chad's moonlit body was running towards his vehicle.

Without giving a second look back to the creature that was now making its way out through the window, Naoya demanded that you follow him.

He jumped the steps of the staircase, and he loudly sprinted towards the car as Chad was trying to start it. The lights of the lamps guided his and your way towards it.

Naoya slammed his body against the door of the passenger seat. His hands touched the cold metal of the door until he found the handle. He pulled it, opened the door and launched himself into the seat, closing the door behind him. Chad was too focused on trying to start the car for the fifth time to acknowledge his employer's presence.

"Pump the accelerator" Naoya took Chad's hands out of the steering wheel. He put his right hand on the key, and he fidgeted it three times while Chad pumped the accelerator. In an instant, the car's engine started, and Chad placed his hands on the wheel.

As Chad looked up he saw how your bloody body was trying to get to the car. The creature was close behind you. He drove closer to you so you could open the back seat.

In a second, you managed to open the door and got into the car. Chad sped up and drove out of the inferno that was the hospital and the trailer.

Naoya's gaze traveled back to check on your body lying in the backseat, and he could also see how the out-of-this-world creature remained still and watched you leave.

The road to the main highway was a bumpy and silent one. Tears were still running down your face; Naoya had pulled out a few tissues from the compartment, and was cleaning the blood off his face.

He had gave you the whole box and some medical alcohol, which you used to treat your wounds and then clean the blood. As you were doing so, you couldn't help but noticed that your wounds didn't burn when you applied alcohol to them, and that the tissues were only came out with the brown dirt of your skin.

"Someone else has to drive. I can't do this," Chad interrupted your thoughts when he suddenly stopped the car. He started to sob and then desperately cry as the sight of the cuts on his hands was too much for the young man to handle. Naoya opened his passenger seat door and exchanged positions with his assistant. He was now driving his car.

"I had to break the fucking window with my hands. I thought I was going to die there," Chad whispered as he kept crying.

You gave Chad the bottle of medical alcohol and the box of tissue. Chad took it and started to wipe off the sweat and tears from his face, as well as treating his wounds. You saw how he hissed in pain, and noticed how his tissues came out red.

Then, a silly thought came to your head:

"Boss, I lost the camera back there."

"And I lost all the footage in the computer."

"The demon can keep them," you giggled at Naoya's comment, and Chad did the same.

#naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya x reader #naoya #naoya zenin #zenin naoya

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bffsoobin · 4 years ago

Text

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar.

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke.

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter.

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music.

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy.

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door.

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something.

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion.

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this.

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.”

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess.

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really.

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum.

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway.

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself.

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded.

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort.

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip.

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished.

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them.

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills.

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape.

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway.

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated.

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from?

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically.

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret. “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards.

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog.

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story.

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use.

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.”

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you?

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense.

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow.

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition.

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs.

“You like me too?”

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

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shinygoldstar · 4 years ago

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Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

#midnight snack au #danny phantom #dannymay2021 #DP ghost cannibalism #goldpost #Skulker BS'd on the spot and I took it as worldbuilding material #the added last part is the original ending #interpretation of the final ending is now up to you #😏😏😏

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ickymichi · 3 years ago

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KNOCKOUT!

h. shinsou

warnings: swearing, fighting, vulgar talk, slight toxic behaviour.

things to know: underground fighter au, no quirk au! shinsous kinda ooc ig

word count: 1.5k

note: didn’t know how to end this as per. but was originally gonna be a lyric fic but then i said no. also pls do not be afraid to send on anything about this shinsou cause he’s currently clouding the membrane! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

underground fighter!shinsou who came home 3 hours after his fight supposedly ended. unfortunately you couldn’t attend this one as you had your own work shift overlapping the fight times. you stayed up until the devils hour waiting for the tall male to trudge through the door, his usual large duffle bag either full of winning money or spare clothes slung over his shoulder.

“where were you?” one the bag hit the floor you spoke first, leaning against the wall while watching him toe off his air force. “what dya’ mean? i was at a match, you know that” he grumbled with a slight roll of his eyes and walked past you to the stuffy kitchen—silently noting another small hole in the wall—. “yeah i know that,” you said with a ‘duh’ tone, “but that ended three hours ago. where have you been in that time.”

shrugging his shoulders he finished off his water and lent on his elbows against the counter. “at the bar with the guys, what? i cant celebrate a win anymore? jesus” you looked at him like he told you he’d just grown an arm and three legs. “so you just didn’t think of inviting me, but every other bitch you kno-” “you were at fuckin’ work, i’m hardly gonna ask when i know the answer.”

again he rolled his eyes to the man above while lifting his hoodie over his frame and into the washing machine leaving him in his white wife beater, finally making his way out to the balcony while pulling a cigarette from the box in his pocket. “you know i finished just after the match was over, you couldn’t of just asked? was it to hard?” hitoshi blew the smoke in your opposite direction and looked towards you. “i cant have one night with my friends without you you attached to my hip all night huh? christ i’ll invite you next time if it annoys you that much woman” “so you think i’m clingy?” you scoffed with your arms crossed over your chest. hitoshi dryly laughed and looked down to the dark streets, people yelling and some coming home from night clubs and bars alike.

“maybe sometimes i think i do (y/n), listen to yourself right now.” your lips fell into a thin line at his comment, making you sigh and push yourself off the railing. “fuck you shinsou” you heard him kiss his teeth and turn to follow you through the narrow halls. “so i’m the bad guy again? all i said was that i didn’t want you hanging off my hip,” hitoshi went to follow you into the bedroom but was met with the door slammed in his face. “(y/n) baby please, c’mon i’m sorry i didn’t mean it in that way okay? just open the door please,” he waited another few seconds before hearing you shuffle then swing the door to show your glossy eyes. “one more chance hitoshi, one more and i swear if you pull shit like this i’m gone”

The bright lights, constant shouting, stuffy crowds and the smell of blood was something you grew accustomed to over the past year and a half. Thankfully, you didn’t have to get lumped into the huge crowd, being shinsous partner you you a seat at the ringside beside his trainers.

Tonight he was up against a rather tough opponent, one who played as dirty as the sport itself. And Hitoshi was feeling the effects of his foul play by the third round. His chest heaving, the hard muscles covered in sweat and a mix between his own and the other guys blood. You could already see that he would have a black eye and bruises along his cheek, aswell as a busted eyebrow.

Even with all his current injuries, it wasn’t like the fighter opposite him wasn’t feeling it either. Anyone could see he was just as tired as Shinsou, a limp in his step showing a particular hit to the stomach had him doubling.

“keep going ‘toshi one more hit and he’s out!” your lilac haired lover perked up slightly at the sound of your encouragement, brining his tape wrapped hands back up from his side, flexing them to feel the hard guard on his knuckles press against his skin. “oh? That your own little supporter?” the tan male taunted at shinsou, making him raise an eyebrow for a split second until he realised what the comment meant.

“yeah? What of it?”

“she looks like she’s taste real nice, bet she does huh? Probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight if I tried to get a taste myself” Hitoshi felt his blood boil at his words. “fuck off and just focus on what’s infront of you jackass” he chuckled darkly at Shinsou’s words and let a lopsided grin take over his beat up face. “ah c’mon sh must be sweet as if your gettin’ all tough. c’mon just once taste of that little kitty ca-”

Shinsou didn’t let him finish his vulgur sentence before he brought his leg up aiming his shin to kick into his unprotected rib cage. The minute his opponent hit the floor Hitoshi was on top him landing punch after punch to his face. “He’s out Shinsou! He’s out!” both his trainers lept up into the ring to pull him off the man who was now out cold. As they held him back Shinsou spat down onto the other fighter before raising a fist in the air.

—

“you did so good out there ‘toshi. ‘m really proud” you leant more into his side seaking the warmth you needed as you walked through the dark city streets. Hitoshi winced slightly as you pressed against a growing bruise, but of course he wasn’t going to tell you to get off him so he kept quiet. “thanks babe. did it all for you of course” he said the end of his sentence in a playful tone while pressing a kiss to your cheek. Knowing that the both of you find those lovey dovey parts of relationships too funny to take serious.

“how ‘bout we go celebrate in the bar, we can go alone or meet up with the others.” You hummed as an indication that you were thinking of an answer to five before letting a teasing grin grace your features. “we can do that, but I kinda wanna take my winnings first.”

He didn’t know exactly what you meant until you were leading him to the darker alley at the side of the path, falling against the cold brick. His eyes trained your face for until you brought your hands to his bruised cheek to pull him down, meeting his split lip halfway.

Hitoshi only pulled away until he felt his lungs beg for air. Once he did he took your smaller face in his large hands, holding you as if you were a fragile piece of fine china. Looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above for his viewing. He felt his chest tighten as you brought your hands to rest over his own, careful of the cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

“fuck, I fucking love you so much baby. Wont let anyone say shit or do anything to you. promise” he whispers as he brought his lips back to your own. Nearly Going against your claims of ‘hating the lovey dovey shit of relationships.”

“You ever think of quitting all this?”

Your voice was just above a whisper. Taking your boyfriend out of a slight trance he was in. “uh yeah sometimes I guess, why?” you shrugged at his question, really because you didn’t want an argument to start up. You know shit would hit the fan if you told him that you hated his job, how you hate that nearly every night you have to clean his beat up face in your cramped bathroom. You know he’d argue that it’s the only way to get money. Your job barely scraping the monthly rent if it wasn’t for his.

“i know what your thinking, and I can’t just quit because you don’t like seeing me with a few cuts and bruises” he laughed slightly at the soft pout now on your lips, letting his hands fall on your hips to rub against the exposed skin. “but sometimes it’s not just cuts and bruises hitoshi. Like 2 weeks you nearly broke two ribs for gods sake.” “yeah, but i didn’t. so I don’t see why your all mad about it. it’s not like I haven’t been taking beatings all my life anyway, what’s some weaklings that are only trying to make quick money.”

You couldn’t really argue with his point, and again, you weren’t going to because you didn’t feel like going to sleep in an empty bed. “isn’t that what your doing?” playfully, he slapped your ass and narrowed his eyes. “hey, i’m not some weakling. You see these guys?” you gave a noise of affirmation as you reached up to feel his bicep. “okay big guy calm it while I kiss your boo boos better.”

#!!.mha works #mha x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou smut #shinsou x reader #Spotify #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #my hero academia x reader

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jeogiyall · 4 years ago

Text

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years.

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves.

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time.

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them.

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though.

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted.

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too.

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them.

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

“Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food.

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up.

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.”

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’ narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow.

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.”

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding.

“Really.”

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t.

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil.

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.”

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him.

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm.

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far.

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses.

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-”

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless.

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years.

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.”

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity.

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa.

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay.

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class.

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing.

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it.

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy.

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things.

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation.

‘This feels lonely.’

In a way, you suppose that it is.

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely.

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra.

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside.

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled.

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet.

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year.

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards.

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings.

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.”

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange.

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well.

“We’re taking a detour.”

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers.

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon.

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing.

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing.

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi.

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete.

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.”

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph.

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it.

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him.

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong.

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths. Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle.

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this?

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now.

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while.

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises.

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile.

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon.

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment.

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard.

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee?

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear.

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.”

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest.

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it.

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling.

“Mingi I-“

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed.

“Mingi that's not what-“

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever.

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there.

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster.

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are.

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words.

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you.

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.”

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least.

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees.

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump.

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around.

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go.

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over.

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well.

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with.

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute.

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi.

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback.

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly.

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun.

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to.

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop.

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.”

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out.

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead.

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore.

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand.

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?”

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t.

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.”

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied.

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide.

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows.

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room.

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you.

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth.

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car.

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.”

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.”

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either.

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does.

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand.

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again.

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

Text

CO-CAPTAINS D.W.

Request: could i please request a damian wayne x reader imagine where she's a complete badass who keeps damian on his toes and they both do debate (because let's be honest damians favourite sport would be to show how much better he is at arguing) and maybe they have to work together to prepare for one debate and have an enemies to lovers situation and the debate comes and the batfamily comes to watch but instead of the usual sour damian he's got the 💖lovebug💖 and simping over his partner.

Warning: fluff, Older!damian, x fem!reader

A/N: I’m so sorry I literally know nothing about debate?? I was a basketball kid in high school so I did that instead. If you’re not satisfied let me know PLEASE!! I’m happy to write something else as well but I hope that you enjoy!!

Word count: 4k

Gotham's private school were one of the few good things to come out of the city. The public school were terrifying and you were lucky enough to get scholarships into the best school in the city. At least, it had to be the best if Damian Wayne was going there, right?

Son of Bruce Wayne, richest kid probably in the entire world. He also happened to be the cockiest asshole you had ever met in your life. You were well acquainted with him being on the same basketball team and everything. There weren't enough girls to make a team that year which meant you had to play with the boys - not that it was a problem for you.

A lot of people underestimated you skill since you were one of two girls on the boys senior team. It came in handy with a lot of games where you came out scoring the most amount of points each quarter. You skill had brought you to captain of the team. Or at least co-captain with none other than Damian.

The two of you were constantly trying to outdo each other and see who was the better captain and who was the better player. It was a constant battle between the two of you. Damian drove you crazy with his cocky attitude and his ever lasting need to prove that he was right. He was constantly trying to call the plays and you knew god damn well that it wasn't going to work.

Half the time, you were right.

Damian found you infuriating. A girl shouldn't be playing on the boys team - everyone knew that. Yet, here you were. You were proving to be better than half the guys on the team and Damian couldn't stand you for it. He hated when you were right and when you scored more points than he did.

Mostly, he hated that you always had to fight against him, rather than agree with him. You guys could never see eye to eye. And as much as you wanted to blame all the fights on him, most of them were started by you. You couldn't stand to see his stupid smirk when he came up with an idea to win the game.

Everyone on the team knew that you didn't like one another. Sometimes it fueled them up to win the game they were playing. Mostly, it got in the way to the extent that you had lost a game. The worst case was when Damian refused to pass to you and during the last few seconds of the final quarter, missed the shot and lost the game.

Yours and Damian's feud started long before you joined the boys team. Two years ago, there were enough girls to form a separate team. Some practices you would scrimmage against them - that was when your hatred started.

It was his first year playing and he was infuriated that you were beating him at every chance you got. Offense, defense, even court side you seemed to out wit him. He was tired of you and he didn't even know your name - just your number. His number.

"Wayne!" You shouted. Damian once again had his nose in his phone. You guessed that being the son of Bruce meant that he had diligent responsibilities to attend to as well - that didn't mean he got to be excused from practice though. Damian's eyes darted to you and a scowl spread on his lips. “Just because your co-captain doesn’t mean you can skip practice.”

You had to admit that it was one of your favourite past times to piss him off in anyway you could. Whether it was because it made you feel like the better captain or because he looked a little too hot when he was angry. Still, he threw his phone back in his bag and ran onto the court to join you and the others.

It was the end of practice and he looked like he was itching to leave. However, Coach had one last drill to run before hitting the change rooms. It pushed you just hard enough that sweat dripped down your face and soaked the back of your neck. Damian didn't even appear to even break a sweat.

With all the years that you had known him, he never seemed to be overworked. Coach would throw everything at him and he would always accomplish it with ease. You hated him for it. Whatever aestheticism he had was natural, you had to work you ass off for it. Nothing seemed to tire him out.

You nearly dropped to the floor the second the change room door closed. The cold tiles would have felt nice against your hot skin but you didn't know if you'd be able to get back up after you got down. So, you reluctantly threw on some sweats and a hoodie and headed out to catch your bus home.

Of course by the time that you got out there, all the other players were long gone and the only person left was Damian Wayne. Unlike you, he wasn't waiting for the bus, he was waiting for his butler. You wished you had that kind of luxury in your life - Gotham City busses weren't always the most reliable.

"(L/N)," Damian acknowledged you. The bus you were going to catch wasn't going to be there for another twenty minutes. As much as you didn't want to stay with Damian, you also felt a hell of a lot safer standing next to him rather than yourself. "Your free throws were off today."

"Thanks," You rolled your eyes. Of course he noticed your weakness of the day. He always seemed to be pointing out things you did wrong during practice and especially during games. You held up your hand to show him your taped fingers which seemed to be a good enough answer for as to why you were off. "Crushed my pinky last night."

"TT," he nodded. Part of you hated when he did that. That other part thought his little tick was adorable. The worst thing about hating Damian was that he also did the smallest gestures that made you swoon to him. You liked to blame it on his rich-boy-son-of-Bruce-Wayne facade, but you knew that wasn't it.

"You were leaning to your right instead of left today," this time you pointed out his flaw. Damian lifted up his pant leg to show of his ankle brace. How you hadn't noticed it in practice, you weren't sure.

"Two days ago," Damian briefly told you. "Don't worry, I could have crutches and I'd still be a better player than you." You scowled at him. The second that you thought that the two of you could get along, of course he had to go and ruin that with some plain-faced compliment.

"I'm pretty sure that someone who's never stepped onto a court could do better than you," you scoffed. The short time that you had left you little imagination to come up with insult. "My bus is going to be here soon, better go catch your babysitter."

"He's my butler," Damian corrected. You always referred to Alfred as Damian's babysitter - with his childish attitude god knows he needed one.

"Whatever," you were already walking away from him. As you continued to the bus stop, you spun around and flipped him off. Your middle fingers were raised high in the air and you could nearly feel his glare at you. "Have fun being privileged."

What you didn't know, was that Damian knew Alfred was there the whole time. He didn't want to leave you waiting in the dangerous streets of Gotham by yourself - not when he knew the horrors that were truly within them.

Damian knew you were one tough motherfucker.

He knew that on the court you were ruthless, unforgiving, and determined. Playing against a bunch of men that towered over you and sometimes having way more body mass against you meant you had to be tough. It was something that he always respected you for. Time and time again you surprised him with being able to take care of yourself.

Tonight was a home game and you were more than excited to be out on the court and kick some sorry ass. Just as always, the other team was shocked to see a girl playing and instantly started making fun of you. They were rough on you, refs were obviously not caring enough to call the fouls, and you were pissed.

By the third quarter, you were furious that so many calls were being missed. Your shooting started to get more forced and your defense more aggressive. It wasn't until the player you were guarding jabbed his elbow into your face did you finally have enough.

Blood dripped down your busted lip and your fists clenched up at your sides. If it wasn't for the bright red flowing out of you, you were sure that it would have been another foul that was shrugged off. With the sound of a the whistle being blown, both teams headed back to their benches.

"Fuck these refs!" You seethed. The back of your hand was smeared with blood from wiping it away. Your coach glared at you for the swear but since you were feeling ballsy, you only glared back at him.

You were already in a bad mood. Before the game had started, you and Damian had another one of your spats. This had been a big one too, you had never yelled at him so much in your life before. And to be honest, you couldn't even remember why it had started. He had said something to tick you off and it had just escalated from there.

The two of you were the first to arrive to the game - as it seemed to happen every time. While waiting for everyone else, you found yourself arguing once more. He always seemed to find the kind of things to just make you angry enough not to be able to forgive him. It drove you crazy.

When some of the other players filed in, the two of you stomped off in your own directions and never spoke again unless necessary. Damian was the one person that you could never get along with no matter how much you tried. And you wished you could get along with him too.

He was your co-captain, you should have easily been able to get along with him. Damian was someone that you truly could see yourself getting along with if he wasn't so damn stubborn.

"She's right," Damian suddenly defended you. He couldn't help but be in awe of you as you nonchalantly shrugged off the wound. You were fuming at the team, the refs, and now your couch. Damian had never seen you so riled up before and he had to admit that he loved this side of you.

"Doesn't matter," your coach cut the both of you off. "(Y/N), you're out for the rest of the game."

"No!" You argued. There was no way that you were going to be benched for some busted lip. Your coach wasn't going to let you argue it. So, for the rest of the game you grumbled on the bench and glared at any player from the other team that ran by you. This was unfair, yet no one seemed to disagree with the coach.

As the last seconds of the final quarter ticked away, victory was upon your team. The last buzzer went off and your team crowded around each other for the win. You on the other hand, already stalked off the the change room. Your bag was hastily thrown to the ground and you planted your hands on the edge of the sink.

To no surprise, your lip was swollen and bloody. A split ran vertically on the bottom and dried blood was caked around it. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping that it would cool you down - both from your heat and your anger. It didn't do either.

Your team was most likely already waiting for you for a post-game talk. That was the last thing you wanted to partake in. Unfortunately, you were already in enough trouble as it was and you couldn't miss this. You shoved a hoodie on and joined the rest of your teammates outside.

Twenty minutes later you had nearly droned out everything your coach was telling you and your team. Everyone decided to join up at the pizza place a couple streets down from the school before heading home. You on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be in your own bed away from everyone else.

A hand on your shoulder stopped you from walking away. Damian.

"What?" You snapped.

"Calm down, (L/N)," Damian rolled his eyes. He had the time to cool off from your fight several hours ago - you on the other hand most definitely had not. "Come get pizza with the rest of us. I know you're in a... bad mood, but it'll be good to spend time with everyone without coach there."

"No."

"I'll buy," Damian offered. You rolled your eyes at him. A slice of pizza really must have just dug into his budget a lot - being so rich and all. "Just... I'm sorry, for earlier. I shouldn't have said those things."

"Wow, is Damian apologizing?" You were genuinely shocked. He never apologized after any of your fights so he must have felt bad about this one. "I guess I'm going to have to come now."

The final game of the season always made you nervous. This year, was even worse. Senior year of high school meant that scouts would be watching for new players in university. Tonight, the gym was packed with them. You needed this scholarship if you wanted to get into the university of your dreams.

To make matters worse - Damian's family had shown up as well. Bruce Wayne and several of his brothers and sisters sat in the stands. It was the first time that you had seen them together outside of his ridiculously expensive galas. Bruce had shown up to support his son - his siblings wanted to see this girl that he had ranted on and on about.

There were many times after practice - or even just regular school days - where Damian would come home and complain about how much he hated you. He was constantly infuriated by your presence and he couldn't stand the thought about how impossible you were to try and have a proper conversation with.

Dick was the one who heard about it the most. He told Jason about it, who started showing up to the manor just to his little brother get so worked up about a girl. Steph became the most invested - she wanted to know everything there was about you and most importantly how, how she could get the two of you together.

Tim didn't believe that it would ever happen. When Damian hated someone, there was no changing his mind about it. You seemed to be at the top of his list at the moment and there was no way that Steph's wishes would ever come true. Damian hated you, simple as that.

You stood on the court side bouncing up and down on your toes. All the nervous energy was pent up inside of you and you had no idea how to get it out. This game meant everything to you - you needed to show off how good of a player you were and that you deserved to have a full-ride scholarship.

"You okay?" Damian stood beside you. He had grown a lot since you first met him. Before, you stood at the same height as him, now, he towered over you. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at you. You couldn't help but briefly gaze at his muscles that popped out of his jersey before meeting his eyes.

"Nervous," you answered.

"Why? We've beat this team before. Is it because it's the finals?" Damian raised an eyebrow. You were never one to show off your nerves - especially right before a game.

"No," you shook your head. "Scouts. I need a scholarship to get into university. I'm just worried I'm gonna fuck up tonight and lose my chance."

"You're going to do fine," Damian assured. You weren't used to this side of him. He never was one to boost your confidence, always the one to tear it down. "If it makes you feel better, I'm nervous too."

"You? Nervous?" you cheekily grinned up at him. Damian rolled his eyes and nudged your side.

"My father is here," he jutted his chin in the general direction of his family. One of the older men seemed to notice and waved at you both. "And my nuisance brothers and sisters. They've never seen one of our games before."

You didn't have a chance to say anything else. A whistle echoed through the gym and the two of you were ushered onto the court. The second that you stood within the lines, your nerves seemed to wash away.

Damian stood in the center for the tip off. He did a short glance back at you and have a reassuring nod. For some bizarre reason, it filled you with joy. You felt a surge of confidence as well as determination. Whatever happened after tonight was out of your control. All you knew was that you had to bust your ass out there and everything would work out one way or another.

That game, you had worked like you never had before. You were making nearly every shot and putting up such a great defense. For the first time in your lives, you and Damian were working in sync. It seemed like he knew what you wanted to do before you even had the chance to think it. The two of you were incredible.

His family noticed how well you worked together. After everything that they heard about you - they assumed his hatred would show on the court as well. Most of the time, that was true. Tonight, you had never seen anything like this before. It was your best game of your life - skill wise.

At half time, your team huddled around to devise a strategy for the second half. You were ahead of the other team, but only by a few points. This was the final game of the season, you had to win. You stood beside Damian in the huddle.

Sweat dripped down his skin which seemed to accentuate his beautifully tanned skin. He left from your side and part of you felt disappointed at his departure. However, he returned only moments later with his water bottle, as well as yours. You thanked him as you grabbed it from his hand.

"You guys are on fire out there," One of your teammates stood behind you and Damian. He had a hand on each of your shoulders and a grin on his face. "It's crazy! I've never seen you work together like this before. Guess you guys are uh, warming up to each other, huh?"

Coach called him over before you could reply to him. He squeezed your shoulder before jogging off in the other direction. Damian didn't look too pleased by the short encounter either.

"Scouts have been watching you all night," Damian looked over to where one of them was sitting in the stands. He had made sure that he made all the right assists for you so that you would go noticed. It was working - you were doing incredible.

"Still half a game left to go," You muttered. As soon as you stepped off the court, you nerves had started to come back. "Thank you, for everything out there."

"(Y/N)? Thanking me?" He teased. He never had a playful attitude like this - but you had to admit that you really liked that side of him. The smile that caused his eyes to crinkle and his cheeks to squish. You couldn't help but gleam up at him the second that you saw it. "Come on, coach wants us."

The rest of the game went just about as good as the first half. You were drowning in sweat from all the work you were doing but if the scouts kept their eyes on you, then it was well worth it. You and Damian continued on just as you had before - playing as if you were one person, not two.

The final quarter came and went with your team pulling way into the lead. By the time the final buzzer went off, your team had already celebrated it's final win of the season. It was you and Damian that had been the reason for such a dramatic win - and the scouts knew it.

You had been pulled off to the side by one scout in particular before you could even make it to the change room. He happened to be from the university that you were so wanting to go to. Before he could even finish his offer for a full ride, you already had a massive grin on your face and nodded your head yes.

This had been exactly what you wanted in your life, you needed this win. The scout left you to go get changed and speak with your team. However, you had ran into Damian first. Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure it was going to pop out of your chest with excitement.

Whether it was the adrenaline, the excitement, or the pure happiness you felt, you weren't sure - but that didn't stop you from running to Damian and up into his arms. Damian nearly tumbled at your sudden weight. You legs wrapped around his torso and your palms were on his cheeks. Before he could ask what the hell you were doing, you kissed him.

Damian was standing there in shock. He held your legs for support and you could feel them stiff against your bare skin. Then, he melted into your touch. Damian kissed you back with the same cheerful energy that you had. His grip on you became more natural and he felt as if he never wanted to let you go.

The clapping and cheering from your team had pulled you guys apart. Damian carefully set you back down on the ground and stepped away from you. Heat of embarrassment crawled up his skin. "I'm sorry," You squeaked out. "I just, I wanted to thank you. Scouts are interested me and it's all because of you."

You had never really thought about Damian in this way. Sure, he frustrated the hell out of you and sometimes you wanted to punch him in his perfect little face, but you never found yourself hating him. Yet, you never thought that you’d want to kiss him either.

The instinct feeling that you had? That spoke more than anything else. After all this excitement, you should have thought to tell your parents, your best friend first. Instead, it was Damian. Maybe it was because you ran into him first, but you couldn’t blame your thoughts on that as well.

"They're interested in you because of how great of a player you are, not because of me," Damian argued. His cheeks were tinged the slightest pink as he stared into your eyes. "And there's no need to apologize... I enjoyed that. I'm sorry for being terrible to you for all these years."

"I deserved a lot of it. I'm sorry as well," You told him. Damian placed his hand on your waist, closing the gap that was between you. He tilted down, placing his lips on yours once again. He never realized how much he had argued with you just to hide his own feelings until now. All these years of fighting had been pointless.

This time, it was a camera flash that broke you apart. A blonde girl with a huge grin on her face held up her phone. Damian scowled at her. "Steph!"

"Tim!" Steph ran back to Tim as well as the rest of Damian's family. She was holding the phone high up in the air, obviously excited to show her brother about what she had just seen.

"Sorry," Damian apologized once more. He glared over in the direction of Steph running away to meet the rest of her siblings. "My family can be a lot sometimes."

"Well if they're anything like you, that doesn't surprise me," you joked. You glanced between him, the team, and his family - all of which seemed to be looking towards you. "Wanna ditch the team and our families and get out of here?"

"Never thought you'd ask."

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