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haologram · 27 days ago

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what do i call you? 🕹️ k.mg [m]

synopsis: your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you. genre: college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. pairing: football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader word count: 15.3k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, mentions of smoking (weed), mentions of food and eating. mutual pining, vernon is a plot device (because i love him.) mentions of infidelity and situationships. vernon calls reader bunny. mingyu and y/n are fucking stupid. mentions of omegas (i had to do it.) kissing, petnames (baby, honey, pretty, etc.) brief dry humping, making out. what to listen to: what do i call you? - taeyeon ; run for the hills - tate mcrae ; number one girl - rosé ; rain - swv ; hooked on your love - en vogue ; cherish the day - sade ; call me baby - exo. author's note: happiest birthday to my dear @tomodachiii ♡ i hope you forgive me for having been so ominous in the chat, and know that i love you so dearly. also, i was going to write the smut but i chickened out, mingyu is just too sexy for my brain. please eat well and stay healthy. also, thank you to both @100vern & @wonuwoe for giving me their journalism insight, as i am unfortunately a woman in stem that knows nothing about it.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRITING THE COLUMN ABOUT ME?"

You roll your eyes, sighing as your fingers rub your temples. Your best friend is currently seated not even five feet away, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as the steam from his oxtail bone soup wafts in his face. You'd been attempting to soothe his woes about the stupid column piece for the last thirty minutes, even bribing him by saying you'd spend your last twenty dollars on dessert if he dropped the topic. While nothing can get in the way of Mingyu and his food, his best friend writing a column about a sport he plays, giving one player spotlight, and not choosing him was something he simply could not let go. "Y/N, that's not fair."

"Except it is, Gyu. All the features I've written this season have been about you. One more and people might think I'm in love with you." You huff, forcing your lips into a smile as the waitress slides your order of soft tofu stew in front of you. You thank her quietly, and she simply nods her head curtly before going about her way. Mingyu eyes your bowl, the pout on his lips only deepening as you sigh, sliding your bowl over for him to dip his spoon into.

"I just think you should care about me more." He sniffs, blowing softly on the spoonful of broth from your stew. You quirk a brow as he brings the spoon to his mouth, your own lips twitching slightly at the roll of his eyes from the perfect balance of flavors on his tongue. You loved watching him eat, it was one of your favorite past times.

Not that he needed to know that.

"Mingyu, I do care about you. The newspaper has given me six columns this season alone, and I've interviewed you every single time. Let someone else have a chance." You take your bowl back, but not before he spears the jiggly tofu with his spoon, making you snicker as he burns his tongue on it.

"Why would I do that when you're my best friend? Are you saying you want to give someone else that chance? Like who, Chan? You know he smells like macaroni, right? And he bites." Mingyu breathes around the hot piece of tofu in his mouth, and you only laugh as you slide his bowl of rice closer to you. You take a bit on your spoon, dipping it into your stew before shrugging your shoulders.

"Mingyu, everyone knows you're a star, okay? You've scored sixty-two out of sixty-seven touchdowns so far, and that's just this season. You're the only quarterback in Hawk history that hasn't blown out his shoulder, which is insane. You're one of the best players in terms of field time and academics. That thing you made for your Architectural Design course? Your Apartment of a Lonely Soul model? You got displayed at the Museum of Arts for that two fucking weeks ago, and I put you in the paper for that. The people love Kim Mingyu, I think it's only fair that I give someone else a smidge of the spotlight."

He rolls his eyes, but you see the faint blush creeping on his cheeks and ears as he takes a sip of his water.

Whether you care to admit it or not, you know that the people you speak of, also refer to you.

You know that the way you write about Mingyu in your columns is the way a proud friend does, someone who cares, someone who loves him – and you know it shows bias. You know that if anyone watched your relationship with Mingyu from afar, they could tell how much you care about him, how much he means to you, how much you love him.

And you're worried that one day, someone might look too close and realize that your love for him is nothing even remotely close to platonic.

It hasn't been for the last six years of your life-long friendship.

If someone asks you, you're honest. You tell them Mingyu has been your best friend for years. You tell them that you've soothed his broken heart time and time again, that he's held your hair while you've thrown up and he's scared off shitty guys constantly. You tell them that when he's drunk, he sends you ramblings on Snapchat and eventually makes his way to your apartment to crash on your couch. You tell them that you feed him before he crashes, and make him hydrate before he goes down.

You tell them that your mom loves Mingyu, and how helpful he is when he goes home with you every so often. You tell them that he makes the best short rib soup and you've never seen someone so willing to build a bookshelf with your father. You tell them that Mingyu gets along well with your siblings, even going as far as going home with you one summer to coach your little brother's flag football team with your dad.

And then, like always – they tell you that there's no man that does that for anyone he sees as just his friend.

You choose to ignore it.

You continue to write your pieces about him, long-winded and full of purple prose in order to talk him up. You're of the idea that everyone who is capable of loving, should love Mingyu. They do, everyone on campus adores the gentle giant that he is – everyone includes girl after girl after girl. Mingyu has had three girlfriends in the twenty years that you've been his friend. He's definitely the kind of guy that likes to commit – each one lasted anywhere from a year to three. His last one, Sowon, lasted a year and a half – before he found out that she was hooking up with a guy (read: your ex-boyfriend, Daewon) on the baseball team while he was at practice.

He didn't even need her to confirm it, because he walked in on it in the men's locker room. He'd been twenty minutes late to practice, opting to drive you to a game tech convention on the other side of town. You'd practically begged him to, saying that you wanted to write a report about it for your Digital Media course and he just couldn't say no. He doesn't remember exactly what he said to her, her eyes full of guilt and regret as she quickly dressed herself and pushed past him. However, he does remember the odd feeling in his chest, and the way he tried to figure it out as he skipped practice and drove all the way back to the other side of town to pick you up.

He remembers the look on your face when you came out of the convention with your phone in hand to get a rideshare, only to see him parked front and center waiting for you against the grill of his old pick-up truck. He didn't want to talk about it, but essentially told you things between them were over as he drove the two of you to the very same diner the two of you are sitting at now, ordering all of his favorites and scarfing them down while he asked you to tell him everything about the convention. It was the most dejected you'd ever seen him look, but you also knew Mingyu well.

There was a hint of relief behind the glaze of hurt.

That was a year ago. Now, the two of you are sitting on the impending doom of graduation. You're awaiting a call back from an internship you applied to last year, and Mingyu was awaiting a letter from a Masters' program. You were both single, your last situationship ending shortly after starting because the guy was convinced you and Mingyu had a thing – simply because he came over (uninvited, unannounced) on a night where Mingyu insisted you watch the entirety of Park Chanwook's Vengeance trilogy. You didn't care too much – not when the two of you were nervous wrecks, doing everything and anything to fill your racing minds and not think about your futures.

Much like sitting in this diner and sharing a meal, your foot resting on the side of his thigh as he sits on the opposite side of the booth.

"You're too far away." He pouts, before sliding his bowl across the table and standing up, slipping next to you in the cracked vinyl booth. You worm slightly closer to the window, pretending the sudden wave of his spicy cologne doesn't make your head spin. It settled so well with the powdery scent of his detergent, the softer smell that reminded you of laying on a blanket with him, stargazing out on the football field during spring midterms.

You can't hide the way your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your spoon, but Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing.

"You cold? You're shaking like a leaf." He eyes you with a raised brow, and doesn't allow you to respond before you feel him tug his hefty letterman jacket off. The black leather sleeves brush your sweater, and you find yourself being cocooned in the warmth that now filled the jacket, radiating off your best friend's body with ease. "You're a human furnace, Mingyu." You mutter to yourself, feeling him ruffle your hair as he moves his water closer to him, opting to rearrange all the side dishes as you carefully inched away from him. You could be caught staring and Mingyu wouldn't tease you about it, you knew that much – but to be caught tensing at the brushing of your thigh with his, your arm with his, your hand with his…would be much more embarrassing.

"So I've been told. Don't think you're gonna butter me up into forgetting about the fact that you hate me, Y/N." He gives you a pointed look as he stirs his soup, your jaw dropping slightly to gape up at him.

"Oh my God, Mingyu! I don't hate you, you're making this a bigger deal than it is!" You whine, but don't miss the way he smiles around his straw, his broad shoulders taking up way too much of your space as he shrugs.

"I mean, six pieces on me in one season, but you won't make your last piece about me? And it's to spotlight a player? You've been giving me the spotlight all season! You can't take it away from me, I'll get withdrawals." "Mingyu, there has gotta be something I can do to get you to get over this. I already offered to pay for dessert, and I'm letting you pick. What else do you want from me?" Your voice is exasperated, but you don't like the glint of mischief in Mingyu's eyes as he looks down at you. He traces your features, before a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"What are you doing Friday night?" "Mingyu." "You're not doing me, sweetheart. I need you to focus." You gape inwardly, scoffing out a laugh and running your hand through your hair as you tilt slightly to face him. He's already looking at you, his tongue running over his lower lip as you meet his eyes.

"I mean…unless you want to." "You are so fucking irritating." You scoff, shoving his shoulder as he giggles. Mingyu rarely made comments like that, but when he did, it was like he was the master of timing. He loved to catch you off guard, even going as far as pinching your cheek or sidling up to you really close to emphasize his point. He'd give you that cheeky smile, he'd look at you like you put the stars in the sky and sometimes, just sometimes, those eyes would dart down to your lips before flickering away and ending the bit.

All in good fun, you always thought.

Of course you'd thought about it, about him. About what being a lover to him would be like, about what he was like as a boyfriend. You saw it, the way he treated his girlfriends – with the utmost care, the biggest gentleman you'd ever met. He held doors open, he carried them over puddles, he retired his jackets and hoodies to their shoulders if the air even had a hint of a chill in it.

But, he cooked for you. He cleaned for you, he helped you with your projects and asked for your opinion on his. He held you close, no matter who was in his life – and it became a point of contention in his relationships. So much so that any girl that he began talking to had to meet you first – and he'd observe quietly. He'd watch you try to befriend them, how your animated personality often dwindled in their presence. He'd notice the way your smile would softly fade, often replaced with a furrow in your brows before you glanced at him, as if to say, next.

You approved of Sowon, because she was sweet. She was nice to you, and she was nice to Mingyu, until she wasn't.

You approved of his longest girlfriend, Soyoung, because she tried her hardest to get along with you and even invited you to her own social gatherings – regardless of if Mingyu would be in attendance or not. The two ended when Soyoung decided she wasn't built for sharing Mingyu's attention, and he let her go without so much as a second thought.

You approved of his first girlfriend, Sohee, because you were all idiots in high school and you didn't think it would matter that much to Mingyu – and you'd told him so.

You also did it because it was year two of you dealing with your newfound romantic feelings for Mingyu, and you figured if he had a girlfriend – he wouldn't notice the way you drifted from him. If it meant keeping your friendship and dissolving your romantic feelings for the puppy-eyed man, you would take the leap of being distant. However, return to the abovementioned point: Mingyu's hawk-like gaze misses nothing. He broke things off with Sohee after a year, noticeably missing your presence and seeking you out so much your mother asked you if you were dating. You remember the look of pity in her eyes when you'd answered in the negative.

"What, Miss Y/N, are you doing on Friday night?" You try to ignore the smile on his lips as he leans slightly closer, closing your eyes as you sigh. "Nothing, Mingyu. I'm not doing anything." "Now you are." "I'm broke, Gyu."

"Pretty girls never pay, hm?" He gives you a pointed look, and you sink slightly into his jacket, sliding a bit down the booth as your cheeks burn. He only laughs, his warm fingers pinching the fat of your cheek before you swat him away. "God, you'd think I've never complimented you. We've been friends our entire lives, what's your deal?" "Nothing! You're just a twerp who doesn't mean it." You stick your tongue out at him, before feeling the tips of his fingers graze your jaw. He tilts your head up to face him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"What makes you say that? You think I say things just to make you feel better?" You raise a brow as his fingers squish your cheeks together, your lips puckering slightly as you reply, "I mean…don't you?" "No, Y/N. I don't. I think you're pretty, why would I lie about that?" He scoffs, before tilting his head in the direction of your stew. "Eat." The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence, your cheeks remaining hot under his soft gaze and gentle gestures. He drove the two of you to get dessert across town, his card hitting the reader before you could even fish out your wallet to spend your last twenty dollars as promised. He wiped your face of stray cookie crumbs as you ate in his car with the heat blasting, your own hand swatting him away constantly.

He walked you up to your apartment, biting back his laugh as your roommate, Hansol, nearly fell on his ass trying to pry open the living room window to air out the smell of weed. He smiled hazily at Mingyu, before Mingyu's best friend appeared out of your bathroom, stoned out of his mind.

"Sol, you said you wouldn't hotbox the living room again." You groan, setting your purse down on the foyer table. He winces, before pointing at Wonwoo.

"His idea." "Your apartment, idiot." Wonwoo rolls his bloodshot eyes, and Mingyu only grimaces as he quietly offers to let you spend the night at his place. You decline it almost immediately, not wanting a repeat of the first (and last) time you ever spent the night at Mingyu's apartment. Yours had flooded, and Hansol had found solace in his girlfriend's arms (and apartment) while you were left to fend for yourself.

Not really. Not if Mingyu had any say in it – and he did.

That night was like a scene out of a movie, the way he literally slammed into you fresh out of the shower. You remember the perfect way the moonlight lit him up through the cracked window, the drops of water on his abdomen burned into your brain. You also remember sleeping on the very edge of his bed that night, so much so that he eventually moved to the floor to let you get a good night's rest. You left the next day to invade Hansol and his girlfriend, Saerom, for the next two days while your apartment was fixed.

Neither of you spoke about it since, and you thanked your lucky stars that it was never brought up.

You let Wonwoo and Hansol bicker on your ratty couch, rolling your eyes as you held the door for Mingyu. He leaned against the doorway slightly, smiling down at you through perfectly bitten pink lips.

"I'll see you around, Gyu." You offer softly, rolling your eyes and tilting your head towards the two stoners now fighting over the remote to watch movies on your Amazon Prime account. "Friday." He corrects, and you suddenly realize how easily he stares at you like he knows something about you. You clear your throat, your cheeks growing even hotter as he tilts your chin up to look at him. "Say it. Say you'll see me on Friday. I'll pick you up from the office." "I'll see you on Friday." You murmur, earning a wink from him.

"See you, pretty." He spins on his heel, tucking his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket as he barrels down the stairs of your apartment complex. You watch over the railing as he gets to his car, waving as he looks up. He waves back, opening his car door and almost instantly pulling out of the parking lot.

What you don't know is how he settles into the way your citrus perfume is now infused with his on the material of his jacket. His cheeks are warm at the idea of your flustered state in the diner earlier, and when you were sitting in his car eating your cookies. How your shy smile was only ever present around him, immediately disappearing if someone else joined your conversations or if you were around literally anyone else.

Like he made you nervous, something he'd noticed almost a decade ago. The way he could listen to you, talk to you, look at you all day – and you just brushed it off like it was nothing but you couldn't hide the twinge of fluster in your voice around him. The way you constantly talked about him if you thought he wasn't listening. How you wrote all your pieces about him, and how all his friends teased him about how in love you sounded. How enamored you sounded when you wrote about him, how passionate you were about sharing him and his success with the world to appreciate. He could date these pieces back to the first semester of your freshman year together, but he's liked you far longer than that.

Mingyu knew a lot of things, but he knew you best. You hadn't ever cared about someone the way you had him, and you made it very obvious. He crossed all his fingers, hoping the feeling in his chest when you brushed against him was something you felt, too. Hoping that you also settled in your bed and your only thoughts before closing your eyes were of him as his were of you.

Hoping that you liked him, in the same way. Hoping that you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours, what it would feel like to slot your fingers together in more than just a platonic way. He wondered if you'd let him kiss you breathless, he wondered if your eyes lingered on him that night because you liked what you saw.

Yeah, Mingyu likes you. He likes you a lot.

"NO CAN DO, Y/N. YOU ALREADY SAID YOU'D INTERVIEW LEE CHAN."

Hansol was sitting on the edge of his desk with a lollipop between his lips, looking over the rough drafts of your fellow journalists. How all of you at the Hawk Review ended up under Hansol Chwe was beyond you, but you weren't complaining. He was smart and calculated, creative, and he figured out a way to redirect some of the funding to better snacks and a Keurig for the Hawk Review Committee.

And you can't lie, either – he was a very just and fair editor. He didn't let just anyone onto the committee, often going through rigorous interviewing processes (for virtually no reason except vibes) and even going as far as making you his second in command – so long as you agreed that what happened at the HRC, stayed at the HRC. As your editor, he was more than willing to listen to you drone on and on about literally anything having to do with any of your columns or articles. As your roommate, Hansol did not want to talk about the committee at all – he preferred throwing popcorn at you while you bickered over who was dumber in How I Met Your Mother. You both agreed it was definitely Ted for the majority of the show.

"I'm gonna have to pull a veto on that, Chwe. I need to write about Mingyu." You sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair as you stuff your laptop into your tote. Hansol eyes you, before sliding the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at you.

"You are down atrociously for that guy, you know that? The dating rumors that I've had to deny for you are driving me towards the brink of insanity." You scoff in offense, your mouth attempting to form around words but only resulting in odd noises before you cover your face with your hands.

"Hansol!" "Y/N!" "I am not down anything for Mingyu, okay? I just know that if as a journalist, consistency is key, is it not? If I have put my best foot forward towards a project, in this case, interviewing Mingyu regularly for my columns…wouldn't it be just and fair, as a journalist with a semi-Mingyu-based following, to give him Spotlight of The Season? Wouldn't it be, oh wise one, something just and fair to have him be the topic of my last column as your second-in-command, Editor Chwe?"

Hansol only smiles, shaking his head before sighing. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/N." "So I've been told. Please, Sol. Mingyu will kill me if I don't do my last piece on him." You clasp your hands in front of you, jutting your lips out in a pout as you bat your lashes at him. He only snorts, tossing his unfinished lollipop into the trash can. He slides into the chair behind the heavy mahogany desk, a glint of mischief in his eyes that you can't quite place as he opens his laptop. He types away as you cross your arms across your chest, bearing your weight on one foot, tapping the other nervously.

"Well, let's see. You've written six columns on Mingyu this year alone, and one of them had nothing to do with football. Your column about his exhibit at the Museum of Arts last month was actually a great piece." He peers at you over the top of his laptop, and you tilt your head. "The Museum emailed our coordinator, you know. Said that your piece brought their ticket sales up by five percent." Your jaw drops slightly, "You're kidding." "I'm not." He shrugs, returning his line of vision to the laptop in front of him. You can see the way his cheeks move slightly, as if he's suppressing a smile, "You know, the coordinator who writes the recommendation letters for our internships. Mrs. Lee." "Hansol, if you're kidding, please shut up right now." Your voice is whiny as he smiles softly. You'd only ever seen him smile that way when he's going to deliver good news, as if to soften the blow, lessen the shock value. A smile that screams you deserve this, and everything good that comes your way.

"Mrs. Lee asked me what I thought of you, Y/N." He leaned back in his chair, pulling the drawer open and taking out yet another lollipop. He offers you one, and you take the green apple, unwrapping it as you lean on the desk. "She also asked me if I'd be willing to write your recommendation letter." Your eyes widen, "Hansol, please–" "Don't beg me. I hate it when you beg." He rolls his eyes, turning his laptop to face you. It's open to Y/N LETTER - DRAFT 2 OF 6. You can feel your nose burn as tears sting your eyes, and he closes the laptop before speaking.

"It will still go through Mrs. Lee for review, and for her to add her own notes. I think your dedication to the Hawk Review Committee has been absolutely insane. You've never failed to deliver, and everyone always loves your pieces, whether they're about Mingyu's abilities as a quarterback, Mingyu's talent for architecture and eye for what looks good. I think you're right, consistency as a journalist is key." He nods, giving you a knowing look.

"I'm sensing a but, here."

"But, I won't submit something that goes against what is true. I wrote in here that I think you're a brave individual who takes on any challenge life gives you. Submitting that when I know it's simply not true is a violation of ethics, giving false information and whatnot." He taps the metal of his laptop, and your brows furrow.

"What?" "I'm not submitting this until you tell Mingyu that you're in love with him. That gives you…" He checks his phone, "Three days. Three days to confess, so I can submit this to Mrs. Lee and she can get it in at your internship before the deadline closes and you're inevitably out of an opportunity at your own volition." Your jaw drops fully, "You're kidding." "I can assure you, Miss Y/N, I am not." He smiles lazily, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. You scoff, but nothing tells you he's serious more than the way he opens his phone and sets a timer for seventy-two hours. "Three. Days. Hop to, bunny." "Hansol." "Oh, and I need your Spotlight of the Season column by then, too. Gotta skim through to make sure you don't say he's the love of your life in paragraph three again." "Oh, fuck you! That was one time!" You pout, "Don't do this to me, Vern. I literally helped you get that date with Saerom last year!" "And look at me now, Y/N!" He holds up his phone, a picture of him and Saerom filling the screen. "Just because you don't have balls, doesn't mean you can't have balls, you know?" "Wise words from Hansol Vernon Chwe." You hear Mingyu's voice fill the room, making you jump as Hansol smiles. He winks at you, before making a shooing motion with his hand.

"Get outta here, Y/N. And I want that damn column on the desk before Monday at six, you hear me?" He points the new lollipop at you, and you ignore the way your cheeks heat as Mingyu's arm drapes around your shoulders and he bids Hansol goodbye. You flip Hansol the bird as he makes kissing faces at you, Mingyu pulling you towards the door of the office.

"How was your day?" He asks as the door closes behind you, the chill of the November air piercing through your thin cardigan and making you regret the short skirt you chose earlier that day. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to cut it out with the small talk – when his fingers pluck the lollipop out from between your lips and plant it straight onto his tongue.

"Mingyu! You're so gross!" You gape at him, swatting his side as he giggles around the hard candy, scooting away from you. His arm that was around your shoulder falls to his side, before you notice the way he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, making you hold your hands out in protest. "No. Keep it, it's cold." "You're shivering." He says matter-of-factly, and you try to ignore the forming green tint on his lips from your lollipop, your eyes flickering up to his with a feigned look of confidence.

"I'm in the presence of a collegiate football superstar and future architect of the coolest buildings in our city, forgive me for being a little excited." You huff dramatically as you feel his warm jacket being draped over your shoulders. A defeated sigh escapes from your lips as his hands rest on your shoulders, guiding you out of the Literature building and towards his old pick-up.

You remember when he got it, the powder blue paint job with white detailing being a choice from his father before he passed it down to Mingyu. It was a 1992 GMC Sierra 1500, and he was definitely too big to fit in the cab but he loved that old thing more than anything in this world. He learned how to drive in it when he was sixteen, and his father finally gifted it to him on his eighteenth birthday – you remember being half-awake, toothbrush still in your mouth when you started getting shaken like maraca when he came to pick you up for school the next morning. Your mom did not trust Mingyu to drive you both to school, but with Mingyu's puppy eyes comes a certain brand of begging that no one can say no to.

Granted, he almost crashed from excitement but you both made it safe and sound.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask suddenly, remembering nothing had been discussed the night he brought it up. He shrugged, opening the passenger side door and helping you into the bench seat.

"Just relax, okay? It's, like, a twenty-minute drive."

You struggle not to roll your eyes, settling into the felt cushion and sliding your tote onto the dash. You pop open his glove box, his collection of cassettes messily thrown in. You pluck out a random one, hearing him pry open his door and settle in his seat, the rickety door definitely needing a good wipedown with WD-40.

"Only you would have a cassette collection." You hold up his November Rain cassingle by Guns N' Roses, and he snorts inwardly. It was a senseless dig, because cassettes were all his car radio could read. It was either the cassettes or the staticky sound of the FM radio…so, pass.

"You're judging me, but I went out and found that En Vogue Funky Divas cassette for you. Remember, bidding on eBay is not good for you, sweetheart." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the still-wrapped cassette tape you'd fought some fifty-year-old woman for on eBay weeks prior. Your eyes widen, a huge grin spreading on your lips as you pluck it from his fingers, holding it to your chest.

"Oh, you love me, Kim Mingyu!" You squeal, and he rolls his eyes, reaching over you to buckle you in. You allow it, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap. Listen, you're a twenty-something in the twenty-first century, it's not that serious. (It is that serious, what did you fight that woman for if it wasn't to just keep it as a collector's item?)

"Hooked on Your Love should be side B." He says softly, shoving his key into the ignition as you crack open the plastic case. You nod, your smile still wide as you slip the cassette into the player, his hand moving to rest on your headrest as he backs out of his parking spot.

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, before the sound of It Ain't Over 'Til The Fat Lady Sings fills the cab. You nod your head along to it, before glancing over at Mingyu and seeing a small bandage across his cheekbone. Your hand instinctively floats up to it, your fingers stroking his skin gently as he pulls up to a red light.

"What happened here, Gyu?" He looks at it in the rearview, his lip jutted in a pout. "Kiss it better and I'll tell." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious! I'm injured, oh, I'm so hurt." He feigns distress, clutching his chest just as the light turns green. You roll your eyes, forcing yourself to face forward. The sun is setting, the light hitting Mingyu's skin just right as you will your eyes away.

"Seriously, Gyu. Did you get hurt?" "Nah. It was Media Day, the stylist wanted something rugged. I didn't personally get it and she didn't explain how a singular bandage would convey that, but it's also not my expertise. I just let her do what she wanted." He shrugs, and you hum in response as he peels it off.

The silence between you, again, is comfortable.

But the growing knot in your stomach at his proximity, the smell of his cologne on his jacket surrounding you, the way the sun is making him look borderline fucking angelic – it's suffocating. You sigh inwardly, leaning your arm on the door and resting your head against your palm. You nod along to the music, your eyes scanning all the streets to see if you can figure out where Mingyu is taking you. He wasn't a secretive guy, but you couldn't ignore the roaring butterflies in your stomach at the idea that maybe he…had something planned.

Mingyu loved to plan things for the two of you to do. However, with your dedication to journalism, his practice and games and his studies – everything was far more sporadic and spontaneous. You didn't mind, you loved spending time with him in any way – but you were both sentimental people in the way that planning things you both knew you'd like was far more enjoyable.

You feel your cheeks burn at the realization that people weren't exactly wrong in assuming the two of you were a couple. You hated to admit it to yourself, because it was like giving into false hope and delusion. Sure, you were never going to think that you weren't enough for Mingyu – you were. At the end of the day, he is just a man. A man who picks his nose, probably.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Mingyu's voice tears you from your thoughts, ones so clouding that you didn't even realize the car had stopped moving, the ending notes of Hooked On Your Love playing through the cab. You pouted, before looking up at him and seeing the old arcade you used to frequent during freshman year. Your eyes widen, noticing that you're parked under the same old tree you always parked beneath.

"Gyu, we haven't been here since freshman year." "I know. I figured we could just have a good time because I'm not sure if I'll have time after the semifinals. Everyone's super pessimistic about the championships this year." He shrugs, killing the engine. You only nod along, clearing your throat as you realize how empty the parking lot is. For a Friday evening, that's unusual.

"Kind of empty, isn't it?" You mumble as he unlocks the door, not missing his smile in the side mirror as he slides out of his seat. You move to open your door, but he's already yanking it open, offering his hand to help you step down. Tugging your tote over your shoulder, you climb down and reluctantly pull your hand out of his as you shut the door.

"Did you know that museums pay you for displaying your work in their galleries?" He starts, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You suck in a breath, a little too loud for your taste as you cough.

"Really? That's great, Gyu. I assume they shelled out a few hundred bucks, huh? I know I would for Apartment of a Lonely Soul. I'd display the shit out of that at my place." You scoff, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist. He hums, his fingers twirling in loose strands of your hair as you glance up at him. He has a mischievous smile playing on his lips as you both near the doors of the arcade. It's empty inside, making you dig your heels into the pavement.

"Gyu, maybe it's closed." You frown, but he raps his knuckles against the glass door in a pattern that reminds you of Hot for Teacher by Van Halen. You wait quietly, seeing your good friend Soonyoung turning the corner of the cashier's booth inside. He grins widely at you through the glass door, unlocking it quickly.

"Mingyu. Y/N." He greets, and you can't help but narrow your eyes as Mingyu pushes you forward through the threshold. He takes your bag off your shoulder and hands it to Soonyoung, who drapes it over his own shoulder before holding his hand out.

"You two…what did you do?" Your suspicion only makes Mingyu laugh, and you see him slide something, presumably money, into Soonyoung's hand before he turns his attention back to you. Soonyoung flips the sign to say CLOSED, the click of the lock making your eyes flit up to him. He only smiles, pocketing the money and strolling away, whistling the melody of Galaxy by Taeyeon.

"What do you wanna do first? Skeeball? Air hockey? Bowling?" Mingyu's hands on your shoulders are reassuring, the pads of his thumbs working soft circles into your trap muscles. You nibble on your lip, turning your head to look over your shoulder back at him.

"Did you rent this place out with the money the museum gave you?" You ask softly, trying to hide the subtle hint of disappointment in your voice. You had a horrible habit of insisting that Mingyu not spend money on you, something he brushed off time and time again. He peers down at you, a quirk in his brow as he smiles.

"Just pick a game, sweetheart."

You try not to show your increasing suspicion, your gut feeling telling you he's buttering you up for something as he guides you towards the bowling alley. The music playing in the arcade is louder than normal, and you try to focus on the sound of By Your Side by Sade playing through the speakers.

"Have they always played Sade? Last time we were here, I swear they were playing, like, Cascada and Keri Hilson." You look up at Mingyu, who just rolls his eyes as he makes you sit down on a bench in front of the bowling alley, kneeling in front of you and yanking your shoes off.

"You always focus this much on things that are so minuscule? We're at an arcade, alone. No lines, no screaming, no odd Dorito-Eating, Mountain-Dew drinking, Piña-Colada-Vaping gamers fighting us for our spot in the Galaga queue." He makes it all sound so magical, like the two of you didn't get a bunch of sixteen year olds kicked out several times the last few times you visited the arcade.

"Gyu–" "Just chill, okay? And if I have to guilt trip you, I will. I'm not above it." He says pointedly, slipping the bowling shoes over your socked feet as you huff. You cross your arms as he ties the laces, before his warm hands splay across your knees. He smiles as your legs jerk at the sudden contact, before giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Now, beat me in two frames and I'll get us tickets to that furry convention that I know you're going to want to write a piece about." He stands, tugging you up from the bench and towards one of the alleys.

And it's easy. It's so easy to forget everything when you're with Mingyu, watching the way his shoulders tense under the tight black t-shirt he's wearing as he swings his ball back perfectly. The way his thick thighs are hugged by the slim fitting jeans he was wearing, the black watch on his wrist distracting you from the way his fingers slid easily into the bowling ball…

You don't manage to beat him in two frames, or three. Or four.

You don't win a single game, your brain entirely too distracted by just how couple-y this all seemed. How boyfriend-like Mingyu was acting, as he took you all over the arcade. He didn't ever go easy on you, beating you in game after game – air hockey, three games of Street Fighter II. He even managed to scam you out of the few coins you managed to get out of the coin pusher, before pulling you over to the Skee-ball machines.

"If you lose, you're buying dinner." He says pointedly, gathering the wooden balls in his hand as you gape up at him.

"This is so fucking unfair, Mingyu! You literally play football!" You stomp your foot like a petulant child, only making him laugh softly. "But if I offer to go easy on you, you'll complain. So which is it? Do you want me to have a filling dinner or do you want to win the weasel way?" He tilts his head at you, brow cocked high on his face as you scoff, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest, grabbing the balls from his hands. He slides the jacket on with a grin, watching the way you count the balls with your eyes. 7..8..9…Before looking up, your lip jutted out in a pout. "No way you just called me a weasel, Kim Mingyu." "Yes way. What're you gonna do about it, weasel?" He flicks the tip of your nose, making your brows furrow as you push past him to stand in front of the lane. He leans on Mrs. Pac-Man, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he watches you carefully. Your shoulders are too tense as you land a ball in the 40 zone, your elbows too stiff as another gracefully slips off the edge of 30 into the 10 when you turn around.

"Stop staring at me, I can feel the heat of your eyes on my back."

"Wasn't looking at your back, sweetheart." He chides, making you scoff and turn back around, rotating your wrist as you assume position. He steps forward slightly, sliding his arm around your waist and tilting you forward a bit. He feels your back stiffen as you suck in a breath, almost like he scared you.

"Mingyu!" Almost.

"You're too tense. This is a game of grace, Y/N. Just relax." He murmurs, his other hand wrapping loosely around your wrist. You can feel his hips pressed against you, but it's fully innocent – aside from where your mind goes. He swings your arm back before pushing it forward and you let the ball slip from your fingers. You're grimacing as you watch it, feeling your lips twitch as it falls perfectly into the 100 zone.

"You just got lucky." You mutter, feeling his chest move against your back as he laughs. "Yeah? Just luck, huh?" Your breath hitches as his hits the back of your neck, and you curse yourself internally as he drums his fingers on the expanse of your belly. Swatting his hand away, you push him back but he doesn't move away. In fact, his arm around you tightens, pulling you slightly closer as you twist your head to look up at him.

"Then those hundred points should count in my favor, shouldn't they?" You gape up at him, his smile all too warm and inviting as he winks at you, his finger coming to your chin and manually closing your mouth. "Focus, sweetheart."

He turns your face back to the lane, and you huff out a breath. "This feels like that meme of a broke guy holding onto his girlfriend while she pays for his shit." "I hold you all the time, it's never bothered you before." He shrugs behind you, and you feel him settle his chin on your shoulder as his other arm wraps around you, linking his fingers above your navel. You can't help but roll your eyes, the action the only thing keeping you grounded as you reluctantly swing the rest of the balls in. 50, 40, 40, 30, 10.

"Last one." He whispers, his fingers lightly squeezing the softness of your belly between them. You squirm, elbowing his ribs lightly. "Get away from me! I'm going to lose if you keep doing this." You whine, and he only giggles as he slides his arms away from around you. Huffing, you smooth your shirt and shake yourself off, assuming your position in front of the lane and swinging your arm back in the perfect slope for a 100…

…When you feel Mingyu's fingers poke at your sides, making you squeal and the ball goes barreling into the 30 zone.

"Mingyu!" You push his arm lightly as he laughs, grabbing your wrist to stop you from landing a smack to his shoulder. He pulls you into him, and you feel your stomach flip as you slap his chest. "You've been hanging out with Jeonghan, haven't you? And you have the nerve to call me a weasel?!" "You would've lost anyway, sweetheart. You've got 350 points on the roster, there's no way you're not buying dinner." He taunts you, his nose mere centimeters from yours as he smiles. You're silent, the proximity far too much to even let out a breath when you feel your lips twitch into a scowl.

"You're not playing fair, Gyu." "You're cute, honey. Now watch this." He lets you slip from his grasp, slipping another quarter into the game and receiving his share of the wooden balls. And you, like an idiot – watch him. You watch him land 100 after 100, only once landing in the 50 zone. 850 points, 950 if you count the ones he got for you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes peering down at you with a glint you can't place as you cross your arms.

"I think I'd like to try that new place on Sixth Street." He says proudly, making you scoff in disbelief as he throws his arm over your shoulders. You shove him away lamely, only feeling his fingers pinch your cheek as he cooed. "Don't be such a sore sport, Y/N. Skeeball is not your forte." "Neither are any of these other games, apparently." You grumble as he leads you through the arcade, his thumb lightly rubbing back and forth on your jaw. He hums, pulling you into him impossibly closer.

"You wanna win something?" He asks gently, and you shake your head. You can almost hear him smiling, because you're not looking up at him, no fucking way – when he tilts your jaw up to face him. "C'mon. What do you want to play? Pac-Man?" "No." "Space Invaders?"

"No." "Oooh, Sunset Riders?"

"Mingyu." You rolled your eyes as he leaned against one of the air hockey tables, keeping you close. Your lip was jutted in a pout, making him laugh softly as he enveloped you in a hug. Your hands pushed against his torso in an attempt to push him away. He sucks his teeth, looking down at you. Your eyes look guilty, and you can feel it sinking into your stomach as he analyzes you. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but you know the words that come out aren't what he's thinking.

"Tell you what, we can take pictures in the photobooth and I'll buy dinner." You hate how you instantly light up, your hands now fisting the fabric of his shirt as he rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile. "See? How aren't you a weasel when you make me feel bad and now I'm the one paying for dinner?" "You said it yourself, pretty girls never pay." You reply smugly, your lips stretching into a smile as he scoffs. However, it seems like the world stills as he smooths your hair down, thumbing at your earrings – a pair he got you ages ago for your birthday – and mumbling.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, before seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in and pushing off the air hockey table. You stumble back a bit, but your grip on his shirt is enough to keep you upright as his arm tightens around your waist. "Easy, pretty. Need you in one piece for these photos." "And dinner!" You manage to stutter out, making him shake his head as he pulls you near the booth. The two of you see Soonyoung and his coworkers lounging around the cashier's booth, casually chattering while passing around a baby blue dab pen. Neither you nor Mingyu say anything, but neither does Soonyoung as he catches your eye – and he makes kissing faces at you.

Enough that you stick your tongue out at him, the feeling of Mingyu's fingers sliding between yours is the only thing that brings you back to reality. The photobooth had been much bigger the last time you came here – or maybe Mingyu had been much smaller? He takes up over ¾ of the bench inside, and you scoff. "Where am I supposed to sit?" Mingyu glances up at you, shrugging as he pats his thigh. "Hop to." "Yeah right, Gyu. Make yourself smaller." "I'd make the booth bigger if I could, Y/N. Just not possible." He speaks as if he really cares that the two of you have outgrown the photobooth meant for children, shrugging his shoulders before patting his leg again. "C'mon, pretty." You sigh, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder at Soonyoung. He just smiles, wiggling his brows as he takes a rip from the pen before handing it to Minghao. Mingyu holds his hand out, and you take it to steady yourself before pulling the curtain closed (much to Soonyoung's dismay.) You barely perch on his leg, smoothing your skirt slightly when he snakes his arm around you and pulls you down on his thigh fully, scooting you up higher.

"Act like you know me, will you?" He teases, before his hand comes to sweep the hair out of your eyes. "Ready? Need lip gloss?" You grimace, crossing your arms as he tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "Did you just call me crusty?"

"No, but I did find your lipgloss in my car. It's in my pocket, the MyMelody one?" He shrugs, pushing your hair back over your shoulder and looking into the camera. You hesitate, before holding your hand out. "Give it here." "Is that how you ask?" "Can I please have my lipgloss that I bought with my six dollars at Daiso? Pretty please, Kim Mingyu, football superstar and future architect of my home because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Your monotone voice makes him bite back his laughter, his hand sliding into his jean pocket with ease before pulling out your lip gloss. You eagerly snatch it out of his hand, screwing the top open and pressing the applicator to your lips in the camera.

If you looked just an inch to the left, you would've seen Mingyu admiring you.

"Ready now, Miss Diva?" He squeezes your hip lightly, and you smack your lips together before shoving the lipgloss in his jacket pocket and nodding.

"Yep! What pose? Smile first?" You press the camera button quickly, and he nods. You lean back a bit, your head pressed to his slightly as you both smile. The camera counts down from eight, and takes the picture as you feel your cheeks start to hurt. "Remember that photo your mom has of us? Where you're winking and I'm holding up a peace sign over your eye?" He reminisces fondly as the camera begins counting down, and you snort before nodding, humming an alright.

The two of you pose for the camera again, your chest warming at his kissy-face on the screen. The camera flashes, and you look back at him, only to see him already holding up half a heart sign with his hand. You meet it, smiling in the camera again – only to see him smiling up at you.

"Mingyu, look at the camera." You say through gritted teeth, and he does so almost reluctantly, resting his temple on your shoulder as he smiles softly. The camera flashes for the last time, and you hear the strips print on the outside. You uncross your legs, pulling the curtain open to see Minghao sweeping in front of the cashier's booth as Soonyoung crunches numbers over the calculator, a pencil in his hand quickly scribbling on his yellow legal pad. You duck out, grabbing the strips as Mingyu follows suit. You hold one up to him as you analyze yours, your heart slightly sinking at how much of a couple you guys look like. Tonguing your cheek, you run your thumb over Mingyu's face, before glancing up and seeing him looking down at you.

"Don't like them, huh?" He says defeatedly, and you shake your head quickly. "No, no! I love them." You say softly, before shrugging your shoulders a bit. "I guess it's just odd that we look so much like a couple. No wonder people think we're dating." He nods inwardly, tucking his strip into his back pocket before stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. "Is that bad? To look like a couple, I mean?" "Considering that we've been best friends since I shoved you on the playground twenty something years ago? I'd say so." You state, and he snorts. You miss the way he tongues his cheek as he leads you over to Soonyoung and Minghao, who both smile slightly at you. "So? How was it, to have the entire arcade to yourself?" Minghao leans against the cashier's booth, his eyes slightly red from the dab pen. You roll your eyes with a smile as Soonyoung lifts your tote bag over the counter. "Glad you guys got paid to stand here. Kind of nice and calm when someone rents out the entire place, huh?" You wiggle your brows, tugging your tote over your shoulder and slipping your photo strip into it.

Soonyoung nods, "It's nice to watch two idiots play a bunch of games that are rigged and somehow still win. I still have no idea how you understand those coin pushers." "Elementary, my dear boy!" You smile widely, and Mingyu taps the counter with a small smile. "Thanks, guys. I owe you one." He says softly, and both of the men behind the counter return the smile. Minghao follows closely behind as you both say your goodbyes, unlocking the door to a bunch of teenagers who are impatiently waiting with skateboards in their hands.

"Sorry, guys. We're closed." Minghao says as Mingyu instinctively grabs your hand, pulling you in front of him. You both worm out of the door as one of the teenagers scoffs.

"So dude and his girlfriend here can go in but we can't? Come on, we've been waiting for two hours!" The kid sneers, the group behind him making noises of agreement as you laugh inwardly. Minghao rolls his eyes, sighing as he calls over his shoulder for Soonyoung.

"You guys have a good night, okay?" He waves you off as Soonyoung pops up behind him, the two of you walking towards Mingyu's truck in the moonlight. Your shoes crunch a few leaves as you hear the gaggle of teenagers slip into the arcade, Soonyoung flicking the sign over to say OPEN as you make it to the car. "Thanks for tonight, Gyu. Even if I was a sore loser, I missed spending time with you like this." You admit softly as you both round the passenger side of the truck, his hand reaching for the handle with a shrug. "No big deal. I love hanging out with you, it's like number two on my hierarchy of needs. Second only to the absolute need to beat you at every game ever." He jerks the door open, offering his hand for support as you climb in. He smiles at you, "Still up for dinner? I really do want to try that new place, they have a drive-thru and we can stargaze or something." "Yeah, I'm down. I'll pay my share with the two coins you didn't scam me out of earlier." You roll your eyes as he only grins wider, shutting the door and rounding the car. You open the glove compartment again, fishing out Sade's Love Deluxe cassette as he jumps into his seat. He cranks the ignition without another word, buckling his seatbelt in as you trade the cassettes out. The ride is once more filled with comfortable silence aside from Sade's comforting voice seeping through the speakers. You find yourself sitting slightly closer to Mingyu than you had on the ride to the arcade, but it seems neither of you really care as he swiftly maneuvers the streets, pulling into the drive-thru for the new burger place everyone in your town had been raving about.

"What do they have?" You ask softly, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning over Mingyu's lap. The attendant blinks at you, the warm smile on her face only deepening as Mingyu's hand hovers over your waist. "We have a really good swiss and mushroom burger if you'd like to try it? It comes with caramelized onions and the bun has garlic butter brushed on top! It can get super messy but it's borderline orgasmic." She nods her head, and you glance up at Mingyu, who is biting back his laughter at her animated persona. You roll your eyes, your hand resting on his knee as you shake your head.

"You still got those mints in the glove box?" You ask, making him snort as he looks over at the attendant. "Can we get two of those? Are your fries any good? Be honest." His hand splays across your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your skirt as you continue leaning into him. The attendant assures him that yes, our fries are great! "Care to add a milkshake? We often get couples like you guys asking for one to share, it's adorable." She beams, and you open your mouth to speak before Mingyu talks over you.

"Do you want one?" His fingers squeeze your hip, and you can't find any words so you just nod dumbly, the attendant rattling off flavors when Mingyu speaks again. "Vanilla is fine, she's one of those people that dips her fries in it." "You guys are so cute!" You can't bring yourself to say anything, and you feel your cheeks heat as Mingyu clears his throat and mumbles a thank you before fishing his wallet out to pay the girl. She bids the two of you a good night before sending you down the drive-thru, and you can't move from your spot damn near on top of Mingyu.

"I'm sorry if she made you uncomfortable by saying that." He murmurs, and you shake your head slightly, squeezing his knee. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was kinda cute, she seemed really excited about it." You force a laugh, before feeling Mingyu pat your hip.

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to pretend like you're okay with it. We're friends, yeah? That's all we'll ever be." You don't know why your chest tightens at the words that fall from his lips, but you only hum in response as you slink away from him. His hand on your hip brushes across your back as you make it to the window, another attendant smiling brightly as she hands your food out. "You guys are so cute! Date night?" "Ah, we're not together." Mingyu replies quickly, and you nod as the girl gives you a glance. A hint of something, maybe pity, in her eyes. It makes your stomach turn as you take the bag of hot food from Mingyu.

"You should be." She hands Mingyu the milkshake for you, and you take it from him as you give her a sad smile in return. She bids you both a good night, and Mingyu repeats it as you steal a fry from the bag and wave. He drives back into the street as you sneak another, before he glances at you.

"Yah! If you're going to sneak fries, at least do it with your seatbelt on!" He swats at you, crumpling the bag shut as you reach for the seatbelt and tug it on. You reach for the bag again as you click it in place, offering him one as he makes a left turn. He takes it between his teeth, the music playing softly as he speaks again. "There's a cliff that oversees the city. It's lowkey haunted but I like it a lot. Wonwoo found it sophomore year when he and Hansol got too high, he called me telling me he felt like he was going to fall off the Earth." You laugh, nodding along. "I remember, because you practically banged my door down trying to get Hansol inside when you've always had a key." "I couldn't find it! And it was three in the morning after the semi-finals, I was so tired I'm not even sure how I drove around for so long looking for them." He shakes his head, taking another turn before the road becomes carved dirt and gravel. He does a u-turn, parking on the cliff so the bed of the truck is facing the overview of the city. You snag one last fry before Mingyu rolls his eyes, turning the truck off with a sigh, before glancing over at you.

"C'mon, let's go sit." The two of you climb out of his side of the car, his hands carefully grasping your hips to help you down. He grabs the milkshake for you as you plop the bag of food into the bed of the truck, before climbing into it by nestling your foot on the tire and swinging your leg over the wheel arch panel. You stretch as he does the same, when you hear the thwip of him shaking off the blanket the two of you kept back here for nights like this. You fluff one of the odd cushions thrown in from random thrift store stops, waiting as Mingyu spreads the blanket across the metal of the bed before throwing the cushion down.

"Sit." He says, popping his old cooler and fishing out a bottle of water. "In case you choke." "You wish I would, don't you? You'd get all my belongings." You roll your eyes, taking the lid off the milkshake and resting it on the wheel arch panel. The two of you dig through the bag in silence, and you unwrap the wax paper from the thickest, greasiest burger you'd ever seen. You inhale deeply, your head lightly hitting the rear window as you sink your teeth into it.

"Holy shit." You groan, your eyes fluttering shut as you chew around thick mushroom bits, the sweetness of the onions coating your tongue as you look over at Mingyu – who is just shaking his head with a grin as he unwraps his own.

"Good?" "Fucking amazing, Gyu."

He seemingly agrees, a noise similar to a moan erupting from his throat as he sinks his teeth into the burger. You smile to yourself, fishing a fry out of the bag as he crosses his ankles. Neither of you say anything as you eat, and you wind up moving the milkshake between the two of you when he gestures one of his fries towards it, the last bite of his burger stuffed into his cheek. "I have a question." He speaks and you grimace.

"Swallow that first."

He rolls his eyes, doing as you say before turning back to face you. You reach out to his face with a napkin in your hand, wiping at the corner of his lip before shoveling the last of your burger into your mouth. "Why not me?" He asks, resting his head on the rearview window, and you stop chewing almost abruptly. You cough around your food, forcing yourself to swallow and take a sip of the water bottle he gave you. "What?" "I mean, it would work, wouldn't it? We've been friends since we were kids. I've seen you in almost every stage of life. We hang out constantly, we're like chopsticks. I'm never seen without you, and vice versa. So, why not me?" He shrugs, and you gape slightly.

"Mingyu, I don't think you're thinking very straight right now. I mean, again, we've been friends our entire lives. Why would we risk ruining that?" You mumble, not looking at him as he sighs.

"Is it ruining it? Are you saying you've never thought about it? The comments don't get to you?"

You look up to see him already staring at you, a quizzical look on his features as he scans you. He seems…tired. Mingyu never looks tired.

"I…Mingyu, I don't know. I guess? I mean…it's weird, isn't it? You've literally held my hair when I've thrown up. You've seen me so drunk I've done cartwheels down the street barefoot." You run a hand through your hair, a humorless laugh slipping through his lips before he sighs.

"I've also seen you graduate high school with me. I've seen you grow up, every single birthday I've been right there. I've stuck by your side my entire life, and that's never been out of anything but love for you. Whether or not it remains platonic is up to you." He looks away, looking up at the moon before clicking his tongue. "I've been in love with you for six years now."

You swear the entire world stops spinning at that moment. No cicadas chirping, no birds flying, hell, even you've stopped breathing. He keeps talking.

"It sounds like bullshit, especially when I've dated other girls. I guess a part of me thought that if I diverted from the feelings, if I ignored them and tried to redirect them, they'd go away. It was definitely a stupid thing to do, because I've hurt people along the way. I should've been honest from the beginning, maybe your direct rejection would've made getting over you easier and things would be different now." He shrugs, and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. He glances at you, "You should take that." You pull it out, seeing Hansol's contact flashing across the screen. Groaning, you answer it and put it on speaker.

"What, Sol?" "Damn, my bad. I heard from a little bird that you went on a date with Mingyu."

Your eyes widen, and Mingyu runs his tongue over his teeth as he shakes his head. He scoffs, and you open your mouth to speak when your roommate pipes up again.

"Have you told him you're in love with him yet?" His head snaps up, and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut when Hansol speaks again. "Hello? Did you tell him yet or not, Y/N?"

"You just did, Sol. Fuck, I'll see you later." You don't wait for him to respond before you hang up, carelessly tossing the phone across the bed of the truck as you rub your face with your hands. You bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and leaning your head back against the window. He hums. "How long?"

You sigh, nibbling on your lip as you peer at him through your lashes. He doesn't smile, doesn't offer you any comfort in his face as you rake your eyes over his features. Strong brows, soft eyes that have never held anything but support and love for you. Pink lips that spread over that perfect set of teeth every time he saw you, pink lips that mocked you and taunted you.

"Unless it's not true." He shrugs, tossing the trash from dinner into the bag it came in. You don't say anything as he moves it from between the two of you, opting to turn to face you. He crossed his legs, resting his hands in his lap. "I think a part of me always knew." You mumble, and he nods. His eyes are patient, thumbs twiddling in his lap as you sigh. "Yeah. I always knew, I just didn't want to come to terms with it. That's why Daewon and I broke up, you know." "Fuck that guy, he sucked anyway. And he's a ball hog, he can't fucking pass to save his life." Mingyu scoffs, making you smile inwardly. "Yeah, he does suck. But he was there, and he was a good distraction. We're both guilty in that sense, you and I. Something about hurting people along the way." You pull at a loose thread in the blanket, and Mingyu hums.

"We don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to." You peer at him through your lashes, tapping your foot lightly. "You don't?" He sighs, shrugging his jacket off to stretch his arms over his head. You follow the movement, your eyes glued to the muscle of his arms being pulled taut under his t-shirt. He leans his head back on the rear window, and you will yourself to scoot closer. He glances down at you, eyes full of defeat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "Why didn't you?" "Touché." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a mint. He holds it out to you, and you take it gently as he takes another out for himself. He doesn't say anything as he unwraps it, but you attempt to make a joke anyway.

"Telling me my breath stinks, aren't you?" He snorts as you pop the mint into your mouth, and lean your head on his shoulder.

"So does mine, so I guess we're even. Plus, you asked if I still had mints." You chuckle as he reaches for your water bottle, taking a sip before he sighs again.

"So, what now? We just live with it?"

You put your chin on his shoulder silently, looking at him as he turns to face you. You don't miss how his eyes flicker to your lips, before he speaks again. "What if it doesn't work? What if–" "I don't plan for the negative parts of life." You interrupt, switching the mint from side to side. "And I don't know why you're even allowing it to seep in, that's not like you." He scoffs as his cheeks turn pink, your hand reaching for his jacket. You pull it off his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders as you swing your leg over his thighs. His hands dart to your waist to steady you, and you sit comfortably on his lap. Resting your head on his chest, you hum.

"Why tonight?" His hands wrap around you, pulling you slightly higher on his lap as he sighs. You look up at him, the blush on his cheeks only deepening as he looks away. "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

You snort, making him huff as you let the jacket slide down your shoulders, bunching around your hips. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you coo at the pout on his lips before nodding. "I promise."

"I was jealous." He mutters, and your fingers card through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I was jealous and it was impulsive but I don't regret it. I would blow any amount of money if it meant I get to spend time with you like this. I'd sell my soul if I had to." "Jealous? Of what?" He huffs, not meeting your eyes until you slide your hand onto his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently. "C'mon, Kim. Tell me." "Don't call me that." He grumbles, and you can't bite back your smile as his eyes continue to avoid yours.

"What do I call you? Mingyu? Gyu? Baby?" You're taunting him, your hands holding his face in place as you brush your nose to his. "Mine?" His eyes flicker up to yours, the pout deeper still. "Yeah. That one." "Mine?" "Yours." "Maybe. Spill your beans, first." You pinch his cheek, making him roll his eyes.

"You said you were going to write the Spotlight of the Season for Chan." He murmurs into his chest, and you bite back the beginning of a laugh that starts to bubble up when he pouts. "I want you to spend time with me. You have to interview for hours for those pieces and that means he can make you laugh and smile and have your attention. I don't like it." The laughter you once felt in your belly dissipates, Mingyu's arms tight around your waist as you cup his face in your hands. He looks up at you, eyes wide and slightly watery as you swipe your thumbs under them.

"Mingyu, I spend all of my free time with you." "It's not enough. I need to live in your skin." "That's terrifying?" You snorted, letting out a short laugh as Mingyu buried his face in your neck.

"You said you wouldn't laugh." He whines, his lips brushing against your skin. You try not to jolt in his lap, his arms only tightening around your waist. "Stop laughing!" "I'm not, I'm not laughing! I promise." You pat his shoulder, before pulling his head back by his hair. "That's actually really cute. A little scary, the bit about living in my skin, but I understand."

His eyes scan your face, trying to find a hit of deceit. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Breath check." "Y/N–" "Nope, we've been doing this since we were teenagers. Does my breath stink?" He rolls his eyes, "No, Y/N. It doesn't."

You nod, before brushing your lips against his. His eyes widen, and he's pulling your hips flush to his as you smile. "No, no, no. Please kiss me, please." "So cute." You mumble, pressing your lips to his. He whimpers softly, the grip on your hips bruising as he kisses you back, his lips perfect and soft and addicting against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you nip at his lower lip, a low groan from his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You melded together perfectly, his every breath matched yours, the taste of the mint coating your tongue mixed with something just so Mingyu.

His warmth, his attention to detail. The way he teases you so lovingly, the way his hands make you feel like you're on fire even with the most innocent of touches. His soft sounds pouring into your mouth like honey, the way you can feel how hard he's trying to hold himself back from melting into you until he's had his fill.

And you hope he never does get his fill.

"Wait, wait."

Mingyu fights himself to pull away from your lips, and you can feel his heart thundering in his chest as he pushes you away. He looks a bit dazed, his thumb reaching to wipe the corner of your mouth from leftover lipgloss. You feel a bit of worry settle in your stomach, your hands moving to rest on his stomach as you nibble on your lip.

"Sorry, was that too much? I'm–" "No, no. You're…you're perfect. I'm just…" He trips over his words, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your chest. "I don't want to ruin this before it's even started." You actually laugh this time, running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from you. "Bro, you could never ruin this. I'll always want you, Gyu." "First of all, don't call me bro ever again. I will cry." He furrows his brows, pushing your shoulder lightly. You stick your tongue out at him, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He pouts, bringing your face closer to his before kissing your lips gently, feeling you smile into it as you nip at his lip.

"Second of all?" You murmur, and he blinks, pushing you back slightly.

Mingyu huffs, his fingers dancing across your bare thighs before he yanks your skirt down slightly. "It's late. Hansol is probably wondering where you are." "He's not my father, you know." "He's your roommate, it's courtesy."

"So…you're not going to take me back to your apartment tonight?" Your voice is soft, and Mingyu's eyes widen as you tug at the collar of his shirt. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out as your fingers move to tug the hem of his shirt out from under his jeans. His cheeks flush in the moonlight as he allows you to untuck his shirt, your fingers slipping under the soft fabric and tugging at his belt.

"Y/N." "Just wanna see. Wanna feel you."

He rolls his eyes, his cheeks beet red as he lets you slip your hands up his shirt. You don't miss the way he shudders lightly as your fingers ghost over his skin. Pushing the fabric up, your eyes take in the expanse of his softly chiseled stomach, the dip between his pecs. You lean forward slightly, pressing your lips to the warm skin above his heart, earning a soft groan from Mingyu's throat.

"You're quite the temptress, you know." He murmurs, his hand moving to swipe your hair out of your face. You lean into his touch as he holds your face softly, his thumb toying with your bottom lip. You kiss it chastely, before he leans forward, capturing your lips with his.

His arm wraps around your waist as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you how he likes – slow, passionate, sloppy as he pushes your chest against his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, absently rolling your hips against his. Mingyu whines right into your mouth, only fueling the fire in the pit of your belly.

"Y/N." He sighs against your lips, but it comes out more breathy than it usually would. You don't respond, kissing him as his fingers push the hem of your skirt up further and further up your thighs. You can feel your underwear start sticking to you uncomfortably as his hands circle your thighs, pushing you harder against his growing bulge before he suddenly pulls back from your lips. "We're in public. We could get caught." "Star football player caught fornicating with his girlfriend on Lovers' Peak. More at eleven." Mingyu scoffs, pinching your thigh playfully. "Girlfriend, huh?" "I don't kiss my friends, Mingyu." You say pointedly, before gesturing at his hands high on your thighs. "I also don't let my friends take my clothes off." He sighs, "You could at least let me ask you. You're half naked on my lap and we're not even in the privacy of my bedroom." "Then take me home, Mingyu." You roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt. "Take me home and we can figure this all out there." He eyes you, making your own give him an expectant look.

"Will you spend the night?" "Yes." "Will I have to kick Wonwoo out?" "Yes."

You huff, tapping the watch on your wrist. You move to get up, but his hands on your thighs move to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands grab his shoulders for balance, and he looks up at you with a shy smile on his lips. "Will you be my girlfriend? Please?" You grin, "Star Football player becomes an Omega on Lo-" "Nevermind." "No! Wait, please. I'll be your girlfriend, I will."

You kiss Mingyu before he can refute it, feeling his pout against your lips.

"Kiss me back, you twerp." "You called me an omega." "Would it be better if I said you're my omega?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and he scoffs, lightly smacking the outside of your thigh. From the blush on his cheeks, you can tell all is forgiven – but it doesn't stop you from kissing his cheek softly. "Take me home, baby."

"Y/N, I SAID I WAS SORRY. CAN'T YOU TELL HOW SORRY I AM?"

"You outed me to the love of my life." You mutter as you stuff your laptop back into your tote.

The weekend had passed, and you and Mingyu didn't have to worry about kicking Wonwoo out of the apartment – he'd actually gone on a date that night and spent the weekend at her apartment. Hansol obviously didn't question when you got home the next afternoon, but had been surprised at the deep frown on your face and how you avoided him through Monday afternoon.

"You're telling me Mingyu didn't feel the same?" Hansol's jaw dropped as you tongued your cheek, even bringing forth some tears. "No, Hansol." You grumbled, shoving your Spotlight of the Season paperwork into his hands. Hansol has a guilty look in his eyes as he groans.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Hansol is pouting as you finish packing up your bag, trying your hardest to bite back your laughter. You glance over your shoulder to see him unwrapping a lollipop and shoving it in his mouth before opening his laptop. Smirking to yourself, you make your best attempt as a discontented sigh, shoving your bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll get my rec letter in, right?” “Yes.” “And you’ll proofread my column by tonight?”

“That means taking this home, you know how I feel about that.” He mutters, tapping his fingers on the blank cover page of your paperwork. You give him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You take it home and do it, or I’m telling the landlord that it’s not actually our neighbor smoking all that weed.” You scoff, and he sighs.

“Bunny, I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he’d react that way? I mean, the guy is practically all over you anyway!” Hansol huffs, and you’re opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone clear their throat in the doorway of the office.

Hansol winces, and you glance over your shoulder to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing a tight, white shirt and your favorite black jeans on him, with a watch you gave him a few years ago as a high school graduation gift. His letterman is flung over his shoulder and he’s spinning a football in his other hand.

He raises his brow at the silent scene, watching as you skirt around the desk and yank open the drawer, stealing two lollipops. Hansol doesn’t even argue, just sighs as he cowers behind his laptop.

“Should I be concerned?” Mingyu asks you as you near him, and you shake your head as you hold a lollipop out to him. Hansol is peering over the top of his laptop as a confused Mingyu presses a kiss to your hairline — but it’s not enough to make him suspicious about the weekend itinerary.

“I want my column reviewed by the time I get home, Hansol.” “Y/N, this is agony. At this rate, you’ll be home before I am!” “Now you know how I felt! Get to it!”

Mingyu snorts, shaking his head as you skirt out of the office. He bids a gentle goodbye to the younger man, who only sighs in response.

“You’re awful to that kid, you know.”

You smile as you wrap your hand around his bicep, unwrapping your lollipop as you shrug. “He taunted me with my recommendation letter! He said if I didn't confess to you in seventy-two hours, he wasn’t going to send my letter and I’d miss my opportunity at a great internship, Gyu.”

“So you should be thanking him, because technically you haven’t confessed shit.”

“I’m your girlfriend, I think that's enough of a confession.”

“Mmh.” He nods, biting back his smile as he slides his hand into yours, squeezing softly. “What do you wanna do? Practice was canceled, I have no upcoming projects. Wonwoo’s asleep on the couch at home, though, so my place is off the table.”

You glance up at him, huffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“What makes you think I’m free?”

“It’s a Monday afternoon. You usually con me into buying you dinner, we eat in your bedroom. We watch movies before you kick me out because you say I snore.”

“Actually it’s because you sleep shirtless, and I was a wimp back then.”

Mingyu laughs heartily, letting go of your hand to ruffle your hair. You swat at his hand, scoffing as he wraps it around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on the side of his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as you look up at him.

“My place is free.”

“Mmh, maybe you can read me the Spotlight of The Season column you wrote about that guy.”

“Oh, that guy? You mean Kim Mingyu? God, that guy is so cool. Did you know he has omega eyes?” You feign excitement as you taunt him, making him roll his eyes and pinch your cheek.

“Tell me you didn’t put that in the column.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I expose my hot, sexy, cool boyfriend for being a down-bad simp? That’s just not fair to me, they already want you.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as the parking lot comes into view, his old truck shining in the setting sun. “I only want you.”

You don’t respond, feeling your cheeks warm as you make your way to the parking lot. He opens your door as he usually does, but lingers as you climb up and put on your seatbelt. He gingerly takes the lollipop from your lips, making you roll your eyes as he silently asks for a kiss. You give in, you’re sure you always will give in to those puppy eyes and pouty lips — when he pulls away and steals your lollipop.

“Easy.” He smiles as he shuts your door, leaving you to sulk into your seat as he rounds the car. He hops into the driver’s seat, your green apple lollipop lodged between his lips as he cranks the ignition.

“Read the column, I want to know what you chose to put in.” He speaks again as he pulls out of his spot, and you snicker to yourself as you pull your phone out.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You begin to read it calmly, ignoring the incessant buzzing of Hansol’s flooding messages.

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:32PM] dude [4:32PM] ur such a liar [4:33PM] i would say i hate u but im happy for u bro [4:34PM] i’m omw home tho

Msg To: Sol ☀️👽 [4:35PM] find somewhere else to go 🫶🏼

NEW! Msg From: Sol ☀️👽 [4:36PM] bro

SPOTLIGHT OF THE SEASON — NO. 97, KIM MINGYU. BY Y/N Y/L/N. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 10. 8-MINUTE READ | UPDATED: 5:39PM.

Author’s Note: Typically, I reserve the interview questions and responses for myself. However, I’ve decided to share this snippet in order to settle some rumors and ruffle a few feathers. I have also made this column a bit more personal, with the permission of my editor.

No. 97 on the field but No.1 in my heart — I love you, Kim Mingyu.

——————————————————————————————————

— INTERVIEW #53 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.53 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: Letting you know right now, I have to pee.

— INTERIM BREAK —

— INTERVIEW #54 —

Y: This is Y/N, starting Interview No.54 for Kim Mingyu, Spotlight column. Testing, one, two. KMG: [laughter] Y: Hello, Kim Mingyu. Welcome back to the Hawk Review Committee. KMG: Has the interview part always been this awkward? Y: Suddenly I’m your girlfriend and you forget how to talk to me? KMG: Babe, don’t put that in. We have to hard-launch before it gets published on Friday. Y: Honey. I love you. KMG: Okay, just a little snippet. Y: [laughter] Okay. Can I at least make those cheesy puns football girlfriends make? KMG: [laughter] Your world, baby. I’m just living in it. I love you.

KIM MINGYU has long been the subject of my articles. Long-winded columns full of my affections, hidden behind words far too long to be understood by the average mind. A lot of readers would call it hyperbole, would call it ‘purple prose’, but I consider my pieces about Mingyu to be the most authentic works I’ve ever written. There is something about enjoying the information I am spreading — to talk about somebody I care about, to air his successes and see other people enjoy who he is. To walk around campus and understand that though Mingyu may be my best friend, he is also a friend to others. He is a helping hand, he is smart and thoughtful.

In his college career, Kim Mingyu has made incredible Hawk history. He is the only quarterback to not be injured during a single game, and he and the Seoul Hawks are taking home the championship trophy come Saturday night. Be sure to buy your tickets from Jimin and Jungkook!

Kim Mingyu has been an inspiration to many, including myself. Take Apartment of A Lonely Soul: being displayed at the Museum of Arts, his piece has contributed to ending the stigma of allowing self-doubt to wallow in the mind and finding comfort in being alone and making decisions that may not seem feasible. I remember when I nervously asked him if he had submitted it to be displayed in the gallery — without a second thought, he replied: Why wouldn't I?

Kim Mingyu's unshakeable confidence has always brought comfort to others. He has time and time again shown that he is reliable, a pillar in our community. He has shown up for me countless of times — whether it is to soothe my damaged ego or celebrate my milestones, he is always there for those he cares about.

His mistakes are also something he takes in stride. He can admit when he is wrong and when he needs help — he’s come to my apartment for study nights that have left his head spinning. He called me when his car battery died on him last spring, and I walked six miles with our friends and jumper cables to wave down some random on the road. I remember how he made our friends sit in the bed of the truck, but sat me right next to him in the cab.

In tune with confidence, he wears his intelligence and care with pride. A true team player, a student that sets the standard and wonderful friend: there will never be another Kim Mingyu.

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iid-smile · 3 months ago

Text

★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

bllk m.list

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timmydraker · 5 months ago

Text

Everyone in the Bat Clan has been noticing something over the years, specially about Tim.

Every so often he will go to do something with his hands or even his entire body, such as swaying or shaking his hands, but always stops himself.

There’s almost this look of annoyance on his face that just barely hides discomfort, but he brushes it off quickly.

Bruce noticed and, thinking about Robin more than anything, offered some kind of fidgeting device to help him stay on task, only for Tim to snap at him for the first time. It was his usual snark or commenting on Bruce’s well being, but a real moment of lashing out.

He decided then not to bother Tim about his clear want to move around it play with something even if it’s just his hands, mainly because he was doing his job well.

Yet, as he starts to really try and be a good parent to his kids and realises that Tim is one of the places he messed up most by basically using him to cope with grief, he decides to ask the rest of the family what they think.

Dick says it could be ADHD and he needs movements, with Barbara backing it up with a few websites in agreement.

Damian says he should mediate and Cass so what agrees but says it probably won’t help someone like Tim that much.

Duke and Steph make up a somewhat chaotic plan of coercing him into telling them what he needs, out of love and somewhat aggressive care.

It’s Jason who just scoffs and says, “It’s stimming, you idiots. He has like, super messed up standards cause of his parents, right? They probably didn’t allow it but he’s got that like, autastic thing.”

Only Jason Todd could say something so smart followed by completely idiocy.

But he is right, very much so. It might also explain why sometimes he seemingly couldn’t handle touch but when he panicked he need to be squeezed as tightly as possible.

Naturally, with a family of emotionally repressed vigilantes, they decide to subtly let him know it’s okay.

Dick is the worst with it, speaking far too loudly about how Autism is okay and how he wants to learn to support autistic kids, while Bruce thinks nodding along to this helps.

Damian just stares at Tim for five minutes before bailing and running away.

When a month passes and Tim seem more like he’s even more ashamed than anything my, Cass smashes her hand on the table at dinner and drags him out of the room to talk to him.

Tim is forced to sit and listen to his sister, who may or may not be his favourite sibling, talk about how he’s not damaged or wrong for needing to stim and move his body. She calls him out on how he is being a hypocrite, for accepting people like Bart and Barbara and and her for their disabilities whether ADHD or something physical but not himself.

Tim wouldn’t have been moved by this if it was anyone else, but never in all the time he’s known her has he heard Cass say so many words in one go nor can see her cry so much. She’s loud when she cries, making up for her silence, but it’s only something any of them have seen twice and that was Bruce and Steph.

He doesn’t just magically accept that he’s neurodivergent, nor does he ever want a title as to what is different about him, but the difference is still noticeable.

A week later him and Dick are watching an episode of their show and something Tim adores, a comic series, is referenced. Instead of what he usually does, that being sitting there as still as he can, he bats his hands around a for a few seconds before pausing and waiting for Dicks reaction.

When Dick beams at him brighter than a sun he continues, smacking the couch and even Dicks arm in his excitement.

A few days later he makes a high pitched noice just to get to an itch in his throat and doesn’t realise that Jason is there, yet when the other responds with the same noice, given a bit deeper, Tim smile. Bruce walks in on them making strange noises at each other in a sort of echo.

It’s months later when it’s his birthday and his family has come together to buy him a new, stupidly expensive camera only to reveal they also added a red light room in the manner for him to print them that they really see how much safer he feels.

He flaps his hands aggressively and jumps in place, rumbling out words that don’t all much and thanking them over and over.

He squeals happily but only has a moment where he looks shamed before Bruce holds out a flat palm for him to smack excitedly.

Later, when he gets overwhelmed and crashes a little, Duke lies on top of him to give him pressure only for Steph to sit on him.

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ddarker-dreams · 18 days ago

Text

A Deal's a Deal II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of anxiety and emotional/mental manipulation. Word count: 4.1k.

You met Chrollo at an old hole-in-the-wall bookstore that housed archaic texts.

There was little information on your condition, but what material did exist hid itself beneath allegory and ciphers. The best leads came from high strangeness circles. They expanded on Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, drawing parallels between historical records across cultures and periods that all implied some system that transcended physical limitations. Whether it came from alchemists like Paracelsus, mystics like Crowley, or authors like William Blake, hints of this system can be found sprinkled throughout history.

Chrollo informed you that this system is commonly called ‘Nen.’

Before him, the nomenclature eluded you. You simply regarded it as a phenomenon best kept to yourself. The world’s a weird place, filled with inexplicable things that the human mind can’t always comprehend. This handheld device, which you nicknamed Instant Replay, is the foremost example.

You were always aware that you knew things you shouldn’t have. As a child, it perplexed you. Why do people sometimes sound weird? A few trips to the audiologist proved your hearing is perfectly fine. When this avenue didn’t provide answers, you ended up in counseling, where you reenacted the dilemma with dolls. For a while, you insisted that what you heard was real. It frustrated you to no end that the adults in your life either dismissed you or offered bromides.

As an adult yourself in the present, you can’t blame them for being at a loss.

You smartened up eventually. What you once blabbed about to anyone who would listen, you kept to yourself. This eased the tensions at home. Your parents seemed happy that the issue had ‘resolved’ itself and you maintained the illusion. Playing pretending could only do so much — the core problem remained. Your mind made the connection that when another was being dishonest, that’s when their voice would sound strange. After you realize that, there’s no going back. The epiphany changed how you interacted with others for better and for worse.

“You want to get rid of your ability?” he sounded surprised when he asked.

“How could I not?” you replied. “People lie… a lot. Friends, family, strangers. And, okay, that might not seem bad, but imagine always being aware of it. It— It eats away at you. Wears down your ability to trust. I have to act like I’m none the wiser, knowing full well someone just lied to my face. I don’t want to know! I’m tired of knowing!”

“You’re unable to control when it’s active?”

“Instant Replay lets me ‘review’ audio, both in real-time and after it’s been recorded. I have control over the latter, but that’s it.”

Your antagonistic relationship with Nen fascinated Chrollo. According to him, most people were intentional when it came to crafting their Hatsu. There are very few cases like yours where Hatsu is subconsciously given shape and form. You wish your subconscious had created something more useful, like a sword. That would’ve been cool.

“Could I learn a new ability to oust Instant Replay?” you wondered.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Chrollo dismissed. “In theory, it is possible to learn different abilities, although your inexperience would make that difficult. There’s no way to erase an ability either. You can, however, lose access to it. For instance, there’s my predicament, or…”

He leaned in close and whispered:

“... Someone could steal it.”

Chrollo looks out of place in your apartment.

It’s a cozy, lived-in space, full of trinkets that he thoughtfully examines as if he were in the Louvre. Meanwhile, you prepare two cups of tea. Chamomile with honey for you and Earl Grey for him. After setting the timer for five minutes, you realize there’s not much else to do but wait. The silence is unusual and unnerving. Anticipation thrums through the air like an electric current. You feel it coursing through your blood; tingling along your skin.

The barstool you’ve chosen as your perch groans against the wooden floor as you pull it out.

Chrollo picks up a picture for closer inspection. You crane your neck, curious about which snapshot captured his attention. It’s from a night out with friends. Empty plates and drinks littered the table and each of you crowded in close to fit into frame. Since the restaurant was high-end, you were dolled up, adorned in an outfit that rarely saw the light of day.

“Swarovski?” He sounds amused.

“I’ve been known to splurge on the occasion,” you huff. “The necklace was on sale and the earrings were—”

You cut yourself off, although you’re unsure why. It shouldn’t be a taboo topic. Nonetheless, beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t get the word out.

“—From an ex?” He offers.

You nod.

He returns the picture to its proper place, a cryptic smile on his lips. “So even you aren’t above materialistic impulses, hm?”

“There’s a difference between rampant consumerism and buying yourself something nice on occasion,” you retaliate, disliking the edge of mockery in his voice. “I don’t need to hear this from the dude wearing a silver Rolex watch.”

“It’s white gold.”

You roll your eyes. “A camel through the eye of a needle.”

“‘First cast out the beam out of thine own eye.’”

“Do you seriously have the entire King James version of the Bible memorized?”

“It was one of the most accessible texts in my youth,” he says, his smile softening into something pensive. “The missionaries were far more generous with those showing signs of ‘progress.’ I tried helping my companions memorize the more significant passages, but they weren’t what you’d call ideal pupils.”

Missionaries? You purse your lips and consider the implications. Had Chrollo grown up in destitution? Come to think of it, you know very little about him or his background. Unlike you, he never volunteered the information. He skillfully maneuvered around any inquiry into his past. The most you’ve gleaned is that he’s a traveling antiquarian who, in pursuit of valuables, made some enemies along the way.

The shrill shriek of the timer rips you from your thoughts.

Chrollo accepts his mug with a “thank you” and sits on the rightmost side of your coach. After plopping two ice cubes into your concoction, you join him, leaving ample room between you. The nerves from earlier return. He’s an easy man to converse with, but when his mind is preoccupied — as it most certainly is now — you’re at a loss. Do you try reinitiating banter? Opt for a completely different topic? Or should you let him initiative, squirming around until he breaks the thickening tension?

“Have I held you in suspense long enough?” Chrollo asks while holding his hand out. A book with a handprint on the cover appears, the pages flipping too fast for you to gauge their contents.

The quality of his aura temporarily stupefies you. This must be the difference between a novice like yourself and a genius. You can muster up enough aura to summon Instant Replay, but that takes considerable effort. To him, managing the flow of aura comes as easy as breathing. You scooch closer to study his technique. How long would it take you to match his expertise? Years? Decades?

“I’ll get bashful if you keep staring at me like that.”

“Liar,” you accuse without any real malice.

He chuckles.

“Give me your hand.”

Heat rushes to your face as you recall what happened when you last parted. “D-Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Hesitantly, you do as he requests. He maneuvers your hand against the conjured book’s cover. You gnaw on your bottom lip, trepidation brewing inside your soul. You thought you’d feel relieved when this moment came. There’d be some butterflies, yes, but that would quickly give way to relief and exhilaration. The thorn that’s been in your side all these years is finally coming out. Your quid pro quo has reached its conclusion; this is your reward, your ticket to a normal life.

“I like you too.”

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“It’s okay if you come.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“We’ll always be together.”

Yes, people lie a lot. Sometimes, you’re unsure if they’re even aware of it themselves. They lie to you, the people they love, the people they hate, and themselves. Fate decided you’d be made witness to their folly, sewing your lips shut and eyes wide open. The wounds it left behind are intangible and incurable. How do you heal what you can’t explain knowing to others? How do you explain your hesitation, shift in demeanor, and inadequate coverup?

The sound of Instant Replay whirring reverberates throughout your skull.

Chrollo speaks your name softly. You startle, realizing that you’re blinking back tears.

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he reassures. The words sound crisp — genuine — soothing your budding concern that you’re inconveniencing him somehow. In an instant, the hardcover dissipates, leaving your hand flat against nothing. Chrollo takes the opportunity to come closer. When you don’t protest, he completely closes the distance, until you’re thigh to thigh.

He smells good. Intoxicatingly so.

“Show me the ability you despise so much, dear.”

Dear? You think to protest the emergence of this nickname, yet you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you follow his order, mechanically lifting your arm and summoning your ability much like he had.

“Good. It’s almost over with,” he brushes the wetness away from your eyes with his knuckles. Your heart leaps at the contact. “Finally, I have to ask about your ability. There are so many possibilities… what to choose, what to choose… ah.”

With the same hand that wiped away your nascent tears, he cups your cheek.

“Do you trust a man like me with such a dangerous ability?”

“I have my reservations,” you respond. You don’t miss the amusement he derives from your candidness. “This sounds bad, but… at this point, I guess I just don’t care.”

For a moment, all is still. There’s no odor of sulfur, maniacal cackling, or declaration that the ritual is complete. You didn’t have to sign a contract in blood or swear an oath to an infernal being. Your overactive imagination ran numerous scenarios through your head. The lack of flair over this life-defining moment is almost underwhelming. You frown, fearing that there was an error somewhere along the way. If there was, he’s given no indication, yet you’ll remain restless until the results are confirmed.

“Chrollo?”

“Hm?”

“Did it work?”

“It did, love.”

“Could you, um,” you lick your lips, a motion that draws his attention. “Make something up so I can know for sure?”

This request amuses him.

“How will you know if I’m being honest to mess around with you or not?”

At this, you give him a light shove. Given his apparent playfulness, you expected him to move back, but he doesn’t budge an inch. It felt like trying to move a concrete building.

“Make it an obvious lie, then.”

“An obvious lie, hm?” He mulls over your suggestion. “Very well. How about this: I don’t want you beneath me.”

You gape at him, dumbstruck.

“I find it easy to control my urges around you.”

He keeps going.

“I’m unmoved by your beauty…”

He gently pushes your shoulders until you’re lying down.

“... Your wit…”

He hovers above you, tracing the outline of your lips with his pointer finger.

“... And boundless charm.”

Chrollo tilts your head up by your chin. “Well? Do you believe me now?”

Slowly, as if in a daze, you nod. Your heart lurches, the organ beating loud enough to hear in your ears. You feel uncomfortably warm, like your heater’s been cranked to the highest setting. Gradually, the violent joy you expected to accompany your liberation abounds, starting at your chest and overflowing outward. You’re smiling, breathless, your corporeal form barely able to contain the glee. You see your reflection in Chrollo’s eyes. There’s a manic quality to your countenance; you barely recognize yourself.

You’re free, you’re free, you’re free—

His lips find yours. Your cognition short circuits, leaving you in a reverie where you can barely understand what’s happening. He handles you so carefully that it’s easy to forget you’re physically trapped. He carries on, either failing to notice your apprehension or disregarding it.

On some level, you’ve always sensed this underlying attraction. You remained purposefully obtuse. There was too much at stake — jeopardizing your aims for a fling felt counterintuitive. On paper, he’d make for the ideal partner. He’s devilishly handsome, charismatic, and intelligent to a fault. Aside from some dubious morality, you couldn’t ask for a better suitor.

And still, hesitation prevailed.

Every now and then, there’d be glimpses of some great, existential threat, beneath the fissures of his porcelain mask. These glimpses gave you pause. You think he could’ve tried harder to hide these damning qualities, yet chose not to. Where’s the fun — the thrill — in always playing nice? You needed his help more than he needed yours. His connections spanned continents, whereas yours were shallow and easy to uproot.

How many of your convictions would you compromise?

How far would you let the poison spread to cure another affliction?

How can you look down on him if you’ve fallen to the same level?

When he pulls away, you avert your gaze, fearing what stares back.

“... So you are afraid of me, then.”

Chrollo lets you wriggle out from underneath him. When your eyes make brief contact, it feels like he’s inspecting you, as if you were a specimen in a petri dish. It isn’t the reaction you’d expect from a rejected man. Nonetheless, you’re on edge and longing for a menial task to occupy yourself with. Recalling the state of the kitchen, you decide that will suffice.

He remains seated as you wash and dry the implements used to make your tea.

This uncharacteristic silence unsettles you further. The only audible sound in your apartment is your faucet, the water running over silverware that’s plenty clean. You scrub at it harder, wondering what you should do next. Originally, you intended to thank him for his pivotal role in removing your burden. You never would have made it this far without his assistance. Even with this strange atmosphere, your gratitude remains unwavering.

You’ll be able to live life like anyone else now. It’s an accomplishment worthy of celebration, regardless of the twists and turns along the way. Maybe he misinterpreted your body language or acted on an impulse. These mistakes can happen when emotions run high.

Okay, you think, psyching yourself up. This doesn’t have to be weird. I can—

“Have you given much thought over last week’s unpleasantness?”

Your heart skips a beat and your shoulders droop.

“I assume you haven’t,” he says. “That’s fair. It must’ve been frightening… I wish I could have spared you such an experience.”

The appreciation he previously instilled in you desiccates, drop by drop.

“Will you please get to the point?”

Under different circumstances, you would’ve been more patient with his preamble, but this is a sore subject. A buried corpse like that shouldn’t be exhumed. His reasoning, though elusive to you now, doesn’t inspire warm sentiments.

“That incident won’t be the last of its kind.”

You turn around as he approaches, sipping his tea. He leans against the counter and eyes you over the cup’s rim.

“In truth, we should’ve left hours ago, but I was feeling sentimental.”

“‘We?’ Chrollo, what are you talking about?”

“Had it not been for your role in getting my Nen back, Hisoka would’ve killed you,” Chrollo says this so casually that you question if you’re hearing him right. “Now that you’ve done your part, he has a vested interest in doing so.”

You no longer have a way to verify if he’s telling the truth or not. It’s so stupid, so unfair, that you almost laugh. Instant Replay no longer heeds your call. You surrendered it to a new master, who, before taking it from your willing hands, all but told you he was the worst person you could’ve picked.

Chrollo continues, “He’s a peculiar case. All he cares about is fighting formidable opponents, and, with my Nen returned, I am one.”

You take a step back.

“That business is between you two. I fail to see how this involves me.”

“I have preparations to finish before I face him,” Chrollo explains. “He doesn’t feel like waiting any longer. Harming you is an excellent way to speed things along. Even I don’t know what I’d do if you were fatally injured.”

You shake your head. “I— you’re not serious. There’s just no way. I’m moving past all of this bullshit. Nen, Hatsu, whatever; that has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“No, you aren’t!” Your voice raises in pitch, pulled as taut as a bowstring. “You knew, didn’t you? That this would be a problem? Oh, oh, you had to, why else would you have acted all weird when you saw him? Stop looking at me like you care, like you’re sorry, 'cause this is the best-case scenario for you!”

You pace back and forth, your mind racing. This was a mistake. Walking up to him because you recognized the book in his hands was a mistake. Is he bluffing? And if he is, does it matter? You can’t put up a fight. You don’t think you could even make it to the door. If he was a regular man, you’d have options. You could yell for help, call the cops, and inflict some damage, minor as it may be. All those tactics turn to ash before an oppressive, incomprehensible force like this.

You snap your head in his direction. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I don’t see how that will help.”

You prepare to spew vitriol his way, when a dreadful thought shoots through you like a bullet.

“My family. What about them? Won’t they be in danger too?”

“They aren’t on his radar.”

“How do you know that?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Chrollo sets the cup down. “The suffering of your loved ones wouldn’t elicit a reaction from me, so he won’t bother. Targeting you is the wisest option.”

Words fail you. Is this it? The depravity he kept subdued finally let loose, so dense in its quality that it threatens to suffocate you? All you wanted was a semblance of normalcy. Normal relationships, interactions, and problems. Has the path you’ve treaded brought you further away from this humble aspiration? Or is there still a way, some faint silver lining that you must find and latch onto?

“What about after?”

“Hm?”

“After Hisoka is dealt with,” you clarify, tapping your foot repeatedly. “You’re not going to let him live, are you?”

“That’s rather dark.”

“Chrollo,” you implore.

“No, I won’t,” he confirms. “As for what comes next — I intend to persuade you.”

You regard him with suspicion. His tone and the implications sink into you like a venomous bite. He exudes quiet confidence, indicating that nothing you’ve said will influence him in any meaningful way. Dread sticks to your stomach, making your body feel heavy. You hug yourself, clenching your upper arms with shaky fingers. Any lingering excitement from earlier has vaporized, leaving behind a profound hollowness.

“I suppose this can go a few ways,” you murmur. “I could cause as many headaches for you as possible, or, I could be decent enough.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to have Instant Replay back,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow. “Just for a bit. What? I’m assuming if you can steal something, you can give it back, right?”

“You’d be correct. Still, that begs the question; what are you intending to accomplish with this little scheme?”

“Nothing that’ll inconvenience you in any major way.”

Chrollo falls silent. You dig your nails into your flesh as the seconds drag on, awaiting his verdict. If he had your ability activated, he should’ve been able to discern your honesty. Then again, he’s aware of the workarounds. To ensure your words wouldn’t register as untrue, you had to remain vague and subjective. What you consider an inconvenience could differ drastically from him.

“I’m sure I won’t regret this.”

Your eyes widen. That dissonant timbre is unmistakable, he returned your ability! Filled with newfound resolve, you stride toward him, your eyes blazing. This is your chance. You need to make the most of this opening before it’s gone forever. He could choose not to answer any of your questions, but something tells you he won’t, like it’d injure his pride. You issued him a challenge and he’s intent on meeting it.

“Did you have anything to do with what happened last week?”

“I didn’t.”

“Did Hisoka?”

“No, he just happened to be observing you from afar.”

“Why?”

“For his personal amusement, I’d wager.”

“He’d really kill me just to… agitate you?”

“It’s in line with his character.”

You swallow thickly and press on.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’m wrong. Regardless, you’ll be alive and well.”

“Can you win against him in a fight?”

“Yes.”

“And if you somehow lose, what happens next?”

“My companions will hunt him down and kill him.”

Now that you’ve gotten your most pressing inquiries out of the way, you decide to wade through dangerous waters. Chrollo likely saw the benefit in assuaging your doubt, these next questions provide him nothing substantial. His willingness to humor you is undoubtedly finite. Keeping this in mind, you consider the possibilities. You may never have a chance like this again. Is there anything that can give you an advantage? You’ll take anything, no matter how small, even if all it offers is an illusion of control.

Chrollo glances at his watch in a not-so-subtle motion.

“Who sealed your Nen?”

“Now this is more what I expected,” he hums. His eyes take on a bright, unsettling shade. “An individual with a longstanding grudge. Your paths will not cross, I suggest adopting another plan of attack.”

He saw right through you. You knew it was a long shot, but collaborating with this mysterious figure would have proven advantageous. They must be powerful in their own right to have bested Chrollo. Should you try pressing for more information? Then again, Chrollo doesn’t seem keen on sharing more, much to your chagrin.

What does that leave you with…?

“How do you plan on ‘persuading’ me?”

“You’re better off not knowing until we get to that point.”

You frown. If that didn’t register as a lie, it must be what he genuinely believes. Curiosity plagues you, dredging up anxiety. You have but a few grains of sand left in the hourglass remaining. It’s suspended midair, poised to drop at the most ill-timed moment. The approach of the end is worse than its inevitable arrival. You now have the chance to hasten its onset, at the risk of being debilitated by the impact. What lows would he resort to? Are you actually better off remaining ignorant?

“Alright, let’s—”

“Does it hurt to know I’ll never love you?”

Up until this point, he’s fired back with a near instant response. This time, however, he hesitates, the invasive nature of the inquiry necessitating careful thought. You finally found an effective ‘attack.’ It’s too late to do you any lasting good, but you greedily devour it nonetheless. When dealing with a person of Chrollo’s caliber, it’s easy to forget he possesses the same human qualities you do. You might be unable to stop his heart from beating, but you can make the organ ache.

“I can live with it, dear.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, thrown off by his voice’s clarity. Is the knowledge that inconsequential to him? Have you misjudged his attachment? While considering this, you flex your fingers, concentrating your aura there. You can’t repeat his words back since Instant Replay wasn’t recording, but you still decide to conjure it. You’ll record what remains of this conversation to ensure you don’t miss anything else.

The flow of your aura halts at your wrist, refusing to take form. Frowning, you try again, only to realize he must have reclaimed your ability.

When did that happen? Was it before or after his response?

Chrollo says your name, regaining your attention. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Will you do the same?”

After playing the role of the interrogator, you’re back to being an inmate. You meant what you said — when you said it, that is. This is yet another loophole to subvert Instant Replay. What’s true to you in one instant can change in the next. It’s frightening how fast he’s learned these nuances that took you years to test and discover. He’s already making the most of your ability, turning what was a thorn in your side into a full-fledged dagger.

“What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice,” Chrollo asserts. “You just have a habit of making the wrong ones.”

A delirious laugh leaves your lips.

"... I suppose you're right."

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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strawberryfloofs · 1 month ago

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i wanna be treated like the age i regress to!!! (toddler based) if you have something to do, set up an activity for me to keep me occupied while youre doing grown up stuff! help me get dressed, even if i argue im a big girl and i can do it! (i cant and if you believed me, id whine and make grabby hands for my mama to help) im fussy about bedtime? "oh i know doll, but lets get those teethies brushed and mama can read you a story, hm? how about a warm baba too?" instant distraction = no fussiness

give me snacks and cut up my fruit for me! bonus points if its cute shapes :D if im being left alone, check on me time to time and feel the dread if you hear no more giggles and playing (better hope im feeling sleepy or watching a show and not getting into trouble...) try to answer my random questions about everything like "wy mama has big gir cup an no floofy?" "Because mama is a grown up that doesn't spill drinks, and you're her little baby thats a little clumsy n she loves you just the way you are!" - "doeses dinosaurz hab woving mommies and daddies toos?" "Hm, I think so- how else would they have gotten so big and strong back then?" you wanna watch a grown up show on the tv? get me some toys ands set up a little area in the living room for me, or even give me a device temporarily understand my big emotions over seemingly small things and comfort me! (totally not projecting because i also didnt totally call Clovey the lion a big meanie poo head [she is not one] bc I wanted Bingo as a nini stuffie instead of her [Bingo was across the room] and started whining and getting upsetti spaghetti) make me hold your hand or something else (like a grocery cart buggy) in public because if not, I might get distracted and wonder off. understand it might take a while to get my attention and be hard to sustain it/get me to listen because im really tiny! "bubs, can you look at mommy? you can play after this, i promise, but its reallly super duper important!" (i cant be the only one whos brain is totally clouded with tiny thoughts and urges right? who wants to listen to a grownup when you can stack blocks instead-) just writing this makes me feel sorta tiny eee

#sfw agere #agere community #agere post #agere #agere blog #age regressor #sfw regression #agere sfw #age regression #cglre blog #sfw cglre #cglre little #cglre #cglre community #babyre #sfw toddlerre #toddler regression

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svt-luna · 17 days ago

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Omg please do a aftermath of let the world burn. It would be so cute!! 💕

𝜗℘ SHE WILL BE LOVED

❛ 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦— 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥. ❜

timeline: 2022

synopsis: Despite her injury, Luna takes the stage with unwavering grace, surrounded by the love and support of her fans and members, proving that no matter what, she will always be loved.

warnings: fluff, cursing, mentions of blood and stitches, injuries, protective!svt, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff, domestic!JeongNa (guys! ik i have written it but… I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE!)

due to popular demand, here is part two or the aftermath of my recent one-shot Let The World Burn. this is a short but sweet one-shot for you my lovelies!! enjoy and happy reading 💘

╰ ౨ৎ let the world burn

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna should have expected this.

She really, really should have seen this coming.

Luna wasn’t sure why she thought she would wake up the morning after her injury in peace, left to her own devices, allowed to exist in quiet recovery like any other grown adult.

That was never going to happen.

Not with the people in her life.

Not when she was surrounded by—

Hens.

Mother hens.

Thirteen of them.

And it all started with the original, the queen mother hen herself: Luna’s actual mother.

The second Luna cracked open her eyes that morning, still groggy from sleep and weighed down by the dull throb in her ear, her phone was already buzzing against the nightstand. She barely had time to sit up before she reached for it, still clumsy with sleep as she swiped to answer.

“Mom?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with sleep.

Her greeting barely made it through before her mother’s voice came barreling through the speakers.

“Jiyeonie-ah! Oh my god, finally! Why didn’t you answer last night? You manger told me everything that happened. Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Are you taking your medicine? Are you lying down? You shouldn’t be lying down too much! Have you eaten? You need to eat something. Wait, you need to drink something first! Hydrate, baby! Oh my god, is Jeonghannie there? He’s there, right? Tell him to make sure you—”

Luna groaned softly, pressing her forehead against her drawn-up knees, the phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear as her mother’s voice rattled off at rapid speed.

“Mom…” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “I’m okay…”

“You don’t sound okay! You sound tired— are you not sleeping enough? You need to rest! That’s the most important thing. And make sure you don’t touch your stitches! Did they give you extra gauze? They should’ve given you extra gauze. What if it gets wet? Do you know how dangerous that is? You—”

Luna yawned. “Mom…”

“What? I’m just worried! You scared me, you know that? When your manager explained everything to me, I almost fainted! You didn’t even call me to tell me you’re hurt— I had to find out from someone else! What if it was worse? What if—”

“Mom.” Luna sighed, shifting slightly against the pillows. “I’m okay. I promise. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

That was a bit of a lie, her ear was throbbing— but she figured her mother didn’t need to know that.

“That’s what you always say! But then you run around like nothing happened and make it worse! You have to take care of yourself, baby. You can’t just—”

As Luna listened to her mother’s concerned rambling, her fingers idly traced patterns on the duvet. Next to her, Jeonghan was still lying down, his back to her, his face buried into his pillow as if he was still deep in sleep.

But Luna wasn’t stupid. She could see the way his eyes twitched, the barely-there shift of his fingers against the sheets.

He was awake.

More importantly— he was listening.

No, not just listening. He was memorizing.

Every single thing her mother rattled off— every concerned instruction, every reminder, every worried scolding— Jeonghan was filing them all away in his brain, silently taking notes without ever opening his eyes. He wasn’t even pretending to sleep for her benefit. He was pretending for her mother’s.

Luna narrowed her eyes at the back of his head.

Traitor.

She turned her attention back to her phone. “Mommy, I promise I’ll take care of myself,” she reassured, her voice softer now.

Her mother huffed. “You better. And tell Jeonghannie— he better make sure you do!”

At that, Jeonghan shifted slightly, still pretending to sleep, but now suspiciously closer to her. She felt the ghost of a smile twitch at her lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “I’ll tell him.”

And just like that, mother hen number one was handled.

But the second she hung up the call, she barely had a moment to breathe before mother hen number two took his place.

Jeonghan stretched lazily beside her, finally dropping the act as he turned onto his side, blinking up at her through still-heavy lids. His voice was rough with sleep when he murmured, “She’s right, you know.”

Luna groaned, letting her head fall back against the pillows. “Not you too…”

But of course, it was him too.

Mother hen number two was her boyfriend, after all.

And just like always, Jeonghan was careful not to overdo it. He knew how much Luna hated being fussed over, how easily she got annoyed when people hovered too much, so he did what he always did— he made it seem effortless.

After ordering room service for breakfast, he didn’t outright tell her to take her medicine. Instead, he placed the pills next to her orange juice, nudging them closer to her side of the table without a word.

When Luna pouted at him, he just raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to do it for you?” he asked, plucking the pills off the table and holding them up.

Luna rolled her eyes, snatching them from his fingers. “Fine.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Good girl.”

Luna glared at him as she downed them with a sip of juice.

After breakfast, as she got up to head to the bathroom, he reminded her, “Don’t get your stitches wet, Nana-ya.”

Luna sighed, already dragging a hand down her face. “Hannie, it’s my ear. How am I supposed to shower without getting it wet?”

“Easy,” Jeonghan said. “Just wash your body.”

She scrunched her face at that. “I’m not a caveman like you. I need to wash my hair.”

Jeonghan gave her a look, completely unfazed. “You’re saying that like my hair isn’t prettier than yours.”

Luna gawked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Mm.” Jeonghan leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “My hair’s silkier. Shinier. Probably smells better too.”

“Oh my god.” Luna groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Jeonghan just grinned, looking far too smug.

“Han, I’m being serious!” Luna whined. “I need to wash my hair!”

That was when Jeonghan’s expression softened just a little. He sighed, moving closer to cup the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her skin.

“Go wash your body first,” he murmured, voice softer now. “Don’t get your ear wet. After that, I’ll help you wash your hair.”

Luna frowned, eyes narrowing. “How?”

Jeonghan just patted her backside twice before waving her off toward the bathroom. “Don’t worry about it.”

Still confused, yet trusting, Luna did as he said. She showered like normal— except she only washed her body, carefully avoiding her ear, the stitches still covered by gauze from yesterday.

Once she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped back into the room— only to find Jeonghan sprawled out on the bed, scrolling on his phone like he had all the time in the world.

“Now what?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

Jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his screen off, tossed it onto the bed, and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie with the kind of lazy precision that should not have looked as good as it did. His eyes flicked toward her, a playful glint in them as he nodded toward the bathroom door.

Luna barely had time to process the moment before Jeonghan gently nudged her toward the bathroom, his fingers curling around her waist as he guided her. She held onto the towel wrapped securely around her body, her brows knitting together in confusion as she glanced back at him.

“Welcome to Salon Yoon,” he drawled, stepping past her to open the door with an exaggerated flourish. “Where we provide premium services for injured girlfriends who don’t know how to listen.”

Luna blinked at him. Then blinked again. “I— what?”

Jeonghan simply hummed, already moving toward the bathroom counter as if this were an entirely normal thing. He grabbed her shampoo and conditioner, setting them down with an air of professionalism that made her squint at him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, stepping inside, the tiles cool beneath her bare feet. “Are you actually serious?”

Jeonghan turned, giving her a look that was so deadpan she almost laughed. “Would I be wearing my professional stylist face if I wasn’t serious?”

“You don’t have a professional stylist face.”

“Exactly,” he shot back smoothly, already reaching for the sink. “Which is why you should be honored that I’m making an exception just for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further as he gestured for her to step closer. He was still acting as if he were running a real salon, adjusting the sink nozzle, twisting the water handle slightly, testing the temperature with practiced ease.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she muttered as she shuffled forward.

Jeonghan smirked, hands reaching for her shoulders as he gently turned her around and urged her to lean back against the large sink. “Salon Yoon prides itself on customer satisfaction.”

“Salon Yoon is about to get sued for fraud.”

Jeonghan ignored her, his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck as he carefully pulled out the hair tie keeping her damp locks in place. Her hair tumbled down, cascading over his hands, and he hummed in approval as he smoothed his fingers through it.

Then, just as nonchalantly as ever, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Luna blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off, her heart skipping a beat. Before she could react, he pulled away, his voice quieter this time as he murmured, “You’re so pretty.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and for a second, she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Then Jeonghan tapped her chin lightly. “Now lean back.”

Luna did as she was told, still slightly dazed, reclining against the sink as Jeonghan turned on the water. Warmth trickled down, and she let out a small sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

That was until the position started to feel off.

“Hannie,” she mumbled, shifting slightly. “This is… a little weird.”

“You’re fine,” he said absentmindedly, already lathering shampoo between his hands.

“No, I’m not— baby, my back.”

“I thought you were stronger than this,” he mused, fingers working gently through her hair.

Luna let out a short laugh, squirming. “Not when I’m bending backward like I’m in a horror movie! You could’ve at least given me a chair— ah!”

Jeonghan tsked as she nearly jerked up, his grip steadying her. “Stay still.”

“I am still—”

“You’re wiggling.”

“Because this is a stupid position,” she whined, squirming again.

Jeonghan sighed heavily, like she was the one being difficult, as if he wasn’t the one who decided this was a good idea. His fingers pressed lightly into her scalp, massaging in small circles, which was almost enough to make her forget the discomfort.

Almost.

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Hm?”

“My neck hurts.”

Jeonghan exhaled sharply through his nose, biting back a laugh as he continued working the shampoo into her hair. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re literally torturing me right now.”

“Oh? Should I stop then?”

“No,” Luna admitted, sinking further against him. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso, clinging onto him like a lifeline as she let out another giggle. “I need to hold onto something. This is ridiculous.”

Jeonghan, to his credit, barely faltered. He merely looked down at her, the corners of his lips twitching as he muttered, “You’re being so needy right now.”

Luna peeked up at him, grinning. “But you love me.”

A long pause.

“…Unfortunately.”

Luna gasped dramatically, smacking his side as he chuckled. “Take that back!”

“Nope,” Jeonghan said, still laughing, still diligently lathering the shampoo through her strands. “Now, stop moving before you make me mess up and I get shampoo in your stitches.”

Luna huffed, resting her forehead against his stomach. “You’re lucky this feels nice.”

“I know I am.”

She groaned, but there was no real bite behind it. Jeonghan, the absolute menace, was clearly trying not to laugh again, his fingers still gently carding through her hair.

And somehow, despite the weird position, despite the fact that she knew he was going to milk this for all it was worth later— Luna couldn’t help but smile.

Soon, the sound of water running over her hair gradually softened before stopping altogether.

Jeonghan’s fingers, which had been threading through her strands with the utmost care, gave one final pass before he reached for the faucet handle.

“And… done,” he announced, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You’ve officially survived the first— and last— session of Salon Yoon.”

Luna blinked up at him, her vision still slightly skewed from being in such an awkward position for so long. She tried shifting, but the second she attempted to lift herself up, a dull ache shot through her lower back, and her muscles refused to cooperate.

A slow, dreadful realization dawned on her.

“…Hannie,” she said, her voice small, lips curving into a pout.

He was already reaching for a towel when he hummed in response. “Hm?”

“I’m stuck.”

Jeonghan stilled.

Luna flailed her arms weakly. “I literally can’t get up.”

Silence.

Then, the corners of Jeonghan’s lips quirked as a knowing look crossed his face. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, but instead of teasing her immediately, he exhaled through his nose and softened, tilting his head.

“Ah, my poor baby,” he cooed, setting the towel down as he moved closer. His hand reached for the back of her neck, fingers warm and gentle as they curved around the delicate skin there. His other hand slid to the small of her back, applying just enough pressure to support her as he effortlessly lifted her upright, treating her like she was nothing more than a fragile newborn.

Luna let out a breath, her head falling forward to rest in the crook of his neck. The stiffness in her back and neck throbbed faintly as she adjusted to being upright again, but Jeonghan just held her there without a word.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles against the nape of her neck. His tone was teasing but filled with quiet affection, the kind that made warmth bloom in her chest. “Did my baby hurt herself again?”

Luna huffed against his skin, refusing to answer.

Jeonghan smiled, letting her stay nestled against him for as long as she needed. He didn’t even complain when her wet hair dampened his hoodie— he simply reached for a dry towel and began carefully patting her strands, drying them as gently as he had washed them.

For a moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in a comfortable silence.

Luna closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling of his hands in her hair.

But before she could get too lost in the warmth, Jeonghan suddenly shifted.

“Alright,” he said, his tone light. Before she could process what was happening, his hands found her waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted her onto the bathroom counter.

Luna blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What—?”

“It’s time to change your gauze,” Jeonghan said simply, reaching for the medical kit they had left on the counter the night before.

Luna let out a small groan, tilting her head back slightly. “Ugh. Already?”

“Doctor’s orders,” Jeonghan reminded her, opening the kit with ease. Then, his gaze flickered back to her, softer now. “Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it yourself?”

His voice was gentle— no pressure, no assumptions. Just a quiet understanding of her independence.

Luna appreciated that about him.

She exhaled, considering for a moment before nodding. “You can do it.”

Jeonghan didn’t hesitate. The second she gave her approval, he was already gathering the gauze and antiseptic, his movements precise and steady. He worked in silence at first, carefully peeling away the old gauze just as they were instructed the day before.

Luna barely winced, but even the slightest flinch didn’t go unnoticed.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Shhh. Almost done.”

Luna pressed her lips together as he dabbed the antiseptic along the stitches, the sting mild but annoying. “It’s not that bad.”

Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Says the same person who just got stuck bending backward.”

Luna scowled. “That was your fault.”

He chuckled but didn’t argue, too focused on securing the new gauze properly. “You’re doing great,” he murmured absentmindedly, his voice dipping into something softer.

Luna found herself watching him closely.

He had always been like this— playful and mischievous in most cases, but when it truly mattered, when it came to taking care of the people he loved, there was no one gentler than Yoon Jeonghan.

A few more seconds passed before he finally gave a satisfied nod. “All done.”

Luna sighed in relief. “Thank you, Jeongie.”

Jeonghan smiled, leaning in to press a light kiss to her lips. “Of course.”

The kiss was brief, but it was enough to make her heartbeat stutter. She reached for him before he could pull away completely, her arms looping around his neck as she tugged him back in.

Jeonghan didn’t resist.

His hands found their way to the counter, resting on either side of her hips, effectively trapping her there. Their lips met again, this time slower, deeper, the familiar rhythm of their movements melting into something effortless.

Luna sighed into the kiss, fingers threading into his hair as she tilted her head slightly to deepen it. Jeonghan exhaled, his hands flexing against the counter before one of them lifted to rest against her thigh, his thumb brushing idly over her skin.

Soft, unhurried, lingering.

When they finally pulled away, Jeonghan smiled. “See? You did survive Salon Yoon.”

Luna let out a breathy laugh, resting her forehead against his. “Barely.”

He chuckled before stepping back, giving her room to hop off the counter. As she straightened up, he stretched, rolling out his shoulders.

“Well, I’m gonna shower. We need to leave soon,” he announced casually, shaking out his arms as if preparing for a marathon. Then, with a playful smirk, he threw her a look over his shoulder. “You should wash my hair next.”

Luna snorted, crossing her arms. “Not a chance.”

Jeonghan gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “What? After everything I did for you? This is the gratitude I get?”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Did I ask for a salon appointment?”

“You needed it.”

“You forced me into it.”

Jeonghan sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Such a cruel, cruel girlfriend I have.”

Luna rolled her eyes, walking past him as she grabbed her clothes. “Salon Yoon is officially blacklisted.”

Jeonghan smirked. “Shame. I was gonna offer a full-body massage tonight.”

Luna paused mid-step, then slowly turned to look at him.

Jeonghan’s smirk widened.

“…Fine,” she muttered, pretending to think about it. “But only if I get to charge you next time.”

Jeonghan chuckled, already making his way toward the shower. “Oh, baby. You owe me for this.”

Luna groaned, throwing a towel at him before disappearing into the closet to change.

Jeonghan’s laughter echoed behind her.

Once Luna and Jeonghan were dressed and ready, it wasn’t long before their manager called out to them— it was time to go.

Stepping out of their room together, they barely made it a few steps down the hallway before Luna was immediately intercepted.

A flurry of movement surrounded her, and in the blink of an eye, Jeonghan found himself standing alone as his girlfriend was unceremoniously taken from his side by a group of very determined mother hens.

“Okay, that’s enough of you,” Seungkwan announced dramatically, stepping between Luna and Jeonghan like a bouncer separating two unruly patrons. “It’s our turn.”

Before Jeonghan could so much as blink, a force stronger than gravity itself— otherwise known as the collective will of SEVENTEEN— swept Luna into their embrace, effectively cutting him off.

Mingyu wasted no time gently slinging an arm over her shoulder as he walked with her toward the elevators, eyeing her with a look of exaggerated concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not dizzy? Nauseous? Seeing stars?”

“No,” Luna laughed, playfully rolling her eyes. “I feel fine.”

“Are you lying?” Joshua teased, nudging her gently as they walked. “Because you know we’ll find out.”

Luna let out an exasperated sigh, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement. “I’m seriously okay, guys.”

“Good,” Dokyeom said, squeezing her other shoulder. “But just in case, you should hold onto me. I’m very strong.”

Jeonghan, who had been completely sidelined, raised an eyebrow at them from a few steps behind. “You guys do realize she has an actual boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, and she sees you all the time,” Hoshi waved him off dismissively, linking his arm with Luna’s other side. “She’s ours right now.”

Luna let out a laugh as she was guided into the elevator, the members practically barricading her in.

“You see her all the time too,” Jeonghan sighed in amusement, shaking his head as the doors closed on them.

The members were even more careful with Luna than usual as they made their way out of the hotel and toward their designated vans.

Joshua kept a firm but gentle hand on her back, ensuring no one accidentally bumped into her as they walked. Jun and Wonwoo walked slightly ahead, subtly making sure the path was clear. Even Dino, usually the one being mothered by her, was extra attentive, keeping an eye on her from the side.

Mingyu, still acting as her unofficial bodyguard, turned to their security detail with a completely serious face. “If you see anyone looking at her too hard, just… take them out.”

Luna snorted. “Gyu-Gyu.”

“What?” He shrugged. “You’re injured. You deserve extra protection.”

Despite the humor, she could feel the underlying care in their actions. Every touch was softer, every glance filled with quiet concern. They didn’t hover obnoxiously, but they were there— just in case.

By the time they arrived at the stadium, they naturally fell into their pre-show routine. Everyone went their separate ways to prepare— some warming up their voices, others stretching, a few sitting on the couches, simply lounging on theirs.

Luna, as always, took her time checking her equipment.

Her backup in-ears were waiting for her, neatly placed inside a small black case. Unlike her main ones, which had exploded during yesterday’s rehearsal, these were brand new— freshly made and double-checked by the staff.

Still, as she stared down at them, her fingers hesitated for a split second before picking them up.

She was lying if she said she wasn’t traumatized.

She knew logically that today’s soundcheck would be fine. The staff had reassured her multiple times that everything was double and triple-checked, that the malfunction had been an unfortunate freak accident.

But still.

The memory of the sudden pop, the sharp pain, the ringing in her ears— it wasn’t something she could just shake off overnight.

As if sensing her hesitation, Seungcheol appeared beside her, his presence grounding as he leaned down slightly to catch her gaze.

“They’re brand new,” he told her softly, motioning toward the in-ears. “I promise you, they’re safe.”

Luna exhaled slowly before nodding. “I know. I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Seungcheol nodded in understanding, his voice gentle. “You’re allowed to feel nervous about it.”

Luna let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” he reassured her immediately. “It was scary. It makes sense that you’re still shaken up.”

She let out another breath, this time a little steadier.

“You only have to wear one, right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, left ear only. Doctor’s orders.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol smiled. “Then let’s put it in together.”

He held out his hand, palm up. Luna stared at it for a moment before smiling softly and placing her in-ear in his palm. With careful precision, he helped her put on the device.

“There,” he said, voice warm. “See? All good.”

Luna smiled. “All good.”

Seungcheol grinned and gave her a gentle nudge. “You’re gonna do great as always.”

She met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his reassurance settle over her. “Thank you, Cheollie.”

“Anytime,” he said, patting her back before standing up. “Now let’s go kill soundcheck.”

Luna inhaled deeply, exhaled just as slow, then nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The time had finally come.

Luna took a deep breath as she sat in front of the mirror, checking herself one last time before they stepped onto the stage for soundcheck. Her fingers instinctively reached for her hair, carefully pulling strands forward to drape over her right ear. She needed to keep it covered.

Not because she was ashamed or embarrassed, but because the last thing she wanted was for this to become an even bigger deal than it already was.

Their fans— Carats— were always so incredibly attentive, always noticing the smallest details. If they saw her without her right in-ear, if they saw even a glimpse of the gauze covering her injury, they would worry. And she didn’t want that.

Satisfied with how her hair fell naturally over the side of her face, she reached for her sunglasses, slipping them on gently.

The Bangkok sun was relentless, the heat pressing against the hotel windows all day, and she knew stepping onto that stage would be no different. But the glasses served another purpose too. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from crying yesterday. The pain had been one thing, but the sheer shock of what had happened—her in-ear exploding mid-rehearsal— had shaken her more than she let on. She could still hear the sharp ringing that had followed, the way the force had left her momentarily stunned, the warmth of the blood trickling down her ear before anyone even realized what had happened.

Luna inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

It’s fine. She was fine.

Dressed casually in a black sleeveless vest and comfortable denim jeans, Luna stood up from her seat, stretching her arms as she turned to the others. The atmosphere in the waiting room was its usual pre-soundcheck mix of excitement and ease. Some members were doing last-minute vocal warm-ups, others were adjusting their own in-ear monitors or joking around to shake off any fatigue.

The familiar routine was comforting, grounding.

Soon, their manager peeked in, giving the signal.

It was time.

As they made their way to the stage, Luna adjusted her mic pack, careful not to tug at the wires too much. Jeonghan, who had been walking beside her, reached for her hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. A silent reassurance. He knew she was pushing through it, and he knew better than anyone when she needed quiet support rather than words. She gave him a small smile in return.

Then, the moment they stepped onto the stage, a wave of energy hit them.

The floor seat VIP ticket holders— who had been let in earlier than the general audience— were already waiting. The second the members appeared, the crowd erupted into cheers, waves of arms lifting phones into the air to capture the moment. Some fans waved frantically, while others simply stared in awe, taking in the sight of SEVENTEEN under the daylight, dressed down in their casual clothes, looking effortlessly cool even in their relaxed state.

Luna smiled, lifting her hand to wave as she followed the others onto the main stage. Soundcheck was always casual, a chance for them to run through a few songs, interact with the early audience, and test the equipment one last time before the actual concert.

The familiar opening beats of their first song played through the speakers, and immediately, they all fell into their natural rhythm, singing as they moved around the stage freely.

Everything was going smoothly.

Luna crouched near the edge of the stage, reaching down to interact with a fan holding a sign with her name on it, flashing a bright smile as she waved. The fan looked ecstatic, practically jumping in place.

Just as she was about to move, she heard loud laughter from behind her. Turning her head, she caught sight of Hoshi and Seungkwan sprinting across the stage, their voices ringing out in exaggerated yells as they chased each other.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Shaking her head at their antics, she pushed herself up from her crouched position. And in that exact moment, the wind picked up.

Unbeknownst to her, the strands of hair she had so carefully placed to shield her injury were swept back, exposing her right ear. She had already turned away, walking back towards the others, completely unaware that a few fans had caught sight of what she had been trying to keep hidden.

The gauze was unmistakable.

At first, there was a flicker of confusion among the audience. Some fans turned to each other, whispering, their eyes darting between Luna and their phone screens, zooming in to confirm what they had just seen.

Then, voices began rising, overlapping in concern.

“Jiyeonie-ah, are you okay?”

“What happened to her ear?”

“Is she hurt?”

The murmurs grew, but the music was still playing, and the members were already waving their goodbyes, preparing to head backstage. Luna, still completely oblivious to the commotion, continued waving at the crowd before following the others offstage.

But the news spread fast.

The VIP fans who had been inside, the first to witness it, were already posting online. Tweets flooded in, accompanied by blurry screenshots and shaky videos from the soundcheck.

“Wait… I think Luna is injured?? She wasn’t wearing her right in-ear, and I swear I saw a bandage on her ear???”

“Omg I was there, she looked fine but her ear definitely had gauze on it…”

“WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS, IS SHE OKAY?!”

“I HOPE IT’S NOTHING SERIOUS, PLEASE SOMEONE CONFIRM???”

“I feel sick. What if she’s in pain and she’s just pushing through it… PLEDIS SAY SOMETHING.”

The conversation spread like wildfire. The fans outside the stadium— who had been waiting to enter— caught wind of it and immediately started discussing it amongst themselves. Fans at home, across the globe, who hadn’t even seen the soundcheck yet, were already trending Luna’s name, demanding answers.

It escalated so quickly that PLEDIS had no choice but to release an official statement.

Hello.

This is PLEDIS Entertainment.

We would like to inform you about SEVENTEEN member Luna’s current health status and her activities moving forward.

On September 30, Luna sustained an injury to her right ear due to a mechanical malfunction during rehearsals. The incident occurred when her in-ear monitor suffered an unexpected technical failure, resulting in a minor explosion. She was immediately attended to by the on-site medical staff and received prompt treatment.

Following thorough medical examinations, it has been confirmed that while she sustained an injury to the upper right ear, there is no damage to her hearing. Luna has been advised to wear protective covering over the affected area and will be using a backup in-ear monitor for her performances moving forward.

Despite the injury, Luna has expressed her strong desire to continue participating in the scheduled performances. After receiving medical clearance, she will be performing at today’s concert as planned. However, PLEDIS Entertainment and SEVENTEEN will be prioritizing her health, and adjustments may be made as necessary.

We sincerely thank the fans for their concern and support for Luna’s well-being. We will continue to monitor her condition and ensure she receives the necessary care.

Thank you.

The statement was meant to reassure fans, but it only fueled the discussion further. Theories, reactions, and messages of concern flooded social media. While some fans were relieved to hear that she was cleared to perform, others were frustrated that she was pushing through the injury at all. Debates sparked, some arguing that she should rest, while others trusted her decision to perform.

But one thing was certain— everyone was watching.

And that’s what everyone did— watch.

The members watched as Luna sat in front of the mirror, getting ready, their eyes subtly flicking toward her every few minutes. They watched as the makeup artist worked delicately around her face, avoiding any unnecessary movements that might jostle her injury. They watched as her hairstylist carefully sectioned her hair, keeping it loose enough to frame her face but firm enough to stay in place, ensuring that no accidental brush of fingers or tools would graze her ear.

They watched.

Luna felt it. She didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t tease them about it the way she usually would, but she felt it.

Their eyes, their concern, their restraint.

Even in the smallest actions— Jeonghan handing her a bottle of water without her needing to ask, Mingyu hovering close whenever she moved as if ready to steady her, Hoshi’s usual playful banter softened just a little, less teasing, more quiet support— they were watching.

She focused on the routine. Foundation, light but enough to cover any signs of exhaustion. Eyeshadow, a soft shimmer that caught the light just right. Lipstick, a natural pink shade that enhanced her smile. Every brushstroke was careful, every movement measured. Her stylist secured her in-ear monitor in her left ear, making sure the wire was tucked neatly behind her, while her right ear remained bare, hidden beneath the natural fall of her hair.

As if nothing had happened.

And when it was time— when the lights dimmed, the crowd’s screams rumbled through the stadium like thunder, and the members gathered in their final huddle before stepping on stage— they all knew the act would become reality.

The moment the music hit, the moment their feet touched the stage, everything else would fade.

And that’s exactly what happened.

The fans watched.

They watched as Luna emerged under the bright lights, her presence commanding, her energy unwavering. They watched as she moved, as she danced with the same precision and fire as always, as if nothing had happened. They watched as her voice rang through the stadium, clear and powerful, as if she hadn’t spent hours the day before wincing in pain.

They watched as the members gravitated toward her, as if by instinct.

How Jeonghan naturally positioned himself beside her during their line where he usually didn’t. How Seungcheol subtly glanced her way between lines, making sure she was keeping up without strain. How Joshua smiled at her every chance he got, quiet reassurance in the form of a familiar gaze. How Hoshi toned down his usual playful shoves, how Dino kept close whenever formations shifted, how even Vernon— who usually kept to himself— would linger nearby.

The fans watched.

They watched as Luna’s face appeared on the big screen, her smile lighting up the entire venue. The cheers were deafening, a mix of excitement and relief, because they knew. They knew she was hurt. They knew she wasn’t supposed to be resting, and yet here she was— dancing, singing, smiling, like nothing had happened.

And Luna, knowing that they knew, took a deep breath between songs, stepping toward the mic as the crowd quieted just enough to hear her.

“I’m okay. I promise.”

She chuckled softly, her voice light, reassuring. The fans screamed in response, some laughing, some yelling back, some probably scolding her in their own way. But she knew they understood. She wasn’t going to let them worry. Not tonight.

So they watched.

They watched as she continued, giving every move, every note, every moment her all.

101%, just like she always did.

Because that was where she belonged. On that stage, in front of them, giving everything she had.

And as they watched, they were simply glad.

Glad she was still there.

Glad she wasn’t too badly hurt.

Glad she was Luna— just as brilliant, just as unstoppable as ever.

Luna was just as glad.

Glad that she had them.

Glad that through all the pain, the exhaustion, the momentary fear of not knowing if she would even be able to stand on this stage tonight— she had made it.

And she wasn’t alone.

She felt it in the way the fans screamed her name, their voices layered with excitement, relief, and something deeper— an unspoken promise that they were with her, no matter what.

She saw it in the way their lightsticks waved in perfect synchronization, the entire stadium glowing like a sky full of stars, a constellation drawn just for them.

She read it in their signs, hastily written messages that said things like ‘Luna, we love you!’ and ‘Don’t push yourself too hard!’

They were worried, she knew. And yet, they were still here, still cheering, still supporting her like they always had.

She was glad she had them.

She was glad she wasn’t hurt worse. The pain was there— lingering, dull in some moments and sharp in others— but it wasn’t enough to break her. The wound on her ear throbbed beneath the gauze, a quiet reminder of what had happened, but she could still sing. She could still dance. She could still stand under these lights and give her all.

And she was glad she had them.

Her members. Her family.

She felt it in the way Seungcheol watched her out of the corner of his eye, in the way Jeonghan subtly brushed against her shoulder whenever they crossed paths on stage, as if to remind her he was there. She saw it in the way Joshua would smile at her just a second longer, in the way Mingyu offered his hand to help her down from a platform when she didn’t even need it.

She heard it in the way Seungkwan and Hoshi made an extra joke just to make her laugh, in the way Dokyeom sang to her a little louder when their voices harmonized, in the way Minghao and Jun still hyped her up between songs like nothing had changed.

She felt it in how Vernon, Wonwoo, and Woozi, usually quiet and reserved, made sure to linger near her during breaks. How Dino, the youngest, made sure to carry the energy just a little more, as if silently telling her that he would cover for her, just in case.

She was loved.

Not just by the fans who cheered for her. Not just by the members who watched over her. But by all of them, in ways both big and small, in ways that filled every corner of her heart.

Luna was glad.

Glad that through everything, no matter what, she had them.

Glad that she was loved by them.

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quietstormxr · 2 months ago

Text

Forgotten

Pure, unadulterated angst.

Reader x ?

Poll Results: Reader x Xaden Riorson

A/N: Fourth Wing Spoilers, Mentions of depression

Word Count: 1.7k

Trying something different and asking for y'alls input. There will be a poll at the bottom for you to participate in the story if you're interested.

Tomorrow, Always Tomorrow - Home

You watch as they rally around her. The way they are now busy watching her every move. Training her at every opportunity. They even made her a damn saddle for her dragon. They constantly train her on the mat, design daggers for her hands and strength.

Staring at the blazing fire in the common room, you slowly watch your surroundings and the comings and goings. But no one knows you’re there.

You’re invisible.

Not only to those who you thought cared about you, but also thanks to your signet. You huff a laugh as you mask yourself in the alcove that you’ve come to claim as your own.

All you must do is survive for a few more days before you’re free from them all. Free from any eyes looking for you, free from expectations, from them.

You always knew that you weren’t a priority. You always faded to the back of conversations, the back of the room. Left to your own devices, you let the resentment fester, the feeling of not being worthwhile.

No one ever described what a bond breaking between a dragon and a human felt like, but you could feel the way your dragon’s voice seemed to start feeling like it was underwater. The communication line between the two of you seeming to be drowning, the same way you felt yourself breaking apart at the seams.

As you arrived in formation when the alarms went off, you kept to yourself and your eyes straight ahead. Nothing in your mind registered anymore. The only thing behind your eyes was the festering of relentless anger.

As you go to leave formation and gather your things, you feel a tug on your arm. You look back to see Imogen tapping your shoulder.

“Xaden wants you for the headquarters squad.” You raise your eyes to hers and give a tight nod, nothing showing in your eyes.

While packing your things, you can’t help but wonder if you could just walk away from it all. If they think you’re dead, it wouldn’t matter at this point. With a plan forming in your mind, you pack everything that you deem important and leave the rest of your things behind. You close the door, not leaving a note or anything to find. You’ll either succeed in your plan or you’ll face a punishment you won’t return from.

You head to the flight field. Your dragon waits behind all the others. You huff a laugh at the fact that even your dragon knows how much you just want to fade into the background of it all.

You may not want to listen or watch the comradery of those you used to consider friends or even a lover, but you make sure to keep your eyes sharp. You watch as everything unfolds in front of you, until you watch as Xaden and Garrick stride towards you.

“I assume Imogen told you that you’re coming with us.” Xaden says, no pretense of niceties in sight.

“Yes.” Succinct. Final. There’s nothing more to say.

Both look at you seeming to take in the stone of your appearance, most likely confused by your lack of warmth they were so used to seeing. They exchange a look, but Xaden nods to you and strides away. You watch as they both stride towards Liam and Bodhi, all of them collectively looking back towards you. Even though you are eager to lash out at them, yell, scream, and cry, you just look back with a look of impassivity.

“Headquarters squad, let’s go.” Xaden calls as he mounts Sgaeyl.

You fly at the back of the riot, which your dragon does willingly. There’s no need for you to voice your feelings towards those in front of you when your dragon is already well aware.

The way you lag behind the others has you touching down at the lake about ten minutes after everyone else. As soon as you do, you’re met with a scene that causes you to snort in derision.

Of course Sorrengail wasn’t going to react well to things that were kept from her. You knew that from just watching the way the girl had treated her friends. Everyone is so preoccupied with the scene in front of them, they don’t realize you’ve landed.

Forgotten again.

The pattern is now almost comical. You watch, still mounted as Xaden tries to reason with Sorrengail, Liam trying to prove his friendship, Bodhi and Garrick waiting hesitantly.

Soon enough, it seems Xaden has calmed the little scribe down and everyone is mounting again. No one even realizes that you weren’t even aware of the gryphons either. No one tries to reassure you; you just must reassure yourself.

Once at Athbyne, you search the empty barracks on your own and honestly can’t believe your luck. The plan you have may just be easier to pull off than you ever thought.

While you’re exploring the rooms of the outpost, it seems the group has come to a decision to fight. As you make your way up to the wall where everyone is standing, you listen as Sorrengail goes into details on the venin you’re about to face.

Without caring to hear more, you turn and head back to your dragon. You’ll still execute your plan, but there’s no way that you’re going to leave innocent people out there to die. If you do, then you’re no better than anyone back at Basgiath.

As you sweep the perimeter of town, you’re met with a sight that breaks your own heart. A child has been left behind in the mess of confusion and fleeing. A little girl crying, curled up in a ball, wailing somone’s name to save her.

You can’t help the tears that swim in your eyes feeling like you’re watching yourself break into a million pieces.

You command your dragon to land and immediately pick up the girl. You begin running towards the mine where the rest of the townspeople are but stop in your tracks. Eyes flaring wide, you watch the venin completely drain Soleil and her dragon.

You turn again and sprint as fast as you can with the girl in your arms back to your dragon. You mount and command your dragon to bring you to where the rest of the townspeople are being gathered.

Once there, you bring the little girl to a woman who has her arms out and seems to be shouting the little girl’s name. Watching as she is now cradled and being comforted, you turn your back on the scene and take a deep breath. All you want is someone to comfort you like that. No, not just someone. One specific person.

You shake your head at the thought that causes your heart to crack open.

When you bring your head up, you’re met with red eyes and a shock of tattered purple robes.

“Such pain for such a young person.” The male voice hisses in a raspy voice that sounds like a distorted rumble.

You can’t hide the flash of recognition at the words that settle in your mind.

“Why don’t you take all of that pain and channel with me?” He says while beginning to circle around you.

Looking around, you realize that you’re alone. There aren’t any other riders or fliers in this area.

“You can show them what real power looks like and show them you aren’t one to be forgotten.” The words he’s spitting begin to swirl in your mind. The thought of being able to be powerful and not just a shell that’s been rejected hitting you square in the chest.

You shake your head trying to escape the hold that the venin’s words have seemed to settle in your mind.

“I won’t be controlled. By you or any power.” You spit through clenched teeth, trying to bite back from the hold that you can’t seem to shake from your mind.

“Your spirit is fierce. It would be so pleasant to break you.” The venin continues.

You find yourself reaching for the sheath that was given to you months ago with instructions not to use unless absolutely necessary. You suppose this situation would render it’s use necessary.

You double over with the sheer amount of power that the venin seems to be plying towards you. Without overthinking, you grab the hilt of the dagger and fling it. Your aim is the one thing you’ve never questioned about yourself and as you expect, it finds it home in the chest of the venin.

The creature’s eyes seem to blaze with the fury that you were able to best him. You find yourself crawling backwards trying to get as far away as possible.

Suddenly the din of the battle still going on around you crashes back into your mind. You look up to see dragons locked in battle, to your left and right civilians are still running for cover. Realizing that your own dragon’s focus is taken helping Deigh eviscerate a wyvern, you know this is when you have to make your decision.

You take a steadying deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the interaction with the venin. As soon as you feel your heartbeat return to something a little more normal, you’re off. You swing your pack on your back as you run. With one look back, you feel like your entire being is breaking, but you just can’t imagine staying anymore.

A slight panic tries to break through your thoughts, it must be your dragon knowing what you’re about to do. However, as you continue running, you feel your dragon’s connection growing thinner and thinner. There’s no reason to devote much thought to it as you keep going, if you die away from your dragon, so be it. No matter what, from now on it will be on your terms.

You steal into a thick cover of forest and throw your bag down. You slide down the trunk of a tree and collapse into a tired heap. At this point, the sun has crested on the horizon and night is beginning to set. Your mind can’t help but wonder if anyone has even realized that you’re gone. The last thought you have before sleep finds you is that your dragon can find a new and worthy rider.

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #bodhi durran x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing xaden #garrick tavis x reader #the empyrean #the empyrean fanfic #fourth wing fic #fourth wing #bodhi fourth wing #garrick fourth wing #iron flame #iron flame fanfic

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kingtomura · 11 months ago

Text

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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thesunloveschips · 5 months ago

Text

Obsessed - Part 4 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Feelings and desires finally come forward.

A/n: Apologies for the delay, I was busy giggling and blushing. THE SMUT FINALLY BEGINS!!!!!

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), Azriel (that's it. he's the warning. he's too hot)

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Needless to say, Azriel and his listening devices heard Y/n’s side of her conversation with Nesta. She must’ve had a voice call. He'd patiently listened to her crying and the anguish as she discussed her feelings with Nesta.

From how the call had concluded, Nesta must’ve probably told her to be careful no matter what.

Azriel was not interested in how to break Y/n’s walls. Walls were there for a reason. He was interested in becoming eligible for entry and working towards being the right choice and making her realise that.

It was obviously better for her to accept him rather than him forcing her to do that. Especially after all the shit Y/n faced towards the end of her bachelor’s degree.

Fifty eight days had passed since he first laid eyes on Y/n in that barely lit club with too much noise. Ever since her call with Nesta five days ago, there was a new wall.

They’d say hello but she deflected his every attempt to spend time together whether it was dinner or grocery shopping.

It was eating him up. Maybe there was something else he’d missed. Something she might not have told Nesta for any reason. Or maybe she’d had that conversation outside the apartment.

And Azriel was determined to find out.

It was a Friday. Her classes ended at four in the evening. She’d study in the library for god knows how long whenever classes ended early like this but she was also nearing her period. That meant she’d study at home where she could comfortably snack in case of premenstrual cravings.

Azriel had finished up his work and sat on the sofa near his door, waiting to hear her footsteps and the sound of her keys. He waited for nearly an hour before he heard her. Impatience made him rise and open the door in a hurry.

Y/n looked at him wide eyed as she was just about to turn the keys and open her own door.

“Azriel.” His name was a whisper and he took that as an encouragement to take two steps closer.

“Why are you so distant these days?” He was done waiting. He was done pretending that her fear to face her feelings wasn’t hurting him.

“I’m not.” She quickly responded. Too quickly.

“You don’t sass me around, joke with me, boss me, or even look at me properly. And I’m done pretending that this is not affecting me.”

And she watched him wide eyed, her lips parted. He wanted her to say something. Cry. Scream. The silence has become despicable since it was only a reminder of her absence.

“I. .” She looked at her hand on the doorway as her thumb scratched the wooden frame.

“Did I offend you in any way? I’d like to understand exactly what it is and apologise. I had no intention of hurting you in any way and I still do not.” Yes. Azriel was yearning. For her, for her attention.

“You didn’t offend me.” She was once again quick to respond. “I just. .” And she looked away, eyes shut tightly and her mouth closed as if she didn’t want to give him any response.

“Y/n.” And she immediately looked at him as if he’d never said her name before.

She didn’t know how much he loved her name. How much he wanted to call for her whenever he entered the apartment. How much he wanted her to be there and to simply embrace her warmly and tell her he was home.

****

Y/n had never heard Azriel desperate. He was bold and unwavering. He seemed like the type of man who would make others desperate.

But here he was, calling her name as if it was a prayer for her to come to him.

Avoiding Azriel only resulted in her carefully constructed walls suffocating her. She was so used to his presence in her life.

It was not just the talking, dinner, and the grocery shopping but it was also the silence. Sbe simply liked to be in his presence, either not doing anything or doing her own work. The knowledge that he was nearby gave her heart a rest.

And she faltered.

She held her tears and wiped her eyes before they fell.

“Y/n.” Azriel reached her in two large strides and held her like she was all that he’d ever wanted. All that mattered.

“I won’t cry.” She was stubborn about that. Because her feelings for him were beautiful.

Many spent their lives insulting beauty and then regretting their inability to appreciate it. Rarely did people actually appreciate it.

And she was determined not to waste time. “I like you.”

Azriel went rigid against her.

Oh.

She pulled back to see his face. He truly had entered into some sort of trance.

She’d just slapped her feelings on him without considering what he’d feel. Sure, he saw her as a good friend but he probably also saw her as a sister since he’d patted her head a few times.

Maybe, all he felt was something platonic or sibling-like.

“Pretend you didn’t hear that.” Y/n wriggled out of his embrace and turned to her door with her key.

As soon as she unlocked and opened it, a large hand came from behind and covered her hand which was on the handle.

Azriel’s face came next to her shoulder, his entire body mere inches behind her. And he closed the door.

The other hand extended from the other side of her head and she was now effectively trapped.

This was beginning to feel like a very dirty dream that could end with both of them against this door.

She inhaled to gather courage and turned to look at him. Azriel’s face remained there before he let his head fall to her shoulder.

“Y/n. .” It was a tone she’d never heard. He sounded like he was aching. Tortured, even. “How do I even begin with you, sweetheart?”

Something crashed in her head. What was he saying? Why was he calling her sweetheart? A term that gave birth to hope.

He lifted his head and looked at her like she’d answered all his prayers and doubts. Like he had attained some divine level of clarity. “I’m quite certain that I like you more than you like me.”

She remained still for a few seconds before a smile touched her lips. Y/n pressed her forehead against his and whispered. “This is not a competition.”

“No, it isn’t. This is us.”

“Us.” She affirmed and he gently kissed her lips.

Y/n suddenly realised that she was trapped between him and the door and his arms caging her in. She kissed him a second longer. Her one hand was still on the door handle. At some point, the other had moved to cradle his head.

The next kiss was not sweet. It was all tongue and need. Azriel pulled her waist towards him and she could feel his cock against her ass.

“Let me take you somewhere.” Azriel whispered against her lips.

“With this?” She pushed against his cock, feeling mischievous.

“Tease all you want, Y/n. I’ll make you beg soon.” He thrust his hips against her.

She somehow pulled back. “We’re still in the corridor.”

“And?” He nipped her ear and Y/n could feel her resolve mist away into nothing.

“There are cameras.” Reason was evaporating and she had to cling to it. Y/n really was not interested in another tenant or any delivery man seeing them.

“Kiss me again.” She obliged his request far too easily and found herself twirled with her back against her door.

Y/n continued to be greedy, fingers combing Azriel’s hair from his nape. She pulled his hair and pressed herself more and more against him. And obviously, none of it was enough.

She wanted more of him. And the more he gave her, the more wanton she became.

“Lock your apartment, sweetheart. We’re going to mine.” Azriel spun her so that she’d lock the door but she was barely able to focus with his lips on her neck. She fumbled with the key against the lock but she managed to insert it.

“Or shall I take you right here?” A large hand squeezed her breast. Her body arched, ass pressing harder against the bulge poking from his pants.

She really needed those pants gone.

“We can explore voyeurism later.” Y/n finally twisted the key and locked the door. She turned around as she pocketed her keys.

“Would you like that?” Azriel took her hand, eyes blazing with desire and a hint of amusement. “The thrill of being caught?” He led her to his own apartment where the door was still open. “Or is it being watched?”

“I like privacy.” Azriel continued to kiss her temple and trailed down to her jaw. He was all too eager to throw her bag and coat away. “Although the possibility that someone may see is. .”

Y/n sighed and did not continue because Azriel was busy with her neck. Wet kisses and gentle nips escalated to a harsh suck. Her back arched easily. The thrill of being seen was now an abandoned topic.

“Off.” She pulled against his grey sweater. Azriel hoisted Y/n, set her on the dining table, and proceeded to remove his sweater.

An odd mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirled in her abdomen. She always knew that Azriel was larger than her but seeing that broad chest with ink in intricate swirls and patterns that extended till his arms was a sight.

Curly hair, golden brown skin, tattoos, muscles, an insanely attractive face, and she whimpered at the sight.

He threw the sweater somewhere and placed his arms on either side of her, once again caging her. He was leaning in. He was closer. And Y/n whimpered as she processed that much information and shut her eyes tightly.

“What is it?” He was now alarmed. Y/n simply leaned her forehead against his chest as she caught her breath. “Y/n?”

“You’re too. . .” She whined. “Too perfect.”

In all honesty, Y/n tried.

She tried to look at his face.

To meet his gaze.

But the hunger in his eyes as he watched her, tongue darting out to wet his lips, curly hair all messed up, and the unavoidably attractive body made it difficult.

In a swift movement, Azriel grabbed Y/n and thrust his hips against hers, groaning at the friction. “Do you feel my cock?”

What else could she feel?

“This is all your doing.” A hand grabbed her throat and made her look at him.

“Take responsibility like a good girl.” He pressed against her, the clothes now only a nuisance. “And I’ll reward you so well.”

Yes.

She wanted to be his good girl. She’d gladly take responsibility for that cock.

Y/n peered down and saw the tattoo beneath his navel that disappeared into his pants. She wanted to remove his pants, see the entirety of that tattoo, lick his cock.

Y/n placed a hand on that bulge and gently caressed it with her palm before grabbing him properly. A groan escaped Azriel and she was beginning to accept the power that came with arousing this man.

“Yes.”She placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him. Azriel immediately complied, moving away.

And Y/n removed her sweater and chemise in one go. Her bra remained and he closed in immediately, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.

She moved her hands behind her and unclasped the hook. The strain on her breasts was no more once the bra was removed and Azriel immediately kissed her again, softly and deeply.

They progressed again towards red hot desire now that they could feel each other’s bodies more. He descended to her neck, collarbone and sucked on the skin right above her breasts.

Those large hands squeezed her waist and hips and seemed to explore as though he was studying her.

Y/n found herself moaning and arching pushing towards him. She tried to explore his back with her hands and yet there seemed to be more area left as a testament to how large he was compared to her.

His mouth wrapped around a nipple, softly licking it. It seemed like he was slowing down but once he spread his spit enough, Azriel flicked his tongue on the peak.

Y/n loved it. Her hands on his hair and neck, scratching and tugging. Her breasts were free and worshipped. Azriel was all over her.

Her elbows were supporting her upper body against the table as Azriel continued to work his mouth and hand on her breasts.

Azriel paused and looked at her as if to remind her that he was insatiable at this point. His hands came to her hips and then to her thighs and he hooked a finger on one of the belt loops and pulled it. “May I?”

Y/n was absolutely ready for this man to do whatever he wanted to her. Her legs were already spread and she nodded once. “Yes.”

Azriel unbuckled her belt and the sound of it excited her. So did the sound of the zipper.

His mouth against hers was another wonderful experience, tongue exploring her mouth as if he was searching for something.

Her hips had to rise in order for the jeans to be pulled down but Y/n was sort of sitting and supporting her body on elbows if that was anything.

In one smooth motion, Azriel stepped to the side, grabbed and lifted her legs with one hand and removed her pants till the hip with the other hand. He set her down gently before getting rid of the obstructive piece of clothing before returning.

“Where were we?” His hands on her thighs was a surreal experience. Spreading her so nicely. Those tattooed fingers against her skin had such power and his touch felt electric.

Fingers closed in on her inner thighs, teasing her as they played with the edge of her panties. She heard the sound of wood being clumsily dragged and she found that he’d pulled a chair and sat down.

Y/n thought she was ready but Azriel quickly erased that misconception when a finger suddenly entered her.

An obscene sound escaped her and she suddenly pulled him closer by his neck, her back arching.

It had been a while since she’d had sex. Needless to say, it was a surprise for both of them.

“Sweetheart, have you never. .” Azriel trailed away, searching her face for an answer to a question. Y/n opened her eyes and saw his shock, immediately understanding what he wanted to ask.

“It’s been a long time.” She responded, taking her time to get used to him. Gods, it was just one finger and she could not get rid of the feeling even with how wet she was.

She was still breathing heavily since that one finger had been enough to leave her breathless. Her eyes closed as pain slowly gave way to pleasure.

Fuck it. At this rate, she’d need more time to get used to sex altogether. And with how big and thick Azriel was, she’d probably need a few days. “I’m here, Y/n.”

He was so good, whispering words of comfort and affirmation. Tell her she was beautiful and that they’d go at her pace and how good she felt around his finger.

It didn’t matter how much she wanted him to lose control with her because it’d probably hurt her with how she was currently.

“Move.” She whined, holding his shoulders for dear life. Azriel slowly moved his finger and Y/n kept gasping.

“Y/n, if you ever want to stop-”

“Are you insane?” She meant to sound strict but she was still processing the pleasure. “I-ah.”

Y/n could see how difficult it was for him to restrain. Desire bordering on determination to keep her needs first.

Azriel removed his finger and before she could complain, he moved her panties aside and sucked her clit harshly.

She had no control over herself and he easily grabbed her legs and placed them over his shoulders. Her hand moved to his head, fingers combing through his hair and grabbing them.

Her grip loosened and tightened in tandem with his tongue’s ministrations. Azriel was very much interested in teasing her towards the edge.

Y/n took a peek at him as he slowed down. Azriel met her gaze, raising a brow with such arrogance, she pushed his face against her cunt. A laugh reverberated through her skin.

His tongue relentlessly flicked against her clit and his finger slowly re-entered her. It felt easier since she’d been stretched for it earlier.

Azriel reached places her own fingers had never reached and he took his time exploring before Y/n trembled and moaned louder than she had so far.

She knew he’d realised what that spot was, how it would affect her. And he was simply teasing her. Trailing around, reaching everywhere except where she needed him the most. Her impatience rose and her needs increased.

“Az!” He hummed against her, the vibration carrying another wave of pleasure. “More.” He obliged with another finger.

Y/n jolted when she heard something loud. Azriel removed his mouth from her cunt, kicked away the chair he’d been sitting on, and rose to his height.

He set her legs down and pulled her closer to the edge of the table, his fingers still inside her. His hand found her throat as he pulled her into a searing kiss. A tear fell from her eye. And then another.

“Azriel.” The sight of him hovering over her in all that dark glory was too alluring and she couldn’t look away. Even seeing him made her quiver.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

She whimpered when his fingers started slowing and frantically looked up at him. “Your mouth and. . your fingers hnnghh.”

“My pretty girl.” Azriel kissed her cheek and kneeled and tapped her thighs. “On my shoulders.” She obeyed immediately.

Tears trailed down her cheeks. Y/n didn’t even know if she was moaning or crying. Both his hands were now holding her thighs apart and Azriel aimed to please her as he gently bit her clit while adding another finger.

It was too much now. He was now increasing the intensity and the speed, as if her pleasure was his sole purpose. She was falling at an insane speed and she was so close.

Azriel did not let go, licking the life out of her. At some point, she had completely laid down on the table and had begun thrusting her hips against his face. Her eyes remained closed, a hand playing with her nipple while the other clutched his scalp.

“Please, please, please. . .” Y/n continued begging. Whether it was for him to continue or to stop, even she didn’t know. She gasped and breathed and moaned and finally felt herself shatter.

Her body trembled and she was hauling all the air in as she breathed. Her tears stopped, eyes still closed, and she let go of his hair.

Y/n felt Azriel’s warmth close in as he rose to his height and leaned towards her. “So fucking pretty.”

He pulled her by the waist towards him, the other hand cradling her head, and she didn’t even have the energy to support herself against him. She felt his thick cock poking at her belly again.

Y/n looked up at him, desperate and exhausted. “Az.”

“What is it?”

“What about you?”

“Impatient, are we?” He teased with a faint smile. Azriel leaned in and kissed her softly.

When he pulled back, he looked like an insatiable beast, desire darkening his golden gaze. “Breathe all the air in, Y/n, because I’m going to fuck it out of you soon.”

****

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