#every family has its quirks

[be-good-to-bugs]

would love if people would be normal about tourettes

[aliferous-ly]

not to bnha on main but I'm thinking about fuyumi

[alexiroflife]

"i missed you"

MDNI, so much suggestive everything, a little fluff but in the sukuna kind of way

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna will never say i miss you, but he will surely show you how much he does when you come home

to sum it up: just a late night thought

WC: 1,816

Warning(s): smut, literally just porn, sukuna has a dirty mouth, a whisper of overstimulation

Sukuna would take out a whole city before he openly admits that he misses you, which unfortunately isn't something you would entirely put past him.

You don't expect him to tell you when he wants to see your face, but you do, however, grow rather accustomed to the way he blows up your phone while you're away with family. When you're given a second to check your notifications, text after text after text lines up from your boyfriend, demanding to know where you are and what you're doing every second of the damn day.

And when he's not making inquiries about every little detail of your life from the moment you wake up to when you go to sleep, he's demanding you return home with empty threats that you know will never be carried out.

-> come home before the next sunrise or you will no longer be welcome within the estate.

-> i've changed my mind. come home tonight, or i am moving your stuff out of our room tomorrow morning.

-> are you seeing my texts? i know you can read. uraume taught me about what this device calls read receipts. answer me now. you are returning home, yes?

-> dammit, woman, just bring your ass back here. what more do you want?

You snort at the texts, your chest warming with endearment at his funny way of expressing his longing for you. He will pull every card, every bluff, every trick besides physically saying that he misses you, and you expect nothing less. After all, if he didn’t, he wouldn't be the Ryomen Sukuna you fell in love with. Somehow, this is more entertaining... just more Sukuna.

When you finally do return home, though, you're in for it. You're hardly even rolling your suitcases to the doors before Sukuna is swinging them open with an aggravated face upon seeing you. You grin widely.

"Kuna! I'm back!"

"Get the fuck in here."

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, abandoning your luggage and calling for Uraume to take care of it later. You giggle to yourself as Ryomen carries you with one arm to his chambers, kicking the door closed behind him and tossing you onto the large king bed that the two of you share.

"Well, don't act too excited," you tease.

"Quiet," he demands, voice menacingly low. Sharp hunger swirls in his crimson eyes as he approaches you, the shadow of his burly figure enveloping your frame as he towers over you at the edge of the bed. Your eyes go wide and your heart suddenly pounds in anticipation.

"Wait," you start, reaching a hand out. "Hold on-"

You yelp, the king of curses dragging you harshly by your ankle to the edge. He leans over you, his nose brushing against yours as his blood-red irises seer into your own. He studies you like a predator analyzing its prey before pouncing, devouring. You gulp, innocent lashes batting up at him as heat consumes your body. You know exactly what’s coming to you.

Just then, in his closeness, you remember how much you've missed him while you were away. His scent enrobes you, his eyes undressing you sinfully before he can even rip your clothes from your body. You rub your thighs together in a poor attempt to ease the sudden ache between your legs, and his gaze grows darker.

"You're never leaving this room ever again without my say so," he seethes, a declaration so firm that you almost believe he is being serious, and perhaps in his mind he is.

Your lips quirk up slightly. "Did you miss me that much?"

"Silence," he growls, hooking his fingers into your shorts and tugging them down harshly. You gasp and he tosses them over his head, caging you beneath his mass. "We're not going anywhere until I feel like I've successfully made up for all the time we’ve lost while you were away."

This is your favorite part of returning home from trips, though you don't go away without Sukuna often unless it's to see your family. You hate being away from the king of curses, even if it's for longer than a day. He's got you trained by his hand, somehow, yearning for his touch as though you'll crumble to pieces without it.

But the second you reunite, he has your thighs pressed up with your knees to your ears, hunched over your quivering bare frame, your stomach and legs already coated with three layers of your own fluid. He works his dick into you like it's the last time he ever will, slamming into the warmth of your sloppy pussy as you clench around him helplessly.

You’re whining, begging for more though you've already been given so much, your pretty eyes a fucked out daze as you stare up at him behind low lids, pretty lips parted and slick with his spit. He missed this. He missed seeing you ruined for him, seeing you lay back and struggle to take his fat cook as he bullies it into you with no remorse, feral for impossibly deeper access. And hell, he’d never say it, but he missed you. Your pretty face, your sounds, the smell of your sweet sweat and juices invading Sukuna's senses that are absolutely mouthwatering.

"You keep tryin' to keep this filthy cunt away from me, huh?" he pants, watching as your body rocks back and forth wildly against the mattress. "Fucking shameful. You know you can never take her from me, so I'm not sure why you continue to try..."

"M-n-not," you gasp, your words hardly audible as they melt into the plethora of pathetic moans that string from your swollen lips.

Sukuna presses himself down against you, bare chest to your tits as he fucks you into pace, his lips turning to your ear. "No?" he grunts, pulling back to blow harshly into you, his thick length ramming against your walls and nudging that sweet spot inside you over and over. You cry, clinging to his back and digging your nails into his tatted skin. "Then why the fuck didn't you come home when your king demanded?"

"Pl-hah-pleaseee, k-kuna- nghhh- was with my-my parents," you babble.

"You were with your parents," he repeats mockingly. "Do you think I care for something so unimportant? I called for you. Not your parents."

His hips thrust harshly with the gruff groan of his voice, and he feels your puffy, greedy walls tighten around him.

"Oh? This pussy loves being punished, doesn't it?" he smirks against you. "You're such a fucking whore for my cock, aren't you?"

"Mmmm!"

Sukuna rips himself back, reaching down to clench his thick fingers around your throat. Your jaw hangs open, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head while his other hand claws at the plush of your damp thigh. "Answer me properly, brat," he hisses. "Use your fucking mouth."

"Y-Yesss!"

"Yes what?"

"M'a whore for your cock, Kuna! Only for you, all for you," you whimper, tears streaming down your pretty face.

"Fuck, I fucking know you are." He spears his dick into, rough, deep, heavy thrusts as the sound of your arousal squelches around him. He looks down, watching with a twisted grin as you coat him in a creamy white ring. "How the hell could you think to hold out on me like this, peach? She'so fuckin' loud."

"S'all yours," you whimper, and Sukuna squeezes harder at your throat, leaning in to brush his lips over your gaping mouth.

"I know that, I don't need you fuckin' telling me," he growls. "All mine. You're mine. You belong to me. You’re not going anywhere else without me. Don’t you even think about it.”

And you're nodding dumbly, eyes barely open.

"You better look at me, girl," he demands, and you snap your eyes back open to peer into his consuming, lust-filled stare. He smiles deviously. "Yeahhh. Keep looking at me while I fuck you stupid."

"Goddd, it's so good..! So good, feel'so good," you slur. Sukuna hums, eying every detail of your face as you curl your brows and moan beautifully into his mouth.

"Fucking gorgeous slut," he grunts. "You better not fucking leave me again, brat, you better fucking not. You've got a lot of nerve, thinking you can take this pussy away from me. You do it again, and I will break you."

"Y'already breaking me- ah fuck!" you cry, screwing your eyes shut the moment his tip brushes your cervix. His hand around your throat moves to grip your cheeks. He pulls you up to his face, smearing a hot kiss against your squished lips, then grabs your hips harshly, plowing into you impossibly faster. "Kuna! Can't! I can't, m'gonna cum again!"

"Yeah? Good. When you do, you're gonna take mine too while I fuck my cum into you. Maybe then that'll make you fucking remember to come to me when I call for you."

The noises coming from your room are obscene. The bed is rocking dangerously against the floor and the wall as Sukuna practically splits you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he traps you beneath him again, sinking his fangs into any patch of skin he can find as you scream out, scratching angry red lines down his well-toned back.

"Mmm, that's right. Keep screaming' for me. Take it like a good fucking slut."

He's filthy, balls smacking against your ass as he seeks your release, and he can feel you clenching tighter and tighter. He groans, pushing in deeper, pressing into you harder.

"Oh shit, please- m'cumming, m'cumming, please let me cum!" you beg, trembling beneath him.

"Fucking do it. Cum all over this cock, peach."

You curl into him, face falling into a mute moan as your eyes disappear into your skull and you rub up into Sukuna. His hand flies to your arched back, holding you against him as he pumps you full, riding out your high until his hot load shoots into your dripping heat soon after, painting you white.

There's so much of it, too. It seems to never end as it drips from where you're connected and runs down your legs. Sukuna growls out animalistic sounds, biting hard into your neck and burrowing his nose in your shoulder as he continues his pace, slowly, then back to a normal space.

You jerk against him, trying to push away. "Oh fuck! N-no, Sukuna, ple- hah! Please, I can't! Too much!"

"Shut the fuck up," he demands, lifting up to slap a hand over your mouth. Your dizzy eyes stare at him widely as he works his cum back into you with his hefty strokes. He exhales harshly, brows angling. "I told you I wasn't letting you leave. You left me, now I expect you to make up for it." 

Yeah… he sure did miss you alright.

[muntitled]

Clockwork | Park Sunghoon

Vampire!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader

Summary: “If there’s one thing stronger than your need to feast,” You lift that hand up once again, “-its your need to fuck."

Warnings: Language, Implied Violence, Dark Fic, Morally Ambiguous!Reader, Blackmail, Reader has a crush, Librarian!Reader, Implied age gap, Confrontation, Smut (+18) mdni, Blood Kink, Biting, Sadism, Masochism, Dom!Sunghoon, Sub!Reader, public sex, dub/Con, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Ownership kink, Pain Kink, Marking, Dumbification, Dacryphilia

Idek yall…

They are such stuff as monsters are made of.

That is the very last thing you are taught about Sunghoon.

That he is something to fear.

Predatory.

Killer.

But all you saw and all you’ll ever see is the boy casted in the shadows of library bookshelves. This is the setting that births your obsession- no- your love for him.

Every Thursday afternoon.

When the library has cleared out.

The only time he’s not with his family. The only time he’s alone.

Like clockwork.

“What do we have here?” A phrase you were obligated to say. Not many townsfolk valued literature and those that did, as per your boss, “needed to find every reason to come back.” Even if that meant mustering a robotic sunshine smile. As if you were a cashier at Starbucks and not a small town librarian.

How you managed to speak so coherently with Sunghoon looming on the other side of the desk remains a complete and utter mystery. If you were driven, otherwise, by the bundle of love knots in your stomach you might have stuttered foolishly and squeaked your way through scanning his books.

“Books.” He answers curtly, brusquely, leaving absolutely no room for further conversation- or interrogation, as it would apparently appear.

Sunghoon is not looking at you. His eyes - those endless golden voids-, are looking down at the mahogany desk you are standing on the opposite side of. You wish for more than anything to feel that otherworldly feeling of having those golden eyes focused completely on you.

What must that feel like?

To have Sunghoon’s sole, undivided attention.

You would soon have the unfortunate pleasure of finding out.

“W-Well I know they’re books,” You continue, stating this with an airy, light chuckle. A chuckle that indicated this conversation should have been over a long time ago and that you’re blatantly aware of that. Why aren’t you keeping your mouth shut?

“I mean- Well I just mean, you know it’s not everyday a 20 year old takes out,” You glance down at the book in your hands before sending it through the system, “Wuthering Heights?” Your brows furrow as you send a second one of his books through the scanner, “Turn of The Screw?” And the final, “Frankenstein-Mary Shelley?"

You quirk a questioning eyebrow up at him- one silently inquiring ‘what the fuck’s up with the archaic books, grandpa?’ But he, of course, is not sparing you a single glance.

Or wait- he does. But for the briefest moment.

"I enjoy literature.” It almost makes you keel over in inexplicable discomfort, the way the words were chewed on before they were forcibly spat out. You can see he is done entertaining your mindless spiel but for some weird, fucking stupid reason, you’re not done with him.

“Well yeah, sure. But I mean, the dust on these books are ageless, you must be the first man to borrow these in like, 40 million years-”

“21.” It is all he says. One little word that cuts your rant short like a heated knife. You glance up at him, hoping those dazzling eyes look down at you.

And they do.

Bloody, fucking, Christ. They do.

“You said 20. I’m 21.” Before you were about to ask how that could be the case- how Sunghoon could be older than you when you distinctly remember finishing high school the same year?

He decides to shock you.

“I got… held back a year. I was already supposed to have graduated.” You are not sure whether it’s the sprinkle of rain that has begun falling. Whether it was the weight of the impenetrable fact that Sunghoon fucking Park has just spoken to you more words than he’s ever said your entire high school career. Or whether-and this may exactly be it-you were affected by those blazing eyes that glided backup to look at you.

Not golden.

Blazing.

For the golden hues have simmered into something darker. They’ve literally bled into a darker shade of the gold-almost yellow hues in his eyes. The breath completely escapes your throat. This time he does not look away.

“R-Right. Of course. Sorry.” You had nothing to be sorry for. How could you ever have known any of Sunghoon’s and his weird friends’ ages when the only people they directly interacted with were the teachers and themselves? You could never have known Sunghoon was 21 and therefore did not need to apologise but… those eyes… they made you sorry.

“It’s just-” why the fuck, after everything, after all of that, is your mouth still moving? It’s like this was your only opportunity of bravery. Your only window letting through a sliver of courage before you would retreat in on yourself for the rest of your waning time in this town. Moving amongst the books like a spectre before you ran off to college.

This was your only opportunity.

“Well they’re all Victorian.” You finally let those words tumble out of your mouth.

You hear the sharp intake of breath.

“Bronte, James, Shelley.” You slide the books to him. “All Victorian… is this pattern the product of some trend I’m missing out on?” You chuckle lightly at the end of that, hoping to wrench one out of him too but you knew that was an impossible feat. Still, the chuckle drains down your throat when you hand him his books. Your fingers, still encircled around the hardbacks, brush over him accidentally.

“Jesus, are you cold?”

He pulls away quickly, evading eye contact like you’d turn him to stone. Evading your touch like your skin scorched his. “It’s raining. I-I could give you a ride-”

Sunghoon gulps visibly. In the span of a single conversation, those dark-golden eyes have stayed firmly on you but now they are prying you apart.

“That won’t be necessary.” He says, swallowing thickly once more.

“Of course.” You wave him off, immediately overcome by the embarrassment of your own presumptuous nature. Sunghoon's gaze drifts down to the books once more.

No. You can’t afford the dismissal. You can’t bear the non-verbal rejection any longer.

The faucet that is your mouth, just continues spewing.

“Vampires aren’t usually the ones being offered a ride, are they?” You turn your head, focusing on the raindrops shooting pellets at the tall library window. Your gaze appears far away but that’s what you want him to think. In your periphery, you see his eyes snap up from the mahogany desk with his head following; enough to make those dark strands bounce in surprise. You know you finally have him.

“I’m the victim,” You continue basking in the attention. Retaining more satisfying heat from his gaze alone than the husky fluorescent buzzing above you both. You are suddenly all too aware that the library is deserted.

“I’m supposed to be coaxed into your car. That’s how it works right? Like Bundy."

You lazily swing your gaze back from the window until you meet his eyes that have bled into an even darker shade of gold. So dark the gold has vanished completely, actually, leaving two soulless depths. His eyes scream, ‘how do you know?’

His jaw is tightened like screws and his fist is clenched so tight it should spout blood.

But there is no blood, is there? Dead things lose all of that.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about-” You lift a hand up. Right there, right in front of his stone face, silencing him immediately.

“That dance gets a little bit tedious, doesn’t it?” You laugh loudly into the hollow air filled with nothing but raindrops and thunder. “A little bit boring?” You give him a smirk. “I know one thing your little family specialises in isn't boredom.”

You make the unforeseen move of stepping back from your computer, slowly making a show of sauntering around the desk. Sunghoon's dark irises track you like a sniper and you revel in it.

You must stop your hands from fisting at your own sides.

You must maintain the little control you have, or it might just cost you your life.

“You're wrong,” he says, “The books. They’re not all Victorian.”

He’s stalling. Deflecting. Trying to distract himself from your nearing frame.

“Frankenstein,” he continues, “Shelley published it in 1818, that’s just short of the start of Victoria’s reign.”

You give him a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Hm. You would know though, wouldn’t you?”

He is pulled into silence.

“But back to your little lie.” Your path is set and your mind is made. “Vampire's daylighting as average university students? That’s a good fucking story.” You nod slowly, “A good fucking story.” You take small, tentative strides closer to him. Not wanting to engage too quickly. Sunghoon was big, tall and looming. Having that kind of frame tense- more tense than he already is, would only result in a blood bath. Your blood bath.

“Everyone at school, everyone in this town thinks you’re all so goddamn close but you wanna know what I think?” You saunter closer and he inhales sharply.

“No.”

You tsk and click your tongue, not stopping your calm gait whatsoever until his scent completely enveloped you. So empty and… dead.

A smell that can’t be masked by the most expensive cologne and yet you enjoyed it. It made your blood race and if what you knew was true, then he could hear the erratics of your heart as well. You wanted him to.

“See, Hoonie-”

“Sunghoon.”

“Hoonie. Why else would you be entertaining this nonsense?” You continue moving closer until his back is pressed against the wooden desk, looking down at you with a near pitch black abyss. You look up at him, feigning innocent doe eyes as you pressed your voluminous chest against him. You dare even let your hand drift over his black, cotton sweater.

“I could-” Sunghoon's eyes flutter closed before he snaps them open again. “I could hurt you. But you know that, don’t you?” A finger slips itself under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

Or so you thought.

He continues to lift your chin until you were looking up at the fluorescent light. Then, and only then, did you understand that he was baring your neck to him.

“Aw, Sunghoon.” You chastise lightly, still letting him do with you as you please. Unbeknownst to him, you were leaning in closer, letting your hand slip onto the desk behind him until you found just what you were looking for.

Letter opener.

“I’m counting on you to hurt me, Silly.”

You finally pull back, before he can lower himself further in-before he could go in for the kill.

You aim the sharp two-edged blade of the letter opener into your left palm and, with all the reserve in the world, you cut a long, shallow gash all the way in.

The very second your palm stains crimson, Sunghoon's entire build begins to shake. His chest begins to heave uncontrollably. His face is perfectly the same but somehow you still hear the hungry tufts of air leaving his nostrils, even over the raging rain outside and you smile.

“Trust me.” You say,

“I’m counting on you hurting me,”

“You’re really goddamn stupid, you know that?“ He says cockily, feigning his control when his pitch black eyes are a dead giveaway. The pupils are trained on the beoken skin along your palm and that alone. The blood has begun dripping aimlessly down your palm and you hold it up to him, showing him his prize. Showing him everything he’s been missing.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I’m crazy and stupid.” You discard the letter opener on the carpet beside you. It clunks to the ground and you let out a little sigh.

“You can go ahead and bite me Sung-” You might not explicitly be on a nickname basis, but you figured now was as good a time as any to familiarise yourself with each other, since-

“You’re gonna turn me."

Sunghoon finally rips his onyx eyes away from the dripping crimson faucet and he stares down at you questioningly.

"Why would I do that?” Some hair has fallen in front of his left eye but he makes no move to brush it away, so naturally, you do it for him… using your bleeding left hand.

“Well… because you’re you. And self restraint isn’t very you, Sunghoon.” You tuck the dark strand, now stained lightly with your blood, behind his ear and you begin to trail your hand slowly down the side of his face. Sunghoon's eyes flutter closed and he leans, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, right into your bleeding grip. He turns his head sideways and inhales sharply.

“I knew it.” You marvel at the boy before you. “Sure it was just a theory but- it all fell serendipitously into place: The absent days when it’s sunny out. The deathly paleness. The untouched lunch trays. The old ass books that probably give away your real age.” His eyes are still closed and he is still moving his cheek against your bleeding hand. He hums unintelligibly.

“The ice cold skin was my final check.”

“How clever.”

He produces the first smile you’ve ever seen and the beauty of it releases a wave of endorphins and butterflies in your gut. “You want a cookie for that?” He has a dangerously gorgeous lopsided grin that, coupled with the gleaming, pointed canines that have emerged, leaves your pulse quickening in more places than your heart.

“What’s to stop me from ripping you open right now? There’s no one here. No one will be here in time to stop me from killing you.” He turns to look at you and you almost gasp at how severely sexy your smeared blood on his cheek looks.

“Give me reasons.” He urges with his voice bouncing off the walls.

“I need reasons or-” his eyes flutter closed “-or I just might do it. I will kill you.”

You needed to maintain control. But in that moment you knew and feared that you and him were beginning to realise that your dominant reserve was slipping right through your fingers. It was your turn in the hot seat. Okay.

You got what you wanted. Find out what you needed to find out. But all that came at a price.

You try to keep your voice steady as you answer him.

“As much as it annoys you and me, Sunghoon, it is a fact that you wanna fit in with everyone else.” Sunghoon's eyes never leave yours as you continue talking. “You probably never really had a home and this town allows you to blend in with the rest of us.” He breathes deeply through his nose. “Killing the bookkeeper would put this little fantasy life you've built for yourself in jeopardy,” Your breathing is irregular and harsh and you look at his lips and oh god you need to taste him.

“But you’re still you, Sunghoon. This town can’t and never will change that fact. You’re not like the rest of us,” You finally say, “You’re not-”

In a blur and manipulation of time, space and all the little things in between, you’ve been transported with a swift dash across the room until you were being held by the throat against a bookshelf. Pain stems from the sudden and rapid movement but the firm and unwavering squeeze on your throat, elicits a wave of lust.

“I’m done playing your little mind games.” He’s seething and he’s angry and he’s right where you want him.

“Oh? But we were having so much fun, Sung-” He squeezes your windpipe, so incredibly close to crushing it.

“What do you want?”

You let the first ever genuine smile slip onto your face.

“For you to turn me, Hoonie."

He pauses. Quite literally.

Sunghoon's rapid breathing goes to a complete stand still and his form goes as still as a statue. You deduce that this is him thinking. He’s mapping out all the possible shit storms this would conjure up for him and his precious family and you hold the will to roll your eyes. After a few stunted seconds, Sunghoon eases back again.

"Once I start-”

“You won’t stop? Sunghoon, we’ve been eye fucking this entire time. I'm not sure what it is about Blackmail that gets you off but it's not difficult to see how bad you need it.” He squeezes your throat again in warning, already telling you all you need to know.

He's not sure why he's attracted to you. He shouldn't be. Whether its the fact that you should already be dead for even knowing his secret- for thinking you can offee him an ultimatimatum- its your sheer fucking guts that has him warming with attraction.

Your words slowly bring him up for air. “If there’s one thing stronger than your need to feast,” You lift that hand up once again, “-its your need to fuck. Vampires are immortal so they draw pleasure from the little things. The pleasurable things. That bulge in your pants can’t go unnoticed, Sunghoon, no matter how long you want it t-”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes before he murmurs: “Just shut up,”

He crashes his lips right onto yours. The kiss is not only electric but it’s magnetic. As if you would not be able to pull away even if you wanted to. And his firm grip on your throat keeps you there. It’s strong and he squeezes as he licks on your bottom lip, coaxing the opening out of you. So naturally, you moan, and the bastard uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You needn’t open your eyes to see he was half-smiling into your kiss. That little nugget of information made you need him even more. During your kiss, you squeeze your legs together. Sunghoon hums disapprovingly in your mouth, sending his other hand down your thigh, urging them apart.

“You can’t do that.” He breaks the kiss and says the words at a perfectly even breathe, meanwhile you were a heaving mess.

“What?” You inquire dumbly, all too focused on his hand on your jeans to rather give a fuck about anything else.

“Pathokinesis.” Is all he says before he ducks down into the crook of your neck, ripping the gasp out of your lungs by force. His large hand around your throat moves up to your cheek, rubbing the skin with his thumb softly.

“Don’t do that.” He says into your neck before venturing to flick his tongue out, licking the skin and driving you all too insane. You almost don’t register his words but the weight of his revelation has you tumbling to your senses momentarily.

“What? So you can like-”

“Sense and manipulate your emotions?” He says, coming up from your neck. “Yeah.” He nods once before he takes your mouth in his once more.

“What you feel,” he mumbles in between the kiss, “I feel too."

Yet another gasp strains your throat when you feel two sharp teeth graze against the skin of your plump bottom lips as Sunghoon pulls away.

Have you really thought any of your movements through?

What if sex with a vampire was fatal?

You’re about to spiral into oblivion before Sunghoon speaks up.

"No.” He says curtly, and you’re all too aware of the hand trying to push past your denim jeans. “You’re not pulling back on me now. Not after everything.” You’re in awe of his words.

“Jesus, so you really can feel everything.”

That life threatening smile again.

“Pretty much.”

He begins to undo the buttons of your pants tentatively, almost meticulously, as if you were fortunate to have all the time in the world. You’re about to urge him to hurry the fuck up but one of the shelves behind your head collapses. Books fall to a sad heap on the floor and the wood is snapped in tiny pieces. Sunghoon's hand was leaning against that particular shelf.

Maybe he’s not as calm as he’d like to convey.

“There is one thing,” the buttons are undone but he’s stopped moving his fingers. They are in fact paused on the lining of your underwear. The material is calmly in between his index and thumb, creating the sickest, most twisted need you’ve ever felt. You almost abandon modesty and grind into him right then and there.

His next words however, have you almost wanting to keel over in grief.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says with a sick smile.

“Why?” It's all you can manage and suddenly, you think the universe must be smiling at the irony of this situation. The encounter had begun with You as the master of this blackmail, yet here you were, grovelling for him.

“I think you’re really good at getting what you want,” he says, leaning forward and slowly, oh so slowly, letting his hand slip into the fabric. The graze of his fingers on you cunt alone making you almost sob out in need.

“And I’m not gonna allow that.” He concludes before pushing his hand all the way in. Sunghoon does nothing but snicker when he feels the pool of wetness.

“This is how this is gonna work,” he uses his free hand to pick up your limp left one. The wound is of considerable size however, the blood is not flowing as much but it’s still there.

“You’re gonna give me this.” He lifts your limp hand up and you comply like a puppet on a string. “And I’m gonna give you this.” His fingers-the index and the middle,- flick over your clit, causing you to let out an aching whimper.

“Got it?” He’s already placing your bloody palm against his plump lips and you’re too enamoured. Too enamoured at the sight of his tongue sticking out and lapping at the blood as if it were a healing potent. You’re too enamoured to respond and he does not like this one bit.

Sunghoon flicks another finger against your clit.

“JESUS!” You scream into the empty library. Sunghoon, who’s eyes were closed, shoots open and he hums disapprovingly.

“No,” he says irritably, “Sunghoon. Say Sunghoon.”

You’re a drunken, sex filled mess. “Fuck-Sunghoon.” He smiles, satisfied, before returning to your palm. You begin to grind into his fingers and his chuckles.

“Sung… Sunghoon please.” There are tears staining your eyes and you’re so completely torn apart. The thrill of it being in a public setting. The rain. The licking on your palm. It’s too much.

Way too fucking much.

“Please? Please let you finish?” Sunghoon asks mockingly and a sob releases from your throat as your hips begin to buck into his hands. “You’d like me to let you cum all over my hand?”

“Please, Hoonie. Please.”

“That’s a shame…” He replies, “I thought we were having so much fun.” You do not even have the strength to act stunned at having your words being flung back at you, you’re too focused on the fingers that have slipped inside of you and the hissing noise escaping Sunghoon's throat.

It’s all so unbelievable. Sunghoon pulls back and hisses loudly. Your heart stops at the sight of his canines elongating even further but that all falls away when he sinks them further into your palm. Biting down.

Hard.

“Hoon..” You're completely out of it. The fingers slide in and out and in and out, searching rapidly for your g-spot, but in the very same breath, there’s a sharp, bright and blinding pain in your left palm, letting the tears fall as they may.

“Fuck, Sunghoon! Oh god! It hurts! It hurts so fucking bad!” You’re sobbing but his fingers inside you are relentless and his sucking, even more so. You feel like nothing but an object of his pleasure as your hand begins to grow numb. Sure he was bringing you to orgasm, the very same time you felt even that was for his own pleasure.

Never had you experienced a pain quite like this. This pain felt otherworldly. Diabolical. As if someone were ripping the nails right out of your fingers. As if you slammed the car door in on your hand repeatedly.

And the pain. God, the pain is white and bright, you fear passing out may be inevitable.

Sunghoon brings his head up, releasing his fangs from your palm but continuing his assault by licking and sucking on the two indents. “I know, my beautiful, beautiful girl,” he says, “I know."

The sobs stop, perhaps because you want to hear his voice. Perhaps because you feed on his praises. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mutters unsoundly in between his licks, “So pretty, so perfect.” You realise he’s as delirious as you, his eyes are wide, gazing down at the madwoman before him with his own madness swirling in his irises. His lips are stained red and somehow that sets you over the edge.

“Hoonie?”

His eyes are red. Blood red. You gasp. “I’m-” You don’t finish the sentence, already feeling your orgasm crest as you carelessly fling yourself over the edge. It hits you and you forget all about the pain. All about the blood.

“That’s it, my pretty, pretty girl.” He encourages and your body is shaking violently against the book rack. Your eyes are screwed shut and you’re rocking uncontrollably into his hand.

In that moment, Sunghoon may have thought that he gained everything, but you gained far more. And when you come out of that high, once the fog cleared and the rain simmered down to a tiny, light pitter patter.

You begin to feel…

New.

“Welcome to immortality, Beautiful.” He whispers in your ear with that recognizable lopsided smirk.

You feel… empty. Drained. You feel nothing at all.

“Population… You”

[stormingchaos12]

i wasn’t tagged in this >:)

5 Favourite Characters Poll (Tag Game)

I was tag by: @star-mum

Rules: make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Thanks you so much for the tag

Tags <3: @meeks-beas @practically-an-x-man @outer-space-face @trashworldblog @mydearlybeloathed

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Hi! I have a request.

Okay so 1-A bakugou end’s up to the future. Where he sees that he has a family with reader and sees what a simp he will become🫣

And how would future bakugou and reader (+ the kids) react to meeting him.

(You can choose if past bakugou knows reader or not)

I’m sorry if it’s confusing,

It was safe to say that Katsuki was beyond pissed. He was certain that at this point he was never going to fully get your attention, not with that damned Todoroki always swooping in before he can even look your way.

==================================

The cacophony of grunts from the students plundered against the walls of Gym Gamma. It was self-improvement day and Aizawa was NOT letting anyone rest.

“Keep it up class. Those who fail to break some sort of barrier today will receive double homework for a week. I’m looking at you, Kaminari,” Aizawa grinned evilly. You let out a giggle at Kaminari’s audible gulp before Aizawa shot you a glare.

Katsuki was busy increasing the flow of his AP shot; he thought that if he could increase his sweat, he could increase the speed of which the blasts sped out. The poor rock he was blasting was finally on its last legs, all before that IDIOT Kaminari accidentally bumped into him and caused a rockslide, directly above the platform that you were training on.

“Hey, watch!-” he yelled in a panic. He saw fear flash through your eyes as he willed his body to move. Thankfully for you and begrudgingly for him, a smooth glacier of ice barricaded you from being concussed with Bakugou’s debris.

Todoroki hopped his way from his platform to you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?” Todoroki asked, examining your head for injuries. You shook him off you with a nervous smile.

“Thank you for stopping the debris Todo, but I’m fine. It was shock, I’m not hurt,” you reassured him gently. Todoroki gave you another once over before seeing where the damage came had arrived from.

“I would recommend being more careful next time, Bakugou. Someone could have gotten really hurt,” Todoroki gave him a meaningful glare as Katsuki fought every vein pop in his neck at his implications. Kaminari let out a guffaw, before he let out a squeak of terror at the animalistic look on Katsuki’s face.

“Laugh. Again. I. Freakin’. Dare. You,” he strained angrily through gritted teeth.

“O-okay Kaachan!” Kaminari speedily ran away from the threat as Katsuki stared at the back of your head. Well, now he was in a bad mood.

==================================

Katsuki was the first one in the changing room, and the first one out. He trudged his way to the UA dorms so he could shower and forget the whole day. He couldn’t stand the idea of being teased right now, not when he was so careless to the point that you nearly got concussed. Well, that never would have happened if Dunce Face watched where he was going…

Katsuki was torn from his thoughts as he barged past another student.

“Hey, watch where you’re fucking!-”

And just like that, Katsuki fell to the ground.

==================================

It took Katsuki a long time to start stirring from his sleep. It was a gradual process, but somehow he managed to tear the sleep from his body as he was poked and shaken incessantly by someone. Katsuki jumped up immediately in surprise, throwing a blast at his assailant. His assailant was no match for him though, springing back and using their quirk to restrain him.

Katsuki wiggled in his restraints like a wild animal, snapping and snarling.

“What the hell do you want with me you bastards! Let me the hell go or I’ll fucking kill you!” He snarled with purpose. A soft giggle filled his ears. A familiar giggle.

Soft (S/C) skin filtered through his still blurry vision until he saw… you.

You were at least a good 20 years older, some laughter lines he didn’t remember seeing (not that he definitely doesn’t scan you every time you’re close to him), as well as new scars.

Your eyes had aged too, the bags slightly more prominent but you were still you. You had four small children gathered around the bed gawking at the teen. The smallest was in your lap, seemingly frightened of Katsuki.

“Easy there tiger, you just woke up. I found you in the street asleep, so I took you to a hospital to see if you’re okay,” you offered an explanation that only answered some of his questions.

“Who the damned hell are you?? Why the hell am I here?? Argh, damnit! Let me out of these shitty restraints!” He demanded. Your face hardened in an instant as you glared at him.

“Hey, no fucking swearing in front of my children! If you’re going to talk and ask questions, you need to be respectful. You’re frightening my son with your endless shouts, so what’s your name and we can call your parents to come collect you.”

Katsuki let himself be still for a moment, glowering at you before relaxing his pose.

“My name is Katsuki Bakugou. I was hit by a quirk on my way to the UA’s dorms, I fell asleep I think, and the next thing I know is I’m in a hospital bed surrounded by someone who looks like a classmate of mine,” Katsuki growled. Your face grew a look of puzzlement.

“D-did you say… Katsuki Bakugou? As in, explosion quirk, super goal oriented, current number 2 hero?” You questioned him worriedly.

Katsuki gave you a strange look. How the hell would you know about that stuff??

“I’m only a high school student so I can’t be the number two hero yet, but everything else is true. Look, here’s my quirk,” he said as he let off a few sparks. The small children around the bed looked on in awe at the sight as you chewed your nails.

Katsuki looked back up to you and saw your expression.

“Why?” He asked.

You gulped.

“Because I’m married to Katsuki Bakugou.”

==================================

“Baby, I need you to come to the hospital in Kyoto, it’s an emergency! What? No, me and the kids are fine, we-. Hey, I told you we’re okay, but you have to be here as soon as you can. I’ll send you the details. I love you, see you in a bit.” You hung up the phone with an ashen face as you made your way back to your chair. Your children were bombarding Katsuki with questions, all too weird for Katsuki to answer.

“Papa, why are there two of you?”

“Daddy, why don’t you remember us? Did we do something bad?”

“Dad, why do you look so young? Where are all of your cool scars?”

“Alright kids, give the kid some space. We obviously need to get this fixed somehow. How we’re gonna do that is beyond me though,” you massaged your temples with a sigh. You glanced back up to young Katsuki.

“You’re definitely not a clone or something? Not some sort of fanboy who cosplays in his spare time?” You asked him, half joking.

Katsuki snorted.

“No, I don’t cosplay heroes. I beat them in the hero ranks to show them that I’m the best!” He exclaims.

“God, you even sound like my husband. I’m getting more and more convinced that this is some sort of weird time shift,” you stopped speaking as soon as a muscular figure pulls himself through the door. Katsuki physically stills.

It was him, but older.

At first, older Katsuki didn’t give him a look in. He scrambled over to you, kissing you deeply before checking you over for injuries.

“Where are you hurt?? Are you alright?? Speak to me??” He demanded. You carefully push him off you and rub your thumb on his cheek.

“Sweetie, I told you I’m fine. See, even the quadruplets are fine. We have a major problem though, and I don’t know how we’re going to solve it,” you gestured to younger Katsuki. Older Katsuki glares at younger Katsuki before a look for confusion befalls his face.

Katsuki looked… older. His face was more structured, yet still maintained some of his puppy fat. Scars littered his face, the most noticeable a large triangle that went from the middle of his cheek to the underside of his neck. His hair was shorter too, buzzed at the side. He towered over you easily and his pecs looked even bigger than before. Taunt muscles flexed at the threat to his wife and children.

“Can someone explain what the fuck happened?”

“Katsuki, stop fucking swearing!”

==================================

Until he was back to his current time, you had pleaded with your husband to let him stay. Older Katsuki agreed when his babies started pleading too, chubby cheeks wobbling with unshed tears at the idea of their older daddy throwing out their younger daddy.

And for the last few days, he had lived with you and his (?) children. Older Katsuki was mostly at work when he woke up, and he wouldn’t see him unless he stayed up past his bedtime (he could never compromise his sleep).

He spent some time babysitting your children, the quads. The eldest, Akira, was a total carbon copy of him, apart from his hair texture and colour. He was so bold when facing younger Katsuki, asking him questions and hiding his siblings behind him when they properly met.

The second eldest daughter, Aika, was more like you; shy and reserved but very playful all the same. She was a more balanced mixed of the two of you (?).

Your third daughter, Kokoro, was a pain in his ass. She constantly played tricks on Katsuki, taunting him and making mean jokes (all before she was shut down with your stare).

And finally, your littlest quadruplet Keiko, was honestly kinda his favourite in the strangest way; he was so different to his siblings it was unreal. He was the smallest, most sensitive of the bunch. In a way, he reminded him of Deku when they were kids, but with his colour hair.

The morning of the third day, you sat him down with your children at the breakfast table and grilled him a fry up. Each of your children were giggling happily in their high chairs, scrambled eggs and ketchup smeared around each mouth. Katsuki let out a small smile when Keiko offered him a piece of toast from his plate before denying it with a “no thanks squirt, your ma is making me some”.

“Well, good news! I found the person who you described and asked them how long the quirk should last. You should be back to your own time by next week, maybe even earlier if you’re lucky,” you smiled as you flipped the sizzling bacon in the pan.

Katsuki was scarfing the breakfast like there was no tomorrow, up until you said that he should be home sometime by next week.

That’s good, he thought. I really want to know something though, I might as well take advantage of the situation.

He looked up at you, one burning question on his mind.

“I bet you’re wondering how me and … well, I suppose you got together, huh?” You grinned at him.

“How could you tell that’s what I was thinking?” He demanded. You let out a laugh.

“Katsuki hun, I’ve been married to you, er, him for over 15 years. I know all of your little tricks and tells, so don’t even try hiding them,” you offered more bacon to him. He accepted, before you turned your attention to the kids in their high chairs.

“Let me clean up my mucky little pups up first and we’ll talk after I’ve dropped them off at daycare.”

==================================

It was a pleasant day, Katsuki noted. After dropping off the children at the daycare and added cuddles from the babies, you did as you promised and hurried Katsuki to the couch with a photo book.

“See here, this is a photo I took of us at our first date. You were so nervous, your hand kept popping and you had to keep wiping your hand,” you laughed fondly at the memory. Katsuki peered at the photos with a strange feeling lying in his tummy. Is this why he felt so nervous around younger you all of the time?

“Oh! And here, this was our trip with the class to France! I had said something about the croissants being delicious, and you took that as a challenge. I was eating the croissants you made for days,” you let out another laugh as you recounted tales of your relationship.

Katsuki stared at you for a solid 5 seconds. You stared at him back until his face hardened and he turned himself away. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Is something the matter hun?” You pried carefully. Damnit, you even knew the right nicknames to make him feel all weak inside.

“Just… why the hell would you go out with someone like me, hah? I’m loud, I’m obnoxious, I can be pretty freakin’ mean, so why? Why would you ever let me have a home with you?! Why would you ever let me grow a family with you?!? Why do you seem so happy, even though there’s a chance I may never come back?!?” He was borderline yelling at the end of his lament, tears threatening to plop onto the pages of the photo album.

You hugged Katsuki tightly, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, all soft and gentle.

“Katsuki… I have no idea how far you’re into the relationship with younger me, but I’m going to let you in on a secret. I had a crush on you since our first day. I thought you were so strong and handsome, although you had some angst problems. Even after that, I always admired you from afar.

It hasn’t always been easy with you, as I’m sure you’re aware of. You can be loud and mean, and that has caused some rifts in our relationship, but,” you lifted his head up and cleared some tears.

“You’re also dedicated. You found ways to make up for your mistakes, and I always forgave you for them. I wanted a family with you because I love you, er, older Katsuki. We’re so blessed to have the quadruplets, even if they’re little pains sometimes. And yeah, there isn’t a day that goes by when I’m not panicked beyond all belief when you’re at work, but I wouldn’t stop you because it’s your dream.”

Katsuki looked at you. Your eyes held nothing but sincerity as he smoothed his breathing.

“Now come on, let’s go make some spicy noodles. My husband will be back soon.”

==================================

Katsuki helped you diligently in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with renewed vigour. Older Katsuki trudged through the door with a loud grunt, you immediately dropping the pan on the hob to give him a welcome home hug.

“Welcome back baby, how was work? It was nice that Kiri offered to cover your shift,” you rambled happily into his neck. Katsuki let out a barking laugh at your clinginess as he picked you up and kissed you, making you squeal in surprise.

Younger Katsuki stared at your display; is this how you’re going to be in the future? Allowing him to kiss your neck when he comes home from work, cooking his favourite meals, keeping your home in tact?

“Oi, quit starin at my wife you pervert,” older Katsuki barked before you slapped his chest playfully.

“Leave him be, he’s literally you, you big dumb dumb. I’ve been letting him in on some of our dates and stuff so he can seduce younger me into wanting you,” you teased. Both Katsuki’s huffed simultaneously, earning a laugh from you. You wriggled yourself out of his grip and led him to the dining room where the meal you and younger Katsuki created.

You kissed his cheek as you went to fetch him a drink, leaving both Katsuki’s by themselves.

Older Katsuki stared menacingly at his younger self before clearing his throat.

“Listen brat, we need to fuckin’ talk,” he starts, rearranging himself on the chair and nudging the other chair adjacent to him. Younger Katsuki did so with hesitation.

“I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya now, if you do anything that wrecks what I have now, I’m gonna come back in time to kick your ass,” he growls lowly.

“I love that damned woman more than anything in this godforesaken planet, as well as my little pack of brats. I would do anything for them, and I’ll be damned if you do anything that fucks that up for me,” he glares at him. Younger Katsuki slowly put two and two together and looked pointedly at the scar on his cheek. Older Katsuki knew where he was looking immediately.

“I, we, got this scar during a villain attack. (Y/N) took the brats to the park after a stupid fucking fight we had, and a villain attacked them out of nowhere. Luckily, I was patrolling there and stopped them from hurting them, so I took the blow in her place. I would do it a million times over for her,” his voice audibly softens whilst talking about you, eyes downcast to the large scar on his cheek.

He touches it almost fondly, as if he was proud of the scare. Knowing Katsuki, he probably was. He looked back up at younger Katsuki, who had a contemplating look.

“So…. Please. Don’t hurt her younger self in any way. I wouldn’t be able to survive without her. If you argue, hold your tongue even if you’re right. Treasure her. Make her feel like she’s the most incredible woman in the damned world, cos she fuckin is,” he finished with a doleful look in his eyes.

“…okay. I’ll, I’ll try,” younger Katsuki promised. Older Katsuki nodded and cleared his throat as you walked into the room. You presented the bottle of beer with a happy grin and a kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of the hair for younger Katsuki.

Fuck, he was smitten.

==================================

“Daddies, watch me!” Aika grunted loudly as she successfully tiptoed from one end of the couch to another. Older Katsuki clapped and whooped in adoration whilst younger Katsuki looked on in pride.

“That’s my little ballerina! You’re gonna be the most graceful dancer ever, pumpkin!” Older Katsuki cheered, sweeping her up on his shoulder and making her squeal.

Kokoro looked on in jealousy with a pout on her face before a brilliant idea struck her. She toddled back to the couch and attempted the exact same feat as her sister, except on the back of the couch.

Keiko sat below her and watched her with a fearful expression.

“Papas, watch me! I can do it better than Aik-AAAAA!” She shrieked as she went to fall on the cushions of the couch, and subsequently Keiko. Keiko let out a scared cry as younger Katsuki swooped in to save him, carrying him in his left arm and catching Kokoro diligently in his right.

Keiko sobbed loudly into Katsuki’s broad shoulder, clinging to him with impressive strength. He nestled in as close as he could, passing Kokoro to his older self as he tried shushing Keiko.

“There there brat, you’re okay. Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured softly into his ear. He tried rocking him softly in his arms the same way you did and he was slowly left with a hiccuping, sleepy toddler.

“Damnit Kokoro, this is why I tell you to be careful! Every time you try to show Aika up, you end up hurting someone and yourself. Are you hurt, Keiko?” Older Katsuki asked Keiko. Keiko shook his little head into younger Katsuki’s neck.

Kokoro started tearing up at older Katsuki’s tone and looked down in shame. He visibly softened at his daughter’s tears and wiped them away with his fingers.

“Just be more careful, okay pumpkin?” He said firmly. Kokoro nodded and offered Keiko an apology.

==================================

The next time Katsuki woke up, it was in a hospital bed. Specifically, Recovery Girl’s clinic. The light filtered through the blinds, hitting Katsuki in the face and making him stir.

IV wires and tubes fed into him and made it hell to try to sit up, before he saw a sleeping figure near his knees.

It was younger you.

He nudged you with his knee in order to wake you up. You looked dreadful; massive eye bags, lips nibbled red raw, sniffly pink nose like you hadn’t stopped crying.

“Oh my god, you’re awake! I’ll go get Recovery Girl!” As you moved to get her, Katsuki grabbed your hand.

“W-what…,” his voice felt strange, like it wasn’t his.

“What the damned hell happened?” He croaked out.

Your face saddens as you looked away.

“You seemed really upset after our last training session, so I went after you to find you. You had collapsed just outside of the Height’s Alliance building and you wouldn’t wake up whatsoever,” your voice cracks. Katsuki let out an “oh”.

You gained your composure before looking at Katsuki again.

“So, how do you feel? Is anything hurt? What happened?” You interrogated him. Katsuki rolled his eyes at your pestering before a sly grin crossed his face.

“Why, were ya worried about me?” He teased and watched as your face turned a bright pink. You flapped your hands around in a panic.

“It’s just because you’re my classmate is all! You wouldn’t wake up, and I didn’t want you to stay like this for ages!” You rambled in a worried state. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh before wincing at his voice.

Well, better shoot my shot, he thought.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what. Go out with me this Saturday and I’ll tell ya everything,” he promised.

The pink in your face told him everything that he needed to know.

[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI !!

Family friend! Billy The Kid teaching you how to kiss and it leading to much more <3 pulling him into your pretty pink room, pushing him onto the frilly sheets in the dark hours of the night. It’s a sleepless one— you and Billy had been up all night and your parents are sleeping soundly in their beds, clueless to their daughter’s secret pact with their beloved acquaintance.

You make sure to lock your door just in case.

The cowboy in front of you sprawls out on your mattress, foot grazing your ankle as you tell him a story about your friend Camille’s adultery.

“And she… she slipped her tongue in his mouth!” You exclaim, wide eyed and innocent. Billy mouth quirks up into a smile, his eyes moving to your pretty, plump lips. “I don’t know if I’d like that, Billy, not one bit.”

“How’dya know if you haven’t tried it?”

“I…” you blanch for a moment. “I dunno. I guess I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t do that anyway. ‘S bad.”

He gives you an amused smile. Your parents, of course, have spewed this narrative to you since you were a child. “No sex before marriage, no datin’ or kissin’ or huggin’” — Billy’s always been on his own, making his own decisions, and he thinks you should be able to do that too. He can’t deny the way your innocence gets his cock hard and bulging through his pants, though, and how badly he wants to corrupt every single part of you. Parents be damned, you’re one of a kind. Sweet and gentle, soft in all the right places, homely. Billy loves that about you. He’d marry you if he could, but even so, your parents would never allow it. They’d know right from the start what he was up to if he asked for their blessing.

His hand makes its way to your knee. He rests it there and massages the soft skin that’s exposed due to your nightgown riding up. You can’t help the flush that makes its way up to your cheeks.

“We could try it,” he suggests gently. “If you want to, darlin’.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, and your fingers move up to the ribbon in your hair and twirl it around.

“I dunno, Billy..”

“‘M not gonna force you,” he replies. “Just a suggestion, that’s all.”

It’s silent for a moment, Billy awkwardly looking away. What if he fucked up? What if you told your parents?

“Okay.”

It surprises him when you say it so timidly.

“Alright,” Billy replies, then clears his throat and pats his thigh. “C’mere, sweetheart. Get in my lap.”

A smile spreads across your face, and you shyly crawl over to him on all fours before you press yourself down into his lap. Your thighs move to either side of his hips.

“Like this?”

“Just like that.”

Billy has to restrain himself as he sees your light blue cotton underwear peek out from underneath your nightgown. His hand splays across your lower back, pulling you closer. His other hand moves to your cheek.

You close your eyes, waiting for the moment when Billy leans in. His lips hit yours in a small peck, thumb grazing your jaw. You reciprocate as best as you can, and your lashes flutter open when he pulls away, your brows furrowing.

“That’s it?”

Billy can’t help the laugh that spills out of his mouth, loud enough that your hand slaps over his mouth.

“It ain’t funny!” You whine. “Be quiet, you’re gonna get us in trouble!”

He pulls your hand off of his mouth, a grin splaying across his face.

“Sorry.”

When it quiets once again, you lean into him.

“Can we do it again?”

He nods. Both of his hands wrap around your waist this time, and he presses his now smiling lips to yours again. This time it’s more desperate— Billy got one taste and now he can’t bring himself to stop. You let out a tiny whine, pulling away when you feel his tongue press against your lower lip.

“Billy, we can’t do that.”

“Says who?” He leans up against your ear, hands travelling lower, lower. He’s hungry for you, practically starving. “I won’t tell.”

The way he says it, raspy and deep, sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t help the way your thighs clench together, a moan leaving you when the hem of your nightgown is flipped up and Billy grips your ass in his palms. His mouth slots against yours again, leaving your head spinning as you allow his tongue to slip into the warm canal of your mouth. Your own tongue slides against his, the strangely pleasant taste of his saliva making you dizzy. A throbbing overtakes that special spot between your legs, and you grind down against Billy’s fabric clad thigh. He groans, wrapping a hand around your hair so he can pull off of your lips and move to your neck instead.

“Billy,” you whimper out, when you feel his fingers graze the inside of your thigh. “Billy, I feel all tingly.”

“It’s because you need me,” his fingers reach the crotch of your underwear, and his thumb presses against your clit through the fabric. You gasp, mouth falling open as he rubs it in slow circles. “See, sweetheart? Right here.”

“I-It.. it feels…”

“Good?” Of course it does, you’re practically soaked through your panties. “I know. You can make me feel good, too.”

“I can?” Your eyes brighten, and he nods, removing his fingers so he can begin to unbutton his pants instead.

“Mhm. You got me all tingly here, too.”

You look down as he pulls out his hard cock, dripping with arousal and ready for you. A dark thatch of hair sits at the base of him, a vein running up the middle and leading to a pretty pink tip. He gives it a few harsh strokes, pumping it up and down in his fist.

“Lay on your back for me, honey.”

You obey instantly, excitement curling in your gut as your head hits your pillow. Billy hooks his fingers into your panties and drags them down your legs. You blush when he pushes your legs apart, and the boy in front of you curses under his breath when he catches sight of your cunt all swollen and needy.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “Such a sweet little thing….”

He slides his cock between your folds, and you let out a tiny cry. It feels so different from before, so much better, if possible. You look down to see his cock’s aroused head moving in and out between your cunt lips, your thighs becoming slick with your arousal.

“That’s it..” Billy breathes, and he looks almost angry as he uses your slippery cunt. “Good girl, all wet ‘n warm for me.“

You moan at the sight of his muscled arms on either side of your hips as he touches you, your fingernails scraping against his shoulders. Billy leans down to give you another kiss. You return it, your teeth nipping his lower lip. It’s hard to think straight with the way he’s rubbing up against you so prettily.

He grinds against your cunny, using it like a soft pillow for his length, his breath heavy as he watches your little clit swell with arousal. He looks down at your hole, teeny tiny against his big, fat cock, and wants to stretch it so bad that it almost hurts.

But that’ll have to wait— right now, he needs to get you nice and ready, used to these new feelings and sensations. To help you become comfortable.

After a moment, sweat collecting on his brow, Billy pulls away from your lips and moves close to your ear.

“How’s it feel, darlin’?”

“I love it,” you reply to him, almost instantly. “You’re— you’re so handsome. You’re making me feel so..”

You trail off with a whine when his tip accidentally catches on your needy hole. He groans, letting out a string of swears. You clench around nothing, your instincts kicking in as your brain becoming fuzzy and empty.

“I need it— need it there, Billy. I want it inside.”

“Not there, baby. Not yet.”

You want to cry at his words, but not before an unknown feeling is building up in your core. The friction applied to your clit and the thought of Billy sinking into your gummy walls has you biting back a sob. He notices your changed expression, watches the way your legs suddenly tighten up and clamp down around his hips.

“Nghhh.. why does it feel like that?” Your eyes clench shut, confusion and desperation taking over you. “S-Somethin’s happenin’, Billy…”

He smiles, gripping his length in his hand so he can press it harder onto your clit, sliding against it and watching his cock become coated in your juices.

“Let it happen. It’s a good thing, baby— gonna feel so good.”

Your orgasm overtakes you faster than lightening. You arch your back as wave after wave of pleasure takes over you, colors flashing behind to eyelids. It’s the greatest you’ve ever felt, the greatest you ever thought you could feel, and Billy follows soon after with a moan against your neck. His warm cum squirts out onto your mound, glazing it in sticky white, and he desperately slides against your slit until you’ve milked him completely dry. You look down at the mess you’ve both made, his spend dripping onto the sheets. With his face against your breast, Billy chuckles.

“I bet Camilla’s gonna hear a hell of a story tomorrow, isn’t she?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[the-daydreaming-show]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧(?) 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 (but patience).

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A small collection of stories like Batmom! Scarlet Witch as a mother for her children, unintentionally but not by accident, and how it started all with each one.

Being a member of the Wayne family comes with its quirks.

Being Bruce Wayne's wife has twice the quirks when you consider your husband's nocturnal activities, and it's this second category of quirks that usually concerns you the most.

Or at least that's what you thought would happen when you married him. But, even with being a retired vigilante yourself and already knowing everything that Bruce was Batman implied, it turned out that the other side of the coin was the one that began to bother you the most.

¿Your husband goes out every night dressed as a giant bat and comes back just before the sun rises?

No problem, you handled that like a champ.

¿The city press, who are desperate to know about the woman who finally put Gotham's prodigal son off the market and how the marriage goes every moment of every day?.

Yeah, you hadn't been ready for that.

Over time you got used to the drama and the questions, it helped that you could read their minds before they asked the question for your response planning. But there was one question that haunted you from the first official gala you and Bruce attended after the wedding (which was less than two weeks after the wedding, by the way): ¿When are you going to be pregnant? ¿When do you plan to have a child? ¿Can we soon expect ball gowns to become looser for a bulging belly with a Wayne heir?

And so, on and on, for infinity.

The answer had been maybe or someday, considering that they were both of you still young and in no rush.

In truth, tho, you two had never really considered the possibility of having children. Bruce didn't feel fit to be a father for many reasons. And the possibility of you passing your powers to a biological child was too high to risk. So it was never a card on the table to have children together when you got married, and you both were fine with that. There were talks about adopting as a possibility, but far in the future, like it was almost like a fantasy you two knew that would probably never happen anyway.

But then, things happened…

ACT ONE: a boys tale.

chapter one is Richard “Dick” Grayson

chapter two is Jason “Jay” Todd

chapter three....... (coming soon)

chapter four....... (coming soon)

chapter five....... (coming soon)

ACT TWO: is a girl's world.

chapter six....... (coming soon)

chapter seven....... (coming soon)

chapter eighth....... (coming soon)

TAGLIST: If someone wants to be added or removed from this list, you can request it. The TAG LIST is OPEN.

@some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @kimmis-stuff @undecided-shipper @thedazzlingburglar @chxrry-blxssxm-tea @stilesxreid @blarba-girl @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh @undecided-shipper @g0shikix3 @athenniene @cluelessteam @urminebutidontwantyou @pato-spoiler-27 @beanpd

[the-blind-bard]

Parasite Shigaraki x Reader

| Part 2 | Part 3 (Soon) | Masterlist |

Synopsis: [Strangers/Lovers, Smut, Loser!Obsessive! Shigaraki] - |Shigaraki x Reader| Your family called your quirk "parasite", able to feed off of someone's quirk and make it temporarily your own. Luckily, the only other person on the subway happens to have the most powerful quirk you've ever seen and zero experience with women.

Content: MDNI, eventual smut, reader has a quirk, submissive Shigaraki, fem reader, prob other stuff but that's all i can think of

Your eyes burned.

Tired and weighty, your eyes were exhausted from your shift at work. You winced when stepping onto the familiar public transport system with its flickering, yellow light and stench of stale cigarettes and musk. 

Working as late as you do, there are usually only ever two or four others riding the subway with you. 

Most were either just as tired as you, working late and reveling in the joys of selling your health for capital gain, or they were harder-fallen victims of the fucked system just trying to grab a sheltered sleep. 

People abandoned. Deemed worthless rubble of society with quirks that weren’t suited for practicality or glamour. Just aimlessly riding round and round and round-

There was only one other passenger tonight.

This guy was slouched over, posture shitty and seemingly contributing to the slightly musky scent of the subway. 

You guessed that by a couple of odd-end stains on his ratty, black hoodie that shielded his face from view, aside from some loose, blue hairs.

Your decision on where to sit was made instinctively. 

The closer, the better.

For the sake of your quirk.

Your family had always called your quirk “parasite”. 

You embraced the title, albeit with a touch of bitter sarcasm. 

But they were right. 

You were born a parasite. 

Your quirk fed off of the born abilities of others.

Allowing you, with just a touch, to take someone’s quirk from them. You ripped away the abilities that they had known their entire lives and rendered them quirkless until you disengaged physical contact. 

The drawbacks? Aside from having to be close enough to touch them, your quirk also wouldn’t let you use someone’s quirk against them. Anything else was fair game. 

It was a bit cruel. 

Such a useful quirk, but only as useful as the people around you. 

You knew what it felt like to be quirkless, since that’s how most of your time was spent. You didn’t even usually bother telling people you had a quirk, sick of inflating other’s god complex by making them think you’d depend on them. 

It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something you just gave away. That’s why you always silently smirked when people gave you odd looks at night for sitting directly next to them on the subway. 

It was safer for you to be able to grab them quickly and rip their own abilities from their bodies rather than you be sitting on the other side of the subway and finding out how dangerous they are.

You sat down right next to the blue-haired guy, rubbing some of the weariness off of your face and shooting him a polite smile. 

Your quirk made you bold in your adult years. Whenever you realized how dependent people were on their quirks alone, you felt secure in your abilities to throw off any danger coming your way by rendering them useless.

The guy’s body had frozen entirely when you sat next to him, thumbs halting on the mobile game he was playing seconds ago. 

You’d never seen someone hold a phone quite like that.

You watched, interested, as his hands flexed around the device, outstretched pinkies twitching in what was likely annoyance that you sat next to him with every other seat being open. 

You glanced down at his phone screen. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes were drawn there by the way his pinkies oddly hovered, catching your attention. 

Your eyes gleamed with a small burst of energy, as your guard was let slightly down. 

Any guy sitting on the subway playing Minecraft mobile in the dead of night surely couldn’t be that bad. 

You felt obligated to do something about his reaction, feeling kinda bad for disturbing him. Then again, it was kinda cute how jumpy he was. Seems like people don’t elect to sit next to him often.

Maybe it was the way he was so spooked by the mere action of you sitting next to him or maybe you would later blame it on you seeing the comforting, colorful blocks of that nostalgic game, but you tried to think of a way to comfort the man when you realized he was still frozen like a flighty, feral cat. 

“It’s more useful to trap the animals and start a farm.” You noticed his little character was facing only two sheep, holding a little block of TNT. “Then you’ll have a whole herd of sheep to blow up instead of just two. Taking out two sheep? Doesn’t do much. Take out a herd? They’ll remember that.”

You chuckled lightly, just trying to be pseudo-philosophical about Minecraft sheep while also slipping in some of your signature bitter pessimism.

Little did you know, those words would replay in his mind for years to come. Those words would consume him on silent nights, driving him to plot and destroy. Destroy the herd. Destroy the sheep. Make them remem-

“Whatever.” He put his phone away with a scoff, irritated that his game was interrupted. 

He looked up, giving you a full view of his face. Something about him was endearing to you, even if the scratch marks around his neck looked painful. 

Without his game, he just sat there, peripheral view gliding over to you.

He momentarily thought about dusting you for being so fucking annoying, but he couldn’t ignore the stuttering of his pulse or the sweat that collected on his palms when the smell of your perfume slightly covered up the dingy state of the subway. 

His throat felt impossibly tight and his neck itched uncomfortably. Were you making fun of him? Fucking bitch. You think you can just sit next to him as a joke, smelling nice and smiling so prettily at him? 

Girls never sat by Tomura Shigaraki.

You shrugged your shoulders at his silence, indifferent to him shutting down your Minecraft philosophy. What a shame, you would have loved to watch him play for a while to take your mind off of the subway ride. 

You reached in your bag and took out a book you had picked up recently. It was some pompous piece of classic literature that you didn’t really care for but liked to be informed about. 

After all, how can you tell your coworker how fucking dumb and up-his-own-ass he is unless you read what he’s talking about? 

Yeah, this was a spite read. 

You sat there reading for only about ten minutes or so, ignoring the red eyes that were trying to pretend like they weren’t watching you intently. 

Sure, he was kinda weird, but, honestly, you thought that maybe he was worried you were the creep. 

Yeah, you probably would keep an eye on him too if he sat next to you on an empty subway and started on a rant about society in relation to video game sheep…

You would reflect on your horribly embarrassing actions later and remember to leave poor, anxious boys alone when they’re trying to game in peace on the subway. 

The subway lurched particularly hard as it came to a stop. 

You had tried to catch it, but a quiet gasp came from your lips as your body jerked and the book flew from your hands that were gripped too loosely around it. 

He wasn’t thinking. 

He was a fucking idiot.

You might- in his mind- be making fun of him and you might just be some side-quest bitch annoying him on his way back to the hideout, but at this moment, Shigaraki was thinking about how good you smelled and how soft your fingers looked against the pages of that stupid book.

 He thought he was so slick, staring at the way your hands ran over the page, him wondering what would it be like if a girl ran her hands over him like that. What would a girl feel like? What would you feel like?

He hoped you didn’t notice that he leaned in slightly to smell you better. He decided he liked your perfume. A lot.

He was growing tense with the excitement of being so close to a pretty girl that apparently liked video games and also apparently seemed to be somewhat of a pessimistic asshole like him. 

One that chose to sit next to him and talk to him. 

He felt like a dating sim where a new character just unexpectedly got unlocked, introducing the MC’s love interest. This had to be a part of the main plot for him.

So, like an awkward, horny idiot, he reached out to stop her book from hitting the rank subway floor. He thought she was going to smile brightly and talk to him again, thanking him and blushing. 

Instead, his eyes were wide as he remembered who he is- 

what he is.

He’s a fucking monster, not some handsome dating sim MC. 

Your book was ash, falling through his fingers. 

You weren’t tired anymore.

Your lips parted in surprise which enraged Shigaraki as he assumed it to be fear. 

Shigaraki’s expression looked indifferent, but you could kinda detect the shameful flush of red creeping up his neck before he brought up a hand to incessantly scratch the skin. 

You gave him the courtesy of looking away as blood collected under his nails. Was that a drawback of his quirk or was he just that embarrassed? 

Regardless, what a spectacular quirk. Your brain felt like it was suddenly submerged in ice water, a cool clarity of all the things you could do with someone like this by your side. 

The access to power you’d have.

Alone, you’re no one. With him, you could both have everything.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, about to acknowledge how you know it was just an accident and how he meant to do something good, but right as those words went to leave your lips, a group of three obnoxious men boarded the subway.

They were all laughter and stumbles, not caring who heard their obnoxious banter. 

Your eyes left the boy next to you and went straight to one of the men. Particularly, to the one that just whistled at you. 

They all muttered amongst themselves, glassy eyes searching your face and figure, picking apart your appearance’s worth to their disgusting desires. 

It would be so easy. 

If you always had someone like the anxious boy with his beautiful quirk next to you, it could all be so easy.

“Hey babe,” the tallest one of the bunch said as he was carried on by his friend’s laughter, “why don’t you come sit over here and let us give you the subway ride of your life? Might not wanna get off though.” 

His friends cackled, a loud and disgusting sound. 

Your brows pinched in irritation, but you smiled. Something empty. Not like the sweet and earnest ones you had given minutes ago to the itching boy next to you.

“Don’t know, your friends seem to be riding your cock hard enough as it is.”

The boy next to you loosened his stiff shoulders for the first time since you got on the subway, lightly exhaling a breath and restraining laughter. 

Your smirk grew, grateful you also had an audience to urge you on. Glad he seemed responsive to what you said.

However, the guys across from you didn’t find it as funny, standing over and pointing a finger towards you. 

“You bitch, I’ll kick your fucking jaw off. Stupid slut.”

You watched as the man approached. Was he alluding to a kicking quirk? 

No matter if you were right or not, you didn’t want to find out. He had pure hatred in his eyes at you embarrassing him publicly, and he came right at you to do something about it.

You didn’t see the blue-haired boy’s hand get ready to reach out towards the man. Instead, you felt his startled shock and felt him try to jerk away from your grasp as you grabbed his hand.

You’d have to apologize to Minecraft boy later.

You felt it as soon as your soft skin made contact with his rough, cracked hands. 

Power.

It was like a drug had hit your system all at once, rushing to your fingers and making them unmatchable weapons of destruction. 

You reached out and touched the fucker standing across from you, watching as he decayed.

It was breathtaking. One minute solid, the next…reduced to dust.

Silence. The only sound was the rumbling of the subway as it neared the next stop.

The other two men looked at where their friend had been in fear. It was like the world stood still for just a second.

But not for long as the men started clambering to the exit in anticipation of the next stop where they practically flung themselves out of the subway. 

Next to you, the boy physically shook. 

Fuck. You were hoping you hadn’t fucked up too badly. This couldn’t be the last time you see him. The last time you get to use that quirk.

You gave him a sad smile, hand rising to his cheek, lightly caressing it. You felt a pang in your heart as he leaned further into it, his breath hitching in his throat.

You spoke gently to him. 

“Hey now, it’s okay…I’m sorry I didn’t ask before I did that. I didn’t think I really had the time to explain. I’m (Y/n) by the way.” 

You tried to comfort him, hoping he wouldn’t bolt out the door. You really didn’t give a fuck about killing some random dickhead, but this sweet boy seemed so shaken up, you needed to calm him down. You needed to make sure you didn’t scare him off.

You needed to feel the power of his quirk again.

In his seat, Tomura shook but it wasn’t the nerves you suspected. He was nervous for far more carnal reasons. 

No, his breath was coming out in labored pants, him practically vibrating at the lingering ghosts of your touch. 

Not only had you touched his hands and not decayed before his eyes, but then you dared to kill that man in front of everyone without flinching.

It’s like you were his personal fallen angel.

And the hand that had lightly held his cheek with it’s soothing and stern hold? He was instantly addicted to this new feeling, wanting your hands to never leave his skin again. 

His face was flush and his pants shouldn’t feel as tight as they did. He felt like he was suffocating under a fire. Fuck, he might even cum in his pants if you got any closer.

He thought you were fucking perfect. A custom character made just for his two-player mode. 

“Shigaraki Tomura.”

You smiled, glad to see he was still willing to talk to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shigaraki.”

Red eyes stared into yours, wide and filled with ravenous wonder.

“Who are you?”

You laughed, “(L/N) (Y/N)-”

Shigaraki shook his head, hands clumsily reaching out for yours, shaking like his life depended on holding your hand in his own again.

His grip on you was impossibly tight, stinging your own skin as his nails dug into the living flesh. His hold was harsh and unfamiliar.

He wasn’t used to using his hands without the intention to destroy. 

“No. Who the fuck are you? Why doesn’t this do anything to you?”

You shook out of his grip, entwining your fingers between his. 

You ran your thumb over his hand while both of yours were locked, you enjoying the simmering power under your fingertips. 

“Oh trust me,” you leaned in closer to him to whisper into his ear, enjoying how you can hear every labored breath of his from being so close. You could even feel the tremble of his body. “It does something to me.”

A little noise bubbled up from his throat and his face flushed with the prettiest red you had seen aside from his own eyes.

You let go of his hands only for him to involuntarily whine and squirm at the feeling of you reaching into his pocket. 

Grabbing his phone, you couldn’t help but be fond of how sweet Tomura seemed. With just a touch of your hand, he melted, and with just a touch of his, you destroyed.

 It felt almost fated.

“Unlock it.”

Usually, Tomura wouldn’t hesitate to bite back if someone dared to give orders to him like that, but he didn’t feel like himself. No, this was different from when Dabi was being an asshole or some pro-hero fuck tried to tell him what to do.

This made his stomach churn in the most wonderful way. 

He wanted you. He could be good for you. Only for you.

You gave the phone to him, his pinky already stretched outwards by reflex. It was a little sad to you how careful he had to be. 

“My number’s in your phone. Text me. I’ll tell you all about my quirk next time.”

Your number? This couldn’t be real. He was sure he was bound to wake up to an embarrassing mess of sticky sheets any minute now. 

“Sure.” 

You smile at him and grab your bag, preparing to get off at your stop. 

God, you hoped he would text you. You weren’t looking forward to having to investigate all the possible stops on this route to find him if he didn’t message you.

You would find him.

Neither of you were aware of the other’s intention, but you wanted to absolutely ruin him by making him yours in every possible meaning of the word.

Meanwhile, he considered you to already be his.

But you knew one thing for sure, Tomura Shigaraki has not seen the last of you. 

Pt 2

[08luvmailz]

⌨︎ ⁩◞ HERO FANBOY — ! ❪shoto todoroki❫

SYNOPSIS ୨୧ ! which a certain hero from ua crushes (hard) on a idol ! headcanon, ooc shoto

FANBOY SHOTO! He wasn't interested in kpop activities, heck he hardly known anything about kpop in general.

He started knowing about them because of his brother natsuo who bought a heck ton of albums and blasting music in his room.

He side-eye his brother when he's screaming because he got your WINK-PHOTOCARD, as he keep screaming " omg! ITS SO SPARKS "

he saw the photocard and he was like " oh she's pretty " but disregard it afterwards BUTT

DIDNT KNOW HE WOULD FELL THAT HARD

he saw one of your recent comebacks on tv because his brother is streaming it and gahdam ur fucking SPARKLING ON STAGE.

At first he started knowing your group, YOU FIRST then streaming your group songs, your debut solo, collabs. streaming your group shows and music bank AND ALL THOSE

started buying albums too with natsuo. FINALLY HE HAVE SOMEONE IN THE FAMILY WHO WILL BE IN DEPT FOR LIFE BUYING ALBUMS

Natsuo asked who is his bias without hesitation he said your name, bro was smirking so bad at his lil bro BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MAKNAE OF YOUR GROUP, also half japanese and same age as him.

Bro was blushing whenever the camera pans at your face and smirking and doing that HE WAS GETTING HOTTER THAN HIS QUIRK

have a well known kpop stan twitter account who always make short comment about you but ICONIC because of how pure and sweet it is

doesnt know it but actually fell inlove with you NOT BECAUSE OF UR FACE (its a plus on him) but because of your determination and hard work, humour and personality is just CHEFS KISS

no one knows about his obsession welp it almost slip up when he accidently unplug his wired earphones to his phone AND SUDDENLY BLASTING Nobody knows by your group.

he lied he is just a casual listener

defends you on twitter, he looks like a soft boy but damn he is a beast on roasting BUT FAILS CAUSE HE CAN ONLY CUSS AT THEM

dedicated to buy front row tickets when your group finally have a concert there at your hometown

BRO WAS FIGHTING FOR LIFE AT THE POOR CONNECTION

bro brought the vip tickets for him and his big bro (with his dads money ofc, not like his father would know)

bro brought the 2 tickets for each day

won a fancall with you once but DAMN IT HIS HERO STUFF IS GETTING ON THE WAY

poor bby sulked the whole day that he missed the call, he was practicing his lines and tone for you

brought many batteries for his lightstick

make sure he is lookin good (not like he isn't good looking)

bro wake up early asf he want to be there as fast

bro became popular fan after one pictured him as the guy from the (group name) concert at jpn

he didnt know he bacame popular, he just saw his face 3 days after the concert on stan twt

BRO WHEN YOU TWO MAKE EYE CONTACT HE HAS HEART EYES

BRO WAS WHIPPED ASF

you are one stubborn fuck saw this cute guy with a scar and went through the barricades even though security was trying to get you back in stage cause its just a sound check and your safety too

Bro you came closer to him and saw his instax reaching for you. MADE A HEART CHEEK AT HIS FACE AND CAME CLOSER TO HIS FACE

bro almost want to faint right then and there.

you went after that he was kinda sad but happy he got a selfie WITH HIM

making this his lockscreen and making a frame of this treasured photo

You kept stealing glances at him and interacting with hand language, asking if he already eat lunch or just blantly flirting with him

LUCKIEST FAN

natsuo kept pushing his shoulders for every interaction at their section BUT MAINLY YOU ARE FOCUSED ON HIS BROTHER

bro when he came back from school BRO WAS BOMBARDED WITH QUESTIONS LIKE

" I DIDNT KNOW UR A FAN TODOROKI! " " WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME UR A FAN, I WANT TO BUY TICKETS TOO " " i didn't know todoroki listens to kpop " "BRO DID U HAVE PICS AND VID OF (your leader name) "

was now known as poker face but listens to puppy love by (groupname)

After that twt post of him being a handsome fan THEN PEOPLE STARTED SAYING HE WAS THE KID FROM UA, ENDEAVOR SON AND ALL THOSE SHIT

have an article of him now being the hero fan boy

boy he didnt give a shit about them, he just wanting to chill

but that didnt start there

your member posted on weverse a video of you taken, watching the sports festival and chanting HIS NAME AND BETTING THAT HE WOULD 1st PLACE

bro became the luckiest fan alive

saying he is the luckiest fan and hero and all of those then actually GONNA MEET YOU

you have a campaign like a collab with a hero AND THAT IS HIS DAD

participating on a event JUST TO SEE YOU

he did and boy was he nervous

he kept stuttering at the end of his sentence

then because actually friend with you, a little bit touchy side BUT HE IS A GENTELEMAN just subtle glances and touches

got your number and him posting a selfie of you two on twt (he made another acc just to post boast that picture)

after that he was well known as the hero fanboy who will soon in the future marry his idol

that woud be a story in another time <3

[scary-grace]

Best Practice - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Taking the night shift at a 24-7 emergency vet hospital isn't for the faint of heart, and you've seen a lot of crazy things. But on one particular shift, it's Tenko Shimura and his service dog who make the biggest impression on you. a silly little fic I wrote while I was at the emergency vet with my dog. No quirks AU, volunteer!reader, pet owner!Shigaraki, Mon-chan lives (and so do any other animals mentioned in this fic). 3.9k words.

The waiting room sounds like hell in a handbasket, but give that this is the only 24/7 emergency vet in the prefecture, that’s not a surprise. You’ve been volunteering here since you got out of school, and there’s never been an overnight shift where things haven’t been completely unhinged. Cats yowling. Dogs barking. Rodents squeaking and birds trilling back and one enormous monitor lizard that’s going berserk inside its crate, scaring every other animal in the same bank of seats. But as bad as the pets are, they’re nowhere near as bad as the owners.

In the five years you’ve been volunteering here, you’ve seen probably thousands of people come in with their sick and injured pets, and none of them come in at their best. Nobody’s at their best when they’re scared or sad, and having to wait and watch as other pets are triaged and brought back from exams. You still have your vet tech certification left over from before you went to school, so you know how to take vitals and do basic assessments, but your real job on every shift is to manage the owners. Some nights it’s easier than others.

Tonight isn’t one of those nights. In addition to half a dozen pets already in the exam rooms, there’s a couple and their two kids with their elderly cat, all four of whom look like they’re hanging by a thread. In the back corner, there are a couple of kids who rescued a tanuki that got hit by a car. They’re also hanging by a thread, and probably in need of a few preemptive vaccinations to boot. The guy with the monitor lizard is making everybody nervous. People keep filtering in and out, getting stat-triaged or sent to the waiting room, and with every person who gets called back, the guy your age with the corgi who’s been here for four hours loses his temper a little bit more.

You feel like you should check in with him, but one thing and another keeps you busy, and nobody points you his way until one of the dads from the cat family catches your attention. “Hey, not to bother you, I know you’re busy –”

“How long have you been waiting?” you ask at once. “Has Snow White’s condition changed at all?”

“No, she’s about the same, but –” The blond man nods towards the bank of chairs across from his family. “Can you get a handle on that guy? He’s scaring my kids, and my husband’s this close to breaking his nose.”

You take a second look at Corner Guy – or Corgi Guy, if you go by the dog. Corner Guy is your age, skinny, with messy blue hair under an oversized hoodie. His clothes are old, but the blanket he’s wrapped the corgi in is new, and clean. With the dog bundled up that way, you can’t see what’s wrong, but it’s resting quietly in its owner’s arms. Every so often, it twists around to lick his face.

The dog is cute, but Corner Guy’s middle-distance death stare isn’t, and the blond man’s husband and kids are right in his eyeline. The least you can do is give him someone else to glare at. You make your way over and park yourself in the seat right across from him. “Hi. Have you been triaged yet?”

Corner Guy’s mouth, scarred at one corner, twists into a sneer. “What do you think?”

“How long has it been since somebody checked in with you?” you ask. You get a death stare all your own in response. “I’m sorry about the wait. If you tell me how long it’s been I might be able to hurry things along.”

“Checked in with me? I checked in. They took my money and told me to wait.” Corner Guy’s voice takes on a note of bitterness. “These people are idiots. I heard them, over there – their dog got hit by a car this morning and they’re just now coming in? Their dog gets to see the vet first because they were stupid and I wasn’t?”

You get this kind of thing a lot. You also get the sense that Corner Guy won’t appreciate being told how triage works. You deliberately turn your attention to the corgi in its blanket. “Who’s this?”

“Her name’s Mon.”

“Can I say hi?” you ask. Corner Guy nods, and you reach out to scratch Mon’s ears. She gives your hand a good sniff with a cold, wet nose before she lets you pet her, and as soon as you touch her, you can tell by the softness of her fur that she’s well cared-for. “What a sweetheart. How old is she?”

“Three.”

“Still a baby, huh?” You can’t help slipping into puppy voice. You got over being embarrassed about that a long time ago. “What brings you two in tonight?”

“At the stupid pet store. Some asshole ran her foot over with his cart, and she’s been crying –” Corner Guy’s eat-shit expression shifts into misery. “The cashier said to come here, so I did. And I’ve just been sitting here, and I know she’s in pain – and everybody and their cat gets to see the vet before Mon does.”

Now you get why the blond guy’s husband wants to break Corner Guy’s nose. “Can I see her paw? Which one is it?”

“Front one. On the right.” Corner Guy unwraps the blanket, careful not to jostle Mon, but she whimpers anyway. “Sorry. Sorry –”

“Okay, sweetie. Can I see your paw?” You forgot how short corgi legs are. There’s a risk that the cart got more than just her paw. “Oof, okay. That looks like it really hurts. How long ago did that happen?”

“Four hours.”

So he really did come straight here. “What happens if she tries to put weight on it?”

“She hasn’t,” Corner Guy says. “I picked her up when it happened, and, uh – I didn’t put her down again.”

“And you wrapped her up. That’s good,” you say. “If she hasn’t moved it around a lot, it’s a lot less likely to get displaced. How long ago did it stop bleeding?”

Corner Guy shrugs. The blanket has a decent-sized stain, but the stain looks like it’s drying. “Okay,” you say. “I’m going to go talk to the doctors and see if I can get one to come out and take a look at her. They might tell you it’s better to be treated by your regular vet, if you can get an appointment –”

“I made one for tomorrow,” Corner Guy says. “I wanted to see if she could get, like – dog Advil or something. I know she’s hurt even if she’s not crying.”

“Oh.” That’s a lot quicker than a cast and x-rays, and the vets on duty will be really happy to hear that Corner Guy has a vet appointment lined up already. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

You confirm it with the front desk, then come back with the good news. “I can take her back right now and the vet will do a quick exam. Then they’ll do a splint and some painkillers, and that should get you through to tomorrow. Sound okay?”

Corner Guy hesitates. “You’re going to take her away?”

“It’s kind of busy back in the exam rooms, so we have the owners wait out here.”

“No,” Corner Guy says. “She’s my service dog. I have to come too.”

“Service dog?” You’ve never seen a service corgi before, but when Corner Guy folds back the blanket, you see that Mon’s wearing a vest, with a seal on it that you recognize. That organization trains service dogs specifically for PTSD. “Okay. Right. So maybe it’s best if you carry her.”

Corner Guy follows you through the packed waiting room and past the authorized personnel only doors. It occurs to you that you’ve forgotten something. “I got Mon’s name. What’s yours?”

“Shimura,” Corner Guy says. “Shimura Tenko.”

Shimura Tenko settles down a lot once you get him and Mon into an exam room. People usually calm down when their pet finally gets some medical attention, but Shimura looks like he’s doing more than just calming down – his face is pale and his hands are shaking, and Mon starts squirming in his arms, letting out little whines as she tries to reposition. She’s still at work, even though she’s hurt. You hesitate a second, then step in. “I can help turn her. Where’s she trying to go?”

He doesn’t answer, but you’ve seen service dogs from this organization before, and you know what they usually do to help their handlers. You help Mon rotate from sprawled in Shimura’s lap to a more upright position, and she lays her head on his chest, over his heart. It takes a few moments, but you see Tenko begin to relax.

“Are you two going to be okay in here for a second?” You don’t get a nod, but you also don’t get a no, and you duck out onto the treatment floor in search of one of the vets on call.

The first vet you encounter is Dr. Fukukado, which is what you were hoping for. She’s got the best bedside manner. You wait for her to sign the discharge paperwork on the parakeets she was treating, the make your case. “I have a patient in Exam 10. Her paw got run over by a shopping cart and it looks pretty bad.”

“Poor thing.” Dr. Fukukado’s mouth turns down at the corners. “That would be a stat if we weren’t so busy –”

“She’s a service dog,” you interrupt as politely as possible. “From New Horizons.”

“PTSD. How’s her handler doing?”

“Not great,” you say. You feel confident in that one. “They were waiting for a while. I thought he was just being a jerk, but once I brought them back here he sort of –”

Collapsed is probably too strong, but you’re too tired to come up with the clinical terminology. Sometimes after a night at the emergency vet, you forget that you even have a day job, let alone that it’s as a social worker. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” Dr. Fukukado says. “I’ll add my name to his case and get in there as quickly as possible. In the meantime, you stick with them. Try to keep them both calm. Triage should be thinning out soon.”

Hopefully. It’s two am. You stick around long enough for Dr. Fukukado to add her name to the chart, then head back to Exam 10. Mon and Shimura haven’t moved. “Hi,” you say. “I’ve got some good news. The doctor’s put her name on Mon’s chart, so she’s next in line. Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?”

Shimura Tenko doesn’t answer. You notice that his lips are really dry. “I can get water if you want it, or something else to drink. We have a coffee machine, so there’s tea, coffee, mochas, cappuccinos, hot chocolate –”

“That.”

Okay. He’s talking. “Gotcha. One hot chocolate, coming right up.”

You pick your way through the waiting room, checking on a few new patients in the mean time. You stop by the family with the cat to make sure they’re all right, cast a wary eye at the guy with the lizard, quickly triage a pair of kittens someone brought it, and grab Tenko’s hot chocolate. You’ve hit first-name terms with him in your head. That’s – not normal.

When you get back to the exam room, Tenko looks like he’s doing a little better. More color in his face, at least. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“No, I just got a bit held up.” You hand over the hot chocolate and watch him take a sip. His hands aren’t shaking as badly as before. “How are you two doing?”

“Her foot’s still messed up.” Tenko takes another sip. “It’s my fault.”

“It can feel like that sometimes, but I bet it wasn’t,” you say. “Somebody ran her foot over. That wasn’t you.”

“I shouldn’t have put her down.” Tenko’s voice flattens. “I know I carry her too much. She wants to walk. I thought she might want to walk around in there. If I hadn’t put her down she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, so it’s my fault.”

“Letting your dog walk around is a reasonable thing to do,” you counter. “Not looking where you’re going and hitting somebody else’s dog with your cart isn’t. That person’s the problem, not you.”

“I’ve only had her for two months,” Tenko says. His voice pulls tight. “They’re going to take her away.”

“We see service dogs in here a lot,” you say. “Nobody comes to take them away. Everybody knows accidents happen. This was definitely an accident.”

Tenko doesn’t answer. He takes a few sips of hot chocolate, and Mon picks her head up to snuffle the cup. “Hey. No. That’s bad for you.” Mon gives the bottom of the cup an exploratory lick. “We have treats at home. If I let you have this she’ll think I’m a moron.”

“I’d have a hard time saying no to her,” you say. You sit down one chair away from him. “If you hadn’t told me you got her two months ago, I never would have guessed. You guys seem really bonded already.”

“Yeah.” Tenko adjusts his grip on her. He’s quieter when he speaks again. “I feel like shit right now. She knows to work when I get upset, but I don’t want her to get upset and worry about me when she’s hurt. So then I get upset because I’m making her work, and – yeah.”

“She’ll feel better if you let her help you,” you say. You’re confident in that one. “My dog does, anyway.”

“You have a service dog? Where is it?”

“She’s a therapy dog,” you say. Tenko gives you a suspicious look. “Not an ESA. She and I did a bunch of extra training and I take her on visits to places – hospitals, schools, libraries, that kind of thing. When we’re not on visits, she’s a pet. An incredibly spoiled pet.”

“Do you have a picture?”

People with sick pets don’t usually ask about your pet. Then again, you don’t usually tell people with sick pets that you’ve got one, too. “Yeah. Um, here. That’s her.”

Tenko glances at your phone, and to your shock, he cracks a smile. “People must go crazy for her on visits. There was a golden in team training when I went through. Everybody wanted him but me.”

You should keep Tenko talking anyway – it’s best practice – but you also really want to know. “How does it work, getting matched with a dog? Do they let you pick?”

Tenko shakes his head. “You work with a bunch of different dogs in the first week. They’re all trained like Mon is. The trainers want to see which one you click with. Mon was the third one I worked with.”

“And you got along right away?”

“She kept getting in trouble.” There’s a note of pride in Tenko’s voice, and it only takes you a moment to understand why. “Even when she was working with other people, she kept pulling to get back to me.”

“She picked you out,” you say, and Tenko nods. He’s smiling slightly again. “I can tell you guys have something really special. And that you take really good care of her.”

Mon finally quits trying to get into the hot chocolate and settles back with her head against Tenko’s chest. Tenko glances at you. “What do you do here, anyway? I’ve been watching you run around all night and I still can’t figure it out.”

“I’m a patient support specialist,” you explain. “I can do triage, but mainly I try to help people get through pet emergencies in one piece. It gets kind of hard in here.”

“Whatever they pay you, it’s not enough.”

“I don’t get paid,” you say. “I volunteer.”

Tenko looks surprised. “You do this for free?”

Before you can answer, someone bangs on the door. You jump, but it startles Tenko enough that he spills some hot chocolate on his hand, which Mon promptly slurps up. You open the door, ready to give hell to whoever spooked them both. “Hey, can you keep it down?”

“Sorry. Fukukado said you were in here, and –” Tamaki leans against the doorframe, breathing hard. “You know the monitor lizard? It’s, uh – not.”

“What is it, then?”

“We don’t really know,” Tamaki says. “But it got out.”

Oh. “Anybody who’s not with a patient has to go help,” Tamaki says. “Like now.”

You are with a patient. You glance at Tenko, who looks ever so slightly entertained. “Me and Mon aren’t going anywhere,” he says. “Go get your lizard.”

You get to your feet. “Sit tight. I’ll be back soon.”

You aren’t back soon. You’re back an hour later, bruised and tired, your hand wrapped in an ice pack and an ace bandage. You make the mistake of knocking on the door to Exam 10 with it, and you get a shock when Tenko opens the door rather than just hollering for you to come in. He’s not carrying Mon, and you ask where he is at the same moment as he asks you a question of his own. “What happened to you?”

“Is Mon okay?”

“They brought her a bed and some pain stuff.” Tenko opens the door to show you, and you spot Mon on the exam table in a dog bed, swaddled in a blanket and so doped up on painkillers that she can barely keep her eyes open. “They’re gonna do x-rays later. Did you get the lizard?”

“It got me,” you say. Tenko’s eyes widen as he studies your bandaged hand. “And it wasn’t a lizard.”

“What was it, then – a dragon?”

“A Komodo dragon,” you say. “But close.”

“Aren’t those things supposed to be giant?” Tenko says. “How did that guy fit it in that box?”

“This one was a juvenile. Is a juvenile. We didn’t hurt it or anything.” You don’t think any of you were capable of hurting it. It was running circles around you. “It’s still really big. And fast.’

“And it took you guys an hour to catch it,” Tenko muses. “I was wondering what all the yelling was about.”

You and the others were really trying to keep the yelling to a minimum. You wince. “We had to find it first, and once we did, we had to catch it – but it was really aggressive, so it started biting, and then it got away again. Rinse and repeat about ten times.”

Tenko snickers. “I wish I could have seen it. More of it than I did, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I cracked the door open. Some guy was chasing it down the hall,” Tenko says. “It was pretty funny when it started chasing him back the other way.”

Dr. Sorahiko is the oldest vet in the ER, and he’s gotten kind of mean in his old age. You don’t feel bad for laughing. “You’re probably going to see the rest of it on TikTok or something. Or on the news. They showed up when Animal Control did.”

“Does that kind of thing happen a lot around here?”

“No,” you say. “Usually when we have a wild night, it’s a different kind of wild.”

“So no bites from a giant lizard,” Tenko says. You shake your head. “You and Mon match now. Maybe we can get two x-rays for the price of one.”

You smile at the thought, then remember something the front desk told you to pass along. “They’re discounting services for everybody tonight, because of the – disruption. Even if Mon gets x-rays and a splint and everything, you’ll probably only get charged the exam fee.”

“Good.” Tenko looks relieved. “Mon gets whatever she needs, when she needs it, but I was gonna be eating instant ramen for a month so I could make rent.”

“A lot of people who bring their pets in here say stuff like that.” You prop your bitten hand against your shoulder to elevate it. The bite didn’t break the skin, but it still hurts a lot. “That’s part of why I like being here. People are awful in outpatient.”

“They’re awful here, too. I sucked.”

“You weren’t even close to the worst person I’ve talked to,” you say. You remember a guy whose dog needed a leg amputation telling you he’d break your neck if she died on the operating table. He got kicked out, but the vets still operated on his dog, and as far as you know, she made a full recovery. “But people here — they aren’t being assholes just because they can. They’re really worried about their animals, because they care about them so much, and I’ve never seen somebody handle that well without help. If I ever have to bring my dog in here, I’ll be a wreck just like everyone else.”

“Worse than everybody else,” Tenko says. You glance at him, puzzled. “You’re not going to have a you around to help out.”

“Yeah,” you say. The thought is weirdly dispiriting. Not only will you be in here with no patient outreach specialist, you’re going to be in here all alone. Your family lives in a different prefecture, most of your friends have their own lives to deal with, and it’s not like you have a partner who could come with you. You haven’t gone on a date in a long time. “It’s going to suck.”

“If it ever happens, me and Mon will hang out with you,” Tenko says, and you nearly fall out of your chair. “She helps me. She won’t mind helping you, too.”

Before you can even think about addressing that, there’s a quick knock on the door, and Dr. Fukukado steps in. “Hey, sorry about the wait,” she says earnestly. “Mini-Godzilla was zipping around out here and he was tough to catch. We’ve got it under control, obviously, but — hey, you need to go home. Everybody who got hurt has to clock out.”

“I’m a volunteer. I don’t have to do anything,” you say. “I can stick around as long as I need to.”

You’ve put the ball back in Tenko’s court, which you feel is the patient-centered thing to do, especially when you’re technically still on shift. But patient-centered or not, you don’t want to leave just yet. You’ve gotten a little protective over these two, and by the time you go home and hug your own dog, you want to know that Tenko and his dog are going to be okay.

“Stick around,” Tenko says after a moment, and your heart lifts in a way it really shouldn’t. “Somebody needs to replace Mon when she goes for her x-rays.”

He wants you to be his service dog? “Sure, but I’m not going to lick your face.”

Tenko laughs at that – actually laughs – and the lightness in your chest grows a little harder to ignore. You like making people feel better, and you like it more than you should that he wants you around a little while longer. It’s not often that you have a night like this one at work. The Komodo dragon bite is going to be the better story, the kind you’ll tell your friends about, or your parents the next time you call home. But hanging out with Tenko Shimura and Mon for the rest of your shift is what you’re going to remember.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Oh god now that toh ends with luz being able to travel between worlds ppl are using that to dunk on amphibia. And now that belos died ppl are using that to dunk on su.

They are different shows people! They have different themes! Amphibia is a classic take on isekai as escapism! Marcy went to amphibia to avoid her real life and while she had fun she didnt mature until after she accepted she needed to embrace change in her life! Anne matured in amphibia bc she always recognized that she has her own life to get back to! Sasha matured after realizing that too! Leaving amphibia for good means to embrace the step out of childhood! Something thats inevitable for everyone!

The owl house is about finding a community in midst of ostracization! Luz stayed in the boiling isles because she found people who accepted her quirks! The boiling isles was in danger from a bigot and luz helps her new community defeat him! Its a very queer story! Community is the center of the story so it makes sense for luz to be able to go back to the boiling isles since shes maintaining her place in the community!

Steven universe is about choosing to be kind! Its that everyone has their own specific traumas that they can overcome with the right support! Its about surviving in a world of bigots at any cost, even if it you have to work with the bigots to carve out a space for the people you love! Because people like you exist and theres nothing anyone in power can do about it! Its also a very queer story! The diamonds can never stamp out the off colors because they will always be there! Steven works with the diamonds not because he likes them but because they can improve the world for his family if only he could get through to them! Hes rewarded for choosing to be kind with success because the theme of the show is hope! Hope that anyone can change! But even though the diamonds stop being fascist steven still doesnt like them because its not about forgiveness! Its about fixing things! Stevens just polite about it!

The owl house starts off with the assumption that everyone can change but its not about the potential its about the willingness to change! The focus is on belos, whos had every chance to turn his life around but will never admit that hes wrong! And the show posits that if someone isnt willing to change theyre not worth helping! Its not about whether or not the character is fascist its about if theyre willing to stop being fascist! Several characters stop being fascist and are welcomed by the characters with open arms belos just wasnt one of them! Several characters clean up their acts but dont adequately address the previous harm they did and are STILL fully forgiven eventually! For toh forgiveness is paired with fixing things you just need to give it time!

And theres an argument that some of these shows didnt do their themes well. If you wanted to portray amphibia as an escapism world that the girls need to leave behind to get to their richer futures then having them get such caring found families go against that by giving them a potential of a good life in the isekai world. Steven universe uses the diamonds as metaphors for mental illness and relationships but its hard to stick with that when you also need to consider the countless other gems they hurt. I think its also fair if people prefer one theme over another.

But a lot of stuff i see comparing these shows just go over surface similarities? Like oh shit! These two shows have the same character archetypes! They have the same inciting incident! This must mean that theyre exactly the same in everything but names and artstyle and are trying to say the exact same things! Like. No. Sometimes,,,,,two stories,,,,,,can talk about two different things,,,,,,,

[depresssant]

thinking about a venom!reader in the MHA world...

ok i got very carried away with the dabi part but ykyk. uh two are platonic yan and the other is romantic. but basically, i was thinking about a quirkless reader who becomes the host for venom in the mha world. how cool would that be?

maybe i'll do a deadpool one as well, but i love venom too much atm.

⏤ venom!reader: you're just a quirkless reporter with a dark past. you work⏤well, worked for a news channel diligently, making sure to bring justice if not through a quirk, then through a camera. that is, until you investigate a company accused of trafficking quirkless civilians to test for quirk development. however, the chairman of the company doesn't take kindly to your intrusion and has you fired.

⏤ venom!reader: you sneak into the company's lab with the help of one of the chairman's closest scientists. you stumble across an alien, symbiote, from a whole different planet. this symbiote picks you as its host and you now have a literal parasite feeding off of you. the chairman is ecstatic since none other hosts have lived as long a you, so he sends men to capture you but venom is having none of it.

⏤ venom!reader: you escape from the chairman's men while accidentally getting your boyfriend, soon-to-be fiancé murdered in the process. you swear to get revenge, and the hero commission is more than willing to turn you into a hero if it means using you to push their agendas.

⏤ venom!reader: you accept despite knowing this won't end well. your mind is on revenge and revenge only. you want to murder the chairman, but for now, you have to bide your time. you're paired with the pro hero hawks, and he wants to be your friend so damn bad. you're assigned as an apprentice under the number one hero and decide to use these people to help you with your revenge.

— venom!reader: you're able to charm everyone with a charismatic personality. okay. that was a lie. you're brash, reckless, and stubborn, but perhaps that's something the number one hero's masterpiece loves about you. you're like... the wild older sister that's always bringing chaos to the family. you take shoto todoroki out on outings when you're not working yourself to the bone, and it warms his icy heart. you return to his home bloody and bruised up after a long day of fighting villains, and the first thing on your mind is to help him with his homework? the way you look after him is so domestic and familial.

— venom!reader: you make shoto want to keep you in his home forever, away from harm's way. you're destined to be his older sister, and there's no way you can be anything else, right? he doesn't know you don't really care about him. you just treat shoto todoroki well to get on his father's good side. but he finds out your true feelings the night you spend rambling off in a drunken haze to fuyumi, who may as well be as wasted as you. you and her talk about one day moving and leaving everything behind, and shoto can feel his entire world fall apart. no. no. no. no. you and fuyumi are his older sisters! you're supposed to love and care for him. nothing more! your jobs have gotten into your heads too much! he can't let either of you leave. no. he won't let either of you leave. you've become shoto's lifeline, and he'll die of you disappear.

— venom!reader: if you aren't hunting down the people on your list at night, you spend the day doing the commission's dirty work. your partner, hawks, who aides you with your work, isn't the most tolerable person to be around, but he pays for your food every time the two of you go out, so you're not too keen on dropping him just yet. his constant remarks about how you should be his apprentice instead of endeavor's are a bit annoying, but you brush them off. the heroes working directly for the commission are all fucked up in some sense. you would know since you've worked for them, and your old partner form the old days is no exception. he shows you off to the media as his best friend, but just because the two of you hung out so much back when you were younger doesn't make you friends. at least in your eyes.

— venom!reader: you don't see the maniacal glint in hawks's eyes when he looks at you. he looks at you as if you're the entire world, but you don't even spare him a single glance. why? why do you not smile at him like you used to? why do you keep a distance from him? why? why do you hate him? why won't you just LOOK at him? why? why? why?

— venom!reader: weeks after the grand chase between you and the corporation's men, you're still left with a terrible reputation. you work as a hero, but the people view you as a villain, and your symbiote doesn't really help in fixing your tarnished reputation. so many people died because of the chase. you seem like such a villain. would it be surprising if you tried to join the league of villains? you join hawks as a mule in the l.o.v after much conviction, and none of the villains unsettle you as much as that guy, dabi.

— venom!reader: dabi's gaze unsettles you. it feels like he's picking you apart with his haunting sickness that has you questioning how good of an actor you are. he's clearly done his research on you when he asks about your apprenticeship under endeavor and how you live with the man. there's distaste in his tone not for just the todoroki family, but you too. the two of you fight a minute into the conversation, and you evade him so quickly, he's quite embarrassed. the two of you are forced to partner up multiple times, and it's the usual mean and snarky banter that has both of you wishing death upon the other.

— venom!reader: walking in on blood running from his eyes, you offer him your help to which he denies quite harshly. but you're adamant on gaining the trust of the league, and dabi's too tired to deal with you so he lays back on the couch and lets you clean up all the open wounds he's got. touch makes him disgusted. it has him wanting to hurl and scrub away at his skin till it bleeds all over again. but you're touch... isn't so bad. you handle him with care, something dabi thinks he's never felt before, and even though he feels that similar nausea creep up his throat, he can still let your hands ghost over his stables and open wounds.

— venom!reader: you're able to read him like an open book, and dabi hates it so damn much. he hates your sarcastic remarks. he hates your brash and reckless behavior. he hates how you treat him with such gentle care. like... like you actually care about him. it reminds him of fuyumi. he misses her. you're like her. then, he sees you get a call from that brat—that "masterpiece"—and dabi's blood boils a fury. you talk to that twerp with a tone full of care and understanding. why won't you talk to him like that? why is his puny little brother able to call you older sister? why do you smile at his words? you're supposed to smile at him. let him be your brother. damn it, the scarred villain will do anything if it means taking away everything endeavor and his damned masterpiece love. but you? endeavor doesn't matter at all. he just wants to see you call him brother. once. just once. though, dabi knows he'll lose it if you give into that wishful thinking.

⏤ venom!reader: you don't realize just how horrifying of a situation you've found yourself into until you are gifted the dead body of your next target with the name of the villain that killed the person carved on their back. there's eyes always on you, and red feathers constantly litter around the corners of your apartment. but you brush it off. you know, but you push it aside. your revenge was more important. you're so dedicated to your cause that it starts to take a toll on you physically and mentally.

⏤ venom!reader: you turn more and more villainous as you take away the lives of all the people standing in your path of revenge. you've become a blood-thirsty anti-hero, feeding your parasite human brains and yourself the blood of your enemies. you're getting closer and closer to your goal, but at what cost? the lives of so many that you've lost count? innocent and guilty—you're losing your ability to differentiate. blood, guts, and revenge are the only things on your deranged mind.

⏤ venom!reader: you keeps pushing the brewing situation away until you're running away from the very heroes and villains that are after you. you're like a ghost with how you've disappeared, but it seems like no matter where you run to, you're enamored admirers will always find you.

also, if ya'll are looking for a story with this prompt or premise, i've got the one for you. my book is called venom (link btw) and idk... now that i've gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy ur day.

[ghostxrose]

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Summary ~ You thought it would be just another night at work until your eyes met the crimson ones of Pro Hero Dynamight..

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW 18+ Content, Charaters are in their 20s, FemStripper!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, porn with some plot, oral sex, face riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, WC 9k, idk what else to tag

Note ~ Hello Lovelies! I hope you all enjoy this spicy lil fic I've got for ya here! I'm still not all that good at writing smut stuff so don't expect too much of me, haha. I do want to give a quick thank you for all of the hype I got for this fic from my Sneak Peek post, so thank you Lovelies! Anyway, I'll let all you fiends get to reading! <3

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the back door to the nightclub you work at from the driver’s seat of your car. You weigh the pros and cons of going inside and clocking in for your shift while you sip on your first Red Bull of the night. It’s not that you hate your job or your coworkers, it’s just that feeling that everyone gets before walking into work. That feeling of “ugh, I wanna go back home and be lazy” that settles over you until you shove it away and force yourself to get out of your car. With your bag slung lazily over one shoulder you lock your car, then head for the door that you’ve been dead-eyeing on and off for the last 30-ish minutes.

Once inside the nightclub, you make your way to your dressing room. The bass from whatever song whoever is on stage right now has chosen thumps through your eardrums and chest. You absentmindedly nod your head to the beat as you enter your dressing room. You close the door behind you and lock it, then walk over to the vanity. Setting your bag down, you grab the tablet sitting at the corner of the vanity countertop from its charging port and sit down. You log into the nightclub’s app and clock in before clicking the “songs” tab within the app.

Once it loads up you scroll through the list of suggested songs but none of them really call out to you or feel right for the vibe you create when you get on stage. You tap the search function then get to typing and looking up songs to add to your list for your sets tonight. As soon as you’ve lined up a pretty nice selection of six songs you submit the list, then shut the tablet off and begin prepping yourself for your first set.

You touch up your makeup and loosely curl your hair. After laying out both outfits you brought for tonight, you decide to flip a coin to see which one you should wear first. Heads is for the lacy dark purple bra and thong set with a pair of black open-toed stilettos - simple but still a favorite amongst crowds. Tails is for the slightly more intricately designed deep wine colored bralette and g-string set with dark red cross strap, heeled sandals - another crowd favorite because of the way it’s slightly more.. sheer as far as materials go.

You toss the coin into the air with a small but knowing smirk because you know that it really doesn’t matter what outfit you wear. What people really show up for are the feelings of dark attraction that the physical traits of your Quirk stirs up inside them. Attraction that makes them feel as if it’s taboo or maybe even dangerous to tamper with, but they enjoy the thrill either way.

Your Quirk is called Hellspawn, but you’ve never viewed it in a negative light. Your Quirk is the product of generations of similar Quirks possessed by both sides of your family. You’ve been taught your whole life to be proud of your Quirk and its traits, no matter what people might say or think. You confidently show off your demon-like horns, wings, fangs, and tail every day.

The coin lands on heads so you put on the dark purple outfit and stilettos, taking your time to make sure everything goes on just right. With one final glance in the full length mirror in your dressing room you smile at your reflection, then turn to leave and head backstage. As you walk through the back hallways of the nightclub you begin to feel excitement and adrenaline thrum through your veins. Just because this is a job doesn’t mean that you don’t have fun when you’re up on stage.

“There’s my girl! How’re ya doin’ tonight, Luci?” Sakura, the nightclub’s manager and owner, cheerfully greets you when you get backstage.

“Ask me that after my set,” you say jokingly. “Better yet, when you see me raking in tons of bills just assume that I’m feeling pretty good!” You add on with a smirk.

“Mmm, always love your confidence, Babes! Alright, now get out there and kill it like you always do!” Sakura says with a wink, then focuses back on whatever she was working on her tablet.

You smile to yourself, amped up by the vibes within the club and your rising confidence, and begin stretching to warm your muscles up for your first set of the night. More adrenaline, and the caffeine from your energy drink, hits your veins when you hear the ending of the last song for whoever is on stage and you wait for your stage name to be called.

“Alright everyone, can I get a round of cheers for our lovely Siren?! Don’t worry, they’ll be back a little later!!” Hikari, tonight’s DJ, says after hopping on the mic.

“You all are in for a real treat now, though! Please help me in summoning our resident hot demon-babe to the stage; Lucifer!!” A wild smile pulls at your lips as you take in the crowds hyped up cheers from the other side of the curtain. “Get your sexy ass out here, Luci!!” Hikari excitedly calls for you and you let out a giggle before taking a step forward.

Pulling back the curtain you slowly walk further onto the stage, emerging from a cloud of smoke and into the dark-neon lights shining onto the stage. You smile and wink over at Hikari in the DJ’s booth and she blows you a kiss making you giggle a bit. Looking back towards the crowd you sway your hips as you walk, your eyes half lidded and a sultry, fanged smile on your face. Your body getting into the flow of the music from the first song of this set. The bass produced from Obsolete Ritual makes you vibrate when it hits and it’s a rush that fuels the amped up fire within you that you’ll never get over.

Getting up to the pole at the end of the catwalk, you wrap your hands around it and walk in a slow, teasing circle despite the song’s tempo having sped up. Your eyes scan over the crowd, running across the familiar faces of regulars and lingering for mere seconds over new faces. For reasons unbeknownst to you, your gaze gets stuck on one new face in particular.

Sharp, crimson eyes connect with yours, the stranger’s handsome face set in a scowl. ‘The hell is he scowling in a stripclub for? If he didn’t want to be here, then why did he come? Or maybe he’s just mad that Siren’s set ended? Whatever, buddy, try to enjoy the show.’ You think to yourself as you pull your gaze from Grumpy Hot Guy and officially begin your routine.

As you bend, twist, and dance your way through Obsolete Ritual, Veins, and Descending you find that Grumpy Hot Guy’s eyes never seem to leave you. His scowl remained but his eyes seemed to burn more with every movement of your body. When you finish your set you have to force yourself not to look at him as you spread your wings and bow to the crowd.

The weight of his eyes on you grows heavy as you help the club’s “Money Grabbers” rake in your earnings. Purposefully ignoring him you smile, giggle, and thank customers as they stuff more bills into your lingerie as you work to grab cash from the floor of the stage. You move to head offstage once all of the money has been gathered when you’re stopped by a tug on your tail. You let out a yelp, then quickly turn around to hiss at whoever the perv is that committed the action. A security guard is already handling the guy but he still has the nerve to shoot you an unsettling and creepy smirk. You hiss anyway, then roll your eyes as you stand and quickly leave the stage.

“Christ, are you okay, Luci?? Fucking hate pervs like that bastard! He’s being thrown out as we speak, so don’t worry! How’s your tail??” Sakura frantically asks, immediately mother-henning you as soon as you’re backstage.

You let out a soft giggle and give her an appreciative smile, “I’m fine and so is my tail, but thank you. Handsy people are very annoying but I can handle it and I’m fine.” You say reassuringly and Sakura lets out a relieved breath, then looks you in the eye with a smirk.

“Ugh, what’s with the look, Sakura? Did I really make that much from the set?” You question with a slightly bored look.

“Way off base with the guess there, Babes! Seems like we may have a few heroes in the house tonight, literally! I was watching the cameras when that creep grabbed your tail and I saw a few customers try to get to you, one in particular seemed especially pissed. Any guesses as to who they could be before I tell you?!” Sakura explains with a playful glint in her eyes.

“You know I hate guessing games,” you say in a forced bored tone that hopefully masks your itching curiosity.

“Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Luci! Anyways, Pro Heroes Cellophane, Chargebolt, Pinky, Red Riot, and Dynamight were rushing to be your knights in shining armor! How crazy and exciting is it that a few Top Ten Pros are here at my nightclub?! Wild, right?!” Sakura reveals and you mentally kick yourself for not piecing together that Grumpy Hot Guy with the crimson eyes and spiky blonde hair is Pro Hero Dynamight.

“Uh, yeah, that is pretty crazy.. Uhm, I’m gonna go clean up and get ready for my next set, see you back here in an hour.” You say in a slight daze, the shock from Dynamight not being able to keep his eyes off of you clouding your mind.

“Mhm, gonna go make yourself extra pretty for the Pros, huh?” Sakura says with a devilish smirk.

“Sakura, please, I’m hot enough as it is. If I got any prettier customers would start dropping dead.” You say matter-of-factly after you’ve turned to walk away, hoping that Sakura didn’t see your blush. Sakura bursts out laughing behind you telling you to not kill her sources of income. You wave a playfully dismissive hand in the air before disappearing down the hallway back to your dressing room.

Once you’ve locked your dressing room door you let out a long exhale. You had run into a few of your coworkers on your way back to your dressing room and had to reassure every one of them that you were okay. But not only that, you were reminded again and again that there are Pros out in the crowd tonight via your coworkers gushing over their favorites within the group that came. Apparently a couple of your coworkers are major Dynamight fans and you tried your best to keep your cool when they wouldn’t shut up about how hot he is.

Even now, sitting at your vanity touching up your hair and makeup, you swear that you can still feel his burning gaze on you. Thinking about every time you made eye contact with him during your first set stirs something up inside of you and your reflection shows the blush you can feel heating your cheeks. As you change into your second outfit of the night you can’t tell if you’re nervous or hyped to get back on stage.

As soon as the straps of your heels are tied you make your way towards the mini fridge in your room. You grab the small bottle of Grey Goose and a small can of Red Bull from inside the fridge, then a shot glass from the top of the fridge. Sitting back down at your vanity, you pour yourself a shot and crack open your Red Bull. Downing the shot, you give it a second to settle before you pour a second. After shooting the second shot, you put the Grey Goose back and start drinking your Red Bull.

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of liquid courage, right? It’s just to help me through my next set after that creep touched me.’ You reason with (aka lie to) yourself as you look over yourself in the mirror.

A little over five minutes before you are to be called onto stage again, you make your way backstage. The shots you took earlier have succeeded in helping you feel like the confident and powerful Queen of the Underworld that you are. A cat-calling whistle pulls your attention over to Sakura and she gives you a smirk.

“Thought I told you not to kill my customers, Babes! Gah damn, you look hot! Trying to impress some certain Pro Heroes out there?” Sakura exclaims with a shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Being hot is part of the job, Boss. I don’t need to impress anyone but myself.” You say as you suppress a blush and look at your nails.

“Damn straight, Babes! Preach! Ugh, sometimes I’d really kill for your level of confidence.” Sakura says in all of her dramatic flare.

You giggle and shake your head as you blow her kiss, then turn towards the curtain. You exchange smiles with Siren as they walk through the curtain to head back to their room and wait for your cue.

“Everybody, shh shh, quiet down for a moment,” You hear Hikari say over the club’s speakers and you wonder what she has planned. You stifle an excited giggle and bounce a bit with anticipation.

“Oh, sexy Queen of Darkness, please grace us with your presence!” Hikari half chants, half moans into the mic, and you have to cover your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Lucifer, hear us and show yourself! We’re on our knees, begging! Get out here you little vixen!” Hikari dramatically cries out and you do your best to not laugh your ass off at her antics.

With smoke clouding the view of the curtain you slip through carefully so you don’t disturb it. Suddenly, you flare your wings out and let your eyes glow, your arms held out to your sides a bit as you slowly walk forward. Spotlights slowly crawl towards you and up your body until you’re illuminated and you flash an “evil” grin at the crowd.

“Oh yeah, baby!!” Hikari dramatically moans out as she starts the first song of this set.

A laugh leaves your mouth and a genuine smile pulls at your lips as you walk to the pole at the end of the catwalk. Each of your steps deliberately heavy so that your breasts and ass bounce to the beat of Hot Demon B!Tches Near U as you walk. You briefly lock eyes with Dynamight and in all of your confidence (liquid and natural) you wink at him before grabbing the pole and getting to dancing.

HDBNU and the second song Slayer are full of fast paced moves and ass shaking, money seemingly raining down like confetti. So caught up in keeping time with the song, you had blurred out the crowd. It wasn’t until the first base drop of your last song, Fill The Void, that you noticed something slightly startling.

You had your back against the pole and slowly slid down it. Your arms stretched above you gripping said pole and your legs spreading as you sank to the ground. Your breathing hitched a bit when your eyes connected with burning crimson, the owner of the eyes standing at the front of the crowd at the edge of the stage. You did your best to hide your surprise but of course Dynamight noticed and he sent you a small smirk.

You smirk back at him, accepting an unspoken challenge of sorts, slowly and sensually standing back up. Wrapping your legs around the pole you do a few tricks before you slowly slide down, feet hitting the floor once more. Swaying and moving your body to the music, you get to the front of the pole where you sink to the floor once again, this time getting on your hands and knees.

You bite your lip seductively and slowly crawl towards the crowd, your tail slowly swishing side to side and your eyes glowing. You stare Dynamight right in the eyes as you crawl and mouth the last few words of the song. You stop about half a foot from the edge of the stage and gently roll onto your back, arching it and sensually running your hands down your body. As the song comes to a close, your eyes glow significantly brighter, you let out a puff of blue-colored fire.

When the song finally ends, you stand up and bow, blowing kisses and smiling at the crowd. You cast one last glance at Dynamight and find that he looks slightly stunned. You smirk, then turn to make your way off of the stage, hips swaying the entire time. Getting backstage, your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible and Sakura definitely notices.

“Christ, Luci, I’m gonna have to call every ambulance in Tokyo after that performance! Shit, I think I’m even having heart palpitations! You fucking killed it out there, Babes!” Sakura exclaims, one hand fanning her face and the other on her chest.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush!” You say, feigning embarrassment, but ultimately giggling.

“You know who's blushing? Everyone out there who just jizzed their pants!” Sakura says, sending both of you into a laughing fit.

“But for real, great work! Now go grab a snack, get changed, and help out the other servers on the floor, please!” Sakura loosely orders with a bright smile.

“Yes, ma’am!” You say with a mocking salute and smile, then head to your dressing room.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Once you’ve changed into the club’s server outfit, aka a top that is basically a bralette paired with what could be the shortest skirt in the world, some cheeky panties underneath, and knee high stiletto boots, you make your way out to the bar.

“There she is; the girl who always makes me regret not bringing an extra pair of underwear!” Ruby, the bartender for the night, playfully exclaims as you walk up to the counter.

“Thought you knew better by now!” You say with a laugh and Ruby rolls their eyes with a smile.

“Alright, Love, here’s a tray of drinks for the group over at VIP table three. I don’t know if Sakura told ya, but the VIP section will be yours tonight.” Ruby says as they carefully slide a serving tray full of drinks towards you.

“C’mon, Rue, of course she didn’t tell me. Do I ever work any other section?” You comment with feigned annoyance and Ruby laughs.

In reality, you love working the VIP section. It’s always full of rich people with too much money to spend and they always tip very generously. It certainly helps that you flirt your ass off whilst serving but everyone does that.

Picking the tray up with the skill and grace you’ve perfected over the years of being in this industry, you send one last smile and wink to Ruby before heading for the VIP section of the lounge. You smile at patrons as you move through the crowd, giggling and thanking them for the compliments they give about your performance. While you truly do love your job, customer service could still be considered a performance and you are flawless at it.. Until you make it past the roped off entrance to the VIP lounge and see the group at table three.

Virtually unnoticeably, your steps falter and you’re thankful that the club's ambience is fairly dim as you take in a steadying breath. Mentally reasserting your confidence, you paint on a cool and flirty smile as you walk over to table three. Your thoughts run through your mind, filling you with the tiniest bit of dread, ‘Of fucking course it’s them.. I mean, they are Pro Heroes, why wouldn’t they be in the VIP lounge.. For fuck sa-’

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Lucifer, or Luci for short, I’ll be one of your servers tonight. I have your drinks here, but let me know if you need anything else.” You say as you set the tray down on the table, your voice coming out impressively even and a bit sultry.

“Yeah, uhm, I’m gunna need your number,” Chargebolt drunkenly slurs out, a dopey smile on his face and hearts practically in his eyes, as he grabs his drink from the tray.

You giggle at his attempt at hitting on you, having to keep from full-on laughing when you notice Dynamight’s jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye. You smile gently at Chargebolt, “Sorry, babes, but I don’t give my number out to strangers.” You say with a sympathetic pout as you try not to join the rest of the group in their laughter.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m Chargebolt aka Denk- OW! Man, c’mon, you don’t gotta hit me!” Chargebolt whines as he pouts at Dynamight while rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry about him! He hits on anyone who breathes his way! Thanks for the drinks, Luci!” Pinky giggles out over Chargebolt’s whining, said man still on the receiving end of Dynamight’s murderous glare.

“No problem! I’ve got a few other tables to serve but I’ll check back in a little bit!” You say as you pick up the now empty tray and step back from the table.

You hear the rest of the group thank you as you walk away, Dynamight’s grumbled and gravelly ‘thanks’ sending a wave of heat through your body. ‘It should be illegal for someone’s one-worded, grumbled response to sound so sexy, what the fuck?!’ You mentally curse as you walk up to one of the other tables.

The hours fly by quickly as you wait on each of your tables. Every stop at the Pros’ table met with flirty quips from the group, minus Dynamight. In fact, he hasn’t even looked at you the whole time you’ve been off-stage. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t just a little disappointed, but you shove it down to keep your sultry and flirty persona up. You flirtatiously thank the group at VIP table five as you stick the wad of bills that is your tip from them into your bralette and blow them a kiss as you walk towards the bar.

“Hey Ruby, you got the time?” You ask, exhaustion leaking into your tone.

“A little past one. You’re off at 15, right?” Ruby asks as they wipe off a glass. You nod, relief settling over you as well as exhaustion. It was a good shift but you are so ready to go home.

“This tray is for three, right? I’ll take it to them before I head back to my room.” You say, picking the tray up with a bit of a huff.

“Don’t act like you’re doing any favors for anyone, you just wanna see the Pros one last time before you leave.” Ruby teases with a smirk and you feign offense.

“Or I just want to reem them for tips, but go off I guess.” You playfully bite back, then giggle as Ruby raises an eyebrow at you.

Despite your exhaustion setting in more with each minute passing, you quickly make your way to the table of Pros. Pouring the last of your energy into your customer service persona, you set the tray of drinks down on the table and smile at the group.

“Hey Heroes, it has been an extreme pleasure serving and meeting all of you but it is now the end of my shift. One of our other servers will take over for me, I hope that you all enjoy the rest of your night!” The well-rehearsed spiel leaves your mouth with a pleasant tone and warm smile.

“I know I’ll be back if only to watch you dance again,” Pinky says with a flirty smile and wink that makes you giggle.

“Thanks for being so amazing!” Red Riot says with a bright smile as he hands you a fat wad of cash. You feign surprise as you take the cash and thank them all as you shove it in what little space you have left in your bralette. You spare one last glance at Dynamight and suppress a frown when you catch him looking very intently at his phone. You say your goodbyes, then rush to drop the empty tray off at the bar before heading back to your dressing room.

Changing back into the sweatpants and sweater that you arrived to work in, you feel the bone-deep heaviness that comes with being tired. You throw your hair up into a messy bun and slip your shoes on, then clock out from the tablet in your room. Slipping your bag onto your shoulder you leave your room and head for Sakura’s office to pick up your earnings from the night.

“Hey Boss, I’m outta here,” You announce from the doorway of her office.

“Alrighty, Babes! Here’s your check, you made pretty good bank tonight! Might be a little more than usual, awesome job!” Sakura beams as she hands you the envelope with your check in it.

Taking the envelope and putting it into your bag, you smile tiredly at her, “Thanks, Sakura. See ya later.”

“You want an escort to your car? I can call one of the bouncers back.” Sakura offers like she always does.

“Nah, I’m good. You already know that I’m the scary creature that lurks in the shadows.” You joke as you activate your Quirk a bit causing your eyes to glow while you shoot her a fanged smile. She laughs at your antics then bids you goodnight and you begin your walk to the back door of the club.

You step out into the chilly night air and are nearly blinded by a set of headlights coming from a car parked in the spot right in front of the door. You put your hand up to shield your eyes from the bright ass headlights and try to see who may be in the car. Suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and an anxious chill shivers down your spine. From your peripherals you see a hand reaching toward you and you try to move out of the person’s reach. Unfortunately, you’re a tad too late and they are able to grab your wrist and pull you towards them. You come face to face with the creep from earlier and your stomach drops as fear begins to course through you.

“Finally, some alone time with the demon-whore herself. Ya know, I’m a real big fan of yers. Wha’ do ya say we go back to my place and commit some sins, baby?” The creep-ass perv drawls out with a sick smile and your fear quickly turns to anger.

“Fuck off, you corny-ass pervert!” You growl out and you jerk your wrist up to your face, letting out a small breath of blue flames aimed towards the creep’s arm.

“Fucking bitch!” The degenerate of a man roars out as he yanks his hand away, continuing to curse from the pain.

You take the opportunity to whirl around and rush back into the club, locking the back door behind you once you’re inside. The door begins rattling from heavy banging against it and you can hear muffled shouts coming through from the man. You stand there shaking and trying to think of what to do now when you hear the footsteps of someone running towards you. Squinting through the dim lighting you nearly cry at the sight of Sakura and Pinky.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asks, her years of being a Pro making her voice come out steady even though she just ran here, and you nod shakily.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Luci! I should have checked the cams before sending you off! Fuck, I’m so stupid!” Sakura cries into your shoulder after pulling you into a tight hug.

“It’s not your fault, Sakura, it’s okay.” You whisper, your voice coming out strained as you try not to cry, and hug her back.

The three of you jump at the sound of an explosion coming from outside the door, and Pinky pushes you both behind her. You all stand there quietly for a few moments until Pinky’s phone goes off. She answers it quickly and you’re only able to catch her end of the call, “Yeah... She’s fine... Ugh, gross, what a bastard… Okay, thanks Red!” She finishes, then hangs up and turns around to you and Sakura.

“Are you sure that you’re okay? You don’t need to be checked out by a doctor or anything?” Pinky questions as her eyes roam over your form to visibly check for any injuries whatsoever.

“No, no, I’m okay. I just want to go home.” You quietly assure the two; Pinky cautiously believes you but Sakura is still suspicious that you’re hiding any sort of pain. A loud bang on the door makes both you and Sakura jump while Pinky just lets out a sigh.

“Unlock the door, dammit!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door and Pinky takes it upon herself to fulfill the demand.

The door swings open to reveal Dynamight, the dim lights from inside the club and the street lamps from outside the only things illuminating his figure. You can still tell that his face is scrunched up into something angry even with the poor lighting if the way he is grumbling about the “fucking creepy pervert” is anything to go by.

“Good job taking down that creep, Blasty!” Pinky cheers with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Shuddup,” Dynamight says with annoyance laced in his tone, but Pinky just laughs it off as she walks past him.

“Miss Sakura, if you could come with me? The police may want to see the security footage or get a statement from you.” Pinky says from her paused position in the doorway.

“Of course! Text me when you get home, Luci! I mean it, like, as soon as you pull into your driveway!” Sakura demands with a stern look on her face as she moves to catch up with Pinky.

“I will,” You promise with a small smile and send her a wave as she leaves.

A few moments of silence pass as you and Dynamight just stand there, an air of awkwardness beginning to settle in before you speak up, “Thanks for.. arresting that guy.” You say quietly, looking at him with a small smile.

“The guy had a pretty bad burn on his arm when we showed up.. Any idea where it might have come from?” Dynamight asks in a low and even tone, his sharp crimson eyes looking into yours.

Your smile drops and panic churns at your stomach, “I-I.. it was self defense! I-I didn’t know what else to do, h-he wouldn’t let go of me!” You fearfully begin defending yourself, only just now realizing that you used your Quirk unlicensed to harm somebody. Your heart begins to race and your breaths start to stutter, mind racing over the fact that you broke the law.

“Calm down, I was just curious. As far as the cops are concerned they think I did it, so you’re in the clear. Even if they do find out it was you, it’s legal if it’s in self defen- Jesus christ, take a deep breath, it’s okay!” Dynamight’s voice raises a bit when he notices you beginning to hyperventilate.

You turn away from him and make your way towards the wall, leaning against it to steady yourself. You close your eyes and take some deep breaths in hopes of calming down. After a minute, you open your eyes and look at anything except the hero in front of you when you turn back around.

“I’d like to go home now, if that’s okay? Or do I need to speak to the police?” You meekly ask as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“I’ll tell them that you’ll go down to the station tomorrow. The security cam footage should suffice for tonight.” He says and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you nod your head.

“Well, thanks again.. Goodnight, Dynamight.” You mumble as you move toward the door to leave.

“I’ll follow behind you.. to make sure you get home safe.” You hear Dynamight’s rushed and raspy words from behind you making you stop in your tracks.

“That’s not necessary, really.. Should you even be driving? You’ve been drinking all night..” You ramble out after you turn around to face him, your heart thundering in your chest when you find that he’s right there. 

“I only had a couple drinks, plus I’m not weak like Dunc- Chargebolt, I can handle my fucking liquor. I’m gunna go get my car, do not leave this parking lot until I get back here.” Dynamight firmly demands before rushing off toward the front of the building.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you shake yourself out of it and make your way to your car. You get in, hitting the lock button as soon as your door closes, and start it up. You spend a few minutes queuing up songs until you hear a honk from next to you. Nearly pissing yourself, you send a glare to Dynamight for scaring you but he just rolls his eyes and motions for you to go.

With a little bit of hesitancy in your gut, you back out of your parking space and begin your drive home. Looking at the routes on a map, it’s not a very far drive, but traffic always turns short trips into longer ones. Periodic glances at your rear view mirror tells you that you’re not the only one annoyed with the traffic. A small giggle leaves your lips every time you see Dynamight puff his cheeks with a huff or yell at some dick speeding past the both of you.

Finally, you arrive at your house, clicking the button on the gate opener and waiting for it to open fully before pulling up into the drive. Dynamight follows right behind you, pulling up next to you but just sitting in his car. You wonder if he’s going to watch you walk into your house then you wonder why he’s doing this at all. ‘There’s no way the Dynamight does this with even half of the victims he helps rescue..’ You think to yourself as you pull out your phone and tap the call function on Sakura’s contact.

The conversation is short and as soon as you hang up you turn your car off and gather your stuff, then get out. You barely register that Dynamight has gotten out of his car before he’s walking toward you. You look between him and his off car with a confused expression on your face.

“You gunna close the ga-” Dynamight starts but cuts himself off when he sees that the gate to your driveway has automatically started closing, the allotted time you have it set to stay open if you don’t close it yourself having run out.

“I didn’t realize you’d even be getting out of your car..” You comment quietly, and albeit nervously, as you make your way to your front door.

Silently, you take your keys out of your bag, placing the magnetic fob on its spot just above the doorknob. The lock makes a small beep and the keypad above the spot for the fob lights up. You sneak a glance behind you to see if Dynamight is looking but his back is to you as he seemingly surveys the driveway. You quickly type in the code for the lock and a chime rings through the air as the door unlocks. You push the door open a bit before turning around to Dynamight, unsure of what to do or say.

“Uhm, so-”

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” He cuts you off with his question as he turns to face you and his eyes scan over your body as you blink up at him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine..” You say, a little bit shocked by his behavior, and he just nods his head as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

A moment of silence fills the air between you two before you blurt out, “Why did you do this? Made sure I got home safe, I mean. You.. you barely even acknowledged me after my performance at the club, and it’s a pretty well-known fact that Dynamight doesn’t really follow up with those that he rescues, let alone escorts them home..”

Dynamight’s jaw clenches and irritation fills his handsome features, and you have to remind your body that right now is not a good time to be getting aroused. His eyes meet yours and promptly melt you with their heat, whether it’s from irritation or something else you don’t know.

“Because, dammit..” He starts, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out an exasperated sigh, his eyes flicking to the ground and glaring at the cement.

“Strip joints aren’t my thing. They’re too fucking loud, there’s too many damn people, and I’ve never had any interest in watching people twirl around on a pole.” He continues, but gets interrupted by the scoff you defensively let out.

But he continues on before letting you get a word out, “But it was stupid Pinky’s birthday and that’s what she wanted to do, so I was dragged into going. I sat at that damn table hating every second until.. Until you got onto that fucking stage. And I know, I know, you probably hear this shit all the fucking time but dammit there was just something about you. I couldn’t tear my damn eyes away from you.”

You’re not sure when it happened but suddenly he is so close to you, crimson eyes sending a blazing heat through your body. Your breath hitches when you catch a whiff of his cologne and your panties are starting to feel much more damp.

“There’s some sort of lust factor to your Quirk, right? There has to be because I never feel like this towards anyone right off the bat,” He rasps out, his voice quieter than before and husky.

“Feel like what?” You whisper, playing the dumb-innocence card heavily as you stare into his eyes.

“Like I wanna fuck you until you’re nothing but a drooling mess cumming on my cock,” He rasps out huskily, his face mere centimeters from yours.

You can’t take it anymore, something in you just snaps and you’re smashing your lips onto his. Your moan mingles with his groan as your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands quickly find purchase on your hips and his fingers dig into the fabric of your sweats as he pulls your body impossibly closer to his. The kiss, if one could call it that, is aggressive with sharp canines nipping each others’ lips and tongues fighting for dominance.

In the midst of your devouring of each other, he backs you into your house, kicking the door shut behind him. You absentmindedly hear the chime of your door locking itself over the rush of blood in your ears and Dynamight’s groans. Your bag ends up crashing to the floor and you both somehow manage to haphazardly kick your shoes off.

You both stumble down the hallway as you lead him to your bedroom, pieces of clothing almost literally torn from each other’s bodies littering the floor as you go. By the time you fall back onto your bed, you’re both in nothing but your underwear. Dynamight stands at the edge of your bed seemingly entranced as you drag your hands along your body up to the front clasp of your bra. You slowly and sensually unclip the bra, making a show out of taking it off even though the Hero’s focus is solely on your tits.

His eyes then meet yours and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asks, his voice rough with lust but you hear the slight hesitance.

“I kissed you, didn’t I? Listen, I know I’m a stripper but I don’t usually fuck the patrons, I simply have no interest in it. I want this, I need this, and I’m clean if that makes you feel better. Plus, I’m on birth control, so please Dyn-”

“Katsuki. If we’re gunna fuck then you at least get to call me by my fucking name.” He bites out with fake annoyance, rolling his eyes as he shoves his underwear off.

You smirk up at him, toying with your breasts and moaning his name, just to test it out on your tongue and goddamn is it delicious. His eyes darken yet seem to glow at the same time like a whole new level of lust flowed over him, and you give him your real name.

“So, Katsuki, are you gunna fuck me til I’m a drooling mess cumming on your cock or am I gunna have to call Charg- shit, ahh, fuck-” You try to taunt him but are quickly cut off when Katsuki is suddenly on you, mouthing at one of your breasts while his hand kneads and squeezes the other.

He grinds his hard cock on your clothed pussy, right on your clit, the friction of it all making you pant and moan underneath him. Your hands sink into his hair, your claws scratching against his scalp and pulling more groans from him. He gives both your breasts equal attention, biting and sucking and leaving hickies in the wakes of his lips. His kisses begin to travel down your body until his hot mouth is sucking and licking over your already soaked panties.

It’s a slow kind of torture when he finally decides to drag your panties down your legs and off of your body. Needy whines and breathy begs leave your mouth as he uses one hand to slowly drag your panties down your legs while the thumb of his other hand rubs torturously slow circles into your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.. You that needy for my cock, baby?” He husks out as he settles on his stomach between your legs.

“Y-yes, ah, been wet since, fuck, since my second s-set when, a-ah, wh-when y-you were by th-the stage,” You barely manage to get out between the slow stripes he’s licking up your pussy.

He sends you a cocky smirk before fully diving into your wetness and one of your hands flies to his hair while the other grips the sheets. He drinks you up like a man dying of thirst; going from sucking your clit and flicking his tongue against it to dipping lower and slipping his tongue in and out of your slit. Every ministration pushes you closer to that edge and you can’t stop your body from squirming as moans fall from your lips.

An idea manages to slip into your pleasure-addled mind and you pull at his hair to get his attention. This only results in what could only be described as a growl leaving his mouth and vibrating against your clit, nearly sending you. You fight off your impending orgasm as much as you can manage and try to use your words instead, “K-Katsuki, w-wait! I-I wa-wanna ride your face!” That gets his attention immediately, making him pause mid-lick to lean back a bit and give you a wild smirk.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” His lust-laced voice carries through the room as he shuffles around to get into position.

Once he’s comfortable, his lust-darkened and excited eyes catch yours, a devilish smirk sitting on his lips. You send him your own fanged smirk and carefully climb over his body, the shuffling of limbs resulting in your body facing your headboard as your pussy hovers over his mouth. His hands come up to grip your thighs as you slowly seat yourself onto his hot and waiting mouth. A half moan, half gasp leaves your lips when Katsuki immediately gets back to devouring you and one of your hands buries itself in his hair.

You let yourself drown beneath the waves of pleasure for a moment or two before forcing some clarity into your mind. You smirk down at him and his ministrations falter a bit as you trail the tip of your tail down his torso. He questions your action with his eyes until they widen a bit out of surprise as your tail slowly gets increasingly closer to his cock. His groan vibrates against your clit as you wrap your tail around him and his eyes flutter a bit.

You start jerking his cock slowly, your hips moving in sync, and both of your moans start filling the room. Katsuki becomes more aggressive with his licking and sucking, his tongue delving into you every now and then as you grind against him.

“Hah.. ah.. I-I’m g-gunna f-fucking.. cum..” You pant out between moans, your grip on his hair tightening as the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm begins flooding you once again.

“Fucking hell.. Cum, then, baby. Cum on my fucking tongue.” Katsuki’s muffled command is followed by another groaned out curse, his hips bucking a bit off the bed as you continue to jerk him.

“Aah, Katsuki,” His name comes out as a high-pitched moan as your orgasm hits you. Your pussy clenches around his tongue as you double over, your free hand sinking into the mattress next to his head. He tongue-fucks you through it as your eyes squeeze shut and your nails scrape against his scalp. In your bliss, you hear and feel him let out something between a groan and growl, and you’re not sure if it’s from pain or pleasure.

He continues swiping his tongue against your pussy as whines from overstimulation leave your mouth. Something more begins building in your abdomen and you forcefully lift your hips from his face to keep from potentially drowning the man beneath you.

You're both panting as you stare at each other with the same look of feral lust in your eyes. The moonlight shining in from your window making it look like his eyes are glowing and you feel just a bit envious over how fucking effortlessly attractive this man is. A playful smirk pulls at your lips when you squeeze your tail around his cock and he lets out an unintentional moan. Suddenly, in a blur of motions, you’re flipped onto your back with Katsuki hovering over you, his lips still shiny with your cum.

“Ya know, teasing isn’t nice.” Katsuki comments huskily with a smirk as he grinds his cock against your wet pussy, his tip catching your clit with every stroke.

In an instant his lips are on yours, swallowing your whines and moans. He holds himself up with one arm while the other leaves its position from beside your head. His now free hand runs down your body until he gets to your pussy. His fingers rub at your clit a bit before moving further down where he slips a finger into you. Your moans go up in volume as one finger becomes two and his lips suck hickies into the column of your throat. Your body begins to writhe a bit as his fingers brush over your g-spot and his teeth nip at your hot skin.

Soon enough two fingers turn into three and the tsunami-size waves of your next orgasm crash against the poorly built dam you’ve built. All the while, Katsuki just swallows all of begging and pleading for him to just put his cock in you already. His hot, hard cock that is currently weeping pre-cum all over your thigh.

“I-I think I l-learned my lesson ‘bout teasing, Ka-Katsuki! Oh fuck.. J-just put it in!” You demand when his mouth goes back to sucking more marks into your shoulder.

“Demanding little slut, flip the fuck over.” Katsuki commands after he pulls his fingers from your pussy.

You flip yourself onto your stomach, ass up in the air and tail swishing sensually slowly behind you. You look back at him with a smirk that quickly falters when you meet his gaze dead-on as he licks your cum from his fingers. A cocky smirk pulls at his lips when he finishes and uses that same hand to smack one of your asscheeks making you cry out. Pain and pleasure tingle up your spine and your pussy continues to leak.

“Yeah, kinda figured you were a pain slut by now. Only fitting for someone with a demon Quirk, huh?” Katsuki husks out following another smack to your ass.

Finally, without any further commentation, the fat head of his cock nudges its way between your pussy lips. He enters you slowly, groaning as you pant through the welcomed invasion of every inch of him. When his hips finally meet your asscheeks you understand why he had taken his time fingering you. Of course, you had noticed that his cock is big but you weren’t quite prepared to feel this full. There isn’t a single complaint that runs through your pleasure-melted brain, though. Only praises intermingled with moans fall from your mouth when he gives an experimental thrust.

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” Katsuki grits out as he sets a steady pace, moving in and out of you while his hands grip your hips.

“So.. fuckin’.. good.. s-so.. full..” You moan out as you push yourself back on his cock, absentmindedly wrapping your tail around one of his wrists.

The room becomes hot and stuffy, the smell of sex and Katsuki’s cologne on every breath you breathe in. Your eyes are half-lidded, wanting to roll back, and your mouth hangs open as Katsuki begins drilling into you. You nearly cum from the sight of him throwing his head back and groaning at how your pussy squelches and clenches around him.

His cock hits your g-spot over and over, making that overwhelming feeling inside you unbearable. You don’t get anything other than a high-pitched moan out of your mouth as your second orgasm crashes into you. Your eyes roll back as you squirt all over Katsuki’s cock and pelvis. You become a babbling, drooling mess as he fucks your through your orgasm, his pace somehow getting faster. His exhales become grunts and growls as he pounds into you, his hands now gripping you so tightly that you nearly cum again thinking about the bruises they’ll leave.

“Fuck, I’m gunna fucking cum!” Katsuki groans out, his thrusts beginning to falter slightly.

“Ah, please cum, a-ah, pleasepleaseplease,” You mindlessly beg as you cum on his cock again.

“Sh-shit.. I-I.. fuuuuck,” He stutters out as he thrust hard into you one last time before stilling. You moan softly as warmth fills you, your eyes shutting from all of the bliss and pleasure you felt throughout the night.

Katsuki is hunched over you for a moment just trying to catch his breath before he kisses your shoulder and straightens up. He slowly pulls out causing both of you to groan, then he collapses onto the mattress beside you. You lower your hips down to the bed and stretch your body a bit before shuffling over to lay on his chest. With his eyes closed, Katsuki wraps an arm around you and begins lightly rubbing your lower back. It’s a peaceful and calm silence between the both of you, the only sounds being both of you breathing and your house’s A/C kicking on.

“There’s no lust factor,” You say quietly, your chin resting on his pec as you look up at his face.

Katsuki cracks an eye open and tilts his head to peer down at you in confusion, “What?” He rasps out.

“My Quirk, Hellspawn, is just demon traits. I don’t have any succubi traits or powers, so there’s no lust factor to my Quirk.” A teasing smile plays on your lips as you explain.

Katsuki is silent as he glares down at you, his face unamused until his lips twitch and a chuckle escapes him. You let out a few giggles yourself and Katsuki runs a hand down his face.

“Well, shit, there goes that explanation. If you’re telling the truth, that is,” He says as he gives you a look of feigned suspicion.

You gasp with feigned offense as you sit up a little, “I would never lie to a Pro Hero such as yourself! What’s the matter, Mr. Dynamight, you don’t believe in lust at first sight?” You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at your bad pun.

Katsuki groans as he rolls his eyes, “Jesus Christ, ‘lust at first sight’? I can’t tell if that's the stripper in you talkin’ or the succubus.”

“I’m not a succubus!” You exclaim as you playfully push him, a laugh leaving your mouth as you stare down at his smirking face.

“Where’s your bathroom, Succubus? We both need a damn shower,” Katsuki asks as he sits up.

His question feels like it’s muffled in your ears as thoughts of not wanting this to end flood your brain. You wonder if he wants this to be a one night stand. If he’ll get dressed, then ask you to not tell anyone about what you two did tonight. If maybe he doesn’t want the fact that he slept with a stripper to get out and ruin his grand reptati-

“Hey, we gunna get this shower over with so we can sleep or what?” Katsuki’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “I’ll help ya change the bedding and shit after we get done ‘cause I’m sure as hell not sleeping in the puddle you made.” He says with a teasing smirk. You blink dumbly for a moment, then move to stand up to lead Katsuki to your bathroom.

‘He’s spending the night? Maybe he doesn’t want this to end just yet, either..’ You think as you step into the warm water of your shower, Katsuki stepping in right behind you. His arms wrap around you as he pulls you back flush against him, being mindful of your wings. He sighs as he kisses the crook of your neck and you lean back into him, closing your eyes and just enjoying the moment.

Note ~ Welp, there we go, Lovelies! This was a fun fic to write even though I'm not familiar with the workings of a strip club. I did recently watch the movie Hustlers and felt a bit more confident about what I was writing, haha. Hope it was a good read and y'all stay tuned for more fics! Love and appreciate all of you, Lovelies! <3

Divider Credit ~ @tsunami-of-tears

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS: Pavitr Prabhakar

@emmy-luv Hi! this is literally the first request i've ever gotten!! i literally watched the new movie last night and started working on this immedietely after beecause i was so excited. there aren't really any spoilers in here- but i got a better feel for Pavitr's charecter after watching it so i'm glad i waited. i hope you enjoy :D

🕷 - Pavitr falls hard and fast.

🕷 - A die hard romantic at heart. He sees you, and he’s immediately taken by everything about you. His heightened senses will clue him in to even the smallest of quirks or habits, and oh! The way you scrunch up your nose is so cute!

🕷 - In the first instance of meeting you he is 100% all over you instantly.

🕷 - he'll talk a mile a minute about anything he has any input on. He also waits eagerly to hear what you have to say, tell him what you think! how do you feel about this? what do you think about that? This colour suits him, no? He knew you’d think so! That’s why he wore it.

🕷 - It’s his way bonding with you. He’s just so excited to chat with you. "This colour would look nice on you, Jalebi."

🕷 - He will show off in front of you. YOU KNOW HE WILL.

🕷- He will be over the top while doing even the most mundane things. You know those crazy stunts they pull off in Bollywood movies? Yeah it’s kind of like that.

🕷 - From opting to athletically dive off of a building instead of taking the stairs, to backflipping gracefully into a sitting on a chair. All the while he’s peaking discreetly over his shoulder to make sure you’re watching.

🕷 - he’s a little strange lmao

🕷 - He wants to look good for you, usually his fantastic looks are low maintenance but he finds himself picking up a new spray in the hopes for you to notice. And, not that he needs it, but you’ve even gotten him to start using conditioner. oh ho boy, You’ve really got him wrapped around your finger.

🕷 - He seeks out your approval, and when he gets it he absolutely preens. even a fool would recognise the puppy love from a mile away.

🕷 - He is naturally confident, and he wholeheartedly believes in his abilities. But everyone gets a little nervous when they have a crush, even Pavitr.

🕷 - Surprisingly he can become flustered quite quickly if you’re too generous with your compliments. His laugh will get louder and and his ears will go a bit red.

🕷 - He will swoop in to your rescue every chance he gets. It might get annoying to you after a while, or not. just be careful, If you make the mistake of complaining about the traffic of the city then you’ll find yourself suddenly hundreds of feet swinging the air in the direction you were headed.

🕷 - …What? He likes how you feel against him, carrying you is a breeze for him, he is incredibly strong after all. just sit back and enjoy the ride.

🕷 - I hope you don’t value your personal space. He’ll glue himself hip too hip with you whenever he can. He’s all over you in many other ways as well. He’s very touchy feely with those he’s affectionate with.

🕷 - if you’ve watched the movie you’ll know that he’s a great judge of character, and he’s also particularly in tune with your emotions. If you need space he will endure through the terrible experience of not being near you 24-7. He’s being very brave about it!!!

🕷 - just because he's clingy doesn't mean he isn't respectful.

🕷 - If your feeling out of place in a room he will find a way out for the both of you to get away for a bit.

🕷 - If there’s one thing you don’t have to worry about its a lack of transparency. Pavitr is honest with his intentions from the get go and will profess his loyalty for you so that theres no way to confuse his intentions. It might’ve already been a bit obvious when he started giving you flowers… But oh well, you appreciate his forwardness anyway?

🕷 - He introduces you to his family! He’s serious about you, after all. He will do everything to ensure you feel welcome in their home. He emphasises your radiant personality to his aunty by speaking out about all of your wonderful qualities while simultaneously showing how dutiful he can be to you by running to get you both some more Paneer Pakora and Masala chai.

🕷 - He can do long distance. No, really. Love is not dead. He will travel any distance to see you.

🕷 - Wether you’re from another dimension or you’re his next door neighbour he will make it work.

🕷 - If you’re from another universe your own city’s assigned Spider-person might get shown up by him a bit, this is even if you aren’t personally acquainted with them. His eagerness to show off in front of you might cause a few problems.

🕷 - It's not insecurity per se… he just needs to make sure you know how much better he is! All harmless fun!

🕷 - In the case that you are close with them Pavitr will rise to the challenge of any competition he picks up on between him and the other spider.

🕷 - If you need any rescuing then he’s there in an instant, revelling in getting to be the one to carry you to safety. he will laugh and crack quick witted quips to assure you that everything is ok. If you’re left shaken and in need of a little comfort he will gladly coo and dote on you gently. “Its ok, sweetie, main idhar hi hoon."

🕷 - If you’re ever in any danger— any real danger— all theatrics are off, and he will find himself moving faster, striking harder and fighting more forcefully then he’s ever had before. his heart is in his throat every second you’re in peril, and he won’t stop until you are in his arms.

🕷 - The moment you are safe he holds you tight, tighter than ever before. Voice quaking, he whispers how glad he is that you’re ok. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him, To bear the fear he’s feeling to you. He won't let you go for a while after that.

🕷 - If you’re even a little hurt he acts like you’re dying.

🕷 - “What’s this!! A mark? MEDIC!!!”

🕷 - Don’t worry, he’ll make sure you get any attention you need, medical or otherwise.

🕷 - smooch.

🕷 - He is incredibly cheesy. But he means well!

🕷 - He’s thoughtful, too. Your time spent together will be filled with well planned dates, maybe sharing some good traditional food in front of some gorgeous scenery. He’s an utter gentleman and takes pride in sweeping you off your feet.

🕷 - he can also be a bit over the top, but he means well!

🕷 - He’ll stay true to you, no matter what.

🕷 - If you ever ask him for anything then your request takes first priority. he will drop almost anything that he’s doing to satisfy you (this doesn’t include a bus full of passengers hanging off a cliff sorry).

🕷 - If you aren’t from India, or even from Mumbatan then he will be so excited to share his part of the world with you! He’s proud of his culture, and If you take an interest in it his heart will swell three sizes bigger. He appreciates that you’re so respectful and will patiently explain or share whatever you’re interested in to you.

🕷 - I feel like he’d know a lot of yo-yo tricks. he’ll show you a few of the ones he pioneered himself.

🕷- he strikes me as a peck on the cheek kind of guy.

🕷 - he’s also super cuddly! do i even have to say?

"Jalebi": a type of sweet that’s popular in the indian subcontinent

CHANGED: "yahee hai, yahee hai, priy." : That’s it, That’s it, dear.

TO: "main idhar hi hoon" : "I'm right here."

( thank you sm @bluebird-in-the-breeze for leaving a comment with the corrections to the dialogue :') i'm so lucky that you saw it and i'm really thankful that you were kind enough to help me improve it. your a real one fr!!)

Masala Chai: Masala tea (a type of tea.)

Paneer Pakora: a popular snack in Delhi, its Indian cottage cheese deep fried in a light coating of spiced flour. (yummy!)

Mumbatan: the in-spiderverse mashup of Manhatten and Mumbai (Mumbai is the capital state of Maharashtra, India)

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating Hindi* or any other languages let me know! i'd be really interested.