#hehee i have not thought abt side characters as much as I should so this is fun

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[chastiefoul]

valentines gone wrong ft. childe, scara, and neuvilette

a/n: yes. you read that right valentines work on september!! this is just something random i wanna write one day when i'm lying down and ofc i can't wait until february next year (also how is it alr almost 2 months since i posted something???) tags: just fluff, light-read, and everything in-between, modern au (?) just don't think too much abt it hehe - summary: it's valentines and of course you have plans to give sweets to your lover. however because one thing and another, you had to entrust it to someone else in hope it will be handed safely to them. what happened when it didn't?

childe

you went home excited, anticipating his reaction to your handmade sweets, however what greets you at the door was a sulky childe, who avoided eye contact as if his life depended on it as he limits himself to a a sentence everytime you ask him something.

“something happened today, babe?” you asked him worriedly, the chocolate was the back of your mind seeing the state of your boyfriend in. “oh something definitely should have happened,” he quipped, his lower mouth sticking out slightly. “that sounds like a dig at me, did i forgot something?” you asked as you follow his gaze to what he thought must be the most interesting flower vase ever. he shrugged, refusing to give you more.

frustrated by his rejection to tell you what’s wrong, you held his face with both of your palm, turning his face to yours. although the move met no resistance, childe still refused to look at you in the eyes and only now his childish grumbles turned into such a sad expression.

“baby? please tell me what i did,” you were gentle with it, rubbing your thumb below his eyes. “...late.”

“what?”

“chocolate. where’s mine? i saw you gave your friends one so i don’t think im crazy to expect one too, especially as your boyfriend.” he pouted and you swore it looked so adorable and so out-of-character of him that you wanted to kiss him—wait.

“huh? but i did give you one!” you claimed, confusion rose inside you. “huh? but i didn’t get it...” childe’s face matched your expression. “well technically i gave it to scara to give it to you.. did he not... give it to you?”

“i wouldn’t be this insufferable if i got one, you know that, but no he didn’t say anything—and also really babe? scara? the guy who hates and made fun of me every chance he got?” he crossed his arm, raising an eyebrow, as he questioned your questionable decision-making. “hey give me a break, i was in a rush there thinking i couldn’t give you the chocolate in time. and he made me say please three times before he said he would consider doing it-oh i see how i was wrong there.” your line of ramble humbled you, the silence was loud.

“maybe he just put it in your bag or something?” you offered. “you really think he’s someone who’d do that?” he asked. “in desperate times i’d give even scara the benefit of the doubt,” you stated, opening childe’s bag. and there it was, put nicely at the very top, your chocolate for your lover.

you smiled, for all the shit-talk scara gave everyone on a daily basis you knew you could count on him. “see? i knew he’s actually a big softie for stuff like this.”

childe practically runs to your side. “my chocolate? aw babe so you really didn’t forget me!” he peppered kisses all over your face, then clasping the sweet to his chest like it’s a new-born baby. “of course i’d never. but maybe next year i’ll just give it directly to you.”

“yeah? please do, today’s event just wasn’t great for my heart.”

neuvilette

“welcome home, dear.” you greeted him cheerily as he just arrived home. it was quite late, and you had entrust the chocolate you were supposed to give to him at a reasonable hour so he could enjoy it instead of giving it to him at home.

he kissed your temple in return, a smile you’re still head over heels for on his lips. but it doesnt quite reach his eyes. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked carefully. “nothing is wrong,” he replied, somehow looking nervous. “yet it’s strange for you to be looking so fidgety. tell me?”

“well,” he paused a little, stroking your hair as he pondered the best way to approach the sentence he’s about to say. “i saw you today giving chocolates to navia and wriothesley.. i couldn’t talk to you because i was in a rush to deal with an urgent case,” he said, not looking at you on the eyes. “oh, did that bother you? it’s just they’re such good friends of mine and it’s only friendship cookies-“

“no, dear of course not. i know you’re a loving person who always appreciate those around you, it’s just..”

“just?”

neuvilette looked like he didn’t hear the rest of the words after that you did make some for the white-haired male. a smile bloomed on his face as he shook his head. “no problem i will ask them about it tomorrow. i’m just delighted you kept me in your thoughts.” a gentle expression was loyal on his features. “well of course neuvillete, you hardly ever leave my thoughts, don’t you know?” he chuckled. “i’m familiar with that you see, considering you never leave mine as well.”

the next sentence was almost audible as he spoke. “do i not get one..?” he asked ever so softly sounding a little sad, his calloused hand ran across your arm, tracing along your vein as it touched your fingers and you're sure there's something wrong in your head because all you could think about that second was how adorable the usual charismatic man was being. yet you held your smile.

“of course you do! did it not reach you? i asked the guard in front of your door because i afraid i’d bother you at work hours. sorry neuvilette, i promised i made some for you, and i was so proud of it too...”

scara

“no i’m not.” he said, with the worst frown you’ve seen on him for a while and that’s saying a lot.

“you’re definitely sulking,” you said. “shut up,” he grumbled. “hey i was supposed to be one who’s doing the sulking. we’re nearing the end of the day and you haven’t even mentioned about the chocolate i gave you today!” you retorted out of frustration but most of all confusion because you had no idea what made your lover fall into such a bad mood.

“what.”

“what?”

“say that again,” scara said, “that i gave you chocolate?” you asked. “no you didn’t, you liar!” he complained, his frown deepened if that’s even possible. “wait what? i swear i asked childe to give it to you earlier today! i was ambushed by customers today at the shop so i was scared i couldn’t give it to you on time so i asked him. did it not get to you?” you explained.

“i came home empty-handed didn’t i? also really, that dense fool?” his displeasure was obvious upon the new information you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “don’t look so disgusted, he’s not that bad.”

“sure, although you know what’s bad? that i don’t have my chocolates right now.” he crossed his arm, fuming almost looking like a child who got their toys taken. “alright enough of your pouting. we’ll interogate him later. for now, i seem to have leftover ingredients, i’ll make you a new one.” you approached him, combing through the back of his hair as you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. he replied by pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. “it better be good,” he mumbled.

at the end you didn’t even make it to 5 minutes before scara followed you to the kitchen, insisting that he made it together too because he was ‘watching over you so you don’t mess up’ but personally i think he just felt bad because you need to make a new one and wanted to help you any way he can. that’s something he’d never admit even if there’s a gun pointing at his head, though.

[springlock-suits]

Question from Insta! "Do you have more than one FNAF AU?"

Certainly!

My main fnaf au, darlingsfnafau, which I always post about and what you likely mean by that one, this is my personal version of fnaf, that's follows some canon and ignores others. I have fun with this one

Then there's the ballpit au! The plot for this au is that William completed ucn, Old Man Consequences was like ':/ you're not allowed to beat your personal hell'. And forced him to live again and work at a Freddy's, usually the pizzaplex. William isn't allowed to quit, or leave, or hurt anyone, or break any rules, and can only move on when fazbear ent closes down from natural causes. As my William hates fazbeat ent, he of course hates every second of this. Personal hell 2: electric boogaloo yknow?. Usually I like to imagine this au William wearing the glitchtrap costume, for funsies, and for emotional support because you can't be fused to an animatronic suit alone for decades without it affecting you somehow. Silly little au. Local old man discovers modern technology. He desperately wants to remake the Glamrock animatronics to be Better. He's not allowed to

Ooh just in case. I should clarify here for anyone unfamiliar with my au who reads this post. My William LOVES animatronics and animatronic bands, and pizza and arcades, and Fredbear's Family Diner, he just specifically hates Freddy's and fazbear ent. Just the brand. Yknow

And of course the Glamrock Diner Au! I need to post more abt this one, it has Glamrock Springbonnie and Fredbear. And sometimes has a Glamrock Vanny but ehhh it varies! I enjoy this au. Bonnie Bowl was replaced with the Retro Rink so kids would stop asking where Bonnie was. Spring and Fred are as side-attraction animatronics I guess? They're not in the main band, they're meant be along the lines of DJMM and the Daycare Attendant yknow? They're friends with DJMM, I like to think the tubes he uses to travel connect to the Retro Rink :]. I like Springbonnie's and Monty's relationship in this au. I must think more about how the ruin dlc effects them

.

And THEN I have the "doodle aus"

These are silly little au concepts which are much less fleshed out, and usually only drawn or thought about once or twice, but I enjoy them

Umm. off the top of my head there's,,,,

-Wererabbit William. He bunny

--Werewolf William. I love were creatures

-Furry au. No plot, just drawing the characters as antro animals for funsies

-Fnaf swap au, just a swap au lol

-Pink Lake au. Based on my oc :] it's just an excuse to draw characters in a lovecore aesthetic. And also possession. And death. Fun fact pink lake was originally an old man consequences au, that then turned into an oc, and I am now reapplying to fnaf as an au hehe

-Robot William au. I was thinking about what would've happened if William dies in the first springlock failure, and thus before anything bad happened in my timeline. And then I was like woagh... what if Henry made a robot William, like he did with Charlie in tse. Robot William's main design separation from normal William is that he wears a tie instead of a bowtie. This one has got like messed up shenanigans going because the public doesn't know William is dead so Henry can't try to run away from him when he realizes he regrets this idea. Actually William probably can't ever even get like, properly buried bc again...public doesn't know he's dead. Oh my gosh do his KIDS even know... what if Evan is the only one who does bc he saw it. Would the be fucked up or what. If there's a ghost William he's in Springbonnie watching this go down w deep concern

[m1ckeyb3rry]

NO FR like he could be your dad please sit tf down….like do whatever you want ig but if you’re gonna do this I don’t think you have the right to shit on other people…

Oh definitely…truly dominating that tag you should honestly file a request to tumblr to claim it or something LMAOO

LMFAOOOO SO REAL literally me like we can’t BOTH be lazy like umm we can’t both be passenger princess move over

PRAYER CIRCLE RN Karasu u20 wc captain karasu u20 wc captain….kurona or Niko would be really funny because you just imagine everyone on the field is like “this 16 year old pipsqueak is the captain..?”

Otoya…what a loser he did not think it through HAHA He stole that money from Seiko’s stack of cash fr LMAOO

OO honestly that’s such a smart tactic…truly a Karasu type of activity analyzing and studying the way real people behave hehe I agree I quite enjoy oblivious/dumb but only when done right and when it’s not like their only redeeming quality LOL

LMAO wattpad truly is like the preschool of writing everyone eventually graduates and learns LOL (you should reveal one of your old fics after you hit a certain milestone LMAOO)

DUBBED VOICEOVER LMAOOO that’s so funny honestly I think it’s really funny when that happens like yeah you better not talk shit to my face :))))

Wait I didn’t even go back to reference the Bible bro how many sisters is he pulling?? This is the reverse of BFB this is BFS??? I’m wondering if they kinda just forgot about the egoist Bible and changed the facts uhhh I’ll check if the authors note in the back mentions it at all….that Bible needs some updating though please add more characters profiles shshshshs I ALSO THOUGHT THAT like a sisterly aww this little child is so cute here’s a forehead kiss but uh???? I was literally reading it outloud for dictation and stopped mid sentence to laugh when I read that moment flustered yuki was so cute and funny like bro really ran to his room flipped on his bed giggling kicking his feet and shit like…tabieitaken supremacy truly….

No because why didn’t they tell us who yuki plays as??? Ok whatever at this point I think we both know it’s basically canon that it’s Mario or peach there’s literally no other option

STOPPP THE KARASU ANON TRANSLATIONS TAG LMFAOOOOOO guys I got my own tag on Mira’s blog…we made it big guys….

Anyways I’m chipping away at the translations gonna finish up Yukis and then do barous and maybe Aryu if I’m motivated enough but maybe I’ll just skim that one and write an actual summary (me saying I’ll write summaries is like you saying you’ll write only 5k words LMAO)

-Karasu anon

FACTS like i’m not judging them for their choices i’m judging them for judging other people 😭 because in what world do they have the high ground

nah because atp we need to hunt down kaneshiro and ask for custody of karasu i think the two of us have done more for him than the actual author himself 😩

LMAOAOA i cannot be driving someone around everywhere fr i need to be the passenger princess 😓 that’s why it’s good to have multiple favs 😈

TO BE FAIR rin was 16 and captain of the bllk eleven fsr so ego does have a track record w it 😫 he’s just tall so he gets additional aura for that ig

seiko jumps people on the side so she has a shit ton of cash stowed away 🤫 it was simple for him to use his ninja skills and sneak into her room to take some KDJDSJSK he truly is not the brightest but it’s okay we still love him

HELP me and karasu are soulmates…tabimira dates are just us analyzing people for “writing purposes” and whatever random ass reason he has for doing it 😭

omg the most embarrassing thing is like i only just removed the first fics i ever posted (back in 2021) literally this month HAHAHA they were literally out and abt for the public to read until that point 😰 i shudder thinking abt it even now 😳 but yeah wattpad truly is where everyone starts out…i’d go through war w the mutuals i met/escaped from wattpad with we’ve gone through too much fr

guys do you watch mira sub or dub 🤔 LMAO it’s funnier because the area in india where i’m from has a lot of islamic influence so we speak hindi mixed with a lot of urdu which means i sound very polite and formal as well as poetic…the typical accent in the city i’m from is also considered to be very rich/elegant sounding i’ve heard?? so basically people talk shit abt me because they think i don’t understand and then i respond to them w literal bars 😭 straight up sounding like the hindi version of hollyhock y/n on an average tuesday

FLUSTERED YUKI IS SO CUTE HAHAHA i love how tabieitaken are all confirmed losers now it’s truly what they deserve (affectionately)…omg no because why IS he consistently going for the sisters?? is that his type in women?? “they have to be my best friend’s older sister”…do NOT let my man near the otoya or karasu households he will combust 😭 no but lowkey i was surprised that she was being fr too 😰 calling him “my beloved kenyu” is crazy work icl…but ok queen invest early ig…😟🤨

they didn’t need to add who yuki plays as because they know we’ve got it covered 🙏🏻 apparently i am also the number one yukimiya kenyu blog now btw HAHAHA i feel like i never even post abt him too?? the queen of tabieitaken right here fr no one can compare

YESSS LMAO I WANTED TO BE ABLE TO FIND THEM QUICKLY 😭 especially if i’m writing for yuki hehe gotta have my references on lock 🤩 honestly i probably should make tags for when my mutuals/established anons send me asks but like…i don’t feel like starting now…HAHAHA i think my tag system is a little bit above the bare minimum but some people have such neatly organized tagged blogs and personalized tags and whatnot but me personally i have never been that person and probably never will be 😓 if it annoys people they can just unfollow ig idk

PLSSS omg idk if you saw my recent post but currently i’m feeling really dumb for that whole “6-9k words ballpark 😄” NDKDJSJSK i shall continue to work on it though 🫡 take your time w translating i’m sure it’s tough!! i’ll be here 😈💖

[cosmos-oc-soup]

hep name etymology

will be making separate posts anytime i have names to share! for here, i'll be sharing the reasoning behind hep's group name as well as my sillies!

Hep à la Mode was a name made with the help of my younger sister (she's a little stinker, but i love her) and i know it's my own oc group, but i rlly like the name! (⁀ᗢ⁀) the word 'hep' is a informal, dated term for 'hip', which in this case means "following the latest trends". meanwhile 'à la mode' is a similar term. the combination of words is rlly fun because it's using a dated term with a term still used today and both mean 'up to date', which fit hep's concept as a little stylish jazz group! (btw, when i was mentioning all this to her, she just said that she thought the name sounded nice and went with that without really thinking more LMFAO- she's a creative genius in the silliest ways)

OKAY, SO I WILL SAY, I KINDA MESSED UP WITH CHOOSING NAMES IN HEP'S NAME THEME SRGDGHNDBG- in sekai, it's usually have a name theme in each group (vbs = seasons, mmj = flowers, etc), BUT i entirely forgot abt that specifically being the last names and instead made the theming in their first names- ( ╥ω╥ ) but whatever, i like their names too much to change them and it's been half a year now so too late LOL RIP- (it doesn't rlly matter if it's first or last, but i was just. man) for hep, i wanted their name theme to be 'weather', so i have chosen names that mean sun, cloud, snow, and rain respectively! i like to think of it as "enjoying jazz music and coffee regardless of the weather" hehe ( ´ ꒳ ` )

> amano taiyo

甘野 - amano

甘 means sweet, sugary, gentle, lenient

野 means field, plain, wilderness

大陽 - taiyo

大 means big, large, great

陽 means sun, sunlight, positive, daytime

> fukuhara hibari

譜久原 - fukuhara

譜 means score, musical notation

久 means long time, old, long-cherished

原 means origin, source, foundation

雲雀 - hibari

雲 means cloud

雀 means small bird

> endou miyuki

遠藤 - endou

遠 means far, distant

藤 means wisteria

妙雪 - miyuki

妙 means wonderful, strange, mysterious

雪 means snow

> yoshida amataka

芳田 - yoshida

芳 means fragrant, aromatic

田 means rice field, rice paddy

雨空 - amataka

雨 means rain, precipitation

空 means sky, emptiness

fun side things:

i got curious to know if any of my ocs were the names of people irl cause full names and uh. one of them is an actual person, but i should sue them for copyright /J

was actually debating if i wanted taiyo & hibari to swap as sun & cloud BUT a positive person being named after the sun felt too obvious and it's more fun to think of hibari as "having her head in the clouds"

according to the japanese name site i was using, miyuki's name has 149 variations (in kanji & meaning) while amataka has 1 (for anyone curious, taiyo has 31 and hibari has 6. i just think it's rlly funny seeing the jump between 1 to 149)

miyuki's last name meaning was a total coincidence to her character cause my sister was the one who chose it from the list of last names i sent her but it does work LOL

'taiyo' is actually one of the three english inscriptions, and is actually meant to be spelt as 'taiyou' but i completely forgot the 'u', so it's kinda similar to toya where ppl spell it as 'toya' or 'touya’

that being said, ‘endou’ can also be spelt without the ‘u’, but it felt kinda. empty without it so i spell it with LOL

[wc-confessions]

the only evidence-- yes, these kinds of claims need evidence-- of marinin being racist i can find is in one tumblr post that has a screenshot of marinin being upset about getting a lot of aggressive comments for working on the cleopatra MAP. she did a map part- a 5 second animation- and got called a piece of shit by dozens of people, but i guess she's not allowed to be stressed? not to mention she is a person of color. but i doubt you knew that, because that would require you to take a second look at the situation rather than regurgitating rumors. it's just so sickening how badly people in this community seem to want to turn on each other. but i guess it's all worth it if you're making all the people of color feel very safe... by endorsing the harassment of a poc for making an animation you don't like. you're definitely making me feel very safe as a disabled person. i love knowing that characters like me should be relegated to inspo p*rn. love seeing people attack a creator for arbitrary reasons and then say "hehe see! i care so much about disabled people!". i love seeing that my opinion only matters when i'm agreeing with you and otherwise i'm just an idiot stan. i dont even follow marinin's content. it's just so stressful knowing what she's going through and how rabid the warrior cats fandom is. its scary, honestly. making art online seems like my only realistic way of making money and the thought that one tumblr post with shaky evidence could get me harassed for literal years is scary.

ok first off i need you to fucking stop making assumptions abt me bc i know of marinin just forgot all the bullshit they did. i dont knkw u and u sure as hell dont know me so the fact that in both ur shit asks youre comming up with false ideals just to show ur support to someone who has done bad over and over again is telling. secondly stop babying them just bc theyre brazilian its so wekrd u have to keep mentioing tht they are not exempt from being a shithead just bc theyre a poc lol theyre a fucking human which is evident in their actions. and you do not speak for every fucking disabled person bc i assure you disabled ppl were the ones that brought the issue w the tawny pelt map to light. and as a disabled black person fuck you literally the map was in bad taste and she responded in a terrible way its not tht hard to accept.

and if u really did some reasearch youd be aware that she was taking from native cultures, handled the issue tawnypelt map Badly, and she was literally deleting comments explaining how her actions were ableist and only responding to/liking the comments of ppl siding w her but yeah im biased and mean for acknoweding any of this. shes also literally friends w shit ppl and While searching im literally seeing her subject several minors to harassment solely for. adressing her ableist map in a chat and on their accs.and this was fucking not that long ago why arent you pissing yourself over the ppl discussing tht

and idk if you dont think a guilt trippy belittling responses to being held accountable isnt a red flag hm

the fact that you have to utilize this person being brazilian and upset about the process of facing accountability in Both asks as a way to make Me somehow brush off everything else is fucked up. no its not cool they were harassed but if u equate ppl bothered by her actions as harassment or hating poc then. that sounds more like a u issue.

literally. stop making this about a shitty animation stop minimizing the harm shes influencing. this is more than a fucking map ppl dont like this is abt someone who is obviously not fit for a huge following and you are proving that point gn

[crabcrabcrabmeat]

Ok final thoughts on Gundam Novels. Idk why ppl call them novelizations when it's a p different story lol. Lots of Tominoisms unsurprisingly.

Frau stays a Civilian! And presumably has pants. Garma has more narrative raison d'etre (er, to die ig) in this but he's still a bit character as he should be lol. Kai is less fun imo but apparently he gets laid more than anyone, good for him. Ages are a bit older, but sleggar is still younger than me lmao.

Low points: not a huge fan of what I assume is the translation lol. I assume the original has more dry humor, there's a bit abt Big Zam that was tainted (I assume) by this, as well as a lot of moments where the text vs subtext seem out of balance, rip. Scene by scene pacing is good but overall is sooo jumpy esp w the POV swaps and lore dumps. I like all the espionage but it's not presented in the most ideal way. Also the fuckinnnn pube amulets. Why.

??? Moments: Amuro and Char aren't as much of narrative foils, as this has some concepts that would go on to be used in Zeta such as their attempt at allyship. Baffling name choices. Lalah is a minor character! She's not even the most Lalah of a character narratively lol. Some transliterations are inconsistent which irks me. M'qve's biggest contribution to the story is calling Char a fuckboy lol. The ending has a very different vibe, despite both ending on the idea of desperate hope. The story itself is stunningly gender essentialist to the point it breaks its own verisimilitude wrt identity and eroticism, but simultaneously frames misogyny as bad. Let her cook.

High points: Char and Amuro both have sex multiple times with women and yet they seem just as gay. Phenomenal. Lots of detailed characterization thru snark, intimacy and lack there of, and of course Amuros insane diet my beloved. Give him his mocha mandarin coffee! Let him complain against warcrimes while eating strawberry shortcake! Delightful. It's such a good addition to any scene. I like the continuation of the water motif! Lalah's few scenes are spot on. The moment w the scars lives in my head rent free. Some of my fav characters were ones specific to this! How cool is it that Amuro interacts w a proto Reccoa? Also Bright is even easier to hate in this lolol. Genuinely impressed by some of the descriptions of how it feels to have a newtype flash, there's a lot going on conceptually wrt neurodivergency, personhood, autonomy, vulnerability. Its like an attempt to interrogate the BDSM concept of subspace thru more rational lenses like physics and psychology. They really can have sex fully clothed on opposite sides of a building huh.

A lot of the more infamous or contentious moments were spoiled for me but it's defs worth reading in context! It's not SO good I'd recommend it to a non fan but that's really not the audience to begin with hehe. Just make sure whatever format u do,,,, don't be like me and read it miniscule on ur phone. Save ur eyes.

[seoafin]

where to begin!!!! im in my stsg phase again and youre like 1 of the 3 authors who wrote my favorite stsg stories and i had to go back and reread them for the 1000th time and i refreshed ao3 and surprise surprise!! you have a new series and i nearly screamed … anyways not to sound obsessed but i literally refresh the stsg reader tag 24/7 thinking only of your series like ive never caught up with a fic series that quick… but i’m just so glad your wonderful brain is conjuring up another Amazing soul crushing series involving those two gremlims ahhhhhh

and let me just say ive been scrolling through your blog + tags abt stsg and just literally obsessed!!! nothing else is on my mind besides your writing its so bad!!! plus i discovered you wrote a previous fic that i Absolutely LOVED but never found but i shouldve known bc the writing was just soo impeccably Amazing and so you (its the only where nobara goes to lengths trying to get answers of readers relationship w stsg..) (actually the best fic ever like id die on this hill defending its glory and how much more side stories can come out of it..plus megumi’s protective personality around reader makes me squeal!!!) (pls protect reader from stsg’s annoying asses omfg)

anyways your characterization is just perfect i cant put into words… and now that i’ve found you have a tumblr where you answer questions regarding your characters and about your stories .. like that is not healthy for me!!!i swear ive got so many questions whether its about the trio, poly relationship and how the dynamics work and side scenarios where i feel worth mentioning like!!! can i just mention how happy i am to discover your tumblr to share with you how much i adore your writing and i hope to share with you my own thoughts abt your amazing craft!!!! GAWDDD (also can i rec you one of my other fav stsg story from this really awesome author too? id really like my favorite writer to read one of my favorite pieces to get your thoughts on it bc i love it so much)

- 3 (name for inbox hehe)

omgggg i am soooo flattered wtf 😭😭😭 the encouragement i've been getting on ddao is crazy hopefully i do not disappoint!!! i know people don't really like miscommunication but I do. i love me some good seemingly one sided pining. i love when men pine. i think men should pine more. that being said thank you so much for your kind words <33333 and as for recs, you can always rec me something but i can't make any promises that i'll read it since i like to read fics on my own time (when i have time) but i can always keep it in mind!

[gluion]

i love u, mon nom nom hehe

1. my favorite fic of yours is probably a given: of linked arms and bruised hearts :] she lives in my brain as a measure of beautiful platonic relationships, and i hope you know just how much i adore that 70-something-k fic 🤧 i know i havent read all of your works thus far, but at some point, i swear i will, because your style of writing is just so lovely and i'm always so in awe of your prose.

2. a favorite part of linked arms and bruised hearts of mine is probably the moments when yn was realizing they were in love w changmin at his family house. i mean, the entire time they were there was so lovely too in general, but every time they had like,, a thought session (is that how i should describe it??) where they marinated on their friendship w changmin, i was just so so soooo soft and tender-feeling. like omg i was just thrashing around with the biggest pout cuz WTF I WANT THAT.

6. okay im gonna talk abt the same fic again, but i need u to know that the third part almpst had me crying. like i actually had tears welling up in my eyes and SNIFFLED. you have actually brpught me pain and tears—

8. i love that you dig deep with your writing. taking a step away from my beloved, but even in your brief jacob fics, you really take your time to explore relationships and establish a certain environment/ambience. its dazzling and enveloping and just .... ugh, sometimes i just have no words to describe /your words/ :'))

oh beam, i love you ☹️❤️‍🩹 i am genuinely so happy to know that a fic so personal to me means a lot to u!! it’s not easy to write 71k words in the span of two months probably? and before the writing process, i had to outline it (so i guessing this whole fic took 2 and a half months from ideation to writing phase tbh) and please dont feel pressured to read all my works!! admittedly, i havent read all of urs (and i think my other current works dont compare to of linked arms and bruised hearts imo) and as someone who was still figuring out their writing style, it really means the world u likes my writing style :]]

im so glad to know that u enjoyed those moments in jichang’s family home </3 IT WAS ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO BE LONGER FYI!! there was going to be moments of them revisiting their old school, doing winter season traditions, really just more moments for them to reminisce abt their friendship after all these years. i feel like periods where u look back at ur friendships are just ones i love experiencing bc its a look back at not only ur relationship but even how u grew as people </3

PLEASE IM SO GLAD TO KNOW THE THIRD PART DID THAG TO YOU??? I FEEL LIKE REREADING AND EDITING IT HAD ME ACTUALLY SO SAD … i feel like it was closing a universe ive grown so attached to u know </3 but its okay i still have those oneshots lined up, and if i miss them i will def write them

beam :((( thank u for saying this. like it actually does mean the world that someone appreciates the fact i like to just explore dynamics </3 i think its why my fics end up being SOOO lengthy (and one can definitely argue that i do not need to be saying all this) but i feel like it’s needed, you know? it doesnt even have to be main pairing dynamics but even the side characters </3 it actually reveals so much abt the characters as well. and THANK U FOR SAYING THAT ABT AMBIENCE/ENVIRONMENT :’) admittedly, it’s still smth i def need to work on (and even finalizing my writing style really) but i am so glad that even at this state, someone likes what i do—i feel like im going in the right direction.

i love you always beam!! thank you always :’)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SELLLLLLLLLLL

i promised u an essay and an essay u shall get <333 THIS MADE ME SO INSANE SO OVERJOYED SO EMOTIONAL SO????? my brain is SPINNING so this might get incoherent but i literally owe u my life like… i will NEVER be normal abt this ever ever ever I LOVE UUU SEL MWAH MWAH <33333

gosh where do i begin. im sooooo in love with sel!sugu…… sel!sugu my beloved……. i completely understand why writing him is stressful LMAO i feel like he’s kind of a paradox personified 😭😭😭 BUT U WRITE HIM SOOOO WELLLLLL i love your sugu to the moon and back!! he’s sooo precious to me!!!! he feels so so in-character but also so characteristically sel in the bestest of ways i’ll get to that later tho…..

I JUST LOVE HIM u wrote him so thoughtfully and delicately and i can picture this guy so clearly in my head yk???

and goshhhhh sel ur writing is just sososo PRETTY i really wish i was better at verbalizing my fondness for it but the most i can squeeze out is that i want to eat it LMAOO 😭😭 IT’S JUST. it’s just genuinely so pretty and soft and heartfelt!!!! and flows soso well!!!!! godddddd i’m just. i’m just gonna walk u through my favorite lines in this sel take my hand !!!! it ended up being 90% of the fic lmaooo oops

There’s a reason why Suguru always wins— At the slightest indication of a loss, he withdraws, slipping out at just the right time before it’s considered a forfeit. 

THESE OPENING PARAGRAPHS GOT ME SO HOOKED i’m just gonna pick em apart one by one hehe but GOSHHH i just love your writing so dearly AAAND i love this take on him!!! my experience reading this fic was basically just saying ”U GET HIM SELLL” in my head every two seconds PHDJSHD

he’s so. serpent coded. right?? like he coaxes you close but when he’s frightened he slithers away… he’s right next to you but a second passes and he’s already gone….. he’s fleeting yk?? like a nice summer breeze!! u capture that side of him so effortlessly sel like the fact that reader has to corner him to get him to compromise… yeahhh. sel!sugu and his commitment issues mean the world to me

In this game with you, he removes himself quietly, like a ghost haunting your memories. It’s the day after the seventh time he’s spent the night when he cuts contact. Calls, texts, everything.  You don’t understand any of it; what you had was good—messages you can’t stop replying to, scratches down the length of his spine, fingers threading through the silk strands of his hair; that kind of good. You don’t see why it should end, don’t want it to. 

”like a ghost haunting your memories” SELLLLL i collapsed. save me ghost imagery save me!!! i love it so much SUCH a fitting metaphor for him too like he’s just . Transparent. so close but so out of reach. i love him.

AAAAAAND THE SUBTLE INTIMACY the bread & butter of all sel fics i’m SO so weak for it. i’m sure that i’ll end up repeating this a Lot as i write out my thoughts but;;;;;; i just adoreeee the tiny little moments and characteristics that make up their dynamic. it makes their fondness for each other sooooo evident yk???? and just . goshhhh sel ur writing never fails to absolutely gut me in the softest of ways have i mentioned that 💔💔 lil scratches!!! fingers through hair!!! aaaa i feel so emotional

Bundled up in your favorite coat and the scarf he never returned for, you corner him in the crisp chill of an autumn afternoon. He’s wearing that damn leather jacket again, black turtleneck high to hide his skin from what you hope is the cold and not from you.  His gaze continues to reel you in, obsidian pools you could sink into. He still smells of apple and tonka bean; you know the cedarwood won’t hit until he’s walked away, trailing the air he passes through. 

LEATHER JACKET/TURTLENECK COMBO NEVER LEAVE ME sel i still think ur a genius for this u are the smartest girl in the universe JUST.. the rough leather-like exterior and soft interior. to me suguru is 100% a sweaterboy i just KNOW he collects them. AND HIS EYESSSS HIS SCENT SEL I FELL TO MY KNEES </3 i need him so bad it’s not even funny the way u describe him makes him seem so unbelievably charming it’s actually insane

There is so much you know about the man in front of you, how he hides his surprise by clenching his jaw; Suguru’s tell is never his eyes, it’s his lips—its sudden movements, the lift of a smirk down to the constriction of his throat.

SELLLLLL u get him…. u do…… maybe i mentioned this in my rb of the last part BUT i really do think suguru’s smile is the key to Understanding him yk… like the difference between his grin and his smirk and his soft smiles :’3 AND ALSO the theme of Knowing Someone in this!!!! i love it sooo much like there’s so much reader knows abt him and there’s so much they’ve yet to learn….. i think!!! sugu yearns for understanding above all else but he’s also kind of afraid of it :’3 baby boy

He swallows his lies every time he utters them, does it twice when he’s nervous.  His Adam's apple bobs two times.  (He doesn’t tell you your mistake: that you made it so easy to want mornings and nights spent entirely with you). 

SEL SEL SEL im jumping up and down ONE THING I ADORE ABT UR WRITING…. one among many!!!! and i KNOW ive said this before but i gotta say it again; the way u humanize ur characters…. through little movements and habits and tells etc etc… it just makes them feel so real AND also so Sel. the way u write and characterize is sooo distinct it always makes me so happy to read!!!!

aaaa but also :< sniffle. you made it so easy to want mornings and nights spent entirely with you…. selll he’s such a little loser he just wants to be Loved but he’s so scared of it too. so scared of what it could do to him. this is just my interpretation as i was reading but!! i feel like he’s a little afraid of how much he likes you….. loves you even!!! terrifying. suguru geto vs the mortifying ordeal of being Known and Loved (instant loss) HE MEANS THE WORLD TO MEEEEE TAT

He’s still charming, eyes dark and voice honey smooth when he speaks. (…) There’s still freshly made tea sitting on the kitchen counter when you wake the morning after, its temperature the perfect warmth you know he’s mastered. Dinners are still your favorite, and he continues to lean in instead of asking you to speak louder.

SEL SEL SEL 🥺🥺😭😭😥😥😥😥 UEEUUEEU😭😭😞😞🥺🥺🥺😥😥😥 IM IN SHAMBLES IM ON THE FLOOR IN A PUDDLE OF MY OWN TEARS look im sorry for just saying the same thing over and over but sel i adore ur writing i adore how intimate it feels and how soft it is and how warm it makes me!!!!! these tiny lil pieces of their dynamic but it just says so so much :(((( HE MAKES YOU TEAAAAA STOP IT RN MY ACTS OF SERVICE KING…… he continues to lean in instead of asking you to speak louder 🥺🥺 sel u and ur sugu have killed me. u have my heart.

The apples of his cheeks flush warm pink when you call him cute instead of handsome; he stutters the first time he sees you dressed up for the new year countdown. And when he lingers those few seconds before kissing you, you swear you catch the corners of his lips curve up into a small smile. 

I LIEEEEED I LIED IT JUST KEEPS GETTING WORSE/BETTER SEL IM SO………. yeahhhhh. yeah. yeah. i can’t be normal abt this……. flustered sugu has the most special place in my heart sel i need to bite his cheek 😥😥 he WOULDDD get shy if u called him cute IT’S TRUE IT’S CANON I WAS THERE…

no because the way reader treats him differently from everyone else… and in return he lets them see a part of him that no one else knows of… it’s so special to me!!! sel!sugu is gradually letting his guard down, gradually choosing not to twist his appearance and letting you see into his soul… and i’m sure it’s a lil scary but he does it anyway!! and he’s met with acceptance!! MORE ON THIS LATER just know i’m obsessed

He loves snacking, biscuits with tea especially, nuts second, and fruits third. When he reaches over one afternoon, cracker pinched between his fingers to feed you so casually, you freeze momentarily.  But you shake it off quickly, biting it from his fingertips while you smile brightly. The Suguru you know always looks at you directly, but this one coughs before blinking one time too many.  He swallows twice.

THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO MEEEE like again. the habits!!!!! the casual intimacy!!!! (feeding ur partner ohhhh it makes me so weak sel) AND HIM GETTING NERVOUS HE’S A BABYYYYYY he’s the cutest in the world <3333 aaaa and sel.. the way u mention his habit of swallowing twice when he’s nervous only to bring it back here ….. it’s so satisfying…..

(The voice in his head tells him this’ll do the trick; he’s bared himself to you, mr. mysterious and cool signed out and replaced with none other than just plain Suguru).  —you like him even more now, you think. 

THIS THIS THIS THSI TSJI IM GONNEEEEE IVE COLLAPSED IVE EVAPORATED…… sel you are killing me how could you do this. I LOVE THIS TAKE ON HIM SO MUCH like genuinely i’m so in love!!!!!!! the contrast here too!!!! sugu finally stops pretending to be some mysterious untouchable handsome devil and he assumes that’ll make you like him less but of course not!!! silly little man!!!! it makes you like him more because you’re finally seeing suguru, just suguru and no one else.

he’s literally the most charming man on the planet smh even and ESPECIALLY when he’s not trying to be… i hate him (said lovingly 🥺🥺) sel reading this made me miss him sm LMAOO

For a man over 6 feet, dressed loosely in wide pants and layers of blazers, you’re surprised he even managed to squeeze himself to fit in this tiny space. 

heavy breathing.

sorry carry on <33 THE THOUGHT OF HIM STRUGGLING TO FIT IN THE PHOTO BOOTH IS SOO FUNNY THOUGH…….

You must be the sun’s lover, how your eyes seem to reflect every beam of it, warming him even in the winter. He’ll never understand what you mean when you say you hate how your hair looks in the morning, baby hairs sticking up and curling around the edges of your forehead; to him, you always look lovely. There’s honesty, in every breath and word you give him—something he’s not used to, something he isn’t well versed in. 

SEL (i am grabbing u by the shoulders) your writing is just so PRETTY……. you must be the sun’s lover :(((((( i think i associate u so much w sunlight because ur writing just feels so so warm all the time. it feels like sitting in a sunlit room and drinking tea and hearing the birds chirp outside. it feels like coming home in a way. I KNOW THAT SOUNDS SAPPY BUT I MEAN IT OK im a sel fan first human being second <33

aaa and !!! the way he loves u so wholeheartedly :(( it’s not a one-sided thing; both reader and suguru see each other in their most bare unguarded state and find them lovely even still. this dynamic is just brimming with affection waaaahhhh

You call him cute when he’s only ever been handsome. And you laugh at his jokes, all the good but especially the bad ones too; you’ve been complicit to one or two pranks on Satoru. Sometimes at night, he clings onto your body, tucking you within him and draping his leg across your hip bone—he’s a human furnace but you let him engulf you entirely. 

AND THIS TOOOOO the intimacy never stops it just grows stronger……. SUGURU BEING A HUMAN FURNACE IS THE REALEST THING EVER SEL that man radiates heat in more ways than one it’s true!!!! thank god he’s not satoru because the ”is it hot in here or is it just me ;3” jokes would never end

He doesn’t expect you to remember that he loves soba, that he’s dreamt of perfecting all forms of martial arts since he was seven. He doesn’t expect you to remember that he prefers hot showers, so he can step out on the tiles to feel contrast so strikingly cold.  You shouldn’t know this much about him, and yet you do.  —there’s no one else he’s been this genuine with. 

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 yeah. yeah!!! ur take on him here is soooo so lovely & so thoughtful and i agree w it so much!!! i really do!!!!! i think suguru needs someone who he can be genuine with above all else… not to bring stsg into this (let’s be real i always do) but i think that’s also why sugu was so fond of toru. he didn’t have to pretend to be a goody two shoes, he could be a little teasing and mischievous and it wasn’t the end of the world.

and in this fic sugu finally finds someone he doesn’t have to pretend around <333 someone who doesn’t have him mentally planning out traps for them to fall into because they love him as he is and he loves them too. it’s soooo good sel i’m so genuinely enamored by this dynamic

So when you peer at him smiling, earmuffs resting cozily by your ears, his eyes soften, face relaxing as the corners of his lips curve up into a small grin. Flash! He says it, mouth forming the syllables around his words. You tilt your head, confused, eyebrows furrowing because you can’t hear him. Flash!  His hand reaches for you, pushing your earmuffs to slide down the back of your head. It lands to rest around your neck. Flash! “You win.” he says, loud enough to fill the space of the booth. 

AAAAA I LOVED THIS SO MUCH it’s so creative and it adds so much to the atmosphere???? i literally feel like i’m in the booth with them LMAO it’s so good!!! AND SELLLL 😭😭😭 ”you win.” I SCREAMED I CRIED I’M SOOO…… it’s such a perfect moment i’m weeping. you won!!!! he concedes!!!! it’s so playful and fond but so so meaningful and intimate ????

And the look on your face when it registers, how your eyes glisten like glints on a sunshower; how you give him the prettiest smile that has his heart running for miles. 

like a sunshower 🥺🥺 he really does think of u as the sun’s lover wahhhhh…. WAITTTT THAT MAKES HIM THE SUN 💔💔💔💔 he is very suncoded isn’t he…….

Tears well up in your lash line; one blink and they’ll fall. You’re smiling so hard he wonders if your cheeks are hurting, if you’ll want him to massage them the way you smooth out the knots between his shoulder blades. 

🥺🥺🥺🥺 THIS IS SOOO CUTE he’s so naturally nurturing i need him so bad i love him so much he’s a sweetie!!! it takes a bit to get there but once u peel back the layers he’s a softie!! a loverboy!!!

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, the proximity holding you nose-to-nose.  Suguru’s never felt this kind of peace—he hopes the camera captures it, how contentment looks on his face in moments like this with you. 

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 cutiepie. my heart feels so warm sel. and they have pictures of this!!! OKKK BUT SEL HEAR ME OUT ;;;;;; imagine they stay together and get married and sugu carries the pictures with him in his wallet :((( or maybe he has them framed somewhere or hidden in a special place so he can take them out and cry lil happy tears …… i’m physically incapable of not seeing him as a huge sap i think

—if you win, he’s yours.

THE ENDINGGGGG I’M CHEERING & CLAPPING CAN U HEAR IT SEL……… he’s yours!!!!! <333

aaaa this was just the cutest softest thing i feel so lucky rn 😭😭 that i get to read ur writing & that i got to know ur sugu!!! i LOVE him sel like again; i understand why writing him scares u a bit BUT U SHOULDNT BE your sugu is so lovely!!! he feels so real!!! he feels so Sugu!!!!!! all his lil habits and likes and touches. i have nothing more to say just know that i love him and i love you <333 tysm for this!!

₊˚⊹｡ —let's play it again | geto suguru

wc: 1.6k

summary: you don’t see why this good thing should end, so you negotiate. 

contains: implied f!reader but no pronouns used, non-curse!au, fuckboy!suguru, vague descriptions of sex

a/n: a part 2 to fuckboy!suguru inspired by those reels/tiktoks of couples capturing confessions in photo booths 🥺 + an early birthday gift for @irisintheafterglow!! he's a lil softie in this one 🥺 i hope you like it my dear iris!!

part 1 <- you are here

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There’s a reason why Suguru always wins—

At the slightest indication of a loss, he withdraws, slipping out at just the right time before it’s considered a forfeit. 

In this game with you, he removes himself quietly, like a ghost haunting your memories. It’s the day after the seventh time he’s spent the night when he cuts contact. Calls, texts, everything. 

You don’t understand any of it; what you had was good—messages you can’t stop replying to, scratches down the length of his spine, fingers threading through the silk strands of his hair; that kind of good. You don’t see why it should end, don’t want it to. 

So you negotiate. 

Bundled up in your favorite coat and the scarf he never returned for, you corner him in the crisp chill of an autumn afternoon. He’s wearing that damn leather jacket again, black turtleneck high to hide his skin from what you hope is the cold and not from you. 

His gaze continues to reel you in, obsidian pools you could sink into. He still smells of apple and tonka bean; you know the cedarwood won’t hit until he’s walked away, trailing the air he passes through. 

There is so much you know about the man in front of you, how he hides his surprise by clenching his jaw; Suguru’s tell is never his eyes, it’s his lips—its sudden movements, the lift of a smirk down to the constriction of his throat.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, brows furrowed and arms crossed, a little anxious.

“Not at all.”

He swallows his lies every time he utters them, does it twice when he’s nervous. 

His Adam's apple bobs two times. 

(He doesn’t tell you your mistake: that you made it so easy to want mornings and nights spent entirely with you). 

So, you negotiate a rematch; a deal to go back to the way things were. 

If by the end of the next six months, neither of you want anything to do with the other, he wins and you’ll never speak to him again. But if you win—

He agrees.

(If he nips it at the bud, proves there isn’t anything more to this feeling and gets over you before he ever has to, then it’s a whole world of pain he’s avoiding—a whole web of attachment he’s never been used to making). 

.

The rematch finds you learning a new side to Suguru.

He’s still charming, eyes dark and voice honey smooth when he speaks. His hands still know you best between your sheets, grabbing hold of your hips and molding you as he squeezes the flesh when you reach your peak.

There’s still freshly made tea sitting on the kitchen counter when you wake the morning after, its temperature the perfect warmth you know he’s mastered. Dinners are still your favorite, and he continues to lean in instead of asking you to speak louder.

Your contact is in his favorites, everyone else unanswered. 

He’s still the same Suguru, except—

The apples of his cheeks flush warm pink when you call him cute instead of handsome; he stutters the first time he sees you dressed up for the new year countdown. And when he lingers those few seconds before kissing you, you swear you catch the corners of his lips curve up into a small smile. 

He stays awake for a bit after sex. You know because you feel him next to you, finger feather light as it trails down the slope of your nose to your lips; then he kisses your forehead, completely innocent, pure, as if he wasn’t just inside you. 

It’s a softness to him he’s never shown you before, less mysterious and more genuine. 

You learn that he keeps mementos and photos all over his room, either aesthetically displayed or safely tucked inside boxes; that he holds onto the things that remind him of the people he’s let in his life, even when they’re gone—especially when they are.

He loves snacking, biscuits with tea especially, nuts second, and fruits third. When he reaches over one afternoon, cracker pinched between his fingers to feed you so casually, you freeze momentarily. 

But you shake it off quickly, biting it from his fingertips while you smile brightly. The Suguru you know always looks at you directly, but this one coughs before blinking one time too many. 

He swallows twice.

(The voice in his head tells him this’ll do the trick; he’s bared himself to you, mr. mysterious and cool signed out and replaced with none other than just plain Suguru). 

—you like him even more now, you think. 

.

On the fifth month of this whole ordeal, you bring Suguru to a photobooth. 

You figure that if he wins, at least he’ll have this remembrance of you.

It’s old fashioned, one of those booths that only print in black and white—a time capsule of nostalgia, a place that feels of love captured through stills in time. 

You tell him it’s a late birthday gift from you, a last hurrah for your cutest winter outfits. The end of a season before a new one begins. 

Velvet slips through your fingers as you push the curtain to the side, and you bow your head to step in with Suguru close behind. The set-up is fairly simple: a bench, the camera, a touch screen to keep it modernized. You can take a total of eight shots, to be printed later into two strips of four—one for you and one for him, you figure. 

It’s a bit cramped when you settle into the seat, soft cushion sinking further once Suguru follows next to you; for a man over 6 feet, dressed loosely in wide pants and layers of blazers, you’re surprised he even managed to squeeze himself to fit in this tiny space. 

You zip your jacket up until the collar, fleece tickling the corners of your fingertips. The earmuffs you’re wearing act as a perfect statement piece while simultaneously keeping your hair from flying.

It’s a bit unsettling, but Suguru’s been quiet since you got here—watching, observing. 

(Even while you’re setting up the timer, suggesting poses he’s nodding off to, he focuses on you entirely, tilting his head subconsciously.

You’ve been heavy on his mind lately—all the little things about you he can’t help but notice more intently. 

You must be the sun’s lover, how your eyes seem to reflect every beam of it, warming him even in the winter. He’ll never understand what you mean when you say you hate how your hair looks in the morning, baby hairs sticking up and curling around the edges of your forehead; to him, you always look lovely. There’s honesty, in every breath and word you give him—something he’s not used to, something he isn’t well versed in. 

Since giving this another shot, he’s tried to shake you off, put down his front to show you a Suguru so far from the one you know, from the one that first attracted you—all in the hopes of you dropping him. 

Of you conceding to make him win. 

But he’s realizing—

You call him cute when he’s only ever been handsome. And you laugh at his jokes, all the good but especially the bad ones too; you’ve been complicit to one or two pranks on Satoru. Sometimes at night, he clings onto your body, tucking you within him and draping his leg across your hip bone—he’s a human furnace but you let him engulf you entirely. 

He doesn’t expect you to remember that he loves soba, that he’s dreamt of perfecting all forms of martial arts since he was seven. He doesn’t expect you to remember that he prefers hot showers, so he can step out on the tiles to feel contrast so strikingly cold. 

You shouldn’t know this much about him, and yet you do. 

—there’s no one else he’s been this genuine with. 

So when you peer at him smiling, earmuffs resting cozily by your ears, his eyes soften, face relaxing as the corners of his lips curve up into a small grin. 

Flash!

He says it, mouth forming the syllables around his words. You tilt your head, confused, eyebrows furrowing because you can’t hear him. 

Flash! 

His hand reaches for you, pushing your earmuffs to slide down the back of your head. It lands to rest around your neck.

Flash!

“You win.” he says, loud enough to fill the space of the booth. 

You still don’t quite get it, brow raised in puzzlement. 

Flash!

So he grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours before he repeats himself again.

“I said, you win.” 

And the look on your face when it registers, how your eyes glisten like glints on a sunshower; how you give him the prettiest smile that has his heart running for miles. 

He’s confident he’ll always remember this version of you, thankful that he has evidence of it as the camera goes off into another—

Flash!

Tears well up in your lash line; one blink and they’ll fall. You’re smiling so hard he wonders if your cheeks are hurting, if you’ll want him to massage them the way you smooth out the knots between his shoulder blades. 

Your hands remove themselves from his, only to replace the heat on his face.

Flash!

Then you kiss him, lips crashing onto his. you taste of pomegranate—the lip gloss he can’t resist. 

His hand finds its way around your waist, spreading itself to support your back as he dips you, pressing against you harder. While his fingers slot themselves in the junction between your ear and jaw, your hands fall to his chest, gripping the lapels of his blazer. 

Lips smacking, sliding. A breathy smile. 

Flash!

When you part, his forehead rests against yours, the proximity holding you nose-to-nose. 

Suguru’s never felt this kind of peace—he hopes the camera captures it, how contentment looks on his face in moments like this with you. 

Flash!)

.

You step out of the photobooth hand-in-hand, collecting the photo strips from the dispenser; it’s your souvenir after all, a tangible evidence to remind you of the deal you made—

—if you win, he’s yours.

thank you notes: @mididoodles for helping me through this 🥺 + @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for all the support always!! + @mysugu @soumies bc when i think of sugu i think of u both... 🤧

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HI ARI IM SORR Y FOR SPAMLIKING U BUT HOWVE H BEEN ana do u have any yuki thoughts to share w the class i’m curious :33

NEVER APOLOGIZE RIKO u can spamlike as much as u want <3333 I’VE MISSED U how have u been?? what have u been up to?? :33 tell me tell me 🎤🎤

uni has been eating me alive a tiny bit so i haven’t had much time to catch up on my tbr which depresses me T_T OTHER THAN THAT I’M DOING GOOD THO and wahhhh…. yuki 🥺🥺🥺 my beloved. tysm for asking riko AND WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC that One yuki fanart of yours…. i just about collapsed when i saw it riko u drew her sooo gorgeous …….. women w big beautiful warm brown eyes >>>>>>>>>> Anything Else BUT OK yuki thoughts!!! i don’t think abt her as often as i should but i do have a couple hehe >:33 i love her!!

(jjk manga spoilers under the cut!!)

ok so first of all; i know i’m entirely delusional but idc i STILL think she’s coming back. i believe. i’m akutami’s strongest soldier. i just think it’d be so perfect if she swept in with todo and larue <33 ready to kick some ass <333 i know i probably shouldn’t trust gege too much but i trust him to handle his women decently . like he isn’t nearly as awful as some other shounen authors and i’m tired of people acting like he is …….. the bar is in the lowest layer of hell to be clear but still!! i believe in her return <333

i just think her final line is so so so interesting, and it’s such a specific choice to let it go unfinished…. ”it all boils down to…..” idk i just feel like she’ll come back and say the full line >:33 and it’ll be the coolest line ever also sidenote but i love the panelling here SO much the way her own words are getting DRAGGED into the black hole….. this is my favorite jjk fight overall btw it’s my most beloved ever ever ever none of u will see me again when it gets animated

and!! this is also in connection to this fight but kenny/yuki is one of my absolute favorite dynamics in jjk <333 i think it’s soooo funny how the two characters kenny seems to like most are yuki (beautiful stunning intelligent ruthless special grade woman) and takaba (silly little guy :33) I LOVE THEM SM i need them to live together. i need them to be best friends 4 life. i need to see them all interact so bad it’s never gonna happen but i would literally do ANYTHING riko….,, i adore all three of them <33333 my angels on earth

but honestly i just think yuki and kenny are so interesting….. any time they talk i just feel like they’re two scientists discussing their shared area of interest like there’s so much animosity but also a mutual understanding, it makes me oddly happy for some reason??? and obviously there’s also the fact that yuki is the kind of human being that kenny loves the most; someone who never ever gives up. even as she’s literally been teared into halves, she uses her last strenght to create a fucking black hole despite the risk and i can’t even imagine how much respect kenny must feel for her after that??? yuki & yuji are both the same in that they’ll get up again and again, no matter what, and i think that’s why both of them have a special place in kenny’s heart. yuki/kenny is toxic yuri to me idc i adore them like nothing else. they’re so funny!!!

but kenny aside, i really do think yuki is such a wonderful character. she’s just Everything. she’s so intelligent, so powerful, so all-consuming. such a perfect example of what a special grade is like. i really love the fact that she isn’t necessarily always on the Good side, she has her own ideals and goals and sometimes they conflict with what the good guys want. but yuki still desires a world without curses, at her very core, and i think that tells us so much about what kind of person she is!!

AND AND AND AND ANDDDDD arguably my favorite thing about her is how beastcoded she is. LIKE. she is a Beast and she’s gritty and she’s ruthless and she bites and bites & this is exactly how i think powerful shounen women should be depicted. akutami underutilizes his women for SURE but he still treats them with respect in the sense that their strenght doesn’t have to be justified, their bouts of insanity and pure instinct don’t need to be justified, all sorcerers are a little sick in the head and that statement goes beyond gender. yuki is a tiny bit insane and we love her for it <33 JUST LOOK AT THESE PANELS WAHHH she’s the coolest ever

”heal yourself!” ”hell no!” is one of my fav pieces of dialogue in the whole manga <33 god i love yuki vs kenny vs choso SO much… three bad bitches duking it out <33333

[apileofmoss]

m or h :]

OHH okay sso I have 2 M's they aren't main OCs but family members of them

Melena - She is a sweet lady who was born and raised in Hawaii. She moved to California to take care of Elizabeth after Keao (Liz's dad) died. She raised Elizabeth to the best of her ability, but Liz turned down some certain dark paths, which she is trying to recover from. In the story Liz will try and repair her relationship with her grandma Smiles i love them

Micha - OH okay so this guy is Emily's older brother. He's the token cishet of their family, but he's got and AWESOME wife she's so cool she practices like tarot and stuff. Anyways he's Filipino and Mexican, raised in a Jewish family, and he's the oldest of the siblings. His wife is Tamara and their kid is Apex >:) ALSO all three of the sibs (Emily, Alaska, and Micha) were adopted by Rachel and Xanah

[nemeseos-noctua]

For Xiao, Zhongli and Albedo: what if their s/o (separate) made a song for them https://youtu.be/n8g-LdDf-pA note: S/O isn't immortal haha but they made the song in case they probs leave just to reassure their beloved loses them and uses it as some lullaby for them or something--

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: xiao, zhongli, albedo (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of death, xiao & albedo & zhongli story spoilers, not proofread

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: for those wondering: the song is abt finding ‘you’ (the characters in this case) over and over again, even after death. bc you (reader) are never truly gone bc u were in their (the characters) hearts

also srry if i trailed off w this request!! i didnt know whether u wanted an angst or fluff ending!

stares at u menacingly

is this. FORESHADOWING. that ur gonna DIE. hello?! 

once you clear it up that it’s just merely a song because you’re a mortal and he’s not, he’ll relax a bit

but then he’ll get a lil sad 😔

he knows. he knows death is inevitable, even for someone like him. he knows, one day, one day he will be alone again

but he wishes it didn’t have to be this way. the adeptus xiao, wishing for a happiness so unobtainable... 

Xiao was silent as you sang him your melody. The lyrics were so concise—yet, he felt as though you had rammed a spear into his heart multiple times.

He knew you were not permanent. That you were but a temporary, fleeting mortal soul, a soul who’d disappear like a wisp in the wind.

Your song—it reminded him of the Dihua Flute he had heard all those millennia ago. It reminded him of the eons he had spent, alone, the eons he had spent, cold. 

All of those memories he had hidden in the corner of his brain, racking up cobwebs ever since you came. You were the light that’d pierce through the darkness of the night, the darkness of his mind. You were someone so, so much more than a ‘mortal’ he had dubbed you as.

And yet, he wished he could dub you as anything, anything but ‘mortal’. Mortals meant temporary, mortals meant erasable. 

But you, you were not erasable. Never, never, ever. For as long as he’d live, as long as his name was ‘Xiao’.

You—you were the person whom he’d fallen in love with. [L/N] [Y/N].

he’d memorize the lyrics and tune of your song

though—as long as you live, he never wants to hear it again. hearing it once had already sent him into a dysphoric state, a state of which he seemed to mourn the future, to mourn what was about to come

and though—and though xiao knows, he knows you will leave him, that you will disappear like the rest...

he wants to believe. with his arms wrapped around you, with his hand clasped in yours, he wants to believe you will be by his side for eternity

The moon was silent, opening up a pathway for the Vigilant Yaksha as teal strands of hair fluttered with the wind, dancing like a needle and thread. 

Long ago, you were by his side. Long ago, you had sang these same words to him—

“I’ll love every version of you.

And you’re never truly gone

As long as a part of you in me lives on.”

The world was quiet without you.

Maybe because—because it wasn’t you who was singing the song.

zhongli will have a bittersweet smile etched onto his face

he, like xiao, has come to accept the fact that you are but a fleeting life in the sands of time. and though it pains him greatly—zhongli has suffered many, many losses

though, that does not mean yours is numb to him. goodness, no! if anything, yours would sting him for an eternity

but zhongli knows, for his wisdom is unmatched. he knows that he should take this time with you and spend it to the best of his expenses. he knows that though you may not be with him for the next hundreds of years, to have you in these mere decades is enough for him

and though his heart is already beginning to brace itself for a swan dive into the future, he—he, the mortal zhongli—will love you in this lifetime, and the next, and the next

“Did you arrange the lyrics yourself? They are quite beautiful, love,” Zhongli smiled, though, you did not miss the way his amber eyes flickered in melancholy.

“Hehe, yeah! I made this song for you, Zhongli! Because I know...” You trailed off, rubbing the back of your neck bashfully as the consultant wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart pounding against his chest. 

Walking among mortals—Zhongli is reminded, time and time again, life is temporary. It always is, and always will be—even to someone such as himself.

Eternity was impossible, unreachable, but the ex-archon must admit... 

He wanted to spend eternity with you.

albedo had told you of his concerns, of how he’s afraid to one day destroy mondstadt

it was obvious how he hinted the fact that he may break up with you. not because he fell out of love per se, but for your own good. 

and, a part of you had wished he had given you a chance. yet, you knew, you knew he did. he loved you, he loved you like how he loved alchemy, he loved you like how the sun would nurture and care for plants after the darkness of the night—

yet once again, albedo pulled through. he did it for you, he stopped loving you for— you

but you will never stop loving him.

Albedo sat in the corner of his camp, the fire doing nothing to alleviate the cold of his heart. 

He was alone. Again. The alchemist somehow always found himself in this situation—lost, forgotten, tossed away like a used beaker. 

But then he remembered, hah. It wasn’t him who was tossed away, it was you. It was your crestfallen face when Albedo ‘broke up’ with you, stating how he was ‘busy’ with experiments that you knew were just him shielding you from his inevitable doom.

Somehow, his mind always trailed back to you... as it always did. Whenever he felt powerless, the mere thought of your voice and laugh somehow brought him back to the known, back to hope. 

“But my love, I will hold you close to me.

‘Till you fade from my arms peacefully.”

The melody of that song you had strummed just for him still replayed in his mind like a broken stereo, like an endless music box that’d be played whenever he fell down.

Never before has Albedo wished to forget you—but, during this time, during this freezing snowy night,

He wished you never brought him warmth, for he feels colder than before. 

— constellations! 💫

[igbylicious]

‘MAybe he should, some time. js.’ 👀

i mean. maybe it’s not happening exactly in the way you were thinking of here but. um. 👀👀👀

‘GOd fuck, San making Woo suck him off as a warm-up? that’s the hottest thing he could have possibly done in this situation.’ asdkjasdkj you know i *almost* deleted that bc i was like ‘wait in the last chapter they also started their scene with Woo sucking San off, can i do this again??’ but then i remembered that yes i can lol, and yeah it just felt right for San to pull that on Woo here ♡( ◡‿◡ )

‘ACK the wooyoung lip mole appreciation :’)))) <3’ is2g it takes all my self-control to not have reader latch onto his lil lip mole (and San’s neck freckles ;; ) every single hecken chapter asdjkaskdja i’m trying to keep them as special occasions but I JUST LOVE THAT DANG MOLE SO MUCH („ಡωಡ„)

‘Him getting hard and needy just from eating Reader out, is So good and in character like YES he is a slut for being a good boy!!’ i will never back down from my hill that this man gets cock/pussydrunk off the drop of a hat! and YES he is!!! no but real talk that’s smth i really love abt Woo asdkjadsjksd ;; like yes he absolutely is a bratty menace but! godddd he also works so hard, and wants to be praised and acknowledged for those efforts too (as he should!!!), and it’s fun to think of the ways that those two sides could potentially manifest together in the bedroom hehe

‘FUc;k me all the talking over his head like he’s just a toy or like he’s not even there,,,,,, aaaa it’s so tastie what the fuck <3 my heart would be breaking a little bit if it weren’t for the fact that you made it no secret how much Woo loves it.’ ngl i remembered San was mean in this scene but i’d forgotten exactly how mean until i saw all those quotes in a row asdkjajkda he really took full advantage of that change in the ground rules oop (つ ω ⊂)

‘i NEED to kiss him it’s making me stupid hjnhjnhjj he’s doing so good!! so patient and generous = w=’ he’s so good!!! going above and beyond!!!!!!

‘just fucking screaming rn honestly. it’s so hot how San and Reader work together to get Woo off, even if San is just pinning him in place. Both their attention is on Woo, and he deserves it so much after how well he did =u=’ ahhhhh! yeah i really wanted that to be a sorta lil teamwork moment! they really put Wooyoung through it together, but at the end they also took care of him together ♡

‘The ending where Reader gets vulnerable in a little bit of a different way (compared to the rest of the chapter) is such a neat little bow, confirming that she is indeed safe and that they take her and her comfort and boundaries seriously, and not just the sexual ones. It’s so sweet :)’ (≧◡≦) ♡

(i know i keep saying this but seriously i’m having the time of my life with your reactions askjdajkdsj; it’s just so much fun to see what bits stood out and your thoughts abt them, i really am super appreciative that you took the time to do these (♡μ_μ) )

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt3

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: what Wooyoung wants, Wooyoung gets.

wc: 8.0k

ch. warnings: dom San, bratty sub Wooyoung, sub/switch-ish reader, threesome with m x m, so much cunnilingus, body worship, biting, marking, finger sucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, blowjobs, cum eating, nipple play, handcuffs (on Wooyoung), light painkink (also Wooyoung), hair pulling, face-sitting, dirty talk, degradation (@ Wooyoung; ‘cockslut’ is used), frottage, masturbation, praise kink, implied subspace, orgasm control / edging, squirting, light dacryphilia, pet names for reader (‘baby’ and ‘sweet/good girl’), aftercare

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

After your first night with San and Wooyoung, the ground rules go through a few adjustments. Some are pretty minor, others more… substantial.

Unlike last time, Wooyoung is also here for the conversation; and you’re more than a little distracted by his presence. Your memory keeps replaying the moment of his desperate breakdown to touch you, making you fight a constant itch to rub your thighs together — and judging by the looks Wooyoung gives you? He has his own memories on his mind.

“Wooyoung? Woo? You’re good with this?” San asks. He waves a hand in front of Wooyoung’s face to get his attention, only half jokingly.

“Hm? Yeah yeah. Yes, that’s good,” Wooyoung says, lifting himself from a daze. His voice is tight, not sounding good at all. Like nothing will ever be good again until he has you flat on your back, writhing under his tongue.

“Usually you’re a lot more chatty during a talk like this,” San teases. “Do I need to give you two some alone time?”

Without looking away from you, Wooyoung reaches to grab for San’s hand, like it’s on instinct. He meets Wooyoung halfway, fingers slotting together easily — but instead of jealous or upset, San looks more interested in the eye-fucking that’s happening right in front of him.

And honestly? The hard glint in his eyes is not exactly celibate either.

It only works you up more; the way San keeps biting his lip is almost as distracting as Wooyoung’s heated stare. It definitely is a very different conversation from last time, the air charged with restless excitement — but the end result is similar, leaving you with a rough framework of expectations, but not too many specifics.

…Other than the obvious, of course.

Wooyoung has made one of his intentions all too clear.

This means that when the next night together comes around, you are not in the least surprised to have Wooyoung sitting on a pillow in front of you, nested between your thighs. “Hey,” he says, staring up at you with a crooked grin on his face. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Hi yourself,” you say, slightly breathless already.

You are sitting on the edge of San’s bed, wearing only a simple robe. Wooyoung is on his knees in nothing but fitted boxers — and a pair of handcuffs. Broad strips of soft black leather, connected with a silvery chain.

That last part is a surprise; bondage had come up in passing, but you did not expect it to come out tonight. San had dangled the cuffs in front of Wooyoung earlier, not brokering any protest. Clearly he meant it when he said he did not mind improvising.

“Only your mouth will do, right?” San had told Wooyoung. “Always bragging about that tongue of yours… Are you worried you can’t get her off like this?”

Despite an initial objection, Wooyoung had relented quickly; maybe out of pride, or maybe he was worried that San could snatch you away from him at the last moment. The cuffs’ effect was subtle but instantaneous; a slight daze had drawn across Wooyoung’s face, betraying he was not as adverse to the restrains as he pretended.

So here he is in front of you now, breathtakingly on display. With his arms pulled back by the cuffs, Wooyoung’s chest is opened up to you, smooth tanned skin with dusky pebbled nipples. His eyes stare up at you, burning with a singular goal; to devour you whole.

San stands behind him, a firm hold on the back of Wooyoung’s neck to tilt his head back; offering Wooyoung up to you as much as you are offered up to him. You only need to reach out to touch Wooyoung — finally touch him — and you do just so.

The corner of Wooyoung’s mouth twitches when you lean in. His eyes are drawn to where your robe threatens to fall open, giving him a generous view of your cleavage. The look on his face is dark with hunger, heating your skin, but his eyes snap back to your face when your fingers brush across his cheek. He licks his lips; lips that are already swollen from barely ten minutes ago.

“Now, why don’t we give that pretty mouth a warm-up? Show me you deserve that sweet cunt,” San had told Wooyoung, pulling down the waistband of his grey sweatpants just enough to take out his cock.

And god, Wooyoung had shown him.

He had focused on using his tongue, thick swipes and kitten licks. Never taking San too deep, suckling on the flushed cockhead as he lapped at every drop of precum. All while looking at you from the corner of his eyes as he moaned around San’s cock, making a point of arching his back, prettying himself up for you.

In Wooyoung’s eyes had burned a promise, no, a challenge; will you be able to handle him?

Now you are about to find out.

You continue to slowly map out the striking features of Wooyoung’s face, but your thumb lingers on his bottom lip. You’re pulled in by the discovery of a small freckle that is just begging to be kissed. Just when you are intently contemplating that thought, Wooyoung decides he has had enough of sitting quietly — and he strikes at you with a playful nip at your fingers, sharp teeth grazing against your skin.

“Hey!” Startled, you pull your hand back, pouting at Wooyoung for rudely interrupting your exploration of his pretty face.

“Careful, Woo,” San warns, yanking him back by the hair.

Wooyoung hisses, his teeth digging into the freckle you had so admired. “Sorry,” he says with a laugh, not sounding sorry at all. “I only bite the people I like, promise.”

Standing behind Wooyoung, San’s dominant role breaks for a split moment; he makes a face as though to say, “That’s a fair point, actually.”

“Come,” Wooyoung says, nodding his chin to beckon your hand back to him. “Let me show you.”

You raise a sceptical eyebrow — but it’s hard to resist the blatant hunger in Wooyoung’s stare. Cautiously, you reach for him once again… and your breath hitches when he closes his lips around two of your fingers, sucking eagerly at the digits. He works on them with the same fervent enthusiasm as he had San’s dick, his eyes fluttering shut as he groans around your fingers. His nimble tongue gives you a direct preview of what is waiting for you, curling around your fingers and flicking sharply.

A quiet whine escapes you, the wet heat of Wooyoung’s mouth searing straight through your body, into your waiting cunt. Wooyoung’s eyes open with a flash of triumph, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

Slowly he releases your fingers, a thin string of saliva connecting them to his glistening lips. You use those fingers to draw a line along the sharpness of his jawline, smearing his face as you cup his cheek. Wooyoung moans at the mess you’re making of him; his shoulders jerk sharply, trying to move his arms despite the cuffs around his wrists.

He is beautiful like this, bound and left to the whims of you and San, but still you can’t help a needy moan at the way his hands strain to touch you back.

San grins when he notices, and softly tuts at you. “Patience. The cuffs don’t go off until he’s earned it.” He runs a rough hand through Wooyoung’s hair, pushing his head down.

Wooyoung stares up at you through messy bangs, a dangerous grin on his face. “You’re greedy,” he chides, but from him it sounds like a compliment. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll get you there with or without my fingers inside that needy pussy of yours.”

“…Prove it.”

Your demand slips out quietly but resolute. You are done waiting, and start to open your robe. “Don’t,” San interrupts. “He can do that himself. Unpack your present, Woo.”

“Gladly,” he scoffs. “If you’re trying to piss me off, that move won’t work.”

San’s fingers tighten in Wooyoung’s hair, giving it a small tug. “It’s not about you. Right now, it is all about her and that pretty cunt she’s generous enough to let you touch. Don’t forget it, unless you want to get in real trouble.”

Wooyoung whines at the pull, his eyes scrunching shut with a shudder. Your breath shallows at how responsive he is, and then San loosens his hold on Wooyoung enough to let him shuffle closer, crowding into your space. He leaves the robe alone at first, satisfied to simply nuzzle his face at where the garment starts to fall open naturally.

“So soft…” he groans, inhaling deeply against your chest. “All soft and warm for me…”

You shiver when hot breath falls on your skin, followed by a light brush of his lips. Your arms loosely encircle his shoulders to pull him closer, where your hand meets with San’s in Wooyoung’s hair. San makes room for you, covering your hand with his as your fingers entwine in the soft strands of Wooyoung’s red hair; silent encouragement to pull and move his head just as you like.

But you are curious what Wooyoung will do when left to his own devices, anticipation of the unknown stoking a fire between your thighs.

Wooyoung bends down to bite at the sash of your robe, staring up at you with an intense gaze. Slowly he pulls until the loose knot falls away, at which he drops the sash with an eager moan, nudging the fabric aside so he can press open-mouth kisses on your nipples, your sternum, your stomach, anywhere within reach. Sucking and nibbling as he luxuriates in the curves of your body, taking his time with you but clearly trailing downward towards his intended goal.

You whimper shakily, arms tightening around Wooyoung while he steadily builds up the gentle sparks in your stomach to sharp jolts of pleasure.

At first you think he is teasing — and perhaps he was, but Wooyoung grows more and more aggressive in his worship of you, shameless and noisy. He bites and laps greedily at your skin, tongue dipping into your belly button, sucking hungry bruises into the soft fold of your stomach. His head blocks your view of his crotch, but the way his hips twitch tell you he must be getting hard, if he isn’t already, and rapidly losing self-control.

You squirm at the thought, impatience testing your own self-control, making your fingers clench tighter in Wooyoung’s hair.

“You sure are taking your time, Woo,” San observers similarly, just when Wooyoung’s teeth sink into your plush thigh and you gasp at the sharp sting. “Don’t you think you’re neglecting that sweet pussy? Went on and on about how you want to fuck your tongue into that tight cunt until she cums on your face, drown yourself in her wet slick until you pass out. Told me you’ll make her squirt — are you going to prove that you can, or are you all talk?”

“F-fuck,” you whine, bracing yourself with a hand on the mattress behind you, arching into Wooyoung’s insatiable mouth.

“Never rush a quality meal,” he says, voice hoarse. “Gonna savour this. Every second, every drop.”

Wooyoung leaves more bites on your thigh, moving up, up — only to switch to the other side just when his nose brushes against your aching cunt, glistening with arousal. Now you know he is teasing.

“C’mon, Wooyoung…” you complain, his name comes out in a breathy moan. You try and pull him to where you really want him, canting your hips to lure him in, but Wooyoung is stubborn and resists. He groans in protest, only suckling harder at the sensitive, bruised patches of skin he’s created. Your legs fall open as far as they can go, lower lips parting for Wooyoung in invitation. You can’t wait, not a moment longer; so you hold on a little harder onto Wooyoung’s hair, nails grazing his scalp, and yank.

Instantly, Wooyoung’s breath stutters and his hips jerk forward, arms straining against his cuffs. “Fuck, fuck,” he whimpers, muffled against your cunt. You pull again, and he whines even louder. “That’s it, baby, take whatever you want. I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you everything, gonna be so good for you,” he babbles, brow scrunched in pleasure at your rough treatment of him.

His tongue darts out, lightly, like he plans to tease you again — but he curses at the slickness he finds, his last shred of restraint broken. He licks up a long, wet stripe up to your clit, whining against the sensitive nub when you shudder and moan, only more arousal gushing forth.

“All for me?” he rasps. “Fuck, I knew this would be a tasty pussy. Could tell just by looking at you. Not gonna waste a fucking drop, I can stay right here all night if I have to.”

San makes a sound of approval as Wooyoung finally begins to eat you out in earnest, but otherwise he stays quiet; remaining an observer to how Wooyoung rapidly dismantles your lucidity. San’s free hand drifts down to his cock, still hard from getting sucked off earlier.

“That’s enough,” he had told Wooyoung back then, pulling him off his cock before he came too close. “Go get your meal.”

Now San slowly fucks into his hand, sharp eyes watching with burning interest how Wooyoung gets lost between your thighs. Tongue delving deeper and deeper, thrusting inside your leaking cunt while his nose rubs up against your clit. You were right; the slope of his nose is perfect for grinding on, a fact you enthusiastically take advantage of.

With Wooyoung’s warm, eager mouth on your cunt, the pressure in your lower abdomen builds up almost embarrassingly fast. Your hips rock into him harder and his arms jerk in response, instinctively trying to use his restrained hands. You whimper, already balancing on the edge.

San, however, is not impressed with Wooyoung’s performance. “Think you can do more, Woo.” (More? Is he trying to kill you?) “That tongue is one of the few things you’re good for, I know you can do better with it. Really make her squirm.” (Fuck, he is trying to kill you. Fuck.)

Wooyoung lets out a choked, muffled groan against your cunt, vibrating through you.

“Then again… it has been a long time since you last had any pussy,” San continues, casual in his musing. “Might be out of practice. Do you even remember where to find her clit, hm? Or have you gotten that rusty?”

Immediately Wooyoung proves that he remembers exactly; switching from his vigorous tongue-fucking to sucking on your clit with equal aggression. You mewl at the sharp licks and suction, shaking as you fall back on your elbow, accidentally pulling hard on Wooyoung’s hair — but he revels in it, moaning louder between the obscenely noisy sounds of his lips and tongue dragging you to the brink.

“See? That’s better, isn’t it? There I almost thought you’re nothing but a cockslut but you are just as whipped for pussy, aren’t you?” San says, dispassionately, and Wooyoung almost sobs at his words.

(San can’t fool you though; maybe Wooyoung can’t see it, but you do see the way his hand speeds up around his hard length, thick beads of precum leaking from the flushed tip.)

“Does he feel good, baby? Is my little cockslut making you feel good?” San asks you, but words fail you, breath catching in your throat in a pathetic whine. Your back arches, pelvis pushing into Wooyoung’s mouth even as your hand pulls him in closer. “I suppose that is a yes,” San grins. “Wooyoung should thank you, for allowing him such a treat.”

Wooyoung groans between your thighs, but that is not enough for San.

“I said,” he growls, covering your hand in Wooyoung’s hair with his own, overpowering you to pull the redhead back, “Wooyoung should thank you.”

“A-ah! Thank you, thankyou,” Wooyoung keens, in a ravenous and desperate scramble to get his mouth back on you. “Please, I need more,” he whines, struggling against his cuffs, “need her to cum on my tongue, please, fuck, please, let me— I gotta—”

He almost falls forward when San suddenly releases him again, but Wooyoung does not miss a beat, right back to slurping at your juices.

Your vision starts to blur and for a moment you don’t understand why, until a tear escapes your lashes, trailing down your cheek. You blink the rest away, desperate to see; to see Wooyoung as he devours you, to see San as he gets himself off to the sight of Wooyoung getting you off.

That is where your eyes linger; your mind is growing hazy, your thoughts slow like syrup as Wooyoung takes apart your sanity. But your mouth waters at the sight of San’s hand around his hard cock, and one thought does come through loud and clear.

Although the conversation before all this had focused on you and Wooyoung, it’s not like you and San was taken off the table…

Even if you could just lend him a hand… or a mouth… or even your cunt, after Wooyoung has his fill. Maybe you’d be too sensitive by then, worn out from Wooyoung’s voracious worship of your pussy; you would flutter and throb around San’s thick length as he took you, but god it’d be worth every sweet ache.

It does not take San long to notice you, lost in a complete daze and openly checking him out. “You are greedy,” he says, grin sharpening. “You already have Wooyoung’s mouth, you want my cock too?” He licks his lips. “Maybe next time, hm? Let Wooyoung have his fun now.”

Next time.

The promise courses through you like fire, right down to your weeping cunt — where Wooyoung twitches at the realisation that your attention has drifted to San instead of him. His mouth detaches from your clit with a wet noise, and he bites at your thigh, harder than before.

“Ah—!” You hiss at the sudden sting, and roughly pull at Wooyoung’s hair without even thinking, forcing him back to where you need him. “D-don’t stop, fuck, don’t—”

Wooyoung groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He does not stop, not this time, satisfied to have your full attention back. You struggle to gasp for breath, scrambling to hold Wooyoung in place when his nose bumps against your clit just right; and he is all too happy to let you grind against him, enthusiastically thrusting his tongue in your cunt.

“That’s right,” he grunts between thrusts. “Use me, that’s what I’m here for. Break my fucking nose if you want, I don’t fucking care. Wanna taste how you cream right on my tongue, c’mon, baby, come on.”

You can’t do anything but grant his request. You dangled at the edge for so long, the fall is hard when you finally tip over, electricity surging through you. Your thighs tremble as they lock around Wooyoung’s head, toes curling as they dig into his back. You cum with a strangled sob, helplessly falling back onto the bed, hips still undulating to chase the sparks that course all the way through every nerve ending in your body.

Wooyoung curses as he laps at you, making good on all his promises not to waste a single drop. He stays on you for what feels like forever, until the high of your orgasm tilts over into needling oversensitivity. He ignores the way you begin to squirm and whine, forcing you to physically push him away. Still he groans in protest, not wanting to part with your cunt just yet.

“Sit on my face,” he gasps, the words slurred. “I’m not done here, please, wanna feel you, wanna drown in that wet pussy, ride my fucking face until I can’t breathe, please, fuck please.”

Your cunt is still twitching from the aftershocks, yet there is not even a moment’s doubt in your mind. “Yes, fuck,” you say breathlessly, then look up to lock eyes with San. “Don’t you dare shut this one down,” you threaten, only half-joking. You will not have a repeat from last time.

San’s dominant front cracks at the dead-serious expression on your face, forcing him to stifle a laugh. “Alright, alright, I won’t dare,” he grins. “You know what? I’ll even give Wooyoung a little reward.”

He crouches down to undo the leather cuffs, and you startle when Wooyoung immediately lunges forward to grab two handfuls of your sides and yanks you towards him. His tongue drags across your sensitive folds for one more swipe, drawing a long whine from you, and only then does he let you scoot back. The expression on his face is dark, an unhinged shadow hiding behind the glitter of his eyes; Wooyoung is nowhere near done with you yet.

It takes a moment of shuffling around, but soon you have discarded your robe and Wooyoung is lying flat on the bed, where his hands make up for lost time as he grabs and kneads at your thighs and waist, impatiently pulling you further up from his chest to where he really wants you.

You move slowly, not to tease Wooyoung, but because you are still shaky from earlier — and San’s hand on the small of your back does not help. It is a relatively innocent gesture; San is only helping you to stay balanced, but the warmth of his large palm and slight coarseness of his fingertips is incredibly distracting.

You can’t linger for too long on thoughts of how his hand might feel on different parts of your body; Wooyoung is ready and waiting. His eyes peek up from underneath you with a bright glint, his fingers digging encouragingly into your legs.

“Go as hard as you want,” he purrs, rubbing his nose through your soaked folds. “Just enjoy the ride. I know I will.”

And with that, Wooyoung is right back on you like he never left. No teasing this time, no drawn-out bites at your thighs. Just his hungry mouth on your cunt, where you can feel his grin.

You hiss out a curse when he starts to whip his head up and down, and you grab onto your knees to brace yourself. This position lets you move more freely than before and Wooyoung smoothly coaxes you into a steady rhythm, your breath coming in small moans and sharp gasps.

Somehow it’s all more intense this way, more exposed. You are extremely aware of San’s eyes on you, watching how your chest heaves, how your thighs clench with the effort to fuck yourself on Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung is even noisier now, every groan shooting right through you, his tongue leading your pace as he eats you out, forever insatiable. Like a man trying to quench his thirst with seawater, every drop of your juices only rousing Wooyoung’s appetite further.

Your eyes clench shut, still sensitive from before but also unable to stop from seeking out more. Wooyoung groans against you, spurred on by your need of him. You vaguely hear San shuffle around but you are too focused on trying to keep pace, on not collapsing against Wooyoung completely as rekindled tendrils of hot pleasure weave through your veins.

You jolt when a new hand suddenly touches your waist, but then another joins in to steady you. Your eyes fly open and turn your head, only to see San right behind you. He has taken off his sweats, now entirely naked, and there is a distinct hardness poking at your back.

“Relax,” he says, and runs a soothing hand up and down your side as he presses up against you, chest flush against your back.

You do relax; San is warm and solid behind you, a strong reassuring presence, and his soothing touch perfect for melting into. With a soft shudder you sink into his broad chest, the messy swirl of your hips stabilising to a languid roll now that San has his arms wrapped around you.

“There you go,” San murmurs, kissing your shoulder. One of his hands stays on your waist, keeping you steady, but the other traverses up to palm your breast, thumb teasing at your nipple. “Comfortable?”

“Mm,” you sigh out, starting to feel a little dazed. The world slows down around you, zooming in on just this moment, this place, with your fingers sliding into Wooyoung’s hair while San presses his lips to your shoulder again, firmer this time. Your back arches when he squeezes your breast, and your ass pushes back — right against his thick, hard cock.

San sucks in a sharp breath, surging forward when you moan encouragingly. Moving against you in an unhurried but persistent rut, inadvertently setting the pace of Wooyoung mouthing at your leaking cunt.

Like before, Wooyoung does not agree with having your attention divided. He huffs an audible breath, redoubling his efforts — something you had not thought possible. His loud moans have to be on purpose, the vibrations like shockwaves to your nervous system, and he nudges his head forward with every roll of your hips, dragging his nose against your clit at a toe-curling angle.

You whine and shudder, shakily clinging tighter onto San. He is all too eager to provide you an anchor, leisurely biting and sucking at your neck while he plays with your tits, alternating between them. He is slow and thorough with his touches, with his open-mouthed kisses, his restraint a dizzying contrast to the desperate, sloppy mess that Wooyoung is making.

The way you cling tighter onto San inflames Wooyoung’s efforts all over again. With a sob, you scramble to grab onto San’s shoulder, nails digging in to stay upright while Wooyoung eats you out like a starved animal. San hisses, hips bucking in approval, and Wooyoung groans against you in response.

You are drowning and floating all at once, trapped in an unending feedback loop of pleasure. It does not take long for you to fall apart, helplessly gyrating between their two bodies; the steadiness of San’s strong hold and his dick fitted snugly between your ass cheeks; the unhinged frenzy of Wooyoung’s mouth. You cry out as you cum again, harder than the last time — and again, Wooyoung does not let up, eagerly lapping at your release.

“F-fuck, Wooyoung…” you whine, pulling at his hair. But you do not pull him away, letting him savour you while you ride out your high, prolonged by every greedy swipe of his tongue.

San curses lowly, his hand leaving your breast to reach down, down. “Wanna feel…” he grunts, pressing his hips harder against your ass. “Such a good girl for us, let me feel what a mess you made…”

You can’t help but whimper in response to the pet name, and San’s teeth scrape against your neck between kisses.

Finally San’s hand reaches your cunt, bumping into Wooyoung’s nose when two fingers slide through your sodden folds — but you can’t enjoy his touch for long… not when Wooyoung bites at San’s thumb, hard enough to leave a mark.

San grunts roughly as he snatches his hand back, his mouth detaching from the column of your neck.

“Mine,” Wooyoung mumbles, and there is a dark, possessive glint in his eyes as he nuzzles at your clit. “This pussy’s all mine today.” He goes back to suctioning his lips around the swollen nub like nothing happened, but San’s face hardens.

“Nobody taught you how to share, Woo?” he asks sharply, but Wooyoung ignores him completely; a clear answer all the same. “Fine. If you want to be like that, it can be like that.”

San tips your chin up with his bitten hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek that is at odds with the storm brewing in his eyes. “You did so well,” he praises you, almost in accusation towards Wooyoung. “You can go for a little longer, can’t you? I’ll be right here.”

He starts to move away, a realisation that jolts through you with alarm. Trapped in a foggy daze, you instinctively whine and grab onto San, unwilling to untangle from him, destabilised without his arms around you. San’s eyes widen just slightly at your desperation to stay attached.

“What’s this, can’t go a moment without me?” he teases, pressing a few more kisses in the crook of your shoulder. “I won’t be far — how about we turn you around, hm? Let you watch while I handle Wooyoung.”

(Wooyoung grunts at the mention of his name, but it is a suspiciously excited sound.)

Watch San? Be the rapt audience to whatever he is planning? The thought sparks excitement, enough to blunt the edge off your needy desperation. Shakily, you nod your head. “Y-yeah. I want to watch.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, patting your ass. He starts to move again, and this time you let him.

You expected Wooyoung to protest when San helps lift you off his face, but he tentatively allows you to part from him long enough to turn around. It gives you time to take the sharpest edge off your overly sensitive body; especially when Wooyoung’s hands rub up and down your thighs once you’re settled back down. You can’t be sure if it’s intentional, but the light drag of his fingernails is strangely soothing, avoiding the patches of skin he marked so aggressively.

San is still right there, tipping up your chin to meet his eyes. “Just watch me, okay?” he reminds you, his gaze intent.

You hum in acknowledgement, sinking back into a feverish haze as Wooyoung descends on you once again. The angles are different like this, and he kisses at your clit with wet noises, flicking his tongue in a rapid, tight pattern that has you fighting for breath, while his nose nudges shallowly at your entrance.

And right in front of you, you can see how San lifts Wooyoung’s hips so he can strip off his boxers, where a dark stain is clearly visible in the crotch. Wooyoung’s dick smacks wetly against his stomach, so hard and flushed that it looks painful — just from eating you out, neglected all this time.

“Now,” San says in a low, clipped voice, “you’re real damn lucky, Woo. Need you to make our sweet girl feel good, so a proper punishment will have to wait for later. For now… you want her all to yourself so bad? Let’s give you some extra incentive to do what you’re good for.”

He sits across Wooyoung’s thighs, one leg on each side, and wraps one hand tightly around the base of Wooyoung’s leaking cock. Wooyoung whines, trying to move his hips but San has him pinned down. Your breath catches in a sharp moan as you watch wide-eyed how San rocks forward, using his free hand to rub his own hard length up against Wooyoung’s.

Entranced, you stare at how the two cocks slide against each other, precum mingling. Wooyoung’s is long with pretty veins, whereas San’s is more of a blunt instrument, thicker with just a slight curve — both equally mouth-watering in their own way. (“Next time,” San had promised you.)

Wooyoung groans a curse against you, his whines loud even muffled by your wet heat. Your hips swirl harder in response, and you moan wantonly as his pleasure reverberates through you — and his frustration too.

Because San is coldly calculated with his strokes, always careful to make sure Wooyoung is just shy of that final edge he needs.

“F-fuck, San, are—” Wooyoung whimpers when he catches on, his fingers digging harder into your thighs. “Are you—”

“You’re not cumming until she does.”

“She already—!”

“Again,” San cuts in, squeezing the base of Wooyoung’s cock tighter. He makes a noise of disappointment. “Going on and on about drowning in that sweet pussy, but it’s all forgotten the moment your own pleasure is on the line. Selfish, Woo. Is that all you really care about? Blowing your own load?”

You moan weakly, hips shifting against Wooyoung’s tight hold, trying to find his mouth again — and that is what snaps Wooyoung back into it.

“Fuck, don’t you listen to Sannie,” he groans, and sharply sucks at your clit with a lewd sound. “No way I’d forget about you.”

You can’t even be sure whether he’s talking to you or your cunt, and with the way he tongues at the latter? Who the fuck even cares? He can sing a whole damn serenade to your pussy every day of the week if he wants, recite poetry the whole night through; either way, you get everything your body craves for.

Well… Your eyes drift back to San.

Maybe not everything.

The thought crosses your mind, exactly when you are also struck by a distinct advantage to this position; all you have to do is lean forward to press your palms against Wooyoung’s chest, his dark nipples pebbled invitingly. He groans when you scratch lightly across his skin, his hot breath shuddering against your clit. You are tempted to keep going but…

But Wooyoung did deprive you of San’s firm body pressed flush against yours, and his slow, dedicated kisses. Maybe you should not forgive Wooyoung that part so quickly.

Maybe… maybe you feel a little mean right now.

(And a memory of one of Wooyoung’s kinks floats up into your mind, giving you the perfect outlet.)

“Hngh!”

Futilely, Wooyoung’s hips jerk upwards against San’s weight when you pinch at his nipple.

“Oh?” San grins, lips curling in approval. “Looks like someone agrees you deserve a little punishment, Woo. You made her very unhappy.”

Wooyoung moans loudly at the sting, his back arching into your touch. Suckling harder at your cunt, like he is only spurred on by the pain. “She won’t be unhappy for long,” he groans lowly, almost inaudible from underneath you. “Not after I’m done with her.”

Still, his noises get more and more desperate as San continues to edge him, mewling every time you tease at his flushed chest and play with his sensitive nipples. He groans in frustration every time you shift your hips in a way that breaks his rhythm, refusing to let him make you cum just to draw out his torment.

But despite his undeterred enthusiasm, eager to rise the challenge, you hesitate when his moans get just a little weaker. He starts to sound tired, and instead of grinding into him, you instinctively try to shift away out of genuine concern for his oxygen supply.

Wooyoung gives you no chance, yanking you back. “Stay right the fuck here,” he growls.

“Wooyoung, you’re— I don’t want to—”

His teeth sink into your inner thigh, warning you not to move an inch. “I’ll tap out when it’s too much,” he gasps against you. “Promise. Don’t you fucking move — you’re close, aren’t you? Fuck, I can tell, you’re so fucking wet, dripping all over my face. Just let me finish you off, hm? Sit back down, want you right here when you cum. I’ll have you creaming on my tongue in no time, just let me—”

It’s like Wooyoung is hit by some kind of second wind. Immediately he puts proof to promises, introducing his thumb to your clit. Working the digit in perfect tandem with his clever tongue, luring you back into rocking your hips in tune with his fanatical pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, jaw falling slack. Shit, message received. Wooyoung is fine, no need to worry about him, not when you are the one whimpering and struggling to stay upright.

Your thighs tremble almost painfully; you try to hold out, to keep drawing out Wooyoung’s denial for as long as you can, but deep down you already know you won’t last. Your cunt clenches with every sweeping lick of pleasure that Wooyoung sends through it, a fire stoked by the view in front of you.

San’s teeth are gritted, a drop of sweat running down his temple. His rhythm is less controlled by now, slowly devolving into a mindless rut against Wooyoung’s twitching cock. The slick sound of skin against skin is almost as loud as Wooyoung’s mouth between your legs, and the coil inside you tightens and tightens, inevitable no matter how hard you try to scramble away from the edge. You give into it; your resolve to tease Wooyoung any longer is overriden by your own desperation for release.

You speed up your hips, grinding into Wooyoung while bracing yourself on his chest. He moans when you thumb at his nipples again, his pelvis bucking against San. The motion draws your eyes back to San’s hand; not large enough to wrap around two cocks at once but enough to guide his movements as he jerks himself off against Wooyoung.

San notices you watching, and gnaws at his bottom lip as it curves into a grin. “Look at you, you greedy thing,” he says. “Came twice and still want more, don’t you? Tell me what you need, hm?”

“Wanna watch you cum,” you blurt out without even thinking, “please. Wanna see…”

He sucks in a breath. “Anything you want, baby,” San promises, and he releases Wooyoung’s cock, who whines so loud you can’t tell if it’s relief or desperation. San strokes himself with purpose, his thumb playing against his leaking slit, and it only takes a few expert twists of his fist before he groans, pained bliss contorting his face.

Long ropes of cum spill across Wooyoung’s stomach, even a few spurts all the way up to his chest, and his whines morph into a low moan as the hot seed hits his skin. He squirms when San lazily gathers some on his fingers, spreading the sticky whiteness around.

Then San lifts his hand and offers his glistening fingers to you, an offer you eagerly accept.

“Oh? Wooyoung isn’t the only hungry one, I see,” San teases when you messily slurp around his fingers, swirling your tongue to get a proper taste of him.

You can only moan in response; another high builds up inside your aching, sensitive cunt, climbing and climbing. It is gradual but unstoppable, drawn forth by Wooyoung’s persuasive fingers and insatiable tongue. You scramble for something to hold onto — and find Wooyoung’s hand. He grabs onto you, your fingers intertwined while his other thumb presses against your clit with dogged persistence. Pressure mounts, deep inside your throbbing cunt, until you shatter under its weight.

Your broken sobs are muffled by San’s fingers, drool spilling past your lips and onto your chin. San watches you, fixated on your pleasure, intensifying the depth of your climax. A hot wet release spews out from your core, wrenched from deep inside you, and Wooyoung moans in unexpected delight as you gush onto his waiting tongue. This time Wooyoung does take it easier on your trembling body, languid strokes of his tongue as he has his fill of you. He coaxes out as much as he can, until you are shuddering and spent above him.

San slides his fingers from your mouth when you quiet down, then helps you lift yourself off Wooyoung to slump onto the bed. Gently, San puts a hand on your neck to tip up your chin, and there is a proud gleam in his eyes while he brushes his thumb just underneath your jaw.

“I think Wooyoung did enough to prove himself, don’t you?” he murmurs, patting Wooyoung’s thigh. “Do you want to keep watching, or help me out with him?”

“Hm, help,” you sigh, without hesitation. Wooyoung makes a needy sound in response, and you turn to look at him.

He is a mess, swollen lips parted as he pants for breath. His nose and lower half of his face glazed with your juices, while his hair and forehead are matted with sweat. His eyes are unfocused, his hand still clenched tightly around yours. But he chuckles weakly when he sees you take in his dishevelled state.

“Yeah?” he asks with a tired grin, a glint returning to his eyes. “Made you feel good?”

Rather than give your answer in words, you hold eye-contact with Wooyoung as you bend forward. His cock is flushed dark and achingly hot in your hand, and Wooyoung whimpers a soft sob when you press a kiss on the leaking tip. Neglected and then edged, Wooyoung squirms at even the lightest touch, his breath hitching as tears quickly begin to form in his eyes.

You take mercy on him, sinking down on him with your mouth, relishing his snivelled moan when you hollow your cheeks. His nails dig into your hand and his hips jerk upward — but San is still there, pinning him down. Leaving Wooyoung with no choice but to writhe helplessly while you take him deeper until he nudges at your gag reflex, where you swallow around his cockhead.

“Ahhhhh fuck fuck fuck,” Wooyoung hisses, stuttering a long string of curses, interjected by whiny calls of your name. It does not take any time at all before thick tears roll down his cheeks, his voice caught in a choked up cry when he finally cums, convulsing under San’s strong hands. Heat sparks in your lower abdomen at the sight of Wooyoung’s wretched state, even with your body as worn out as it is, and you moan contentedly as his hot seed hits your throat.

Eagerly, you swallow it down as much as you can. A little bit spills past your lips, dribbling down your chin, but San is happy to wipe it up with a thumb and suck it off himself.

Wooyoung starts to push at you, his release quickly tilting over to overstimulation, and again you take mercy. With a decadent smack, you detach your lips from his cock, still half-hard and glistening.

The look in Wooyoung’s hazy eyes as he stares up at you is pure reverence, and he tugs at you to come lay down by his side.

You don’t fight it, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting you all at once now that everyone has had their dues. So you let Wooyoung cuddle up to you as you lie on your back, his arm and leg thrown across your body.

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” Wooyoung mumbles into your shoulder. “Abso-fucking-lutely spectacular.”

“And you are still drunk on pussy,” you giggle, but the praise warms your skin nonetheless.

“Hm. Maybe,” he says. “Doesn’t change facts.”

San chuckles fondly and runs an affectionate hand through Wooyoung’s sweaty hair. “You alright? Both of you?”

Wooyoung lifts his head up to look at San, like the stars are hung in his eyes. “You’re incredible too,” he grins, and you nod staunchly, humming your agreement.

You swear San’s smile turns shy, though he shakes his head like he’s dealing with a pair of incorrigible scamps. “That’s not what I asked, and you know it.”

“’m fine,” Wooyoung says. “Fucking amazing. Gimmi a minute and I can run a marathon.”

“Sure you can,” San indulges him, giving you a quick wink. He gets a washcloth to clean you up, mindful to ask permission first even though you’d given the okay beforehand. The okay still stands; especially with the pleasant ache that has spread through your body, making you loathe to even move an inch.

“God, I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” you groan, wincing despite how careful San is while dabbing at your thighs, bruised from Wooyoung’s… enthusiastic worship. “You’re a damn menace,” you mumble at Wooyoung, who just grins cheekily at you.

“Yep,” he agrees proudly.

San sighs and shakes his head. “Seriously, you really do have a sharp set of teeth on you, Woo. I still can’t believe you bit me like that,” he pouts, lifting up his thumb to show off the faded indents.

Wooyoung’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, was it that hard? Sorry sorry. Got carried away,” he laughs awkwardly, taking San’s thumb to press a light apologetic kiss on the mark. Then his grin returns, bold and mischievous, “But uh, didn’t you say something about a proper punishment?”

San rolls his eyes, and leans forward to land a soft bite right on the top of Wooyoung’s head in retaliation. “Really? You’re saying you’re good to go again?” he asks incredulously, and Wooyoung just shrugs. He really did bounce back quickly this time, almost as energetic again as he was at the start.

“How about you?” San asks, returning to his task of cleaning you up.

God, these two men really are committed to proving they’ll be the death of you, aren’t they? “Give me a minute and I’m good… to watch,” you say, finding a compromise between your depleted body and the interest sparked between your sore, aching thighs.

But San’s moping over Wooyoung’s bite has you thinking; both of them have adapted so smoothly to this new avenue in their sex lives. At no point have you ever detected any jealousy about adding a third person in the bedroom; the only act of possessiveness had been about you. Meanwhile, both San and Wooyoung appear perfectly comfortable to be shared.

“Have you guys ever done something like this before? Threesomes?” you ask curiously. You do know that the voyeurism aspect was new to Wooyoung, but maybe he’s had other experiences?

���San has,” Wooyoung says, tracing absent-minded circles around a bite he left on your stomach.

“Oh?”

San shrugs his shoulders. “I teamed up a few times with a friend, back when I was more active in the BDSM community. Domming together. It’s been a while though.”

“Oh?” Now there certainly is an interesting image.

“I was in an open relationship before,” Wooyoung chimes in again, before you have a chance to get nosy about San’s friend, “but things never, you know, overlapped. Not like this.”

‘Not like this’?

But… what is this?

You can’t help it; you tense up. Wooyoung said ‘relationship’; a word with a broad variety of meanings, with many potential layers to it — but most people narrow it down to one specific kind, especially in connection to sex.

How do San and Wooyoung see this one, with you?

You remember it clearly, the first time you heard of the term ‘aromantic’; it was like a gear clicking into place. It brought clarity to what always felt like a gap between you and the majority of people around you. The solution to a strange mystery of misunderstandings.

You like San and Wooyoung very much, you really do. There is a connection that isn’t contained to a casual hook-up. But depending on what expectations they have, now or in the future, you might not match those — and that makes you a little fidgety. It’s not a failing on your part, you know that, but other people don’t always see it that way.

San notices that you’re sinking away in your own thoughts, and gently nudges you back into his bedroom, back to him and Wooyoung. “Hey. Tell me what’s happening.”

You hesitate, a little embarrassed about how presumptuous some of those thoughts are. For all you know, they don’t think about you like that at all — and maybe never will. All your worries could be completely unnecessary. “Yeah no, it’s not…”

‘Not important’ you are about to say, but you swallow down the words. San always encourages you to be open about boundaries; he has to mean those in a non-sexual context as well, right?

“Okay,” you say, sitting up straight to gather yourself. “So, I really don’t want to make assumptions about how you guys see this going forward, but if this” — you vaguely gesture to the messy sheets on the bed — “becomes a regular thing, then maybe we should talk about some ground rules outside the bedroom too.”

“Yeah, of course,” San says, brow furrowed lightly. He immediately takes it as seriously as you suspected he would, but you still feel a relieved lightness in your chest to have it confirmed.

Wooyoung sits up as well, curious for what else you have to say. “Sure, makes sense,” he says; another confirmation that this is a safe space, and that you are in safe hands. You take a breath, and continue on.

[birdybirdnerd]

Do you have any hcs for your stanarrator? :D In somewhere else and orbiting bodies! I just finished reading both and was curious, I love hearing authors thoughts, no pressure to answer hehe ^^

oh man ive got so many its not even funny holy shit. gonna put these under a cut bc i can talk for days

so im not gonna go super into like. serious headcanons for somewhere else stanarrator because honestly a lot of it is plot relevant and i dont wanna spoil too much about whats upcoming, but ill happily dump a bunch of fluff for them before moving onto orbiting bodies bc honestly theyre two Completely different creatures

idk if im gonna go into it in the story but i consider somewhere else nar to be agender! he chose the body he did just bc it felt right, but has no strong opinions on how hes referred to. in the game hes referred to himself as an 'it' before, and so prior to his humanization that was all he was. might have him play around with gender presentation later on, especially if i can have him and micah bond more since theyre also a flavor of nonbinary, but ive already got enough bonding shit between the boys and the seguras that i might save it for a side-story oneshot thing, idk

stanleys love language is listening and acts of service. narrators is gifts and words of affirmation (if he can ever get over himself and also learn what Feelings (tm) are)

aksdjfs so one of my most popular posts is about nar getting into tabletop games to work on his control issues and not to spoil anything but... that is exactly whats gonna happen at some point. that post was literally me rambling out of context abt story planning, its hilarious to me it escaped containment. but yeah one of his problems is letting a story develop naturally, letting the characters do their own thing and seeing where it goes; he gets so mired in the details of the plot, that he forces the characters into doing actions that would be considered out of character, just to keep things moving along the way he thinks they should. in the parable, where he was god and stanley was the only player, it was easier for him to railroad and thats one area where bitterness cropped up. in the real world, with multiple players playing their own characters and no real power over their fates? itd be good for him to be able to tell a story collaboratively, to indulge in what he loves and was essentially made for, without it messing him up or him messing others up through it

nar is the epitome of britishness at first glance. except. he cannot drink black tea. the tannins give him a headache, he discovers to stanleys endless delight. stanley meanwhile is so immune to tannins he can chug black espresso straight and its horrifying for everyone to witness thank you for coming to my ted talk

alright and now for orbiting bodies :>

first off, im saying this here and now, and im gonna try my damndest to work it into the next installment whenever that comes out but this version of stanarrator isnt romantic and wont be. we need more aros that fuck, and while theyre undoubtedly important to each other, you can be close and intimate without it being romantic in nature. so yeah fuck your best friend go crazy its fun

blame royce for sticking this phrase into my lexicon but these two are absolutely constantly engaged in a rabid switch fight. i mean have you HEARD the countdown monologue? yeah orbiting bodies narrator is sub as fuck but this man Will dominate stanley at some point. very soon ehehehe

also, since nar was the one that made his own body, he has full modding capabilities over it. this means he can make it look and act entirely how he wants to, including messing with the parts of it and swapping them out. this is a surprise tool that will help us later

oh oh and sort of tangentially related to that: while he obviously does feel everything thats done to his vessel and experiences things from it from a first person pov, its not Him. doodlingbot had a similar thing crop up in their blogs canon, but what im talking about boils down to this: if anything were to happen to the body, like, say, it getting pushed off the cargo lift, thats not the end of things lmao. at any point nar can sever his connection to the body, including severing specific things like physical sensation. then its just a matter of loading it back in, good as new and then proceed to smack stanley good for being a little shit lmao

anyways yeah. im not good with headcanons that arent plot relevant but have fun! might add more on later if i think of them :>

[mumscarian]

Omg I just adore the cat deer drawing of jellie!! Also, do you think scar would be earth kingdom citizen, or do you think he'd be a bender? I think it could work well either way- first thoughts I had about bender scar could be something angsty, like we already know all the benders were arrested, what would grian do if he found out? Or it could be like a feelings realization like "this guy's a bender I'm supposed to arrest him.. but why do I feel like I can't?" No matter what scar is just so mischievous, and with his whole crystal salesman thing going on, it would still be really fun to play around with characters.

The two parts of my brain are fighting right now, one says angsty "earth bender scar gets arrested/should be arrested" and "non bender scar isn't afraid of these fire nation people until he gets a close look at just how powerful they are, he likes their company but everyone's warned him.. and they don't seem too fond of him (from his perspective)" and the other side that's like "lol scar gives grian a creeping crystal as a gift/hides one in his stuff and eventually grian is stuck with a huge chunk of crystal somehow" and just other.. silly little crystal merchant with his cat deer (which no one knows how he even has one? Weren't those things extinct?). I love me some angsty lore, but knowing me, I'd probably stick with silly antics lol

Sorry this got long, so many thoughts. Mention atla and open the floodgates ig lmao

eeeee ty 😊!!! and i think scar would be a bender, but he'd hide it unless he really needed to use it-- that way we get the best of both worlds!

Like, imagine: After a while of the 'omg gtws is here with his weird crystals hehe he is not normal 😍' stage, all of them start meeting on the DL. It's not necessarily a secret, because interracial romances are inevitable when a country is occupying another and it's not that uncommon, but it probably will be looked down upon by their superiors. So, they start meeting in the forest (and im imagining this to be somewhere around where the freedom fighters were or maybe where haru was) and BAM theres danger-- idk, bandits, rockslide, whatever-- and scar SAVES THEM with his earthbending and then they all have a 'oh SHIT' moment because OOPS THATS NOT ALLOWED. but besides the initial shock, I really don't think that would add too much strain on their relationship other than just another layer of secrecy, because Grian and Mumbo both dislike authority (although Grian more than Mumbo lol) and i doubt they would even think abt ratting him out. I mean, hot crystal guy vs your shitty boss-- hot crystal guy would win EVERY time.