#i feel the same about Burns day celebrations as i do about that thing where people share pictures of their “incredible” sunday roasts

[seud-luachmhor]

Look, the only thing i can even remotely admire about this fella was that he had the gumption to make money and work his way into the top ranks of Edinburgh's high society by writing them straight up porn and reciting it for them at their little cliquey meetings.

Other than that, bleh.

Scottish tour guide for the Robert Burns Museum doesn’t give a Fuck

[babyleostuff]

svt on your birthday | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

i’m sure a lot of us would say that cheol would plan an expensive restaurant date, book a table at one of the more extravagant restaurants in town (he’d probably buy you a dress, and some jewellery to match it too), and treat you like a princess for the whole day. and as much as i agree with that, he’d also try to make it a bit more… nostalgic? like, at the end of your night he’d bring you to a place that means a lot to the both of you, and whip out a framed, old photo of you from one of your first dates, or pull out from god knows where your favourite flowers - you get the gist. he’s a lil big romantic at heart.

❥ jeonghan 

would plan something very low-key - not because he doesn’t care about your special day, but at the same time hannie doesn’t feel the need to be as extravagant as cheol to show you how deeply he cares about you. his sweet touches, gentle gazes, and a gift that he prepared a couple of months in advance would be more than enough. to be honest, except for the gift, he wouldn’t plan anything in particular. you’d wake up together, eat breakfast that he made, and then he’d ask you what you want to do. the end of your day would end up with lots of cuddles, and sweet kisses.

❥ joshua 

if there is one thing joshua doesn’t mind spending his money on it’s you. he’d probably prepare two gifts - one handmade by him, and one quite an expensive one, because you need to be spoiled on your birthday (and any other day). as for the plans for the day, i think it’d be pretty similar to jeonghan’s - as long as you spend it together it’s all good. he’d maybe take you out on a nice walk, and buy you street food, or take you to some sort of faire or market if it was in town. something very chill, so you could spend some quality time together.

❥ jun 

i feel like jun would try to surprise you with something, whether it be a gift or an activity. nothing too big, but meaningful to you. why do i have a feeling that the surprise wouldn’t really work, though, - either he’d spoil it, or you’d find about it by accident, but nonetheless, your birthday would be perfect. you’d spend the whole day together, maybe you’d go out with a couple of your closest friends, do some fun activities, eat and drink a lot, and at the end of the day jun would either take you to like a “special place” for you, or if you were too tired he’d take you home, and give you his gift with tons of shy kisses and hugs.

❥ hoshi 

he’d definetly plan something crazy, you’d not be bored - that’s for sure. he’d wake you up at dawn by jumping on the bed or playing loud music, and singing into your ear. his energy would be impossible that day, even more so than usual (he’d be that excited to celebrate your birthday). after rudely waking you up (with love), hoshi would drag you to the kitchen and make you eat the breakfast that he had prepared (he almost burned the house down), and then take you out on your super duper fun birthday excursion. the end of the day, though, would be very calm, and filled with sweet touches and hushed words of  “i love you’s” and “happy birthday”.

❥ wonwoo 

unlike hoshi, wonwoo would let you sleep in, and while usually he is the first one out of bed, he’d stay with you until you woke up (your first gift would be a bare-faced, and naked wonwoo cuddled into your side) (do i have to mention his adorable bed hair). he’d try his best to make you a nice breakfast, and that in itself would feel like the greatest present you could ever get. other than that, he’s the next member of the “chill squad”, because wonwoo wouldn’t have anything specific planned. he’d take you out on a nice meal, or maybe to a park to take some photos of you, so you’d have a nice memory of the day (the best one would be the one taken by a stranger, with wonwoo having his arms tightly wrapped around you, and you nuzzled into his side). of course the gift would be very well thought out, and he’d blush furiously while giving it to you.

❥ woozi 

okay, so bear with me - i know he’s usually locked up in his studio, and rarely leaves the place (thank you nana tour for changing that) (not that i have anything against him spending time in his studio), but why do i feel like he’d take you out of the city for a trip. nothing too big, it's not like you’d fly to another country, but like a 2-3 hour road trip. woozi would really try to make this day as special as he could, and going on a short getaway trip would be perfect. you’d walk around, eat, take a lot of pictures, and most importantly - spend some quality time together. at some point, like the most random one, he’d whip out his gift for you, and it’d be just as special as the trip.

❥ dk 

dk to me is such a romantic soul, and because of that i think he’d stress a lot (in a good way) about your birthday, to make it as special and memorable as possible. there would definitely be a lot of flowers involved, and multiple gifts, big and small, whether they’d be made by him or bought. he’d plan some nice activities - you’d go places that you wanted to visit before, but didn’t have the time too, get ice cream if your birthday was in the spring/ summer time, or go sledding if it’s in the winter time. at the end of the day you’d go to a nice restaurant, not as extravagant as cheol, but still more on the expensive side, because he has to spoil you. also, you’d definitely take some photo booth pictures that you’d hang on your fridge later.

❥ mingyu 

first gift? waking up to his cuddles, endless kisses, hugs, “i love you’s”, and migoo giggles. you’d probably spend the first of the day eating take out, watching bad movies, and talking about the most absurd topics there could be. the whole time, you’d be nuzzled into his naked chest, while he’d have his arm around your shoulder tightly holding you close to his body. you’d get up (with a lot of complaints from you, because what better way to spend your birthday than cuddled up with mingyu?) when the sun would start to set, and that’s when the real “party” would start. mingyu would take you out to some fun activities, like mini golf, or a bar where you could play pool and darts. then you’d go around the city, when most of the people would already be in their homes getting ready for bed, with mingyu's jacket draped around your shoulders.

❥ minghao 

i just know the gift you’d get from him would be perfect. it’d be so well thought out, and it’d definitely be something that’d mean a lot to you. minghao would give it to you right after you woke up, still drowsy from sleep. he’d probably coo at you, and kiss your forehead, while placing the gift on the bed with a lovesick smile. he’d incorporate anything that has to do with your hobbies throughout the day, because what’s better than making the love of your life smile and watch doing what they love. minghao would also be a lot more affectionate, in like the “physical touch” way, you wouldn’t be able to peel him off you, AND you can expect a call from the xu family, because his mom and dad loves you more than they love him. at the end of the day, you’d end up on the couch on facetime talking to his family, and eating your favourite take out. 

❥ seungkwan 

i feel like, similarly to mingyu, you’d spend the morning and afternoon in bed, cuddling, kissing, eating, and probably gossiping about everyone you know. it’d be so nice to just spend some time together, without having to worry about your work, or school. later, he’d take you out to a nice restaurant that he had booked in advance, and give you a bouquet of your favourite flowers. after - neither one of you would know how, you’d end up in the most random place in the city, probably getting lost (but it’s all right, as long as you are together it doesn't matter where you end up). after finally getting back home, you’d turn on a movie, and you’d cuddle under a blanket, where you’d fall asleep together.

❥ vernon 

he wouldn’t have anything planned. now, not because he doesn't care (of course he does), but because he wants to spend your day in the way that you want. you want to stay in bed? great, now you can cuddle for the whole day. you want to have a movie marathon? he’s on his way to the kitchen to make popcorn. you want to go out? vernon is already putting his shoes on. all that matters to him is that you’re together, and you get to spend the day as a lil lovesick couple that doesn’t care about anything except for each other. the only thing he has planned is the gift he has for you, which he’d be actually so nervous to give to you. because what if you don’t like it? what if you think it’s too sappy? but of course his gift would be perfect, just like the whole day.

❥ chan 

another one that i think is very romantic, so he’d stress about planning your birthday as well, because hello? there are so many things that could go wrong, and your special day has to be absolutely perfect. dino would wake you up with kisses on your cheeks, and forehead, while wishing you a happy birthday (he could be saying anything, you’d be too tired to understand what he’d be saying at that point). he’d give you your gift to unwrap while he’d be making breakfast (he’d be panicking so much, because one - what if you hate the gift, and two - what if he messes the food up? so you’d have to reassure him lots that you love the gift, and that the breakfast was delicious). same as dk, i think he’d love to take photobooth pictures with you, so you could put it behind your cases, and after your little photoshoot he’d take you out on a picking in the park (if the weather was be bad you’d have a picking in your living room).

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

D-16 (TFO) x Cybertronian!Reader

The prettiest bot I've ever seen in my whole life ( do not tell Starscream I said that ♪(´▽｀) ) - I kid you not, not a single Megatron has ever moved my heart as Transformers: One did. D-16 got me giggling, crying and screaming at the same time. Gender Neutral Cybertronian Reader!

WARNING: Spoilers from the movie (Transformers One 2024). First love to Angst.

I have two scenarios on mind: 1) You are another miner that works alongside Orion Pax, D-16 and the others. Or 2) You work on something else, You and D-16 getting to catch each other on daily basis from time to time, but never interact.

1st scenario gives me the vibes that you two get to always chat and work together, watching Orion drag D-16 to his little disastrous adventures and D-16 smiling at you awkwardly whenever that happens.

But you don't mind (you get worried sometimes, of course), always giving D-16 a soft smile or a lively chuckle as you go back to work.

And you don't get to see how Orion teases his best friend at how he is smiling like a dumb. D-16 tries to deny it... to then gush to his best friend about you. "Did you see how they smiled at me? They're so... (sigh) perfect."

2nd scenario would be a slow burn type situation - both of you always wondering about... well, everything!

And the first interaction both of you had was when, by pure coincidence, found each other in the middle of a busy day, among many walking by bots.

"Hello, m-my designation is-" / "Hi, I'm so happy to..." both of you start at the same time, fell silent and then laugh together at each other's interruption.

You get to see how D-16 and Orion end at the race, celebrating their ups and worry at their downs, even more at how D-16 got hurt nearly at the end of the race.

After that... it was like he vanished. And while you prayed to Primus for him to be safe and sound, he would be thinking about you from time to time the whole journey.

As you would keep going with your job (growing tired and tired for the sudden high demand of shifts at the mines or feel like something bad was about to happen) - D-16 would slowly spiral between rage, confusion, realizations and the worst thing - to find out about the whole true and how not only him and his friends were stolen from their freedom and right to transform... but you were also a victim. Just like them. Just like all of them.

With the 1st scenario... It brings you joy to see Orion back at the mines, now changed and looking like a true transformer. And your spark breaks at finding out about the true - but the words of the new changed Orion brings you hope.

But you can´t shake this concerned feeling inside of your spark. Where is D-16?

With the 2nd scenario... you are a sea of feelings, confusion and fear, not knowing why there was suddenly so much chaos and - wait, is that... Dee? But... he looks so different! Like Orion, but there is something else that makes your spark tremble.

And hell - you cover your mouth with your servos at the sight of Orion being shot, at watching how D-16 tries to save him but then decide to let him fall. You watch how Elita nearly jumps after Orion's body and Bee stop her.

The worst part? After witnessing Sentinel's brutal murder, Dee- no, Megatron's speech and how he takes Megatronus t-cog and change even more... you feel your spark break even more the moment your optics and his find each other.

Bright yellow optics found (color) optics in the middle of a busy day... and there was nothing but new found feelings. But now... aggressive red optics find (color) optics... and while the red optics try to remain strong, they can't help but soften at the sight of how your (color) optics hold fear. As if you were watching the optics of an unknown bot.

How badly he wanted to go after you and hold you - to tell you he finally avenged you just like he did for himself and everyone else...

We all know how it goes - Orion comes back now as Optimus Prime and defeats Megatron.

And before Megatron leaves Iacon - he looks after you. And your optics meet for the last time.

And you swear you got to see the same D-16 you met the very first time in your whole life.

And Megatron knows he has changed, from the top of his helm to the last atom of his pedes. But something never changed in him.

His love for you.

"... The only thing I'll ever regret was never tell them how I felt."

Well damn I hurt myself with this I guess o(TヘTo) Vhaos out!

[astraystayyh]

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.

[coralinnii]

Congrats on reaching the 2.7 K followers milestone!! If it's okay to ask why specifically 2.7 K?

anyways I heard you were taking requests so I'll request something to celebrate with you :-D

I was wondering if you could do one where Idia, Kalim, Azul, Riddle rejects Fem!reader but ends up falling for reader after that, how would they react when they need to reject her and when the realization of them liking her back hits? (I tried to come up with an og idea but idrk if this one is actually good enough writing material :'-D)

 ‧₊˚✧ Waking up Too Late ‧₊˚✧

↳ Realizing their feelings for fem!reader after rejecting you 

feat: Idia ❋ Kalim ❋ Azul ❋ Riddle genre: slight hurt/comfort, open ending note: no pronouns were used but reader is written as a female in mind, reader can be interpreted as Yuu!reader, 

Question: Why specifically 2.7K? Well... I wanted to do something when I reached 2k but by the time I finished my initial wave of requests and WIPs, it already reached 2.7K ^_^" There wasn't a real rhyme or reason... I was just really late to the game

extra note: the joke in the start of Azul’s section doesn’t mean anything bad about him in general. It’s just Azul reminds me too much of myself during my younger days and I wasn't the biggest fan of myself back then.

Also, if anyone is wondering... I haven't stopped writing. I was just unable to find time for myself during the last 3 months because my classes and work didn't leave me time to do much outside of that. Seriously, I had assignments due on weekdays AND weekends! If none of you know who I am or didn't even realize I was gone... ignore me and have a good day ^_^

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

The Big Ooff

Regardless of Idia’s feelings before or after the confession, he rejected you in fear of change. He was content with the way things are, where he doesn’t have to worry about things like romance and relationships. 

Idia can’t imagine being the main protagonist for anything. He’s not the cool main hero or the handsome prince that gets the pretty girl. That's for the extroverts with high charm specs (a.k.a not him). Afterall, when does the NPC ever win? 

So when you, his friend and confidant, his solace and only exception, told him that you held feelings more than friendship…well, his system short-circuited. 

While the two of you said it wouldn’t change your friendship, you still wanted time away from him to heal the hurt. Idia agreed that the risky emotional roll dealt some real backlash to both of you.

The Realization

Idia tried to deny it, but he started imagining an alternative universe where he did accept your confession that fateful day. 

If he were to zone out during his level grinding sessions, he would vaguely envision himself in the same position, but perhaps with you lying next to him or even running your fingers through his flames. These daydreams would surprise him literally off the bed, his aforementioned flames burning a cute pinkish hue.

Some days when he’s browsing around online shops, he would occasionally encounter items that remind him of you.

Now, that in itself is not new but rather it was when he imagined how cute you would be if he got these items for you. Instead of your usual pleasantly surprised thank you, would you lovingly embrace him, maybe even kiss-! 

Ortho was startled to see his brother suddenly falling off his gaming chair, with his hands suspiciously covering his face. 

Crap, not only did he realize his feelings for you (which in hindsight probably was not surprising in the least), but he actually would like to be in a stupid lovey-dovey relationship with you. 

His Next Moves?

Continues to deny everything. So what if he wants a relationship with you? He can’t handle this new step even with these newly realized emotions. Plus, he was the one who blew his own shot by rejecting you the first time. 

So, he falls to his coping mechanism which is to deny everything and that he’s perfectly fine the way things are. 

When the two of you returned to your typical routine, he tried to keep things the way it used to be, as the same with you. 

Except it’s not quite the same. 

You weren’t sure if you were being conscious or that it’s been a while since you two hung out, but you felt that Idia was slightly more…attentive you could say?

He would give you first bids of the better controller before picking anything himself. If you seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable while sitting, the blue-flamed senior would offer you a comfier spot on his bed and a blanket if you wanted, before sputtering that he meant nothing weird about it.

He says he’s fine, but Idia’s is in no way the usual closed-off, sometimes cocky genius you knew before. He’s jittery, more prone to shriek and burst into pink flames to any of your gestures, and according to his little brother his heartbeat is slightly faster than usual. 

It’s weird…it’s like he actually acknowledges you as a woman…

Oh.

“Ahh, I seriously chose the wrong choice option. The story path…I wonder if I could still salvage a good ending…”

The Big Ooff

Kalim’s overly friendly nature, while harmless, is somewhat misleading and confusing to those around him. I mean, if someone threw a grand luxurious party for you, it’s easy to assume that you were someone special. Unfortunately, Kalim is simply just…too friendly. He would do this and more for just about anyone, no matter how special they may or may not be.

Nonetheless, you still wanted to tell him your feelings. You wanted to tell him how his smile and laugh hastens your heartbeat as you smile back. That you feel butterflies every time he extends his hands to you, coaxing you to dance with the boisterous Housewarden of Scarabia. 

To everyone’s genuine surprise, the snow-haired student sincerely apologized to you, not able to return your feelings the same way. All of your friends and also Scarabia was so sure that their Housewarden thought differently of you, but news quickly spread that Kalim never thought about being more than friends with you.

The Realization

To clarify, Kalim never thought about being more than friends with anyone. He’s happy to have so many friends, what more could he possibly want?

But your words did shake him mentally. He never realized that you would feel this way for him. On days when he can’t keep track of the lessons at hand, his mind would doze off and wander back to your confession. 

“Hastening heartbeat, feelings of butterflies, always wanting to smile when you do…”

The more he thinks about your love symptoms, he’s realizing how similar those feelings were to his own when he’s around you. It was why he would always try to find you in a crowd, or why he wanted to be your dance partner on any occasion. Sure, he’s happy to be around everyone, but he feels especially good when it's you.

The pieces are connecting, the clogs are aligning, and soon…

“JAMIL, I THINK I’M IN LOVE TOO!” 

“IS YOUR LACK OF INTROSPECTION THIS BAD?!”

His Next Moves?

Man is now a fool in love. He has this goofy smile on his boyish face at the slightest mention of you. Everytime he thinks about you, he keeps attempting to buy one or two grand bouquets of flowers for you, each flower as beautiful as you, much to Jamil’s chagrin as the vice-Housewarden has to keep reminding him of a crucial fact. 

“You two aren’t dating. Actually worse considering your prior actions.” 

Jamil’s brutal but accurate words brought Kalim back to harsh reality as he realized his mistake in not realizing his feelings soon enough. But not one to wallow in the past, Kalim sought to tell you his feelings just as you bravely did before. 

Whether I personally think if that’s a smart move is irrelevant

Whatever your response is to him, Kalim would fully respect your choice, prioritizing your comfort and feelings over his newly uncovered ones. Despite his well intentions and honest feelings before the realization, his carelessness hurt you and he needed to consider your healing process. 

Kalim would still act like a love-sick fool, however. Buying beautiful trinkets because he thought of you but won’t push them onto you if you couldn’t handle the heavy sentiment (thank Jamil for that). 

Though a little more sheepishly, he would still extend his hand to you hoping for a dance, small little gestures to make you smile even the slightest bit brighter…all this and more because “I like you” and nothing else.

Just because he’s slow in figuring things out, his feelings won’t change so easily. This special feeling of happiness, of love… he’s grateful that you taught him this whole new world.

"I’m a little much? Haha, sorry. I get really happy when I see you...It feels nice being in love with you.”

The Big Ooff

Please reconsider 

Ahem. Azul has grown accustomed to your presence. Perhaps even look forward to it throughout his daily routine, even assisting you in whatever trouble you always seem to get involved in. Some would accuse him of favoritism, but Azul argued that he was simply a gentleman treating a lady right.

He’s too observant to not notice that these sentiments are somewhat mutual. He thought of you as too kind and generous as to spend your spare time helping him around the lounge or to keep him company when the Leech twins get a little much. 

But he was surprised to learn that your feelings were deeper than he initially predicted. There was such sincerity in your voice as you confess your feelings that it shook Azul to his core and turned his human legs weak. 

However, he still had so many aspirations he hasn’t reached yet, opportunities he can’t miss. He can’t afford to split his time for something like romance, something that didn't register to him as urgent in the first place. Love is all well and good, but success is better and more tangible.

He’s careful with his words, gratefully thanking you for your confession and complimenting you with a list of traits he admired about you. 

But you should know Azul by now. He’s hyping you up before ultimately giving you crushing news. Like a company recruiter telling you weren’t chosen despite your apparent talents. 

You knew this, but it still hurts to have your dynamic treated equivalent to that of a business relation. 

The Realization

Azul understood you needed time away. Certain things were said that can’t be taken back and it’ll be a while before you two could feel comfortable around each other again. 

During this time though, the Housewarden truly felt your absence. He feels it when someone else takes a seat in his office where you usually occupy, when his mealtime feels less fulfilling because you weren’t there to enjoy it with him, when his headaches get worse from stress and you weren’t there to lend a comforting hand. 

This sense of void was like a stream of cold water slowly trickling into his body and mind until he felt heavy and almost drowning. What an odd sensation for a deep-sea merman. 

His mind became cluttered. He can’t focus on his work when all he could think about is where you might be and what you were doing. 

He reached his limit when he realized that he couldn’t even hide this internal conflict from Jade or Floyd when their keen eyes pick on every moment of his loss of focus, and they have an inkling as to the cause. 

…Dear Sevens, he might have made a great miscalculation on his own feelings.

His Next Moves?

First off, he’s going to spend some time in his pot. He needs some personal time reflecting over his own obliviousness and self-sabotage. 

Once that’s over, he now has to figure out how to remedy this. A plan to get back into your good graces after the blunder. 

He is a greedy merman. If he’s going to do something, he wants the best outcome possible, which is you forgiving him and accepting him while forgetting the past even happened.  

He’s read through countless relationship books, advice found online, and personal intel that his schoolmates were forced to generous enough to offer under an NDA. 

He’ll use the knowledge he remembered from your confession to his advantage, highlighting the parts of himself that he knew you liked about him. He shows off his good side in hopes to reignite what attracted you to him. 

If there’s anything to expose his intent with you, it’s the flush of his pale skin when you finally thanked him with that sweet smile he missed so much.

"I’m not one to lose an opportunity when within my reach. However long it takes, I’ll earn back what I’ve foolishly lost.”

The Big Ooff

Riddle was, in all seriousness, taken aback by your confession.

The studious Housewarden of Heartslabyul is definitely smart, but he’s just slightly lacking in the people-reading department. 

To him, you were simply a very loving person. He thought perhaps you were on the shyer side but always worrying about his well-being, making sure he’s taken breaks and to enjoy himself between his duties.

You were still a little rambunctious as lately you seem at odds with Ace as you’re quick to smack and silence the mischievous redhead who seems to snicker more often than usual as of late. 

Frankly, you left him stunned, his face similar to a deer in headlights. No textbook or lecture has prepared him to reply back to your sincere confession. 

In the end, he rejected you while giving his full honesty. Silly things like love and relationships were subjects he never thought to consider in depth, and he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted at the moment. 

He tried to explain the best he could, but you couldn't stop the aching feeling of your heart breaking. 

The Realization

Your relationship with Riddle took a blow but it was not destroyed. Albeit some awkwardness here and there, life flows relentlessly as usual. 

But that fateful day would occasionally sneak its way into Riddle’s mind during his spare moments to himself, recalling your determined face, coupled with his memories of your beautiful, clear eyes.

Nowadays, his heart would tighten, his throat would feel dry, and his breathing would be shallower whenever his thoughts sway towards you. 

Spurred by these odd symptoms, he finally looked more into the topic of love. The more he delved into talks on relationships, seminars on emotional attraction, and even tropes from novels, the more it feels as though he’s going down a rabbit hole of new emotional discoveries. 

For a while, the Heartslabyul dorm was on edge as they feared for their necks every time their terrifying Housewarden suddenly turned franticly scarlet out of nowhere.

Alone in Riddle’s room, surrounded by articles and books littered on his once pristine desk, Riddle found his conclusion; he’s in love too

His Next Moves?

Riddle isn’t actually sure how to approach you anymore. This whole “in love” experience is all too new to him. He couldn’t bring up this embarrassing topic with any of his peers, and much less with his mother (Sevens knows he doesn’t exactly want to replicate a relationship like his parents). 

But he couldn’t handle the sudden sensations of nerves that occur every time he’s close to you. He can’t keep up constantly chastising himself internally for flinching every time he passes a tart or a teacup to you during Unbirthday parties. 

He can no longer focus during his study sessions with you as he’s now fighting with himself as he dreams to hold your free hand or to brush a stray lock of hair from your endearing face. 

Was it as difficult to deal with as it was for you? Was this the reason you decided to confess to him? But the thought of speaking to you about something so intimate invokes nerves in him that he couldn’t understand.

No, he should learn from your example. If the natural progression of his feelings should be clear communication between those involved, then he will face this challenge as confidently as he does with any other. 

Prepare yourself, the stubborn Riddle has made a goal for himself. 

“I admit my inexperience has hurt those I cherish. Next time, I will respond to your bravery in kind.” 

[corroded-hellfire]

From one ginger to the other I absolutely adore the as you wish series! <3

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader goes out with Nancy for brunch for the first time after having Eliza. And her alcohol tolerance is obviously lower than pre-Eliza. And she gets quite tipsy, and Eddie has to pick her up, and she's all over him and just spewing nonsense about how much she loves him and their family.

And she admits how much she loved having his baby, and Eddie is just totally smitten as she just keeps going on and on.

Anything for a fellow ginger! This is silly and cute and I hope you like it 🥰

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexy talk

[As You Wish masterlist]

The sun brings warmth to the breezy spring day as you finish up your brunch with Nancy. It’s the first time the two of you have gotten to do this since you gave birth to Eliza. You had been aware that things would change drastically after giving birth, but you hadn’t even realized how long it had been since you and Nancy had a girl’s day until she invited you a few days ago. 

Mimosas seemed like a perfect way to celebrate when you arrived, but by the time you had finished your second glass along with your French toast, it was too late to remember that your tolerance was lower now. 

“Same thing happened after I had Danny,” Nancy tells you as you take a long sip from your water glass. “Steve and I went to a work party, and we had to leave after I had one vodka cranberry.”

“I don’t feel drunk,” you tell your friend, the lightness in your head giving you a pleasant buzz of happiness on top of the already enjoyable day. “Just tipsy. But I know I can’t drive like this. I’ll go call Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy offers. “I can just drive you home.”

You shake your head as you carefully push yourself up from the cushioned chair. 

“No, it’s okay. Wayne’s over so he can stay with the kids.” 

It is the truth, but the main reason you want Eddie to pick you up is because you really want to see your husband right now. Like a pregnancy craving for food turned into a yearning for a person, you feel as if your hands are not on Eddie within the next few minutes, you’re going to lose your mind. It’s all you can think about as you put one foot in front of the other as you walk inside the restaurant from your porch table.

The hostess shows you to a phone and your fingers eagerly skip over the familiar numbers for your home.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of his voice sends a chill throughout your body—one the warm spring day outside could never eradicate. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you say. Even you can hear the smile in your voice.

“What, baby? Are you okay?” The concern in Eddie’s voice does nothing to help the burning deep within you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you tell him. “I had a, uh, couple of mimosas with lunch and I did not realize my alcohol tolerance would be this low after having Eliza since I haven’t drank in a while.”

There’s an exhale of relief on the other end of the phone. Eliza babbling in the background and Luke’s raucous laughter has you grinning into the mouthpiece you’re clutching on to. 

“I’ll be right there, okay?” Eddie assures you. “We’ll get your car later.”

“Okay!”

Eddie chuckles at your carefree attitude and can only imagine how cute you look right now, all smiley and bubbly. 

“I’ll see you soon, princess.”

“Okay! Bye.”

When you get back to the table, amongst the empty plates and discarded silverware, you see that Nancy has already paid the whole bill and you give her a soft glare.

“What?” she asks innocently, large eyes making it even more convincing. “I’m pretty sure you paid last time.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble as she stands up and grabs her purse. “I’m sure you remember that from, like, a year ago.”

No response from Nancy on that, she just gives you a wink and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk arm-in-arm out to the parking lot in front of the restaurant. 

Nancy’s car is parked in the shade so there’s a coolness on your backside as you rest against the trunk of the silver Lexus. Your friend tugs a little on the cream-colored sweater she’s wearing but you wish you had Eddie’s arms around you to keep you warm. Thoughts of Eddie’s arms lead to thoughts of his hands all over you and you’re unable to keep a dreamy little hum from slipping out.

“Thinking about Eddie?” Nancy asks, though the amusement on her face says she already knows the answer.

“I’m always thinking about Eddie,” you admit with a shrug. 

“God, you two are adorable,” Nancy says, mostly to herself. 

A squeal of excitement and you hopping off the car in excitement lets the brunette next to you know that Eddie’s truck has pulled into the parking lot. It’s her clue even before the metal music can be heard soaring out of the open windows. 

Eddie leaves one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to turn the volume dial down as he slows the truck down right behind Nancy’s car. He lifts an eyebrow and looks you up and down appreciatively. 

“Need a ride, gorgeous?” he asks.

The giggle that tumbles out of your lips has both your best friend and your husband smiling as he puts the truck in park and steps out of the car. As soon as he walks back around the bed, you throw yourself at Eddie, who catches you and lets out a surprised huff of laughter.

“Hello to you, too,” he says. Protective as always, he wraps a sturdy arm around your waist to make sure you’re steady before he looks over at Nancy. “She wasn’t any trouble, was she?”

“Nope,” Nancy says. “Ate her vegetables and went to bed on time.”

“Hey!” You pout, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I’m the babysitter, not the baby. I mean…I was the babysitter. Now I’m the Mommy.”

Your two compatriots share an amused smile before Nancy gives you a wave and gets in her car. Eddie leads you over to the passenger’s side of the truck. You have no intention of letting him go though, so you wrap your arms around his neck so he’s leaning over you in the seat.

“Uh, babe?” he says with a chuckle before realizing it’s better to just humor you. 

Rapid fire kisses get smacked all over your face which has you squirming on the spot and gets you to loosen your grip on your husband’s neck. But the moment Eddie climbs in the driver’s seat and closes the door, you lean over the center console to grab at him again. 

“Sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, amused at your touchiness, “I have to drive us home.”

Silently, you decide that’s okay because that’s where your babies are, so you let go and slip back into your own seat. The older man puts the truck into gear as you buckle your seatbelt and then he pulls out of the parking lot, onto the main road.

It’s quiet only for a matter of seconds before you speak again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We have the cutest family ever.”

Eddie nods his head in agreement, trying to keep his laughter inside lest you think he’s laughing at you.

“Absolutely,” he agrees.

“And it’s because you’re so cute!” you gush, throwing your hands in the air with a dramatic flourish that Luke would be proud of. “What do Ryan, Luke, and Eliza all have in common? Your genes! That’s why they’re so stinkin’ adorable.” You sigh dreamily and rest your head against the headrest as you gaze at your husband. “You’re such a DILF.”

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of laughter at that and looks your way as you pull up to a red light. Glee dances in his eyes as he tilts his head. 

“Isn’t that ‘Dad I’d like to fuck?’” he asks. “You have fucked me, baby. Many, many times.”

“Fine. You’re a DIHF.” The different pronunciation has a raspberry blowing out of your mouth at the end of the word. “‘Dad I have fucked.’”

This is the most entertained I have been in so long, Eddie thinks to himself as the light turns green. It only reinforces the insane amount of love he has for you, and he feels the need to reach over and hold your hand. Luckily, yours is resting on your thigh now so he does just that. Softly, his thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand. 

“M’so happy, Eddie.”

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you had a good time with Nancy. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to go out.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, I am happy because I got to spend time with Nancy today but that’s not what I was talking about. I meant that I’m so happy cause I got you and the boys and little Liza. Best things that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way, princess.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really loved having your baby.”

Eddie can’t help the big grin that stretches across his face at your words. God, he could never hear that enough from you. 

“I had something that was half you and half me growing inside me,” you explain as if Eddie doesn’t know what being pregnant entails. “It felt crazy. But like, a good way. Like, I couldn’t believe it was happening. A little piece of you right here.” Your free hand pats your lower abdomen and when Eddie glances over he sees you looking down at that part of your body.

“I wanna do it again.”

Eddie almost swerves off the road at those words.

“Huh?” he asks, hand tightening on yours.

“I wanna have your baby again! I mean, not right now. Fucking hell, my vagina would fall out having babies so close together like that. Ow.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Eddie raves. “But yeah, we don’t want your vagina falling out. Pretty sure we both really, really like that part of you.”

A sly smile grows on your lips as Eddie turns the truck into your neighborhood. You know it’s a little mean to turn your husband on when you’re about to go home to a house full of kids and his uncle, but you just can’t help it. You’re having fun and it’s alcohol-induced and Eddie’s done way worse things while under the influence. 

“Well,” you start innocently, “maybe if my vagina hurt you could kiss it better?”

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, glancing over at you. “Really gonna do this now?”

The maniacal giggle you let out already has Eddie forgiving you, his heart soaring with how much love he feels. He’d let you tease him and taunt him until the end of time. And God knows you’re the only one allowed to. But that makes it even better, Eddie thinks, because then he gets a pass to act as an over-protective asshole once in a while when the jealousy monster rears its ugly head. It’s a fair trade you can both live with. And if Eddie’s cross to bear is you getting him all worked up when there’s no time to do anything about it, he thinks he’s pretty damn lucky. 

[madridfangirl]

Escape

Jude Bellingham comfort blurb.

Summary: Literally the title. Jude finds an escape from ongoing shit with the people he loves the most.

(Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.)

.................................................................................

'Heyy you.'

'Heyy.'

Ananya was met with a glum face and a glum voice when she video-called her boyfriend. Last 2 days were nothing short of hell for him. She had been away for her cousin's wedding in India, but the Clasico had bummed her out as well. They had exchanged messages and had a brief call but the wedding celebrations didn't leave her much time to spend with Jude.

And when she saw the Balon d'or fiasco while scrolling through her insta at the airport, her first reaction was disbelief. She wanted to throw her phone at the nearest wall. The travesty and scandal of the whole thing was beyond comprehension.

But she got her reaction out of her system before reaching out to him, knowing he would be 10 times as upset. Just last night he had sent her images of the fully done up suit, along with the classy watch (which she had picked). He had been so excited for the podium finish, to actually attend as one of the best players in the world and not an 'upcoming' player anymore. The post-event party was going to be epic too. But alas - the universe conspired against them real hard.

'How are you?'

'How do you think?'

He responded curtly, then checked his tone immediately.

'Just blah.'

'I know. Me too.'

'When did you see?'

'Just now when I reached the airport.'

She was about to board the connecting flight to Madrid.

'You?'

'Been a few hours.'

'You didn't tell me?'

'Didn't know where you would be. Didn't wanna upset you also.'

Upset was a massive understatement for what she was feeling right now. She wanted to burn down the world. Not just as Jude's girlfriend, but as a Madridista more.

But, she told herself what's done is done. She had to be strong for him. Both of them couldn't have a meltdown at the same time.

'Honestly thought it would be a good distraction from Saturday. But nahh. Man I still can't believe this is true.'

'Me neither. Part of me feels I'd wake up from this nightmare any second.'

'Yeah.'

'When do you go back to training?'

'Day after. Got tomorrow off as well now.'

'Hmm. Denise must be pampering you loads?'

First hint of a smile from the boy, as he thought of his mother fondly.

'Hotdog, pasta, cake, hugs - everything.'

'Awww. Didn't sing you a lullaby?'

She teased fondly.

'Won't put it past her.'

A half-smile again.

Jobe & Mark couldn't make it for the Clasico. Jobe's schedule didn't permit that. The brothers loved nothing more than to be there to support each other for big matches but the realities of their calendars barely permitted that.

Ananya hoped they had been able to make it. Would have been a massive comfort to Jude right now.

But Denise was a superwoman when it came to making Jude feel better & taking care of him. One of the best mums in the world.

Ananya had seen their bond up close for an year now. So she knew he was in good hands.

'She's the best.'

Ananya smiled genuinely at the screen.

'Don't know what I'd do without her honestly.'

He paused for a moment.

'And, without you.'

'Oh you'd walk around the streets crazy if it wasn't for me.'

She shrugged, grinning.

Jude smiled. The kind of smile that recahed his eyes. The ability of this girl to uplift his spirits, just by existing, befuddled him so much.

'How long till I see you?'

'Three hours. Boarding in 5 and coming straight to you from the airport.'

'Come sooner.'

She shook her head fondly at the screen.

'Unless you suddenly turned into Tony Stark and discovered a portal through time & space, not possible to come faster than a plane.'

'Such a nerd.'

'Proud of it.'

'Seriously, come soon.'

'Close your eyes. Take a nap. I'd be there when you wake up.'

Colour drained from his face at her words. He had barely slept AT ALL last two days. Even Denise's cuddles hadn't helped.

'Yeah, will try.'

'Jude, look at me.'

He looked up immediately.

'It's done. It sucks but it's done. Nothing will change it. Don't let it burn you from the inside. Last 2 days were shitty but we can only go up from here, yeah?'

'Easier said than done.'

'With you. 100%. It'd feel shitty for a while but hey, next 1.5 days, lets shut out the world and focus on what's dear to us, what's important, yeah? There is more to life, we both know that.'

'Hmmm.'

'I'll be there by lunch time. Should I get some Toblerone?'

'Yeah.'

'Cool, see you soon baby.'

'Come soon.'

'I'm coming.'

When she landed in Madrid and checked her phone, there were 5 missed calls from Jude. and a message to call him back as soon as she saw it.

Alarmed, she rang him up immediately.

'Hey, where are you? Don't leave the airport.'

'What?'

'We are going to Corsica for a day.'

'WHAT?'

'Mum and I are at the private section of the airport. There is a car waiting for you on arrivals. Sending you the details. Take that & come here. We fly out in 15.'

'Back up. What the hell are you saying? This doesn't make any sense.'

'Makes all the sense. I don't have training tomorrow and you have an off tomorrow. We'll come back early on Wed morning. 2 nights in Corsica. Resort is booked and the flight time is 1.5 hours. I researched, dove. Planned to the T. Now stop wasting time & get here.'

Ananya couldn't register anything he was saying. Freaking out hard at the idea of taking a holiday together with his mum. Sure they had stayed together at his Madrid house many times and she had even visited the family in theri Birmingham home during the summer and she had a good relationship with Denise.

But a holiday with your boyfriend's mum was a big step.

Of all the reasons she had to freak out, she chose the silliest one to voice out loud.

'I don't have any clothes for Corsica.'

'You'd be with me. Why do you need clothes?'

'JUDE.'

'Relax, she's not with me right now. On the phone with dad. Complaining I've gone mad. Her exact words - come get your son he's driving me crazy.'

'I'm with her on this.'

'Did you find the car yet?'

'Yes but Jude..'

'Dove I need this. Can't be here right now. Can't even be in this city. Need an escape. Need you guys. Please?'

There was no way on Mother Earth she could have said no to that voice and those words.

'Ok.'

The plane took off exactly 10 mins later. Ananya insisted on wearing a mask while boarding - the relationship was not public and if there was any chance she was seen with him (Jude insisted it won't happen coz private terminal) then at least they won't get her face.

'Why Corsica?'

'Remote. Pretty. Haven't been there. And you said it's on your list right?'

She had seen the place in a movie and told him about it. Months ago.

'Yeah. But...'

'You shouldn't be the one having to plan all this right now. We should be taking care of you.'

'You are. By being with me right now.'

He leaned down & kissed her, something she was still getting used to in the presence of his family. It had taken Jude some time to understand that PDA worked differently where she came from, and both had gravitated to a midway here.

They landed soon, on a private airstrip of a luxury resort.

Ofcourse.

Ananya didn't even dare to think how much a place like this would have costed. Coz it was luxury personified. Grand sea-facing villas. Normally, she would have told Jude this was too much. But now was not the time. The boy had the right to do whatever he wanted right now.

Instead, she focused on the clear blue waters in sight. And wondered if the place would have a shop to buy at least something appropriate.

The staff walked them to their villa. While Ananya admired the white marbles and fancy chandeliers all around.

'This is us. And that's you, mum.'

Ananya walked in. And kept walking. The place was never ending. Two bed rooms. Three washrooms. Private pool. Sea-facing deck. And a bunch of other rooms she couldn't even understand the purpose of.

'You took 2 villas?'

'Yup.'

'Why? This place can fit a village.'

'Why do you think?'

He said without missing a beat.

'Seriously?'

'I meant what I said about the clothes.'

He said matter of factly, while adding the wifi password to his phone. Leaving his girlfriend gaping at him.

'You can take off that mask now.'

'Oh yeah.'

She had forgotten about that. So lost in this place, and in him.

When his brows furrowed while gaping through his phone, Ananya interved.

'Gimme that.'

'What?'

'No phones while we are here. Let's try that?'

That didn't seem like a bad idea. He did want to forget about the world outside, atleast briefly.

'What should we do then?'

'Lets watch a movie? Ask Denise if she'd be up for it.'

'Naah she's cranky. I literally dragged her out of bed mid-nap. Not knocking on her door now she'll be mad.'

'Cool then we can watch something. On the deck maybe? Sea breeze would be nice.'

'Or we could do some other things. On the deck also if you want.'

She just shook her head at him in exasperation, and he knew it meant a no. But he also knew a no was only for now. She won't keep him waiting for long, not when she wanted to make him feel better.

Honestly, he just did it to get a reaction from her, something he enjoyed a fair bit.

Not having the constant buzz of the phone next to him helped a ton. As did the soothing air. The serenity seeping into his pores.

They watched a random rom-com, with Jude's running commentary on how cheesy it was.

'Please, have you seen you? You are cheesier.'

'Take that back.'

'Nope.'

'Name one cheesy thing I do.'

'Kissing me through the phone?'

'That's not cheesy.'

'Yeah sure.'

The bickering went on, as the movie kept playing in the background.

Denise sent her a quick 'how's he doing?' and she responded with an 'ok.'

After the movie, they did do a few other things he wanted. Not on the deck though, no way she was going to allow that.

It was time for dinner. The resort had set up a table sea-side for them.

'I literally have nothing to wear Jude.'

'Wear my jersey. I have it somehwhere.'

'What a great idea to not draw attention.'

But wearing one of his oversized shirts was the only option. With her jeans.

How badly she hoped she had a dress with her right now. Especially in a fancy ass place like this.

But the shirt, which made her look like a homeless person, will have to suffice. She tucked it in, doing the best she could.

'Don't tell me you're gonna wear a mask here as well.'

'On the way, yes. On the table, it's already dark at the beach.'

He raised his hand in surrender, knowing she'll do what she wanted.

They reached the table and Denise was wearing a supremely elegant dress. And Ananya wanted to jump in the deep waters.

She glared at Jude sideways, and he avoided it pointedly, starting a random conversation with his mum.

Jobe face-timed shortly, and Jude took the phone to show the scenery to Jobe. Denise watched them from a distance, content.

'How was he last 2 days?'

'Oh bad. Very rarely have I seen him like this.'

Ananya hummed.

'But he looks better now. Your being here helped.'

Jude had learnt the matter-of-fact mode of speaking from his mother. He was a carbon copy in this department, and in many other departments.

The said boy returned to the table then, giggling at something Mark was yelling in the background. About Jobe not finishing his dinner.

'I'm 19 dad. 19.'

'19 year old boys don't need to eat anymore.'

'Jobe - why aren't you eating?'

Denise chimed in and Jobe looked distraught.

'You guys - seriously?'

'They're right. You shouldn't skip meals, not on a school night.'

Jude added with a straight face

'Shut up, loser.'

'You're a loser.'

'Ananya - if you love me, you'd make him sleep on the floor tonight.'

She was happily sipping on wine, which she choked on when she heard her name in the middle of the family conversation. And in the context with which Jobe said it.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to string words together, but Jude stepped in to help.

'Who said she loves you?'

That did not help.

'Ananya - tell him you love me.'

'Ummm...'

'Alright stop it boys. Jobe - you have training tomorrow. Go to bed now.'

The ever disciplined Denise made her presence known.

'Gosh you guys. I'm 19. NINETEEN.'

'Still a teen.'

'I hate you, bro.'

'Right back at you, bro.'

They hung up shortly after, with another firm nudge from Denise.

When they were wrapping up, Denise took Ananya to the side.

'He hasn't slept in two days.'

'Yeah I figured.'

'Should we give him something?'

'No I think today maybe different. Let me try. Otherwise lets do that tomorrow.'

'Yeah ok. Just....can you check....'

'I'm on it, Denise.'

She smiled reassuringly at the worried mum. And the mum smiled back.

After the usual activities that night in bed, Ananya sighed softly as she was half-laid over Jude's chest. The shirt from earlier laid crumpled over the floor.

'Told you clothes are not a problem.'

'Oh shushhh.'

The sound of his giggle gave her such joy.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Ofcourse.'

'How are you? Truly?'

'Babe...'

'Please? It's important to talk, Jude.'

He was quiet for 2 minutes.

'Hasn't fully sunk in yet. Either thing.'

'I get it.'

'Makes me question a few things.'

'Like?'

'Like how good I am?'

Jude did not like such vulnerability. But the words just started flowing when he was with her.

'You don't need the validation of THOSE people to know how good you are.'

'What about my people?'

'Like?'

'Club. Coach. Squad.'

'Sweetheart - they know more than your family & friends. They are the ones who put you on this pedestal last year.'

'Am I still there though, on that pedestal?'

'What do you feel?'

'Things have changed.'

'For the better or for the worse?'

'A bit of both sometimes. Don't know how to explain.'

'No I get it.'

'Hmm.'

'And I think you should talk to him. He loves you, you know that.'

It didn't need to be said that they were talking about Carlo.

'It can get messy if I do that.'

'Do it nicely. It'd get messier if you don't. Jude, if your head is not in the right place, you think we have a real shot at winning everything?'

'Am I talking to my girlfriend or a Madridista?'

'Both. And both are telling you the same thing. So listen to both.'

'You know I'm not great at these conversations.'

'That's crazy. You're great at addressing things head on. Just do that.'

'Mum said the same thing.'

'See? I knew it.'

'You're so like her sometimes.'

'Like how?'

'Like how smart you are. How correct.'

'Yeah - well - I'm smart can't help it.'

She giggled and he pulled her up for a sloppy, messy kiss.

'Tell me it'll get better.'

'It's you. You will not rest till it gets better. You will turn the world upside down to make it better. And well, it's Real Madrid. No one can keep us down for long.'

'You really should work at the club you know. They'd love you.'

'My dream job. But my current one pays a lot more.'

'Hmmmm.'

As she laid wrapped in his arms, Jude felt a sense of contentment that had evaded him last 2 days. He thought his world was crumbling down, while his world was right there in his arms. And next door. And in Sunderland. And in Birmingham. The pieces of his heart were around him to make him whole again. Ultimately, that's what mattered. This was the most important thing. And he will turn the world upside down till he gets to the very top of it, again. Which was his rightful place anyway.

............................................................................

Written in 2 hours. Not edited at all.

Just me talking to myself, anything to distract from this mess.

Hope you like it.

[kadwrites]

future mrs shelby | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; the dreaded day arrives.

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, anxious reader? , mommy issues, slow burn,

a/n ; shit will go down next part , but lmk know what you think of this one?

-

"mrs gray" your back is straight when you speak to her, truth be told you never got over the fear you have of her

"polly." she corrects you,

"polly." you repeat, you couldn't help but repeat it when she said it in that stern voice of hers

"so ya want to meet the in laws aye?" polly's smirk is there, as it always was.

"i told 'er she doesn't 'ave to." the smirk must be a genetic thing

"but i really want to." you add, with a nod

"she has manners, this girl." she points at you with her cigarette "almost too good for ya."

"almost?" he glares at you for a second after you spoke "i do 'ave a question for ya, polly."

she looks at you, nodding slightly

"tommy says they won't like me"

"they probably won't." she exhales the smoke before speaking again "we are not very accepting of outsiders."

"how can i make them accept me?"

"ya don't."

"what?" your brows pinch together "but i want to."

"i know" she nods again "but ya shouldn't, ya shouldn't go out of your way to 'ave someone respect ya. ya show them who ya are and they'll learn." she taps her cigarette against the ash tray "remember that backbone that i told ya about?"

you hated the way you were sometimes. you hated that you wanted people to like you , maybe it's because you were wired to. "a lady is always pleasant and always seeks to be loved." your mother always said. the thought of your own husband's family hating is making your head hurt

"yeah i remember" you're chewing the inside of your cheek, you didn't even notice that your feet were tapping against the floor

"why are ya so stressed about this? who fucking cares if they don't love ya?" tommy mutters as he lights up his own cigarette

"so what am i supposed to do now? wait till the party to meet them?"

"you'd be too stressed to care what they think of ya." polly adds, her eyes are making you squirm in your seat. no matter how often she did that, she still intimidated you.

"i think i'm going to be sick." your arm is wrapped around tommy's as you both walk through the long corridor that leads to the ballroom, where all the guests are.

everything feels overwhelming. your grandmother's diamond necklace that you insisted on wearing feels like it's digging into your throat. your dress feels too tight, the silk feels somehow hot. your shoes feel like they're going to slip off your feet. your hair feels like it's wound too tight, but feels like it might come undone at the same time.

he hold back a laugh and it's your turn to glare at him "it's not funny"

"never said it was." he's smiling though "it's just a party , relax."

"easy for ya to say, this is what ya lot do." you mumble , your eyes stuck at the end of the corridor

"us?"

"yeah, rich people i mean."

"i wasn't always rich, ya know." he looks forward as well as you both walk

"but ya were born to be rich." you didn't even think of those words, or even seem to care what he thinks, your words come out with a nervous breath laced around them, listening to the sounds of music and people celebrating

but he turns to look at you, and you didn't even notice that.

you take a deep breath, straightening your back and putting on the best smile you can muster as you walk into the party, people turn to the both of you. the greetings and congratulations start.

tommy speaks calmly, you envy him. he looks like he belongs there, between the aristocrats that fill the room.

tommy looks nothing short of dashing. his suit is perfect, not a wrinkle in sight. his demeanor is cool, in control, which he always is.

"mr shelby, congratulations!"

"congratulations thomas, it's a beautiful party"

"ya look gorgeous, miss. congratulations on the engagement"

"best of luck to the both of you!"

you just smile and nod, thanking them. you almost can't even see their faces, too anxious and too stressed.

"tommy."

that voice makes your eyes focus , your vaguely familiar with it.

it's his brother, arthur. you still keep your smile, though you can feel your hands sweating.

"arthur."

"so this the future mrs tommy shelby, aye?" he looks at you with a raised brow, you can't decipher the look.

"yes it is." you keep your voice at a steady tone , with that same smile "ya must be arthur , it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"ya speak too posh for a farmer's girl." his words seem a little slurred , now that you're listening well

"and ya speak too poorly for a rich man." your head is still held high.

tommy glances at you then back at his brother , he looks almost proud.

"did ya teach 'er to say that?" he smirks at his brother

"i'm not a parrot , arthur. he didn't teach me anything." you let out a chuckle, you pick up a champagne flute from one of the trays that the waiters carry "it's a party right? , let's celebrate, ey?, grab yourself a drink" you lift your champagne flute "cheers" you say before taking a sip, and tommy walks, dragging you with him

"is your whole family going to be like that?" your nervousness now shows as you throw back your champagne flute, drinking all of it

"yes" he looks at you with a smile , he takes the glass away, "don't get drunk, it's too early."

"right." you try to take deep breaths, you look around the venue.

it's perfect, it's everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever dreamed of. the cake, the music, the drinks, the decorations. nothing is out of place, except for you, or that's how you feel.

how are you ever going to fit into this life? how many of those parties are you going to have to attend or host?

your train of thought is quickly interrupted by fiona and madeline who look like they might combust with excitement

"oh my god ya look gorgeous!" madeline hugs you and fiona is by your side

"ya look stunning!"

tommy clears his throat and madeline freezes

"madeline and fiona, right?" he raises a brow, how did they not notice him?.

madeline pulls back, and both of them look at eachother

you laugh, you feel as if all that weight was lifted off your chest by just seeing their faces

"madeline , fiona" you smile "this is tommy, in case ya're too drunk to recognize 'im."

"she talks about ya two a lot ya know."

"she does?" fiona laughs nervously "it's a pleasure to meet ya , sir."

"congratulations!" madeline says with a smile

"thank you," he smiles at them, and you think both of them might actually turn to dust.

"where is celest?" your question made them both look at you again

"she's......." fiona trails off

"um...." madeline chimes in, with nothing.

you close your eyes shut at that "fuck me."

she and your mother had a fight, is what that means.

"what the fuck 'appened this time then?"

"celest wore your mother's necklace." fiona says quietly,

the ruby necklace.

she had to do something, she just had to somehow do something to ruin this.

"where's is she now?" your voice is too quiet and it makes madeline squeak

"in one of the room , she's crying i think."

-

taglist ; @tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator, @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz , @goldensunflowe-r , @gruffle1 , @warrior-of-justice , @mgdixon , @babayaga67 , @goblinjnr, @justaproudslytherpuff , @budugu , @twlegit , @amberpanda99 , @aesthetic0cherryblossom , @capswife , @lets-turn-and-burn , @affabletimelady , @edencherries , @globetrotter28 , @eg-dr3amer3 , @sadroses98 , @fairytale07 , @hakudaru , @swordofawriter, @esposadomd , @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou

[theemporium]

❤️ 27 quinn Hughes

(Have a great day love)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

27. “Why don’t we use some of your toys?”

series masterlist

.

Long distance relationships came with their trials and tribulations. 

There were a series of factors you had to take into consideration that you had never given a second thought in past relationships. Beyond your personal schedules, you had to consider the time difference between Michigan and Vancouver. And whilst you were aware three hours wasn’t the worst difference in the world, it had a horrible habit of being a pest. 

Quinn was usually asleep by the time you woke up. You were in classes when he woke up. He was in practice by the time you got home. You were usually fighting the urge to fall asleep after a long day by the time he got out of training and meetings. 

It was annoying.

But one of the worst parts was the physical touch—or, the lack thereof. 

There were days you wanted nothing more than to come home and curl into his arms. There were days you were watching his games and wishing you could be there after the final buzzer, whether it’s to celebrate or sulk together. There were days you just wanted to be able to kiss him instead of wistfully thinking about it when you were on facetime with him. 

And, there were days where you just really wanted to fuck your boyfriend. 

But it wasn’t always possible and whilst the late night phone calls with Quinn moaning and panting and groaning in your ear as he told you everything he wanted to do to you were hot, it didn’t always scratch the itch. Sometimes, it wasn’t enough to get yourself off. 

Quinn knew that. Quinn understood that better than anyone else. So really, there was no other person less likely to judge you from taking it a step further, for buying a few toys to try and spice things up when you were in bed alone.

Yet, it didn’t stop your face from burning in embarrassment when Quinn reached into your bedside drawer, slightly preoccupied with your tongue in his mouth and your hand wrapped around his cock that it took his brain a few seconds to realise wasn’t feeling the foil wrapper of a condom in his hand. 

“Oh baby, you didn’t tell me I had some competition.” 

You let out a groan, your hands covering your face as Quinn pulled the toy out of your drawer. “Kill me now. Put me out of my misery.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” he teased, sounding far too amused with the situation. He inspected the toy curiously, pressing a small button on the side and watching it buzz to life. He almost snorted at the way you whined in embarrassment as the noise echoed through your bedroom. “Should I be worried I’m being shown up?” 

“Stop being mean,” you grumbled behind your hands. 

“I thought you liked it when I was mean,” Quinn shot back, turning the toy off and dropping it somewhere on the bed as he reached for your hands to pull them away from your face. “Hey, it’s not embarrassing, you know that?” 

“You weren’t meant to see them,” you murmured, still unable to meet his eyes. 

“Oh, them? There’s more?” Quinn mused, his fingers lightly tracing shapes along your wrist. “Why don’t we use some of your toys?”

Your gaze snapped up, lips parted in shock. “What?” 

“Do they make you feel good?” Quinn asked. 

You nodded, somewhat speechless. 

“Then, good. We have the same goal,” he replied, his lips twitching upwards when you let out a surprised snort of laughter. “Plus,” Quinn continued as he leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your ear. “I want you to show me exactly how you use them.” 

You gulped a little. “Quinn—”

“C’mon, baby,” he taunted, his voice a little rougher as he lightly nipped the sensitive spot below your ear. “Show me how you make yourself come. Tell me exactly what you think about when you have that toy between your legs, pretending it’s me.”

.

[runninriot]

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 10

Maybe

prompt: "Where were you?" | wc: 2180 | rated: M | cw: cheating | tags: established relationship, lovers to exes, heartbreak, break up, open ending with a tiny flicker of hope | also on ao3

When he hears the front door open, Steve turns to risk a glance at the clock on his bedside table, red numbers glowing too bright in the darkness of the room.

It’s way past midnight, too late for Eddie to come back from the meeting he was supposed to be caught up at.

    ‘I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be home late again. Don’t wait up for me.’

Eddie had called him to let him know he wouldn’t make it home in time for dinner – the third time in two weeks – said each time he’d make it up to him. That he would take Steve out to this one fancy restaurant where they celebrated their fifth anniversary two years ago, hasn’t made true to his promise yet.

Eddie’s been so distant lately, kind of stressed and on edge, acting weird around Steve.

It's like something has changed between them. Something just doesn’t feel right.

Steve misses Eddie’s closeness. Misses being scooped up in strong arms like Eddie used to do whenever he came home from work. Misses the kisses, the hugs, the cuddles, the ‘I love you’s. He misses the sex, the way Eddie used to be obsessed with him. How he worshipped him.

It all didn’t stop over night, they’ve been in a rut for months now.

And maybe that’s normal.

Maybe 7 years of being together have finally taken their toll on things like passion and desire. Maybe waking up to the same face every day does that, makes your love life dull or rather non-existent.

Maybe it’s Steve’s fault for letting himself go a little. For having gotten too comfortable in the mundanity of their day to day life. He’s gained a bit of weight over the years, hasn’t been to the gym or on a morning run in ages. He prefers to wear comfortable sweaters instead of skin-tight shirts, wears his hair shorter now because he couldn’t be bothered anymore to style it every day to keep it out of his face.

Steve hasn’t tried to spice things up like he used to in the beginning of their relationship, when they could barely keep their hands off each other and spent whole weekends in bed fucking, making out, forgetting the world around them.

Maybe it’s all Steve’s fault.

Maybe he is the reason why, for the third time in two weeks, Eddie comes home past midnight, careful not to wake Steve when he slides into bed, reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume that isn’t his.

That’s why he doesn’t notice that Steve is awake, can’t even be bothered to kiss him goodnight like he used to do.

That’s why he lies.

Lies about meetings and business dinners, uses them as weak alibis to hide where he’s truly been.

   “Where were you?” Steve turns around facing Eddie’s back.

He knows Eddie isn’t asleep yet, knows he heard him, so he counts the seconds until finally, Eddie turns to look at him.

   “Didn’t know you’re awake.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He could leave it at that. Could press a stiff kiss on his partner’s lips that the other man wouldn’t return and pretend that everything’s fine.

Could just keep pretending that he doesn’t know that his boyfriend is cheating on him.

   “I asked you a question, Eddie. Where were you?”

Eddie huffs, seems angry and Steve can’t believe how unfair this is. If anything, Steve should be the one that’s angry. He should be furious. But instead, he’s doing his best to hold back the tears that threaten to spill.

   “I told you, babe. I got caught up in this meeting and then the guys wanted to go for a few drinks after, that’s all.”

Steve almost believes him. Wants to believe that he’s telling the truth but he can feel in his heart that it’s a lie.

   “Do you still love me?”

It’s a question that has been burning inside him for a while now. Slowly eating away at his sanity because- what if not? What if Eddie fell in love with someone else? What if he met someone who can give him what Steve can’t? Someone younger, prettier, and more successful than him. Someone Steve can’t compete with because-

What does he have to offer, really, except his undying love?

The bedside lamp flickers to life and Eddie sits up so suddenly, that it startles Steve.

   “Steve, where is this coming from? You know I do!”

   “Can’t even say it,” Steve mumbles to himself as he pushes himself up to sit.

   “What?” Eddie asks, looking annoyed and confused.

   “I said. You can’t even say it!” Steve nearly shouts the words, doesn’t care how much his voice trembles, doesn’t care that Eddie can see the tears now running down his face.

He’s been keeping this in for too long; he can’t do it anymore. He can’t keep up the charade of them being this happy, loving couple when it’s so clear that they’re not anymore.

When he finally realises that everything has slowly been breaking apart under his disbelieving eyes – he could’ve put a stop to it before it was too late but instead, he chose to ignore it. Chose to believe in the lies he told himself, lies he wanted to believe because the truth seemed too unbearable.

Eddie tries to take his hand but Steve pulls away, wraps his arms around himself for what little comfort it gives.

   “Baby, please-“

   “Do not call me that. You have no right to call me that.”

Eddie sighs, rubbing his hands across his face and when he looks back up at Steve, he can see the truth he’s been dreading all this time in the other man’s eyes.

   “You’re right, I’m not. Steve, I- I am, fuck. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to happen. I- I don’t even know why I did it.”

The confession slices through Steve’s heart like a knife, tears him apart from the inside out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t believe that his worst nightmare is now bitter reality.

But it is; Eddie just admitted to it. Doesn’t even try to lie his way out of it this time.

   “Do you love them?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’s asking. Does he really want to know the answer?

Maybe he needs it. Maybe he needs to hear Eddie say it out loud to make it real. To make him believe that it is.

   “No! I only love you.”

Steve scoffs, feels sick.

   “You’ve got a hell of a way showing that.”

   “I know! I know I’ve made a mistake but please believe me. I love you, Steve! Only you! I fucked up, I know that. But-“

No.

No, this isn’t right.

   “But what, Eddie? Fuck you! You cheated on me! You haven’t even kissed me in weeks but you went out there and fucked someone else?”

Steve’s voice cracks as he breaks down sobbing, hiding his face in his own hands.

This is it. It’s over.

Seven years of building a life together, of creating a beautiful home, seven years of happiness thrown away.

Just like that.

   “Stevie, baby,” Eddie’s voice is suddenly so much closer and before Steve can register what happens, he’s wrapped up in Eddie’s arms, pulling him against his chest.

He hates how good it feels. How his body sinks into the embrace out of sheer instinct. How he lets himself be held because that’s what he knows. For years, Eddie has been his anchor, his whole goddamn world. And although he knows he should fight it, he can’t help but sling his arms around the man he loves. Still, even after what he did.

   “I’m so, so sorry, Steve. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, baby. I love with all my heart and I know I’ve fucked up big time. It wasn’t even- I didn’t-“

Steve can hear in his voice that he’s crying, too. But he can’t bring himself to look up, can barely focus on his own grieving heart and the muffled sound of Eddie’s voice.

   “I was drunk when it happened the first time and I know that’s no excuse. I know that! And it doesn’t justify that I went back. That I- that I hurt you. You deserve better, Stevie. You deserve the whole fucking world and I-“

   “I only wanted you, Eddie. That’s all I needed.”

Finally, Steve finds the strength to peel himself out of Eddie’s arms.

   “Why? Why did you do it? Am I not enough for you?”

Eddie takes a staggering breath and it pains Steve to see him like that – hurt and defeated, regret written all over his tear-streaked face.

It hurts so fucking much because all he ever wanted was to make Eddie happy.

But he failed. He failed to love Eddie the way he needs to be loved or else he wouldn’t have had searched for pleasure somewhere else, right?

   “You are everything, Steve. This is my fault, not yours. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Somehow, that makes it even worse.

   “I was stupid. So fucking stupid. And I’ll do everything I can to make it right.”

One month later

Breaking up with Eddie had been the hardest decision he’s ever had to make. But Steve knew if he stayed, he’d only hurt himself. That he’d give himself up trying to mend what’s been broken, that he’d drown in self-doubts and misery trying to pretend that everything could be right again.

And maybe Eddie knew it, too, deep down.

It’s not like Eddie didn’t put up a fight, he did. Tried to talk Steve into staying, begged on his knees for another chance. But eventually, he let him go. Gave him one last kiss goodbye, one last hug, one more moment of familiarity before Steve’s world changed and everything he’d known for seven years suddenly turned into a scary, unknown future he’d have to face on his own.

It still hurts. Especially when Steve comes home to an empty apartment after work, knowing that no one will be there to fall asleep next to at night. This is probably the hardest part of it all, lying in an empty bed without the comfort of Eddie’s body to cuddle up next to.

But it’s for the best.

He knows it is, even if he still wishes Eddie was there, here, with him.

Steve manages, gets by. He found a nice little apartment, tries to keep himself distracted with work, has picked up on hobbies he’d given up years ago.

Life is... okay. Not good. Not how it used to be because there’s always something missing.

There’s always this void, this empty space where Eddie used to be. On quiet Sunday mornings when the smell of coffee fills the kitchen but Steve’s mug is the only one on the table. Or when their favourite songs play on the radio and Steve’s voice is the only one singing along.

It’s lonely without Eddie.

Lonely without the man that still, after everything, is the one that holds his heart.

When Steve comes home after work, two bags of groceries in one hand, fumbling for the key with his other, he’s stopped in his tracks at the sight that greets him in front of his apartment door.

There’s a bouquet of flowers waiting for him. Pink peonies and yellow roses – and it shouldn’t surprise him anymore because it’s been like this for every single day for three weeks but it still makes him smile like it’s the first time.

Steve drops the bags to pick up the flowers and look for the card he knows is there.

    Hope you had a good day.

    I love you.

    E.

The messages vary but it always ends with the words Steve so desperately wanted to hear him say before their world broke apart. And although Steve hasn’t forgotten what he did, he appreciates Eddie’s stubbornness. His willingness to try.

These sweet little gestures are as heart-warming as they are painful. Because it reminds Steve every day of how much he misses him. Misses Eddie’s laughter and his hugs, his kisses and the warmth of his eyes. Misses the sound of Eddie’s voice when he called him baby, despite everything.

Because he loves him.

Still.

And it makes him wonder if maybe, when the time is right and the pain has soothed enough to talk about it, maybe they can dare to work it out?

Start from the beginning, on Steve’s terms.

Give their love a second chance because-

No matter how stupid it sounds, his heart tells him it’s worth another try.

Because people make mistakes, it’s in their nature to fuck up. And sure, some mistakes cannot be forgiven.

But maybe, in this case, it’s not about forgiveness. Maybe it’s more about healing and finding a way to look past what happened – not to forget, but to take it as a chance to do better.

Because maybe, a love that runs so deep, that lives in every cell of Steve’s body, deserves a second chance.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Wrong for me - Charles Leclerc

📷 @/nicolo.furicchia

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! f1 related! reader (the reader is a tp's daughter, I wrote with Toto in mind but there's no names)

song: Angels - Miley Cyrus

warnings: angsty but happy-ish ending

wordcount: 1k

a/n: Bit of a short one but it is my first time writing for Charles, so would you guys give some feedback? Also I'm thinking of opening up requests for drivers x readers with songs inspirations, I actually really like to take songs as inspirations

I know that you’re wrong for me, gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

It was everything your father had warned you not to do, yet it was everything you’ve thought about ever since he walked through the f1 paddock back in 2018. You knew he was wrong for you, but the very thought of each other consumed every inch of logical judgment in both of you. He had a couple of girlfriends since, they were all nice and polite, you tried to stay away but it didn’t make much of a difference. Their official reason for the break ups were the hardships of dating a driver, but he would tell you sometime later some of the exact words he heard were “Why am I always so sure your mind is on her?”.

A puppy love that had burned bright for a little over 6 months when you were still 16 but somehow had managed to quietly find its way through to today. Only this time the flame had threatened to burn not only your hearts but the entirety of his and your father’s team. The tension between the two of you had always been evident to those who knew what had happened back then, but as the 2024 season went further it was more than obvious to anyone with eyes that there was something there. Feelings and desire neither of you would dare to act upon and that would further build an atmosphere that could be felt and cut with a knife, making you wish every day you had never met.

When you finally realized you had the same effect he did on you, hurting him was how you protected yourself from giving in to the urge to fall head first into a love that you believed would not be able to thrive. So as his relationships crumbled down to their inevitable ends, you embarked in a string of meaningless flings in search of someone that would take your mind off of the one thing that you truly wanted.

Bringing him down to his knees with every ghosting you’d purposely inflict him, finding some unimportant meeting to attend instead of where you said you’d be, all the while excitedly celebrating his first win, birthday or even little achievements, moments of weakness you’d let your true emotions surface, only to shut him out right after, pledging to not drag him down the rabbit hole that was your blinding infatuation, with what you believed to be his way out of “misery loves company”.

Some of the drivers, protective as they had become of you, caught on pretty early how although Charles wouldn’t confess his affections, he would never candidly deny them either, which resulted in rising untrust between some of them, with your father on the other hand taking the blind eye approach and ignoring what was obvious until he couldn’t anymore.

You tried to pretend things were taken care of, but every time you found yourselves in the same space sparks could almost be seen coming from every other direction. The breaking point being a very public and loud display of how tense things were between you and him one Saturday night at the paddock, the motive long forgotten as both of you screamed at the top of your lungs for things the other had no fault. The frustration of walking on egg shells around each other clearly evident on the screaming match, and your father’s first intervention resulting in two grown adults looking like sulking toddlers who had just been told they had to deal with their emotions before anyone got seriously hurt in the cross fire.

That wasn’t the last time, and although you would try to keep discussions and screaming matches alike from happening, the public stares and midnight bedroom escapades escalated to a point where everyone decided enough was enough, and you were both locked at the FIA conference room, to either “kiss or scream it out” – their exact words.

“I’m not like your past relationship, Charles. I won’t bring you security, peace and quiet. I’m a mess and you know it, you’ve seen it. Everything I touch turns into a huge media monster and I’m fated to lose every single person I love. It’s not your fault I ruin everything, and it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need” You confessed, looking him with bloodshot eyes, tears falling freely.

“I don’t want them, I want you. Baggage and all, media attention and crazy fans, protective father and f1 drivers haunting me for years to come… The mess and everything they always said you’d be, because that’s the woman I fell in love with.” And although you had reservations on what you believed could be a relationship with the power to destroy his life, and potently his career, you gave in, letting your heart speak louder than your fears.

[sn00pism]

Drowning

He knew about his reputation.

It was something hard to ignore, really.

Being the hotshot U-20 of Japan's National Football team and a known flirt, he knew it was hard to ignore him at all.

But Oliver knew his boundaries. He knew exactly when not to cross the line, or rather, he knew when to draw a line as to avoid getting too attached or to lead someone on, and because he knew this, he placed a distance between you and him.

He fell for you a few months after spending time with you. It started as it usually did. He was looking for nothing more than someone to have fun with, maybe kiss sometimes until he grew bored and decided to walk away into something different.

With time, however, he realized he couldn't quite do that, he couldn't just walk away from you. You showed him endless empathy and care. So he distanced himself and resigned to just be your friend, nothing more.

And in attempts to push away the feelings he harbored for you and his problems with commitment, not wanting to push his fears and insecurities into you, he moved on to date several women, with little luck. None of them where you.

It started with little details, they weren't as kind as you, didn't like the same things you did, didn't treat people they way you did... They weren't you.

The girls were great, really, and he would've found himself having fun if he had met them before he met you.

He figured he was in deep shit when out of pure reflex he ordered what you liked instead of what his date had asked for, he apologised and changed the order but it was too late for him. He loved you, or at least had big feelings for you. Feelings he couldn't ignore anymore.

In this process he expected you to leave, get tired and sick of his playboy antics, but you showed him otherwise. You stood by his side as he threw up from being almost black-out drunk from a party, let him sleep in your couch when his insecurities got to him in the middle of the night, woke him up with breakfast and a coffee but most of all, you stood by his side as a friend would do.

"That's what friends are for, right?" You had told him once while smiling at him, taking a sip of your drink he bought for you after he'd taken you out to celebrate your end of finals week. After he had asked why were you putting up with him all these months.

Yeah... Friends...

His smile faltered a little and he felt his heart squeeze in between his ribcage. He fixed his expressions quickly and chuckled looking away from you... A friend... Is this his karma for having played around so much? Was he doomed to chase after someone he couldn't have because he'd inevitably hurt them?

You caught on his low mood, frowning softly and reaching for his hand, "Oli, are you okay?" Your touch burned his skin and soothed his heart. "Yeah.. yeah, I'm fine, I ..uh... I just have a lot to think about, sorry"

You smiled, but didn't move your hand away, after all, you liked him, but you didn't dare get too close.

Oliver was like the ocean, pretty but also deathly, go too deep and you'll drown yourself. You weren't so sure if you could withstand the pressure off the water, so you sat at the shore, watching the waves roll and crash against the surface.

After a while, you decided to head home, waking together, hands brushing but never holding on, shoulders close but never touching, heard yearning for eachother but both too scared to reach out to the other.

As time passed, you found yourself distancing from the shore, deciding all this pinning was going to kill you one day. So you sealed off your yearning of the cold water and deep waves of the ocean that was Oliver Aiku.

But the ocean doesn't go anywhere.

Oliver stayed, desperately growing the tide so it kissed your skin, hoping to bring you to him.

Your friendship began to grow weaker by the weeks that passed, schedules not lining up, friend dates being pushed back farther and farther away.

Oliver felt like he was drowning.

So, he made the first move, reaching your house and knocking on the door, watching you appear in your usual pijamas.

"hey... Sorry I came unannounced...I just.. I'm not comfortable with how far apart were growing and I wanted to surprise you."

You laughed softly and invited him in, moving aside to let him into your home.

Maybe, just maybe, this meant you could turn back to face the water, walk knee deep into the ocean and stay there.

[reverieblondie]

I can feel it in my bones, he was MEANT to be a girl dad

Okay...I know I should be writing my WIPs but GIRLDAD ROLAN!!!

I mean look at him! He would have the most gorgeous daughter! I would give him as many as he wanted...

Adorableness under the cut!

I know for a fact he's the type to aways hold his little girls hand when they go out for walks. If she is pointing at things he will explain what it is with a sweet smile. Does she want to pet the kitty cats? With a quick spell she's talking to them and letting her feed the cats treats.

His daughter only wears the finest and softest of clothes, that he has a matching outfit with, because when she wears blue she wants to match with daddy and it always puts the biggest smile on her face when he does.

Every morning after Rolan wakes you up with a sweet kiss and a cup of tea or coffee whatever you prefer. He will go to her room and wake her up so gently rubbing his hand softly on her back to have her wake. Once she is up and had a big morning hug from dad, she's brushing her teeth with him, having him set out an outfit for her, then explaining to him how she wants her hair done for the day. (please imagine his daughter with her holding her hair in pigtails and Rolan just listens patently with a smile on his lips while crouching down on his knees with a brush in hand)

She attends the best primary school in the city and makes top marks due to Rolan wanting her to have every opportunity he never had the chance at. Never pressures her however, if she seems upset or over whelmed they will have a nice daddy daughter talk with her telling him how she feels as he holds her in his arms. Loves to call her his smart girl.

Often gets swept up in impromptu dances after dinner, spinning her around and dipping her so much till she is just a mess of giggles. Tickle fights and hide and seek are some other of her favorite games to play with dad.

Don't let Rolan find out a kid has a crush on his daughter, will defiantly send him into a pout of "she's too young, my little baby!" Will defiantly death stare said kid at drop off where you have to nudge him to stop.

During thunderstorms or scary dreams its always dad she is crying to first. Though she wants to sleep in your bed with you two Rolan is the one to give her a glass of water and walk her back to bed. She has to be his brave girl, but he will wait their with her telling stories of him and mommy till her little eyes get heavy.

Learns spells like how to make flowers bloom to always give her a surprise. Learns how to make her favorites along with yours, this will be the first spell she ever learn she made daddy's favorite flower: Orchids

Will begrudgingly let her do makeup on him and do his hair for practice, then if he needs a little break will send her to do the same to auntie Lia because "She told me she was jealous and wants a make over as well..."

When she starts developing hobbies he will always be in full support of them, like when she tried baking. Rolan endured eating a batch of burn and somehow raw cookies that she had spent all day trying to learn. He couldn’t take seeing her face flush and cheeks stained with tears of defeat. He told her that they were very good, but next time he will teach her his secret recipe instead and they can bake it together. Rolan will help teach her and support her always, he wouldn’t dare crush her dreams.

Tries his best not to spoil her, but she is just such a sweet and polite girl he can't help but what to shower her in anything she could ever want. He is wrapped around her little finger and everyone knows it. He is always bragging about her. Praising her achievements, just like she is always bragging about him to the other kids in her class.

Rolan always makes sure her birthday is exactly what she wants, a huge breakfast all her favorite people invited to the tower for a party to celebrate her. Gets so many presents anything she wants, one year she even got a kitty from Rolan

Everyday when he puts her to bed he reads a story to her till she gets sleepy, when he thinks she is asleep he will close the book and pick up her room for her. Before he walks out he leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead, and no matter how many times it happens when she mumbles out "I love you daddy." in her sleepy voice it always makes his heart swell.

"I love you too, my sweet girl."

(cut to Rolan coming to bed holding you tightly kissing your neck till finally whispering in your ear, "I want another baby...")

[jeonscatalyst]

Hi,

English is not my first language and I can never construct my words the way I want to or ever really stay on topic (my thoughts wander a lot) so please ignore any weirdness in this ask😬

I just wanted to say I've been thinking a lot about what has been transpiring these past few days, and I think I've finally, truly come to understand the phrase "misery loves company."

I'm not on Twitter but I can imagine that immediately after that last episode of Are You Sure, Taekookers as well as other shippers got to the usual work of twisting things and moments just to soothe their own burn & bring Jikookers down a peg from their high.

I've noticed this thing where every time Jikook have Jikooked and Jikookers celebrate it, bask in their joy, interact happily with each other, and don't talk about other shippers or bring the negativity of "what the cult is saying", and their spaces is just so jolly, clean and healthy or whatever, no toxicity whatsover.. Taekookers and others take it upon themselves to infiltrate the space and bring their misery and bitterness and what's frustrating is that they actually 100% succeed all the time. Blogs here may not show it but I swear every time the tag as just like TWO negative asks (not asks from Jikookers genuinely doubting but the usual blatantly disrespectful & distasteful asks that minimize Jimin and Jungkook's friendship or make it seem like Jungkook would choose Taehyung or anyone else over Jimin) the mood dampens significantly.

It's an energy I can literally feel (sounds cringe, I know, but it's something I've always had) the same way just spending an hour in Taekook spaces makes it clear that they have this weird combination of being somewhat secure that their ship is real & being hidden by Jikook but also being so fearful of the thought of Jimin next to Jungkook & not trusting Jungkook to act like a loyal, faithful husband towards Taehyung where Jimin is concerned. And this does not come from their words, it's just something that's there. It's as if they are sitting in anxiety just waiting for the moment JK reaches over and kisses Jimin full on the mouth, and they are dreading (and by the way, they and other shippers see moments between Jikook as romantic or at least unusual for simple friends to do, even more than Jikookers. I've seen Jikookers say it's a bromance, they act friendly because they are friends first and foremost, while the other sides cry fanservice and make entire analyses about how Bighit would have never shown AYS or any of the past moments between those two if Jikook were a real couple👀)

JIMIN more than Taekook has infested himself in the deepest parts of their minds, like a terrible disease. They even fear him for things independent from their ship; like his greatness as an individual and artist. What makes Taekookers so unique from others is that they do not only move like toxic shippers but toxic solos as well. They bash Jimin outside of things that have to do with Taekook. His artistry, his personality, his relationship with his loved ones and others closest to him. I've never seen anything like it.

Similarly, I feel a majority of Jikookers let Taekookers get inside their heads, when there's really no reason for them to, in my opinion. Jikookers would see a moment between Jikook and take it for what it is.. until a Taekooker comes to twist it; and no matter how absolutely delusional it sounds, it'll take root inside Jikookers' heads and do its work. That's the feeling I get being here for almost two years now.

Anyway, I've been seeing the mini back and forth between Jikookers and some Yoonmin-something blogger and it's been really interesting to him. It's really like clockwork that every time Jikookers are happy about moments from their ship and not bothering anyone, there will come someone from the other side trying to poke and start something, and unfortunately, they succeed every single time.

And it's not only that blogger but I've seen several from different platforms just clearly trying to start a fight (and by "starting a fight" I don't mean having a different opinion about the boys' relationships and shipping a different pair, but deliberately undermining Jikook even as a friendship & subtly suggesting that they have poor character & are extremely ambitious) and when Jikookers rightfully respond (although I really think y'all shouldn't but we do what we want) they turn things around & make it look like Jikookers are the toxic ones and then boast "lol they are so mad, oh the cognitive dissonance, they are crying because there are people who don't believe what they believe" because they somehow think they got their lick back simply because Jimin & JK did whatever they did and those who love their bond had the audacity to hype it up and believe whatever it is that they want to believe about it.

(Also saying all those things about cognitive dissonance & making it seem like "Jokers are mad for no reason" when it's extremely clear that you wrote that post to soothe your own cognitive dissonance and bring Jikookers down to your miserably emotional level, is wild. It's a diabolical tactic)

I've noticed that other shippers literally hate Jikookers for believing in a "company sold ship" and this behavior is basically them punishing you for it. They are projecting their own toxicity onto Jikookers by saying Jikookers are toxic when all Jikookers have ever done is retaliate.

"Other shippers get along well, but it's always Jikookers the problem". I think that's something they said in their post but I'm obvious paraphrasing. That part honestly made me smirk because anyone who truly tries to quiet the bias inside their minds and looks at the different shipping subsections of the fandom, what they say & how they say it, and how they interact with one another, they'd quickly realize that Jikookers are not the problem, and they'd know exactly which shippers are the problem.

"We other shippers get along well together" - Yeah, and we know exactly WHY you get along "so well". It's not rocket science, and it's certainly not because you're all so unproblematic lol. Also it's wild AF for Yoonminers to be in solidarity with Taekookers when Taekookers have dedicated their entire existence to hating Jimin and spewing the most vile things about him just because. But he's one half of the ship they supposedly love so much?? Sure.

Like please find shame. Locate it somewhere🤦‍♀️ because wow.

I wanted to say more but I forgot what and this already so unneccesarily long, but yeah, misery really loves company.

Hi anon!

First of all, there is absolutely nothing wrong with English, hell, you phrased your words and sentences better than I would have (English isn’t my first language either) so don’t worry at all.

I could literally kiss you right now because you have said everything and more. Taekookers have been losing it all day, since they heard Jimin say he was at Jk’s place the night before their Jeju trip and I think it stings more for them because a few hours before we got the clips, they were already talking about the possibility that taekook travelled to Jeju together without Jimin and some of them were already getting ready with their mocking boots on to start asking questions like “why did he choose to travel with this person and not his “boyfriend” "but they were shut up real quick and now they are spiraling. I’ve seen even some of the more “level headed” taekook blogs on here losing their shit today and trying to cope with the information we just got by clinging to Jimin and Jungkook saying they didn’t see much of each other before and all I could do was chuckle because nothing screams more pained than that.

Like you said, Misery loves company and right now they know jokers are on cloud 9 so seeing as they can’t be on cloud 9 as well, they try to drag us down with them and I just pity the jokers who let the cult get into their heads because how much more obvious can it be that they are bothered by Jikook? As you said, it seems like a good chunk of them do really believe that taekook is real but they still can’t shake off this feeling or fear that Jk could still do stuff with Jimin and that is why you see them jubilating every time they think Jk has acted in a typical “bro” or “friend” way with Jimin but they are back to their panic the moment they see Jk behave in a “soft” or “lovers coded” way with Jimin. They are constantly in a state of panic and confusion because one moment they see something that they believe convinces them that there is no way Jikook are a couple but then they turn around and see something else that goes against that belief so no matter how hard they try, they just can’t get Jimin off their minds. He is like that thing that constantly threatens their beliefs and they hate him for him it.

If you visit the taekook tag today, you will see all of them grasping at the tinest straws trying to make themselves feel better and one thing I noticed about taekookers on tumblr which is very different from jikookers is that, taekook blogs on tumblr get some of their highest engagement when they drag or shit talk Jikook and taekookers would claim over and over and over again that they don’t care about jokers but they never get tired of talking about jokers and jikook. Don’t believe me, go search any taekook blog and see how much more engagement they get when they talk shit abt Jikook and jikookers vs when they actually talk about their own ship. The difference is astounding while in jikook spaces or just as a blog owner myself, I notice that while jokers enjoy the occasional taekooker drag, they don’t like going on and on talking about taekook or taekookers. I delete asks I get from people responding to asks from taekookers because after talking about the cult in two or 3 post, I start seeing jikookers clearly not being interested to talk about them and asking for us to move on to topics that concern Jikook. I also get some of the lowest engagements when I talk about the cult while I get my highest engagements when we talk about Jikook being cute and in love. So while jikookers don’t care to go on talking about the cult, the cult’s favourite topic is jokers and jikook.

As for yoonminers, they are a lost cause to me. I have never ever cared about the fact that they think Yoonmin is real because anyone can think whatever they want but what I cannot stand about them is the fact that they are supposedly fans of Jimin yet they have no issues holding hands with the biggest Jimin haters in the fandom. Other than this, a yoonminer to me is just like a vminer or taejiner or Jinkooker where I think the duo is adorable and beautiful together but will never take anyone who seriously thinks they are in a romantic relationship seriously.

Anyways anon, thank you so much for your ask as you really pointed out several important points when it comes to what is actually eating these people up.

[odysseyeurobeat]

Literally just me gushing about eurobeat

Y'know what? Tumblr, you get a little treat. I don't have much better of a place to post something long-winded like this, so here we are.

I love eurobeat music. Big surprise from the girl with it in her handle, right? But I don't just love one kind of eurobeat. No, I'd go so far as to say I love it all. This genre becomes an absolute buffet of delightful, energetic, silly fun when you forget about trying to look for ways it "doesn't count", and try to look for the ways it does.

I love early eurobeat! I love the stuff that's indistinguishable from early Italo Disco, the formative things where the tempo was still low and the disco vibes were still high! That's Eurobeat and the first few volumes of Super Eurobeat are great for this!

I love later eurobeat, too! Even if some of the sounds aren't always my favorites, I love that folks were trying new things and dabbling with new sounds, experimenting in ways that in previous years seemed prohibited! Comparing some aliases who have been going for multiple decades from this period to when they started is also super fun!

I love traditional eurobeat, if I could pick a name for it! Faster, more rave-influenced, whether or not it's still got some disco elements in it, themes about nightclubs and love and loss and betrayal and that ever-ubiquitous fire! Maharajah Night has some great examples, leading into the bulk of pre-200 Super Eurobeat volumes!

I love J-Euro! It turns out, folks in Japan have different ideas and tastes and approach the genre VERY differently than the folks in Italy do, and I love how it sounds! I love how the sound design is so different and the speed jumps a little higher!

I love indie eurobeat! I love hearing how new and amateur producers take a crack at the sound, and seeing what folks do as the tools for making it grow and evolve! Even virtual versions of the synths the masters used to use are available now, and it's fantastic to hear how those things sound in new hands! I love the ways indie producers bend, break, and work around the rules of the genre and still deliver a uniquely "eurobeat" experience! Without this category, I would never have found DJ Command, DJ Bouche, Turbo, Vikas Beatbox, the Galaxian Recordings crew, and so, so many more!

I love happy eurobeat! The nature of the genre makes it so straightforward to pair its signature energy with joy, delight, empowerment!

I love sad eurobeat! That very same energy that powers joy and happiness can be just as powerful for driving home sorrow and sadness, and some lyrics even carry strong emotional weight (we're well past the days of eurobeat being only about Burning Love Car Baby Fire Desire Tonight Drift Tokyo, y'know)!

I love fandom eurobeat! Yup! Vocaloid, Touhou, MLP:FiM, Vtubers; whatever you may be a fan of, chances are good there's a eurobeat remix out there (or even an original) that suits your fancy!

I love Initial D eurobeat! How could I not, right? The classics are classics for a reason, and eurobeat and drift racing are a uniquely fantastic pair. Of all the things eurobeat could be about, it's one of a few that really knock it out of the park!

I love feminine eurobeat! Masculine eurobeat is great too, but it already gets a lot of love in the other categories, so I want to celebrate those eurobeat songs that feel quite the opposite while still being perfectly eurobeat! Eurobeat is broad enough to express feelings like this, too!

I love songs that aren't quite eurobeat, but have elements of it! And I love eurobeat songs that heavily include elements from other genres, too! Eurobeat is like any other genre-- it has not always had the same chances to rub shoulders with other sounds in the dance space, but when it does, some wonderful things happen! And the whole music world is enriched for that cross-pollenation!

I love the songs I used to dislike! To think I'd go from vastly disliking Norma Sheffield's discography, to adoring it so fully! Disliking "Higher Higher More and More" to seeking it out from time to time! Not being fond of SAIFAM/BBB's style, to knowing some of its songs by heart!

And most of all, I love that I get to MAKE this stuff for a living! I do not take the fact that this could've not worked out trivially, and I hope I've rewarded your patiences well with a lot of new favorites and starting points for diving deeper into the genre over the last... almost 20 years, now!

And that's just the tip of the iceberg! I understand some eurobeat isn't to everyone's taste, but I think if you haven't tasted all that there is out there, you owe it to yourself to see how you feel about it. You might be pleasantly surprised!

[chiiyuuvv]

fuma as a crush and bf ₊˚ෆ

crush/bf!fuma x fem!reader 0.7k words requested!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

When fuma has a crush on you, he’d..

(♡•♡) give you small smiles whenever you enter the room, whenever you open your mouth to speak, whenever you make eye contact.. It’s just his way of saying hello without sounding like an idiot. 

(♡•♡) stutter whenever you talk to him. It’s part of the reason why he likes to stick to small smiles. Not because he hates your presence, he just hates the fact that he stutters so much around you, his cheeks burning red as he bats his eyes to the floor, finding his shoes extra shiny

(♡•♡) be protective over you. He likes to call himself subtle, but anyone walking by can see the glares he gives to men when they try to even take a glance at you. You don’t know it yet, but you’re his girl, so no one is going to be looking at you in any type of way >:(

(♡•♡) follow you like a lost puppy. Or should I say, “she said she likes this, so I’m going to do the same thing” knowing good and well he despises whatever action you’re doing. If you decide to put bows in his hair, he’d be cringing on the inside, but hey, at least you’re happy 🤷‍♀️

(♡•♡) confess when you’re trapped inside a run down elevator. Usually fuma would like to keep his feelings to himself, but he hates when he begins to second guess the situation, thinking about all the possible ways something could go wrong. It limits him from being happy, and he hates feeling trapped inside a box. So as you’re sitting there in silence, he’d randomly blurt out the feelings he’s been holding back, finally able to get them off his chest. He doesn’t expect you to like him back, so to say he was a little shocked when you got up and kissed him was an understatement. 

When you’re dating fuma, he’d..

♥‿♥ want to go grocery shopping together! He’d insist on carrying all the baskets and paying for all your purchases, your only job is to point at the things you want so he can get them for you. Likes to socialize when waiting in the checkout line, his arm wrapped around your waist while he pushes your head to his shoulder; he’s not exactly a pda type of guy, but he does crave your warmth from time to time :3

♥‿♥ put his hand on your thigh whenever you’re in a dinner setting. This isn’t to rile you up in any type of way, just like a comforting reminder, chanting the words, “I’m here,” if you somehow manage to forget. He’d also feed you snacks if you’re out on a picnic or something. It honestly reminds me of High School Musical, the scene where Troy and Gabriella are trying to throw grapes into each other's mouths. It’s romantic yet silly, something fuma cherishes.

♥‿♥ want you to go to the gym with him. You don’t even have to work out, he just likes it when you’re watching him do his form. He feels powerful almost, knowing he’s the reason why you drool, which keeps him motivated to do better 😋

♥‿♥ be your #1 supporter. Like I said before, fuma doesn’t like being trapped inside a box, so he’d encourage himself to step out of his shell and face his fears, the same goes for you. He understands why you’re scared, but he wants you to understand that he will be with you every step of the way. When you finally face your fear, fuma would be so proud of you, spending the rest of the day (or week (or month)) spoiling you, celebrating your victory. And if you didn’t, fuma would console you, because at least you tried your hardest, you know?

♥‿♥ nag at you. Fuma is not only your boyfriend.. He’s your mother atp. Nags at you for going outside without a jacket. Nags at you for staying inside and playing pokemon all day. Nags at you for refusing to eat your vegetables – he’d give you one stern look, and right then and there did you know that you messed up. He doesn’t want to seem mean, but he wants you to take care of your health is all :(( 

︴bonus! @kehnarii, i told you were thoughts were in good hands!!

▸ taglist 🎧 @starryriize , @cherrycolaberry , @kehnarii , @wtfisgoingright

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers