#i want to find this and laugh and giggle

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Lofty,

Nancy and I have kidnapped The Hero of Power and the Hero of Shadow (again). There will be no negotiation this time, but we will return them after seven days.

And because we’re really kind, we’ll let you know how they’re doing. ( apologies if they are OOC, they’re still adjusting to being abducted and finally free 😉)

Shadow and Power take a forced vacation

It was a dark and cloudy night when Lofty drove off from her manor to work her night shift. She was unaware that she was being watched by two figures hiding in the underbrush of the manor.

“I guess she’s gone now. Time to put our plan into action” Mel whispered. Nancy nodded and pointed to a big branch hanging low from an old tree. The two of them climbed up the branch and went to the window that was conveniently propped open. Nancy reached a hand inside and opened the window so they could sneak through.

“Which way is the west wing?” Mel whispered. Nancy pointed down the left hallway. Mel nodded and led both of them in the indicated direction. The two of them went through the hallway. They moved very slowly and carefully, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. They stopped in front of a locked door. Mel raised a questioning eyebrow and Nancy nodded. They pulled out a lock picking set and went to work. The lock clicked softly and both women were suddenly confronted with two very confused young men.

“Who are you and– wait. Weren’t you here when that strange fort of blankets was up, studying for all those tests?” The blonde guy with the scarf said, his eyes darting through the room in search of a weapon, just in case. The man with a bandage wrapped around his forehead took a subtle step back to hide behind the other man without looking at the intruders or speaking to them.

“Yep! And it’ll be kinda like that, except we’re leaving the west wing for a bit!”

The teen with the wrapped forehead perked up at the mention of outside, a light coming into his eyes that hadn’t been seen previously.

“Outside? … in the sun?”

The scarfed man upon hearing the other’s hopeful tone, softens and moves away from the oddly dark halls of the fabled west wing.

The two men follow the girls towards the outside, wary but hopeful that for once they won’t be met with more angst in their lives.

OWJENFOCUEFPFIE WAAHHHHH THIS IS SO FRIGGIN CUTE AND DELIGHTFUL

POWER BEING ALL 🤨🤨🤨 AND HE’S BEING PROTECTIVE OF POOR SHADOW MWUAH THIS IS—I have no words except that this made me giggle and kick my feet; this is SO cuuuuute and funny 😂😂😂❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Poor boys, yes please let them outside and let them be happy hahahaha

@nancyheart11, Mel, thank you both for being so fun and silly ❤️❤️❤️

[hplonesomeart]

Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3

…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol

BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!

I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.

Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)

Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!

I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)

[pinkd3mon]

Redrew this illustration from the novels

[bagea]

some of u could learn from this...

[guppygiggles]

.

[peeemsaymorebeamnotifs]

WHO'S BEEN HIT WITH THE SEYMOUR BEAM TODAY

@one-time-i-dreamt @moltenparadox @detective-slenderman @amywhereyouwant @rockndluve @professionalchaoticdumbass @acornsgo @notahorseindisguise @post-uwuifer @evilwizard @bitchless-slenderman @pukicho @gidkog @girlwhoisnormal @rattle-my-stars @ailoveaidoru @kianf1sh @duothelingo @grayyskies You guys have gotten in the newest P.M. Seymour video!

[sherbetstudios]

me reading angst vs. ne reading fluff

[cosmicqueen10]

I can see this happening.

have you guys seen this

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[lokissweater]

talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.�� megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

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[toyogamii]

pt. 1

“so this is how you thank me for finding his stuffie?” you tease. sukuna shoots you a glare and hoists yuuji up onto his shoulders.

“you seemed to like the little brat so much, figured you might wanna see him again.”

you grin and wave at the toddler sitting happily on his brothers shoulders. yuuji smiles widely and wiggles his little fingers at you.

“of course i wanna see him, he’s precious,” you coo. sukuna rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel his heart beat a little faster at how good you are with his baby brother.

you reach up and scoop yuuji into your arms. he squeals and giggles with glee.

“but i think maybe your big brother wanted to see me, hm?” you give sukuna a teasing smile. his face twists and he looks away.

“c’mon, the little brat likes going down the slide.”

he turns and briskly walks off, but he’s not fast enough for you to miss the pink on his cheeks that matches his messy hair.

cute, you think, he’s cute.

yuuji twists his way out of your arms and grabs your hand, dragging you to catch up with his brother. the little boy wraps his chubby fingers sukuna’s thumb and pulls you both to the slide.

when the two of you are finally worn out after over an hour of trying to keep up with yuuji’s energy; you both collapse onto a nearby bench together.

“damn,” you mumble, “his batteries just don’t run out.”

“heh, yeah. try keeping up with him every day,” sukuna says, stretching his arms over his head. you try to hide the way your eyes travel to his stomach as his shirt rises. you can see tattoos peeking out and his pink happy trail almost make your mouth water.

“take a picture it’ll last longer.”

you can feel your face heat up and your eyes snap up to meet his. he’s smirking and who he’s attractive.

what you can’t tell is that he’s about to die. watching you with yuuji, seeing your smile and laugh, you’re even prettier up close and not in the grocery store.

“as if,” you snort, turning away quickly. he brings his hand up and gently turns your face back to him.

“what do ya say we hang out sometime, without the brat?”

you gulp, his skin is hot against yours and your mouth feels dry.

“yeah… sounds good.”

pt.3

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[tonycries]

FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader 

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you. 

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table. 

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too. 

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint. 

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight. 

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again. 

You notice - of course, you do. 

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way. 

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!” 

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos. 

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out. 

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head. 

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso. 

Mom? 

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst. 

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt. 

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page. 

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-” 

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better. 

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly. 

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM. 

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with. 

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake. 

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy. 

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers. 

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.” 

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity. 

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering. 

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe. 

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose. 

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five. 

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching. 

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder. 

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-” 

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum. 

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high. 

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch. 

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.” 

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue. 

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck- 

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins. 

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him. 

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate. 

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut. 

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass. 

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course. 

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock. 

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and- 

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago. 

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more- 

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?” 

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so. 

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again. 

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick. 

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh. 

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[simonz-angel]

phone s*x with toxic ex bf simon

pt two to this!

the line rides quiet for mere seconds when he picks up, you can’t tell if it’s due to the lines connecting or his hesitation, but you know him… there is no hesitation with simon.

“hey, baby,” he breathes, voice light like an angel sent from the heavens above. you can tell he’s been waiting, in all aspects.

“hey, si,” you murmur, voice airy and shy. you can barely breathe. this is the longest you and simon been off, 2 months. 2 whole months no contact.

“knew you’d call me, pretty, been sittin’ here waitin’ for you, angel.” he snarks, chuckling to himself on the other end of the line. you can see it behind your lids, watching his face suddenly come closer, teeth glinting and eyes shining in something viscous. fuckkkk.

you giggle sweetly, fingers dipping just an inch lower, tips reaching ever so slightly beneath your panty line. “didn’t have anything else to do, m’why not?”

“oh? is that what i am, huh? just a pick up to ease your boredom, babe?” he laughs, and you see his eyes crinkle in crows feet, you’re hot, bothered.

you hug the phone closer to your ear, gasping with annoyance before hinting into a sweet whine. “y’know that’s not what i meant…”

you can hear his tongue suck at his teeth, tsking into the phone till it hits your ear. it has your fingers digging deeper, eyes rolling back slowly, and mistakenly you let a soft whimper roll through the speaker back.

it has simon perking up, fingers tightening round the waiting length of his cock. this is what he wanted, what he was waiting for. nothing came close to you, no one.

“you miss me, baby?” he sighs, head rolling back against his pillows. he knows you did, clearly with the soft breaths he picks up from your end. “huh?”

and the way he punctuates himself has your ankles flexing, toes digging up into your sheets as your fingers find the sweet bud of your swollen clit.

“m-missed you so much,” you gasp, listening to the way his laugh reverberates through the phone. you can feel it, in your chest, and it has you yearning.

“yeah, i bet you did, babe,” he huffs, fingers tightening up round his cock, bicep flexing up taut as he picks up his pace. “can’t get outta your stupid lil mind, can i?”

“mmm,” you whine, shaking your head even though he’s nowhere near. “needed you so bad, si.”

“poor girl,” he puffs, growing cocky. and his head tilts, lip curling over his teeth as his cock leaks, dripping down over the back of his hand. “i’m here, i’m here for you, baby, never gonna leave you, you hear me?”

and his words fluctuate in a throaty groan, and you can practically see the way his eyes spin back into his head, the way his stomach flexes, and the way his back bows up softly like it always does when he’s close.

“never?” and you’re trying your absolute best to keep composure, sentences… words becoming harder and harder to form with every passing second. “p-promise?”

“promise, luvie, just tell me you love me, baby.” n it’s a demand, one that rolls of his tongue with vile, force that has you whining and moaning up into the phone. “say it.”

i pray i didn’t fuck this up 🙏 @fairy-caitlin 😉

[swearimnevergivingup]

so uh i'm thinking about ex-boyfriend!nanami. you broke up with him 3 years ago but he's never been able to move on. he's tried everything. everything under the sun, and none of it has ever worked.

he isn't even sure if forgetting you is what he wants. he thinks he wants to let you live in the spot carved out for you in his heart, whether that hurts him or not.

and when you run into him in the lobby of your apartment building? one thing leads to another and you find yourself splayed out on the couch obscenely, the oversized shirt you were wearing hiked up to your waist as you slowly part your legs for him.

the world blurs around you.

all you can think about is this very moment.

the significance of what you’re doing is entirely palpable to you. you’re inviting him in, not just to your house, but into your heart again. 

breathing heavily, your eyes follow his every movement in anticipation as his fingers dance across your inner thighs.

his hands slip underneath the waistband of your panties, two fingers sliding in between your slick folds. you tense a little at the sensation as he parts them, the rough pads of his fingers prodding the sensitive bud of nerves that makes you shiver and whine.

“god,” he groans. “i’ve fucking missed this pussy.”

you let out a little laugh at the foul language that slips from his tongue. it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice, and even longer since you’ve felt his touch.

“missed your cock too, kento,” you murmur, eager to show that you’ve been equally longing for him, if not more. you want to hear more of him, so you reach your hand out to palm at his erection. he’s rock hard, and there’s a little wet spot on his pants from the precum.

“fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head back. “it’s been a while.”

you giggle at that, a little woozy from the wine. “it’s been a while for me too.”

“n-no, you don’t understand,” his grip on your hips tightens as he struggles to maintain his composure. “you were the last.”

oh.

your eyes widen at that revelation, stopping your movements to fully look at him. “w-why haven’t you—”

for the second time tonight, you find yourself in complete disbelief. you were the last person he slept with? that had been more than 2 years ago - way more than enough time for things to change, for someone else to come along.

but then again, nanami’s always been a serious man, and by extension, that applied to his love life too. never one to seek out casual hookups, that man dated to marry. 

“i didn’t want anyone else. only you,” he murmurs. “that hasn’t changed.”

your heart is not the only thing that clenches at the raw sincerity in his voice. 

“say it again,” you whisper. “i want— i want to hear you say it again.”

“i only want you.” nanami must have realised how much you needed to hear that, the same way he had needed your confirmation earlier, because his voice is more resolute this time. “and this—” his hand moves to cup yours, guiding your movements as he slowly drags your hand over his cock. “s’all for you, sweetheart.”

one hand reaches for the back of your neck, holding you tenderly as he peppers kisses on your lips and all over your neck.

the other hand, though, moves deviously between your thighs, a singular digit plunging into your soaked cunt. 

nanami relishes the way you gasp into his mouth, back arching off the couch as all sorts of pretty sounds drip from your flushed lips.

i love you.

i still love you, after all this time.

he doesn’t say it out loud - no, it isn’t the right time. 

but he repeats it loudly enough inside his head, hoping that somehow, you might hear it too. 

a/n: this is part of my upcoming work: i never moved from where you left me (nsfw)

there are apologies to be made, lost time to reclaim, and parts of each other waiting to be rediscovered. and yet, you know him like an old song. you know the words, carved into the lining of your skin, you know its melody, a soft hum that echoes in the chambers of your heart. nanami kento is that lingering rhythm, that pained harmony, existing deep within the cracks of memory and longing - an unfading symphony in your soul.

comment if you would like to be tagged! <3

edit: some snippets here!

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”