#if I dare not tell them they get mad because how dare you go somewhere without telling us what if we wanted something from there as well

[diari0deglierrori]

Having siblings is a constant I wonder who I’ll be if I didn’t have them (positive) and I wonder who I’ll be if I didn’t have them (negative)

[suosgirl]

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!🩷

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense. 

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts. 

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you. 

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love. 

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin. 

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that. 

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before. 

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama). 

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played. 

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed. 

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were. 

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side. 

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid. 

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location. 

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case. 

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit. 

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait. 

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now. 

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame. 

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but – 

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights. 

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it. 

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words. 

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

 “ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens. 

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours. 

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now. 

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it. 

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well – 

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side. 

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog. 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima – 

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today. 

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and – 

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you. 

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered). 

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well – 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving. 

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and – 

You smile at him, scan his body, nod –  and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious. 

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend. 

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person. 

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love – 

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.���

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response. 

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess – 

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands – 

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? – 

Suo’s unresponsive, still – 

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was – 

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap. 

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought? 

Or worse – had he been toying with you? 

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words. 

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years. 

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time. 

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten. 

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right. 

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.” 

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?! 

He? He was dying. 

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader. 

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps. 

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch. 

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

[estellan0vella]

The Greatest Fucking Tragedy: L. Mh Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 14.3K

Content Warnings: Marijuana Use, Depictions of Focal Impaired Awareness Seizures (FIAS), moments of dissociation, and post-seizure disorientation, Drowning/Non-Consensual Submersion, Retaliatory Violence, Threats of Harm, Crude Humour, Background Jilix 

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi frat house smells like weed and stale beer. It’s a permanent scent, woven into the fabric of the couch cushions and lingering in the wooden floors no matter how many times Seungmin bitches about cleaning. Right now, though, the weed is winning. Thick smoke curls through the dimly lit living room, the cheap LED lights flickering in rhythm with the low hum of music playing from someone's speaker.

Minho is sprawled across the couch, legs spread, shirt discarded somewhere across the room, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it to Chan, his eyes heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted. It’s a good high, the kind that makes his limbs sink into the cushions, makes the world feel warm and slow.

Across from him, Felix is perched in Jisung’s lap, and Jisung, the little shit, has both hands shoved down the front of Felix’s sweatpants. Felix barely reacts, eyes glazed over, exhaling smoke through his nose.

“Dude,” Changbin mutters, head lolling to the side as he looks at them. “At least fucking pretend like we’re not all here.”

Felix grins, a lazy, stoned smile. “Nah.”

Jisung laughs, head tipping back against the couch. “You’re just mad because you’re not getting any.”

Changbin flips him off, but it lacks any real heat.

“You know what’s actually pissing me off right now?” Hyunjin announces, draping himself dramatically across the armchair like some Renaissance painting. His long black hair falls into his face, and he exhales, letting the smoke swirl in front of him before looking at Minho. “Minho doesn’t know how to fucking swim.”

There’s a beat of silence before the entire room erupts into laughter.

Minho groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Wait, wait,” Jeongin gasps between laughs. “You’re telling me you, Lee Minho, who can probably do a backflip off a fucking moving car, can’t even float?”

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin chokes out. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Minho mutters, reaching for the bong again. “I just never fucking learned.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jisung sings, poking at Felix’s stomach while Felix tries and fails to bat his hands away.

Chan, who’s been silent up until now, takes a hit before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His short blue hair is messy, and his eyes are half-lidded, but there’s a sharp glint of amusement. “Bro, what happened? Did your parents just decide, ‘Fuck it, let’s let this one drown?’”

Minho exhales slowly, fingers flexing against his knee. “I grew up in Gimpo, dipshit. Not exactly a fucking beach town.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hyunjin interjects, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve seen kids in the middle of fucking Seoul learn to swim.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t, you fucking pretentious art bitch.”

Hyunjin gasps dramatically. “Excuse you, I’m an art history major. Say it with respect.”

“Art bitch,” Minho repeats, deadpan.

“God, that’s pathetic,” Changbin snickers. “Can’t wait to throw your ass into a pool.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Minho warns, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, we absolutely would,” Seungmin grins. “Like, imagine the fear in his little rat face.”

“Fucking hilarious,” Jeongin agrees, laughing. “We’ll get some floaties for you, hyung.”

Minho exhales sharply through his nose, looking between them all with narrowed eyes. “Alright, you wanna go there? You wanna play this fucking game?”

Felix hums, head tilting slightly. “Always.”

Minho leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Hyunjin, you pretentious fuck, you spend more time making sad little sketches of broken statues than actually studying for your bullshit major. Jisung, you look like a fucking poodle with that mop on your head, and I hope you choke on Felix’s dick one day and die happy. Felix, your mullet is an actual crime, and I’m gonna shave that shit in your sleep.”

Felix gasps, clutching at his chest. “Rude.”

“Jeongin, your entire wardrobe looks like it came from a thrift store run by blind grandmas, and Seungmin, I hope every client you have in the future fucking sues you into the ground.”

Seungmin just grins. “That’s fair.”

Minho shifts his glare to Changbin. “And you, motherfucker, I hope you trip over your own fucking dumbbells and break both your legs so I never have to hear you talk about leg day again.”

Changbin snorts. “Joke’s on you, I’d just talk about arm day instead.”

Minho exhales sharply, leaning back against the couch. “Fuck all of you.”

Chan chuckles, passing the bong again. “Love you too, dumbass.”

“You know what, though?” Jisung suddenly pipes up, squinting in Hyunjin’s direction. “Hyunjin, you were the dirty bastard that left the used condom in the hallway after banging that Kappa Tau girl.”

A collective groan fills the room, a mix of disgust and exasperation.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Changbin grumbles, shaking his head. “I stepped near that shit, man. You’re fucking nasty.”

Hyunjin, instead of looking remotely ashamed, stretches his arms above his head lazily. “That may be true,” he admits, voice smooth and amused, “however, no one saw me bang that girl.” He smirks at Jisung and Felix. “But we all saw you two going at it on the couch that one time, you dirty exhibitionists.”

Felix, without hesitation, points an accusing finger at Hyunjin and shouts, “Homophobia!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re just mad because your past sins are being brought to light.”

“It’s not a sin,” Jisung grins, tightening his arms around Felix’s waist. “It’s called being in love, bitch.”

Seungmin, who’s been lazily nursing a beer on the other side of the couch, snorts. “Jisung’s probably fondling Felix’s balls right now.”

Felix smirks. “He is, actually.” He adjusts slightly in Jisung’s lap. “I’ve been at a semi for like twenty minutes.”

Jeongin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Fucking gross.”

“Hey, don’t kink shame,” Felix says with mock offence, raising his brows.

Minho takes a slow drag from the bong before passing it off and exhaling through his nose. “Shame,” he deadpans. “So much shame. We all saw Jisung balls deep in you, Felix.”

Felix just shrugs, completely unbothered. “And? You're all just jealous.”

“We also saw Jisung’s nasty balls,” Hyunjin pipes up with a smirk, “and his surprisingly fat ass.”

Jisung gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse you! My ass is none of your concern.”

Hyunjin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It became my concern the moment I had to witness it in a position I never wanted to see.”

Jisung glares. “Hyunjin, we all saw your used jizzy condom.”

Hyunjin smirks back. “But we all saw your nasty balls.”

Jisung whines, kicking his feet. “I fucking hate you.”

Felix laughs, patting Jisung’s cheek. “Ji, baby, your balls aren’t nasty or else I wouldn’t put them in my mouth.”

A collective groan of disgust echoes through the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ, man,” Chan mutters, rubbing his face. “I’m too high for this conversation.”

Jisung just grins proudly while Hyunjin mock gags. “You’re the most insufferable couple I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing.”

“You’re the one,” Jisung suddenly snaps back, pointing an accusing finger, “who, instead of using tissues like a normal fucking person, used a sock to clean up after your wank sessions.”

Hyunjin instantly straightens. “Wait, hold the fuck up-”

Jisung steamrolls over him. “And then, like the absolute menace you are, you had the fucking audacity to send me looking for a pair of your socks when you sprained your ankle last semester.”

The room goes dead silent. Then Changbin lets out a wheeze.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin mutters, eyes wide with horror. “No.”

“Yes,” Jisung continues, as if reliving a war story. “Me, being a good fucking friend, went upstairs, searched through your shit, and found your sordid sock of shame.” His voice rises in outrage. “It was hard, Hyunjin. Socks shouldn’t be fucking hard!”

The entire room erupts into chaos. Felix practically falls off Jisung’s lap from laughing so hard, while Jeongin looks seconds away from leaving the house altogether.

“Hyunjin, what the actual fuck?” Chan gasps, leaning away from him.

“You nasty fuck,” Changbin wheezes, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Jeongin mutters.

Minho just smirks, watching the conversation unfold, deeply satisfied that the attention is nowhere near his lack of swimming skills anymore.

Hyunjin groans, running a hand down his face. “Alright, first of all, that was one fucking time-”

Jisung interrupts with a loud, “Bullshit!”

Hyunjin glares. “Second of all, why the fuck were you digging that deep in my stuff?”

“Because I thought I was helping a fucking friend,” Jisung snaps back. “I didn’t think I had to watch out for a biohazard!”

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin mutters.

“I’m gonna get you a box of tissues,” Felix laughs, wiping his eyes. “That was the most disgusting shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You all suck,” Hyunjin huffs, slouching back into the chair.

“Not as much as Felix,” Jisung quips.

Felix beams. “That’s right, baby.”

The argument between Jisung and Hyunjin doesn’t die down. If anything, it escalates, because neither of them knows when to shut the fuck up.

Hyunjin suddenly grins, pointing at Jisung with a newfound spark of mischief in his eyes. “You wanna talk about nasty? You fucking humped one of Felix’s pillows once.”

The entire room explodes with laughter, except for Jisung, who lets out the most inhuman screech imaginable.

Felix, to everyone’s surprise, doesn’t even look offended. Instead, he tilts his head, looking at Jisung fondly. “That’s cute, Ji.”

Jisung glares at Hyunjin, face burning red. “Yeah, well, Hyunjin fucking jerked off while wearing one of Changbin’s hoodies!”

The laughter somehow gets even louder.

Changbin, who had been taking a sip of his drink, immediately chokes. “What the fuck?”

“I fucking knew it!” Seungmin yells.

“I don’t fucking know why you’re all so surprised,” Minho mutters, shaking his head.

Hyunjin throws his hands up defensively. “Okay, first of all, that hoodie was comfy as fuck. Second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Oh, it became my business,” Jisung snaps. “Because you’re a fucking weirdo.”

Felix, wiping tears from his eyes, claps his hands together. “Alright, enough talking. Time for physical violence.”

And just like that, all hell breaks loose.

Jisung and Felix immediately launch themselves at Minho, and Jisung shouts, “POWER OF THE GAY BOYFRIENDS!”

Felix follows it up with a very enthusiastic, “YEAH! Like Power Rangers!”

Minho doesn’t have time to roll his eyes before Jisung tries to tackle him, but Minho is faster. Years of football training make it easy for him to dodge, and he grabs Jisung by the waist, flipping him effortlessly over his shoulder and slamming him down onto the couch. Before Jisung can wriggle away, Minho shifts, trapping him between his thighs in a tight grip.

Felix tries to grab Minho from behind, but Chan, who had been minding his own business, too high to care, suddenly gets dragged into the mess when Minho pulls him forward, locking an arm around his neck in a headlock.

“Fucking traitor!” Chan gasps, squirming.

Minho just grins, tightening his hold on both of them. “You little shits thought you could take me?”

Felix, still determined, throws himself forward, trying to grab Minho’s arm. But Minho is faster, he catches Felix mid-motion, wrapping an arm around his neck and securing him in another headlock.

“I got two of you now,” Minho announces, grinning wildly.

Felix flails. “Let me go, you fucking rat bastard!”

Jisung is still trapped between Minho’s thighs, thrashing wildly. “Felix! Betrayal! He got me!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Jeongin and Seungmin are wrestling like rabid dogs.

“Your fashion sense fucking sucks!” Jeongin yells, trying to shove Seungmin off him.

“Oh yeah?!” Seungmin barks back, gripping Jeongin’s shirt and yanking him down. “At least I don’t look like a thrift store threw up on me!”

“I fucking told you, vintage is in, asshole!”

Changbin and Hyunjin have also somehow ended up grappling with each other. At first, it was just playful shoving, but now Changbin has Hyunjin pinned down, and Hyunjin, breathless, suddenly blurts out, “I’m weirdly into this. Is it because I’m bisexual or submissive?”

Without missing a beat, Minho, who still has both Chan and Felix in a headlock, calls out, “Both.”

Jisung takes advantage of the distraction and bites down on Minho’s thigh. “OW, YOU FUCKING GREMLIN!” Minho yells, immediately releasing his hold on Chan and Felix to shove Jisung off.

Jisung cackles maniacally, rolling off the couch. “FUCKING WORTH IT!”

Chan, now free, immediately lunges at Minho, tackling him. “Payback, bitch!”

Felix joins in, piling on top of them. “GET HIM!”

On the other side of the room, Seungmin has Jeongin in a headlock, Jeongin is still screaming about fashion, Changbin has Hyunjin pinned, and overall, the frat house is complete fucking chaos.

Just another normal night in Alpha Phi.

Minho stands in the frat house kitchen, flipping thinly sliced beef in a pan, the rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil filling the air. His black hair is damp from a quick shower after the royal rumble in the living room, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. A cluster of Hello Kitty bandaids is haphazardly slapped onto his thigh, covering the spot where Jisung fucking bit him like a rabid animal. He still doesn’t know where the hell Felix got Hello Kitty bandaids from, but at this point, he’s given up questioning anything in this house.

Just as he’s about to taste a piece of bulgogi straight from the pan, Chan strolls in, looking far too smug for someone who got his ass handed to him in the wrestling match earlier. He props himself up against the counter, arms crossed, watching Minho cook.

“Hey,” Chan starts, casual. Too casual.

Minho narrows his eyes immediately. “What.”

“I have a friend who can teach you how to swim.”

Minho blinks, staring at him. Then, slowly, he reaches over and turns down the heat on the stove before resting his hands on the counter. “You have friends outside of the frat?”

Chan scoffs, shoving at his shoulder. “Obviously, dumbass.”

“I don’t believe you.” Minho smirks, popping a piece of bulgogi into his mouth. “You leave this house for, like, two things. Football and music. That’s it.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “She’s an architecture major. Business minor. She’s the year below us, and she’s on the swim team.”

Minho chews, waiting for him to continue. “And?”

Chan exhales. “She’s kind of anxious. Kind of like Jisung, but where Jisung’s awkward and loud, she’s just quiet, doesn't really speak unless she has something to say.”

Minho hums, tossing the beef in the pan. “Okay.”

Chan leans against the counter. “Go to the college pool tomorrow night. That’s when she’s there. Just explain that you’re like a baby that got tossed into water, and she’ll take pity on you.”

Minho snorts. “Wow. That’s a real confidence boost.”

“She’s nice,” Chan says, ignoring him. “She’ll help.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “She hot?”

Without hesitation, Chan slaps the back of Minho’s head as hard as he can.

“Fuck!” Minho hisses, rubbing his skull. “What the fuck was that for?”

Chan glares. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Minho smirks, rolling his shoulders. “Well? Is she?��

Chan slaps him again, this time across the arm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Minho mutters, taking a step back. “I’ll just keep asking.”

Chan exhales through his nose, looking like he’s fighting the urge to hit him again. “Objectively, as a straight man? Yes. She’s attractive. But I don’t look at her that way.”

Minho takes another bite of beef, chewing thoughtfully. “Fine. I’ll go and see what she’s about.”

Chan nods, pleased. “Good.”

There’s a beat of silence, just the quiet sound of the stovetop sizzling. Then Chan adds, “Oh, also, she has epilepsy. FIAS.”

Minho’s chewing slows slightly, then he swallows. “Focal impaired awareness seizures, right?” He glances at Chan. “They covered it in my first aid certification course.”

Chan raises his brows, looking impressed. “Yeah.”

Minho shrugs, flipping the last of the beef onto a plate. “Alright.”

Chan watches him carefully. “That’s it?”

Minho scoffs. “What, did you expect me to freak out? ‘Oh no, the girl who’s gonna teach me how to swim has a medical condition, I guess I’ll just drown instead’?”

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “No, but I figured you’d at least have some dumbass question.”

Minho grabs chopsticks and digs into his plate, shrugging again. “Nah. I got it.”

Chan watches him for another second, then claps a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Just don’t be a dick.”

Minho grins, mouth full. “No promises.”

The air inside the college swimming centre is thick with the scent of chlorine, the sound of water lapping against tiled edges echoing through the vast space. Minho walks in, hands in his pockets, boots heavy against the slick flooring. His black top, with open-knit sleeves exposing glimpses of his arms, contrasts against the bright, sterile lights overhead. His black pants, speckled with splatter-paint details, shift slightly as he moves, and the layered silver chains around his neck glint under the fluorescents. The star-shaped pendant catches the light with each step.

His eyes scan the pool, and then he sees you.

You're in the water, moving with eerie precision, muscles cutting through the water like you were born for it. Your blue hair, tied back into a ponytail, gleams under the lights, the two silver strands at the front catching his attention. You’re wearing black yoga shorts and a white T-shirt, slightly translucent from the water, revealing the black swimsuit underneath.

Minho watches as you push off from the shallow end, slipping entirely under the surface. You don’t come up. Not once. He watches, eyebrows raising, as you glide through the water, streamlined, controlled. Your body moves with an effortless fluidity, and he finds himself unable to look away.

By the time you reach the deep end, a full fifty metres later, you finally surface. Not even gasping. Not even fucking struggling. You just exhale sharply, hands sweeping through the water to keep yourself afloat.

What the fuck.

Minho smirks, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. "Hi."

Your head turns towards him as you tread water, eyes sharp and calculating as they land on him. Your expression is calm, blank, like you're not entirely sure what to do with his presence.

He tilts his head slightly. “I’m Minho,” he says, tone easy, casual. “I, uh-” He gestures vaguely. “Need to learn how to swim. Because I’m sick of my asshole friends picking on me for it.” He grins. “It’s my only flaw, really.”

You blink at him.

Undeterred, he continues. “I’m free Wednesdays and Fridays. Whichever works for you. Chan referred me to you, so here I am.”

There’s a beat of silence, the water shifting gently around you. Then, finally, you speak.

"You need some swimming trunks."

Your voice is soft, quiet, but not hesitant. Minho watches the way your lips barely move when you speak, like you're used to making yourself small. He leans forward slightly, smirk deepening. "I can get those."

"Friday nights. Late."

"See you then, mermaid girl," Minho says, stepping back slightly. Then he pauses. "Wait, Chan mentioned FIAS. What happens if that happens in the water?"

You meet his gaze evenly, voice completely flat. "I pray."

Minho snorts. The bluntness catches him off guard, and for the first time, he sees your lips twitch, just barely. It's small, barely a movement, but he sees it.

Interesting.

"See you Friday, then," he says, turning on his heel, already looking forward to whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, the place eerily quiet except for the distant sound of water lapping against the edges of the pool. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the tiled floors as he steps inside, heading straight for the men’s locker room. He’s dressed in sneakers, sweatpants, and a hoodie, his usual go-to for lazy days, but now, faced with the inevitable, he exhales sharply.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, stripping out of his clothes.

He pulls on the black swimming trunks he bought earlier that day, minimalist, simple, no unnecessary designs, because he refuses to wear some ridiculous board shorts with neon patterns like an overexcited tourist. He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his arms, and then, satisfied, steps out of the locker room and into the main pool area.

You’re already there, standing by the edge of the shallow end, your blue hair tied back into a ponytail, the two silver strands in the front catching the light as they sway slightly. You’re wearing the same white T-shirt and blue yoga shorts as before, the fabric damp from where the water has already lapped at the edges.

Minho watches as you drop into the pool effortlessly, slipping beneath the water before resurfacing in the shallow end. The movement is smooth, controlled, as if the water is an extension of you rather than something separate.

Minho, however, is not fucking graceful.

He carefully climbs in, feeling the cold water instantly hit his skin. The chill makes him jolt, and before he can stop himself, his hands fly up to his chest, covering his nipples.

“Oh my!” he exclaims, voice high-pitched in mock horror.

Then he pauses, blinking.

“Fuck,” he snorts, shaking his head. “I sounded like Dorothy Gale.”

Your expression remains neutral, but the slight quirk of your lips does not go unnoticed.

Minho grins. “You’re holding back a laugh.”

“I’m not,” you say, though your voice is softer than before, almost amused.

“Liar,” he hums, letting his hands drop back to the water. “Alright, teach. What’s first?”

Without a word, you grab two inflatable armbands and a bright orange life jacket, stepping forward to hand them to him.

Minho stares at them, unimpressed. “Really?”

“No risk of drowning if you wear those.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, but pulls them on anyway, the plastic squeaking slightly against his arms. The life jacket is a little snug, but he fastens it without complaint, standing in the water looking every bit like a grown-ass man being forced into safety gear like a toddler at the beach.

“This is humiliating,” he mutters.

You don’t comment, simply nodding towards the water. “Lie on your front and kick your legs.”

Minho eyes you suspiciously before doing as instructed. He stretches out, floating on his stomach, and starts kicking. The water splashes aggressively around him, but he doesn’t fucking move.

He pauses. Kicks harder. Still nothing.

You tilt your head slightly, watching the sad display. “Okay. New plan.”

Minho flips onto his back, groaning. “Thank fuck.”

You step closer, extending your hands toward him. “Hold my hands, and then kick your legs. I’ll pull you.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches forward, grasping your hands in his own. Your grip is surprisingly strong despite your smaller frame, steady and sure, like you know exactly how to keep control.

Minho lets you guide him, kicking his legs as you gently pull him through the shallow end. It’s not exactly the most dignified moment of his life, but he supposes he has to start somewhere.

“We’ll stick to the shallow end for now,” you say, voice calm and even. “You need to get comfortable in the water.”

Minho watches you as you focus, your movements precise, controlled. Your face is unreadable, but he can tell you’re completely in your element here, unbothered by the water surrounding you.

“You know,” he muses, kicking lightly, “for someone so quiet, you sure take your job as a teacher seriously.”

Your grip on his hands remains steady. “You’d rather I let you drown?”

“Nah,” he grins. “I like the attention.”

"Keep kicking,"

Minho groans as he keeps kicking, his legs starting to ache. “This is fucking tiring,” he complains, gripping your hands tighter as you continue pulling him through the shallow end. The life jacket and armbands are doing most of the work, but still, kicking non-stop is a workout.

You don’t respond, just keep moving, your expression unreadable as always. The water ripples around you both, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the surface. Minho watches the way you move, barely making a sound, like you’ve done this a million times before.

Then, suddenly, you stop.

Minho doesn’t.

“Oof! Fuck,” he grunts as his face smacks directly into your stomach. His fingers clutch yours tighter on instinct, and for a second, he just stays there, processing the fact that he’s literally face-planted into you. He blinks before pulling back slightly.

Your fingers twitch in his grasp. Minho straightens up immediately, expecting some sort of reaction, maybe a shove, a deadpan glare, a snarky comment, but instead, you’re just standing there. Your body is still, eyes unfocused as you stare off into the distance, expression blank.

His brow furrows. “Uh, hello?”

You don’t react. Minho tilts his head. Then, cautiously, he waves one of his hands in front of your face, letting you hold the other. Your fingers twitch again, slight, barely noticeable, but he feels it. 

Then it clicks.

“Oh,” he mutters, realization settling in. “It’s happening, huh?”

You remain frozen, still staring at nothing. Minho watches closely, observing the subtle shifts in your body. Your fingers keep twitching against his palm, and there’s the faintest movement in your lips, like you’re about to say something but never quite get there. He’s seen shit like this before, at least in training videos, but seeing it in person is different.

“Damn,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. “That’s actually kind of cool.”

He inches closer, curious, watching the way your expression remains eerily blank. He wonders what it feels like, if you’re aware of what’s happening or if it’s just an empty space in your head. He’s about to say something else when you suddenly blink rapidly, your head jerking slightly.

Your eyes focus again and then you yelp when you see a pair of brown eyes inches from your own. Minho barely has time to react before you start toppling back into the water. His hands shoot out, grabbing you by the waist before you go under, keeping you steady. His grip is firm but careful, keeping you upright as you breathe sharply, eyes wide.

“Whoa, easy there, mermaid girl,” he says, smirking slightly. “You good?”

You blink up at him, hands gripping his arms instinctively, body still slightly tense from the abrupt shift. Your lips press together briefly before you nod, adjusting yourself so you're standing properly again.

Minho doesn’t let go immediately, watching you closely, making sure you’re not about to keel over again. Your fingers tighten slightly on his arms before you let go, taking a small step back. “Sorry.”

He snorts. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?”

You just shake your head, as if brushing it off, and Minho narrows his eyes slightly. “Does that happen often?” he asks.

You hesitate, then nod. “Sometimes.”

Minho watches you for a second longer, then finally releases his hold on you, stepping back as well. “Huh.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Huh?”

Minho shrugs. “I dunno. Just thought it’d be more dramatic. Like glowing eyes, speaking in tongues-”

You stare at him.

He grins. “What? I think that’d be cool as fuck.”

Your lips twitch again. Not quite a smile, but something close. Minho notices and he finds himself already looking forward to seeing more of it.

Minho wakes up feeling like absolute fucking death. The moment he tries to move, his muscles scream in protest. His legs? Useless. His arms? Betrayers. His back? Feels like he got hit by a fucking truck. He groans, flopping onto his side, and staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. He knew swimming was a workout, but this? This feels like he spent all night fighting for his life against a bear and lost.

After several moments of regretting every decision that led to this moment, he decides he needs to get to the kitchen. Food. Coffee. Maybe painkillers. Preferably all three.

Except there’s one problem, his legs don’t work.

With a grunt, he rolls onto his stomach and starts crawling out of his room. The frat house hallway is silent except for the occasional creak of floorboards beneath his weight as he drags himself forward. His limbs feel like jelly, completely useless beneath him.

He pauses, exhales sharply, then keeps going, determined. If he dies, at least let it be in the kitchen where someone will find him before his corpse starts to stink.

Reaching the staircase, Minho stares down at the steps like they personally wronged him. No way he’s walking down those. Not happening. Not when his legs feel like they’re made of fucking pudding. So he sits his ass down on the top step, grips the railing, and starts bum-shuffling his way down like a fucking toddler. Every bounce sends a fresh wave of agony through his body.

Fucking fuck. Fucking swimming. Fucking Chan. Fucking mermaid girl.

By the time he reaches the bottom, he’s out of breath. This is the worst workout of his life, and it’s just existing at this point. He flops onto his back for a second, groaning, before realizing he still has to make it to the kitchen.

So he rolls back onto his stomach and starts crawling again.

This time, he doesn’t even pretend to make it look dignified. He’s just dragging himself forward with his arms, barely using his legs. Like some pathetic fucking soldier crawling through the trenches.

When he finally reaches the kitchen doorway, he gives up. Completely. With a dramatic groan, he sprawls out on the cool tile floor, pressing his face against it, arms and legs splayed out like a crime scene chalk outline. "I'll nap here," he mutters, voice muffled against the floor.

And he means it. If this is how he dies, so be it.

An hour later, the frat house is still mostly silent, everyone either still asleep or too hungover to move. The only sound is the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors.

Then, Jisung stumbles into the kitchen.

Still half-asleep, he drags his socked feet across the tile, rubbing his face, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he looks like he just crawled out of hell.

Which is exactly why he doesn’t see Minho sprawled out like a fucking corpse in the doorway. With absolutely no warning, Jisung’s foot slams down onto Minho’s ribs.

"FUCK!" Minho yells, jolting awake as if he’s just been electrocuted.

Jisung screams too, flailing backwards. "WHO THE FUCK- WHY THE FUCK- WHAT THE FUCK."

Minho groans dramatically, rolling onto his back. “Ji, you fucking dickhead.”

“Me?” Jisung yells, gripping the kitchen counter to keep himself steady. “Why the fuck are you sleeping on the goddamn floor like some fucking Victorian orphan?!”

Minho sighs, cheek still pressed against the cool tile. "Legs don’t work. I’m dead."

Jisung blinks, looking down at him, expression shifting from pure horror to vague amusement. “Wait, for real?”

Minho just groans in response.

Jisung smirks, stretching his arms above his head. “Damn. Sounds like a you problem.”

Minho lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Ji, drag me to the kitchen table.”

Jisung stares at him. “You want me to drag you?”

“Yes. By my ankles. Do it.”

Jisung shrugs. “Alright, bet.”

Without another word, Jisung crouches down, grabs Minho’s ankles, and yanks. Minho grunts as his body scrapes across the tile, arms flopping uselessly at his sides like a fucking ragdoll. The kitchen floor is cold and definitely not clean, but at this point, he has no fucking dignity left.

Jisung keeps dragging him across the room, humming casually, like this is a completely normal morning routine. By the time they reach the table, Minho is done. His pride? Gone. His will to live? Questionable.

Jisung finally stops and hoists Minho up into one of the chairs, grunting as he shoves him into a semi-sitting position. “Jesus, you’re fucking heavy,” Jisung mutters, rubbing his arms.

Minho flops against the table dramatically. “Coffee?”

Jisung leans against the counter, eyeing him. “You want it black or with a side of my dick in it?”

Minho barely lifts his head. “Both.”

Jisung snorts, shaking his head. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Minho sighs, pressing his cheek against the cool surface of the table. “I love you.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, grabbing the coffee pot. “Yeah, yeah. You’re buying me breakfast, asshole.”

The swimming centre is eerily quiet this late at night, just the low hum of overhead lights and the distant echo of water lapping against the pool’s edges. Minho steps inside, adjusting the collar of his black leather jacket, his boots clicking softly against the tiled floor. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black top, paired with heavily distressed light-wash jeans that hang loose around his frame. His silver chains clink softly with each movement.

He scans the pool area, expecting to see you standing by the water like last time. Instead, his eyes travel upward and his stomach fucking drops. You’re on the highest diving board.

Minho freezes, every muscle in his body locking up as his palms instantly start to sweat. The fuck are you doing up there? The fuck are you doing up there? His own fear of heights kicks in violently, making his heartbeat hammer in his chest.

Then, before he can even breathe, you leap off.

“Oh, what the fuck-” Minho slaps his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers like a horrified child watching a horror movie.

You free-tumble through the air, flipping effortlessly, the movements fluid and controlled like you’re meant to do this, like gravity is just a suggestion. Right before you hit the water, you take perfect form, slicing through the surface with barely a splash.

Minho drops his hands, exhaling sharply, watching as you pop up to the surface like it’s nothing, slicking your hair back casually.

You’re insane.

“I’m gonna go change,” Minho announces, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You just nod. He watches you for a second, still processing the absolute insanity he just witnessed. Then, a thought strikes him. “Is that safe for epilepsy?”

You shrug and Minho stares. “Cool, cool, cool. No doubt, no doubt, no doubt.”

Then he turns on his heel and beelines for the locker room, already questioning every fucking choice that led him to this moment.

Minho steps out of the locker room, now clad only in his black swimming trunks, his skin still chilled from the air-conditioning inside. The moment he emerges, he spots you standing by the pool, waiting, with those fucking armbands and life jacket again.

He stops in his tracks. "You’ve got to be shitting me."

You don’t even blink, just extend them towards him like it’s non-negotiable.

With a long, suffering sigh, Minho stomps over, yanking the armbands onto his arms before grudgingly pulling on the life jacket. It squeaks slightly as he fastens the buckles. He steps into the pool and immediately tenses at the coldness. “Fucking shit, fuck-”

You wait, completely still, just watching as he hisses through his teeth before finally sinking deeper, water lapping at his shoulders.

“This is actual torture. I’m filing a fucking lawsuit.”

You ignore his dramatics. “Okay,” you say evenly, voice calm, “so today, we’re going to get you comfortable with not being able to touch the floor.”

Before Minho can protest, you grab the back of his life vest and start towing him toward the middle of the pool. “Let me go!” he yelps, kicking his legs as if that’s going to help.

You nod. “Okay.”

And then you fucking do.

Minho immediately freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes. He’s just floating. Not touching the ground. No solid surface beneath him. Just water. His muscles tense, but instead of immediately drowning like his instincts scream he’s about to, he just bobs.

Minho blinks.

You’re treading water beside him, effortlessly balanced. “See? You’re fine.”

He exhales, body still stiff, but, yeah. He’s fine. He lets himself bob around for a bit, staring at the ceiling, processing the fact that he hasn’t died yet.

After a few moments, you speak again. "Want to know next week’s lesson?"

Minho glances over warily. “What?”

You meet his gaze, voice neutral. “Getting comfortable being underwater. Fully submerged.”

Minho immediately straightens. “The fuck I am!”

Panic shoots through him as he starts paddling away, pathetically, in what can only be described as the saddest attempt at a doggy paddle ever witnessed. He doesn’t get far. Because you just grab his ankle and tow him back.

“NO!” he yells, flailing. “FUCKING LET ME GO!”

You don’t even struggle, just calmly drag him back toward the centre of the pool like he’s some misbehaving pet. Minho groans in defeat, throwing his head back.

This is actual fucking hell.

Minho storms into the frat house living room and immediately regrets it because Jisung and Felix are making out on the fucking couch. “For fuck’s sake,” Minho groans, marching over. “Do you two ever fucking stop?”

Jisung barely acknowledges him, just waves a lazy hand in Minho’s direction while still attached to Felix’s mouth. Minho scowls. Fuck this. He grabs the back of Jisung’s hoodie and yanks.

“HEY!” Jisung yelps as he gets ripped away from Felix, arms flailing. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Felix blinks at the sudden loss of contact, lips slightly swollen. “Uh why?”

Minho ignores the way Felix looks two seconds away from pouting. “I need him,” he says simply, already dragging Jisung toward the stairs.

Jisung stumbles after him, grumbling. “Can I at least finish-?”

“No.”

“Jesus, you’re strong for a dude who doesn’t even fucking swim.”

Minho hauls him up the stairs, yanks open his bedroom door, and shoves him inside before slamming it shut.

Jisung huffs, straightening his hoodie. “Alright, asshole, what the fuck is this? Why am I here? And why-” He pauses, eyes locking onto the bathtub, which is completely full of ice water. “-the fuck is your bath full of ice?”

Minho sighs. “I need your help.”

Jisung squints at him. “With what? Are you planning a fucking polar bear plunge?”

Minho runs a hand through his hair. “I’m taking swimming lessons.”

Jisung stares at him for a long moment. Then, he just nods. “Finally. The bullying worked.”

Minho glares. “Fuck you.”

Jisung grins, clearly too pleased with himself. “So, what? You’re trying to get used to freezing to death?”

Minho exhales sharply. “My teacher wants me to get comfortable underwater, and I don’t want to look like a bitch in front of her. So, you’re helping me practice until next Friday so I can show her I can do this shit.”

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms. “And you think dunking yourself in a fucking ice bath is the way to go?”

Minho gestures toward the tub. “Water’s water.”

Jisung shrugs. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward the bath. “Get in, then.”

Minho grimaces, looking at the water like it personally offended him. “You’re gonna have to force me in.”

Jisung blinks. “Are you serious?”

Minho nods. “Dead fucking serious. My body is screaming ‘fuck that’ right now.”

Jisung grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Before Minho can protest, Jisung grabs him by the arms and lifts him straight off the floor.

“WAIT- FUCK-”

Jisung drops him into the ice water. Minho screams. Not just any scream. A full-body, guttural, horror-movie victim scream. “FUCKING SHIT! JISUNG, YOU FUCKING DEMON SPAWN!”

Jisung, completely unbothered, leans over the tub. “Deep breath.”

Minho whips his head around, shivering violently. “What? Why?”

Jisung shoves his head under the water. The cold hits like a fucking truck. Minho flails, the shock rattling every nerve in his body, but Jisung holds him down. 

Ten seconds. Ten seconds of pure, fucking misery.

Then Jisung yanks him back up. Minho gasps, sputtering water, eyes wild. “WHAT THE FUCK-”

Jisung claps him on the shoulder. “Only five more days of this. Deep breath.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Wait-”

“Three, two, one.”

And back under.

Underwater, Minho screams, but all that comes out are bubbles. He starts shouting curses at Jisung from beneath the water, muffled but angry as fuck. Jisung just grins, keeping him down.

This is absolutely the best part of his fucking week.

The water is cool against Minho’s skin as he drops into the shallow end of the pool, his silver chains glinting under the fluorescent lights. The weight of them against his collarbones is familiar, grounding. The past week of Jisung’s torture training has prepared him for this moment, and for once, he doesn’t hesitate before stepping into the water.

You swim over to him, moving effortlessly, your sage green yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp and slightly translucent from the water. Minho catches the slight contrast of your sage green bikini top beneath it, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger.

"You ready for submersion?" you ask, voice quiet but steady.

Minho grins, rolling his shoulders. "Yep," he says confidently. "I fucking trained for this."

And without waiting for a response, he drops under the water. 

Everything muffles. The sounds of the pool, the hum of the building, even his own heartbeat, it all dulls to a distant echo as he sinks just enough for his head to fully submerge. He hovers there, his body bobbing slightly, legs kicking just enough to keep him steady. His lungs burn slightly, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost peaceful.

Then his mind starts wandering. Why the fuck is he so desperate to impress you? It’s not like he gives a shit about what people think of him. He’s always been confident, always had people watching him, but this feels different.

And then, before he can stop himself, his thoughts shift. To you. To how fucking beautiful you are. And then, seamlessly, to all the filthy fucking things he wants to do to you.

Minho smirks to himself, keeping his face submerged as his brain dives headfirst into every inappropriate thought he probably shouldn’t be having in a fucking swimming pool. But fuck it.

He thinks about you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your body pressed against his as he drags his teeth over your skin, making you moan for him and him only. He thinks about your legs wrapped around his head, your hands clutching at his hair as he eats you out, taking his time, drowning in you in the best fucking way. He thinks about you with your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs as he fucks you, your breath hitching, voice breaking as you say his name the way he wants to hear it.

His lungs start burning a little more now, but he stays under, letting the thoughts roll through him like waves. Then, finally, he pushes himself up.

He breaks the surface, shaking the water from his hair, and immediately locks eyes with you.

"Forty-six seconds," you say, nodding slightly. "Impressive."

Minho grins, still thinking about the absolute filth that just went through his mind. "Told you I trained."

You just hum, watching him, but something in your gaze makes him wonder if you can somehow tell what he was just thinking about.

Then, after a pause, you say, "Hey, what's the best way to shut a guy down?"

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Depends. Are we talking politely or effectively?"

You tilt your head slightly. "Just straightforward."

Minho shrugs. "Just say, ‘Hey, not interested.’ That’s it. No explanation needed."

You nod, processing that. "Okay."

Minho narrows his eyes. "Wait, who the fuck are you rejecting?"

"Just some guy who asked me out that I’m not interested in."

Minho immediately wants to ask who, but shakes it off. Instead, he smirks. "There is another option. Do this." He lifts both middle fingers.

You pause, watching him, and for the first time since he met you, you smile. Not a twitch of the lips. Not just a small reaction. A real, actual fucking smile. And Minho feels it hit him straight in the chest like a fucking wrecking ball.

Oh, he’s in trouble.

The pool water is cooler than usual tonight, but Minho barely registers it as he steps in, his silver chains clinking softly against his collarbones. You’re already there, standing waist-deep, your blue yoga shorts clinging to your hips, your white T-shirt damp against your frame with the blue bikini top just barely visible underneath. Your hair is tied back as always, those silver strands framing your face. 

"Okay," you say, voice smooth, measured. "You're learning breaststroke today. It’s the easiest for beginners. You keep your head up."

Minho nods, already bracing himself for whatever bullshit he’s about to endure.

You hand him the life vest. Without hesitation, he pulls it on, tightening the straps. At this point, he barely even complains about it anymore, just accepts his fate.

"Lie on your front," you instruct.

Minho exhales through his nose and flips onto his stomach, legs floating behind him.

"Hold the wall," you say.

Minho grips it, brows slightly furrowed.

"Legs are important in breaststroke," you continue, treading water next to him. "You kick your legs in a circular motion to propel yourself through the water. The legs are the primary source of propulsion, so it's important to get the technique right."

Minho hums, tilting his head slightly. "So what do I need to do?"

You watch him for a moment, then explain, your voice steady, clear. "Start with your legs in a streamlined position, feet pointed. Then," You pause. "Bring your heels towards your ass, with your knees slightly over hip-width apart."

Minho listens, brows furrowing slightly as he tries to visualize it.

"As your heels come up, turn your feet and knees out," you continue. "Then push your feet back in a circular motion. Finish with your legs together, stretched out, and in a streamlined position."

Minho blinks at the ceiling for a second. "That’s a lot of fucking steps."

"It’ll feel more natural once you start," you say simply. "Go ahead. Try it."

Still gripping the wall, Minho starts practising the motions, his legs moving through the water, awkward at first, but getting smoother as he repeats the cycle.

And then, your hand presses against his stomach. Minho freezes, muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Focus on keeping your core strong while you work your legs," you say, completely unaware of the absolute fucking war raging in Minho’s head right now.

Minho nods stiffly, resuming the leg motions, but all he can think about is how soft your hand feels against his bare skin, how close you are, how he’d kill to touch you in return. But he pushes the thoughts aside.

Because fuck that, he needs to get this right. He focuses hard, making sure his legs move in the correct circular pattern, making sure his core stays tight, making sure he doesn’t look like a complete fucking dumbass. Because if he’s going to impress you, he’s going to fucking earn it.

“And now stand up.”

Minho obeys, his feet finding the pool floor as he straightens. The water drips from his hair, sliding down his skin, but he barely registers it. His focus is entirely on you, watching as you move with that same effortless control, completely at home in the water.

“Okay, now the arm movements,” you say, treading water next to him. “You extend your arms, keeping your elbows tucked in, then push them forward to create a streamlined position.” You demonstrate, your arms cutting through the water with precision, your movements controlled and fluid.

Minho watches carefully, then mimics your motion, extending his arms in front of him. His elbows are a little too stiff at first, but he adjusts, rolling his shoulders, making the motion smoother.

“Then,” you continue, nodding at his form, “dip your head between your arms.”

He does, the coolness of the water surrounding him in a way that should be unnerving but isn’t. Not as much as before.

“And when you're using your legs and arms at the same time,” you say, your voice calm, even, “glide forward as your kick finishes behind you. Then sweep your hands out to the sides until they form a Y shape with your body.”

Minho mimics the arm motion, feeling out the movement. It’s strange, a little awkward at first, but it makes sense. He grins, looking at you with sharp confidence. “I’m ready to try and combine both.”

You nod. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Minho takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then tries. It is an absolute fucking disaster.

The moment he attempts to coordinate his arms and legs, it’s like his entire body forgets how to function. His kick is mistimed, his arms flail in some horrific attempt at a Y shape, and instead of gliding smoothly through the water, he just sinks slightly, floundering like a dying fish.

For the first time ever, you giggle. It’s quiet, soft, but it immediately catches Minho’s attention.

His head pops up above the water, hair dripping into his face, and he grins instantly. “Made you laugh!”

You keep giggling, and it’s genuine, your shoulders shaking slightly as you try to compose yourself. “You looked so ridiculous,” you admit, voice breathless with amusement.

Minho’s grin only widens. “I didn’t look that bad.”

You nod, still giggling. “You did.”

You lift your hand and point at him, as if emphasizing how fucking ridiculous he looked, and you’re still laughing, the sound soft but real. Minho watches you, something warm spreading through his chest, and for once, he doesn’t say anything. He just lets you laugh.

The next day, Minho aches. Every single part of his body feels like it’s been set on fire, the result of spending hours practising breaststroke, pushing himself relentlessly just so he can show you his progress next Friday. His arms hurt, his legs feel like fucking concrete, and his core, don’t even fucking get him started on his core.

But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s going back.

It’s midday when Minho arrives at the swimming centre, determined. The pool is mostly empty at this hour, which is perfect, it means he can practice without distractions.

He strides into the locker room, pulling his hoodie over his head, tossing it onto the bench before stepping out of his sweatpants. His movements are slower than usual, stiff from soreness, but he powers through, grabbing his black swimming trunks and pulling them on. The moment he steps out, rolling his shoulders, he hears it.

Splashing. But not the normal kind. Panicked splashing.

Minho he snaps his head toward the pool. There, crouched at the edge of the deep end, is some Sigma Chi fucker. He’s leaning over the side, one hand pressed down into the water, holding someone under. Whoever it is, they’re clawing at his arm, fighting desperately.

Minho’s stomach drops. Then, he realizes.

It’s you.

“OI!”

His voice booms through the swimming centre, and the Sigma Chi guy jolts, head snapping up in alarm. The guy’s face drains of color, hands immediately raising in surrender the moment he sees who the fuck he’s dealing with.

Because everyone knows about Minho.

Minho doesn’t stop until he’s standing right there, towering over him and then, the guy removes his hand from your head. The second his grip is gone, you break through the surface, gasping for air, your hands immediately gripping the pool wall as your body wracks with coughs. Water drips from your hair, your shoulders shaking as you struggle to breathe, to steady yourself.

Minho’s rage spikes so violently he sees fucking red. Without hesitation, he shoves the Sigma Chi guy straight into the pool. There’s a loud splash, followed by a string of panicked curses, but Minho ignores him. His focus is on you.

He crouches immediately, reaching down and with zero effort, he pulls you out of the pool. The moment you’re standing, you cling to him, your body still trembling, coughs shaking through you. Minho wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer, his other hand smoothing your soaked hair down in slow, calming motions.

"Want me to call Chan?" His voice is low, controlled, but his fury is boiling beneath the surface.

You shake your head, still gripping onto him, your fingers curled tightly into his skin. You don’t say anything, don’t let go, just keep holding onto him like he’s the only stable thing in the fucking world right now.

Minho doesn’t move. Just keeps rubbing your back, keeps smoothing your hair down, keeps holding you until your breathing steadies.

Behind him, the Sigma Chi guy sputters in the water before shouting, "What the fuck, Minho?!"

Minho doesn’t look at him. "What the fuck you?" His voice is sharp, cutting, layered with undiluted venom. "What the fuck are you doing trying to drown her?"

The guy scoffs, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “She deserved it!”

Minho’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex against your back as he holds you tighter, keeping you as far away from this fucker as possible. “Oh yeah? How?” His voice is calm, too fucking calm, and dangerous.

The guy’s eyes flare with resentment, his face twisting in rage. "She fucking humiliated me! She rejected me! Like anyone else would even be interested in her!"

Minho feels your fingers tighten around him, your whole body tensing against his.

That’s it. That’s all it takes.

Minho shifts, turning to face you, his voice gentle now, quiet. "Go get dry and dressed," he murmurs, his hand still soothingly rubbing your back. "We'll get coffee, yeah?"

You nod, hesitating only slightly before finally slipping away, heading toward the women's locker room. Minho watches you disappear through the doors before he finally turns back.

Minho crouches at the edge of the pool, his lips curling into a grin, but there’s nothing friendly about it. It’s the kind of grin that makes people sweat, the kind that carries the weight of a promise. One soaked in violence and bad fucking decisions. The Sigma Chi guy treads water below him, still coughing, still glaring, but there’s a flicker of something else behind his eyes now. Unease.

Minho tilts his head, fingers drumming against his knee like he has all the time in the world. “You wanna drown someone smaller than you?” he muses, voice light, almost conversational. “Someone who’s too shy, too fucking kind, too scared to fight back?” His head tips forward slightly, his grin widening. “Well, now, you’ve pissed me off.”

And then he moves. With zero hesitation, Minho’s hand shoots forward, grabbing the fucker by the collar and shoving him straight down into the water.

There’s a choked gasp, followed by a violent splash, but Minho doesn’t let go. He watches as the guy’s arms flail, his hands grabbing at nothing, his legs kicking uselessly beneath him. It’s not panic yet, not fully, but Minho can see it brewing, feel it building, and he revels in it.

It’s not even close to what the bastard did to you, but Minho doesn’t need long. Just a few seconds. Just enough to make a point. Beneath the surface, bubbles rise as the guy thrashes, his fists hitting at Minho’s wrist, but Minho doesn’t budge.

And then, just when he starts to struggle harder, just when the panic fully sets in, Minho yanks him up by his hair.

The guy breaks the surface with a ragged gasp, sputtering, coughing, trying to push his wet hair out of his eyes. His breathing is shaky, his expression furious, but it’s fury laced with fear now.

Minho leans in closer, voice low, steady, sharp as a fucking blade. “I see your face around her ever again,” he murmurs, tightening his grip in the guy’s hair, forcing their eyes to lock, “and you won’t resurface next time.”

The guy stills. His whole body goes rigid, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, and Minho watches as his brain finally fucking catches up. Minho lets go, standing up smoothly, towering over the water-drenched mess below him. He doesn’t need to say anything else. The warning is clear enough. And if the bastard is smart, he’ll take it.

------------------------------------------

Minho steps out of the pool area, rolling his shoulders as his gaze immediately finds you sitting outside the women's locker room. You’re curled up on one of the plastic benches, elbows resting on your knees, fingers playing with the hem of your white cropped hoodie. Your black sweatpants are slightly too long, pooling around the tops of your scuffed white Converse, and your damp blue hair is still tied back, the silver strands at the front framing your face.

You look small like this, curled in on yourself, your usual quiet presence even quieter than usual.

Minho exhales, schooling his expression into something lighter, something easier. He won’t make this worse for you by hovering too much, by pressing for details you probably don’t want to give.

Instead, he stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly. "I'm gonna go throw some clothes on, and we'll go, okay?"

You blink up at him, nodding once, your fingers still idly tugging at your hoodie sleeve.

Minho doesn’t hesitate. He turns and strides into the men’s locker room, making quick work of peeling off his swimming trunks. His body is still aching from hours of practice yesterday, and now with the added exertion of holding someone underwater, his muscles protest every movement.

Still, he moves fast, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and a fitted hoodie, leaving his damp hair to dry on its own. Within minutes, he’s stepping back outside, rejoining you where you’re still sitting in the exact same position.

He doesn’t give you a chance to hesitate.

"Come on," he murmurs, gently pulling you up to stand, his arm automatically wrapping around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. He keeps his grip loose, non-restrictive, letting you lean in as much or as little as you want. "We’ll get you some tea or coffee, yeah? It'll help."

You nod again, your body moulding slightly into his warmth, and Minho exhales softly, steering you toward the exit.

The air outside is cool, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the pavement as Minho leads you toward the frat house.

“We can go back to the house,” he says, keeping his tone casual, like this is just another normal day. "Everyone has lectures or shit to do, so it'll be quiet."

You nod again, your gaze fixed ahead, silent but steady.

Minho watches you for a second before tightening his arm around you slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else. He just keeps walking, keeps leading you forward, until the swimming centre is nothing but a fading memory behind you.

The frat house is exactly as chaotic and disgusting as Minho expects when he pushes the door open, stepping inside with you tucked at his side. You glance around, eyes scanning the absolute mess that litters the floors, the couch, the countertops, crushed beer cans, abandoned hoodies, a pair of sneakers that definitely aren’t the same size, and an inflated condom bobs around the hallway.

Minho kicks it out of the hallway like it personally offended him, muttering under his breath before leading you toward the kitchen.

You follow silently, your steps slow, as if still processing everything from earlier. Minho keeps one eye on you, making sure you’re not checking out mentally before focusing back on the kitchen doorway.

And then, you trip. Minho's arm shoots out immediately, catching you before you even come close to hitting the ground, steadying you with ease. But instead of focusing on you, your eyes drop to the floor, to the thing that nearly sent you flying or rather, the someone.

There, sprawled across the cold fucking tile, is a guy with fluffy brown hair, dead asleep. His cheek is smushed against the floor, arms sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly over the other, like he just died mid-walk and collapsed.

You blink.

Minho exhales through his nose. "That’s Jisung," he says, bored, like this is the most normal thing in the world. "He’ll literally sleep anywhere. The fact that he’s still here means Felix isn’t, or else his clingy little boyfriend ass would’ve coaxed him into sleeping somewhere socially acceptable."

You nod, still staring at the grown-ass man sleeping peacefully on the filthy frat house floor.

Minho steps over him without hesitation before glancing back at you. "Just step on him."

You frown. "That’s cruel."

Minho smirks. "It’s Jisung, it’s fine."

You shake your head and carefully step around him instead. But Minho steps directly on Jisung’s back. There’s a grunted noise from below, a sleepy, confused “fuck off”, but Jisung doesn’t even move, just shifts slightly before settling back into deep unconsciousness.

Minho moves on, making a beeline for the kettle, rolling his shoulders as he opens a cabinet stuffed full of tea bags, instant coffee packets, and a variety of shit he barely remembers buying.

"Any preference for tea?" he asks, glancing at you over his shoulder. "I have every kind you can think of."

You hesitate for a second before murmuring, "Green tea."

Minho nods, pulling a box from the cabinet with one hand while reaching for the kettle with the other. "Honey?"

"Yes, please."

He hums, setting the kettle on before turning to face you, leaning against the counter. His gaze lingers on you for a second before he says, voice still casual but laced with something sharper, "So. What happened with that Sigma Chi dick?"

You don’t answer immediately, fingers curling slightly against the hem of your hoodie. Then, finally, you sigh, voice quiet but steady.

"He and his friends cornered me. He asked me on a date, I said no, and then, well, you saw how he took that." Your lips press together briefly before you add, "He was waiting for me when I arrived at the pool."

The sharp, earthy scent of tea fills the kitchen as the kettle steams, and from the floor, Jisung sniffs like a fucking bloodhound. His eyes crack open groggily, still half-asleep, but immediately locked onto the source of the smell.

"Tea," he mutters, voice rough from sleep. "Me want."

Minho doesn’t even glance down, just rolls his eyes as he pulls two mugs from the cabinet.

Jisung starts to push himself up but pauses mid-motion, blinking slowly as his gaze shifts to you, still seated at the table. His head tilts, squinting slightly, like he’s trying to confirm whether or not you’re real. 

"There’s a Smurfette in the kitchen," 

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Jisung, this is Y/N," he says, setting a mug down in front of you before handing you a spoon. "She’s my swimming teacher, my friend, and Chan’s friend."

Jisung blinks again, brain still not fully operational. "Chan has friends?" he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes before his head snaps up properly, realization finally fucking hitting. "Wait, wait, wait, you’re Minho’s mystery teacher?"

Minho sighs. "Give him a minute," he mutters to you. "His two brain cells need time to fucking jumpstart."

Jisung doesn’t even register the insult. Instead, he points at you, eyes wide, and then immediately swivels back to Minho. "What the fuck did you do to the poor girl?!" His tone is accusatory, like Minho’s some villain who just kicked a puppy. "She’s soaked and sad!"

Jisung scrambles up onto his feet, rubbing his eyes before dramatically throwing himself between you and Minho, arms outstretched like some tragic hero. "It’s okay, honey, I’m here to protect you from the big meanie."

You blink at him, processing the absolute whirlwind of energy that just came flying at you, before calmly saying, "Minho helped me."

Jisung freezes and his arms drop slightly, his brows furrowing as his lips purse in deep confusion. He turns to you slowly, like he’s trying to process words that don’t make sense. Then, with absolute seriousness, he asks, "Minho? Lee Minho? Helped someone?!"

Minho just rolls his eyes, stirring the tea, but Jisung isn’t done. His brain pivots instantly, fixating on you instead. He squints at you, tapping his chin. "You look like you have anxiety. I have anxiety. That makes us anxiety buddies."

You blink as Minho groans, setting his mug down with a small thud. "Jisung, she doesn’t need your crackhead anxiety energy right now. She needs calm."

You shrug, voice still soft. "I don’t mind."

Jisung immediately flips Minho off before he slides into the chair beside you. With zero hesitation, he digs into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small fidget toy, a soft, squishy ball that glows slightly when squeezed, and places it in your hand.

"Here, these help," he says. His voice is genuine, no longer teasing, just light and warm and real.

You look down at the toy for a second before wrapping your fingers around it, testing the texture, feeling the slight give as you squeeze. It’s simple, but oddly grounding, and when you look up again, Jisung is grinning at you.

"It’s okay," he says, nodding sagely. "Minho might seem like a dick, but he’s nice."

You don’t hesitate. "I know."

At that, Minho pauses, his spoon still stirring, but his lips twitch slightly, a hidden smile that he quickly hides behind his mug as he takes a slow sip of tea before he turns back to the counter, grabbing the jar of honey and twisting off the lid. He dips a spoon in, watching the thick golden liquid drizzle into the mug, swirling into the warm tea as he stirs. His movements are unhurried, the soft clink of the spoon against ceramic filling the kitchen.

Behind him, Jisung shifts in his chair before he speaks again, voice more curious than concerned. "Uh, Minho, what’s wrong with her?"

Minho glances over his shoulder and immediately spots it. You’re completely still, your eyes locked straight ahead, your fingers still fidgeting with the squishy toy Jisung gave you, but your expression is vacant like someone hit a pause button on you.

Minho exhales through his nose, setting the honey jar down. "She’s having a seizure."

Jisung frowns, turning toward you, his head tilting as he waves his hand in front of your face. No reaction. You don’t blink, don’t shift, don’t even seem aware of the movement at all.

Jisung leans back slightly, processing, before muttering, "Aren’t seizures more-" He suddenly jerks his arms and shakes his whole body violently, mimicking full-body convulsions.

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Different type of epilepsy, dumbass. She’s just not here right now."

Jisung drops the act, blinking at you with open fascination. "Dude, this is cool as fuck. I need to learn how to disassociate like this. My brain never fucking shuts up."

Minho just rolls his eyes, turning back to the counter and grabbing your mug. He lifts it carefully, making sure the tea is mixed properly, before moving back toward the table.

Just as he sets the mug down in front of you, your body jerks slightly, and then you blink. Your hands twitch around the fidget toy before your gaze refocuses, flickering around as if you’re reorienting yourself.

Minho watches, giving you a second before speaking. "Tea’s ready, mermaid girl."

Your eyes drop to the mug in front of you, your fingers hesitating for half a second before wrapping around the warm ceramic. You don’t say anything, don’t acknowledge what just happened. And Minho doesn’t press.

He just leans back in his chair, watching as you slowly bring the mug to your lips, your fingers still curled around Jisung’s fidget toy.

Minho arrives at the swimming centre late Friday night, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he approaches the entrance. The air is crisp, the quiet hum of streetlights buzzing faintly in the background. He spots you immediately, standing just outside the doors, your fingers fiddling anxiously with the strap of your bag.

You’re dressed in beige cargo pants, the fabric slightly oversized, hanging comfortably around your frame. A white knit sweater is layered over top, the sleeves slightly too long, the hem brushing just below your waist. A beige cap sits snugly on your head, your hair tucked back neatly, and your white sneakers scuff lightly against the pavement as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

Minho slows his steps, his brows pulling together slightly. "You okay?"

Your fingers still against the strap for half a second before you nod, but your voice is quiet, controlled. "I didn’t want to go in without someone checking he wasn’t waiting again."

Minho nods once, his jaw tightening as a familiar wave of irritation flickers through him. He doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as he guides you inside with him. His gaze scans the space immediately, sweeping across the pool deck, the empty bleachers, the locker room hallways. His muscles are tense, his grip slightly firmer than usual, but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

After a few moments, he exhales through his nose. "I think you’re good," he murmurs, finally glancing down at you. His arm squeezes briefly, reassuring, before he steps back. "Meet you in the pool?"

You nod once, your voice slightly steadier. "We’re working on breaststroke in the deep end today."

Minho smirks, shaking off the lingering tension. "Great."

He heads toward the men’s locker room, stripping off his hoodie and jeans as he moves. His body is still sore as fuck from practising all week, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined. He tugs on his black swimming trunks, running a hand through his hair before stepping back out toward the pool.

The moment he does, his eyes immediately find you.

You’re standing by the edge, adjusting your navy yoga shorts, your posture casual, your skin still slightly damp from warming up earlier. You’re not wearing your usual T-shirt over your swimsuit this time, just a navy bikini top, the fabric snug against your frame, exposing more skin than usual.

You catch him looking and exhale through your nose, tilting your head slightly. "I forgot my T-shirt." Your voice is as even as always, but there’s a hint of hesitation, like you’re expecting a reaction. "Is that okay?"

Minho grins immediately, his gaze sweeping over you without shame as he hops into the pool, the water sloshing around him as he lands. His smirk is lazy, teasing, eyes glinting.

"More than okay," he says smoothly, shaking the water from his hair.

You don’t react. Just tilt your head slightly, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. But Minho notices the way your fingers pause slightly against the waistband of your shorts before you follow him into the water.

Minho paddles out into the deeper part of the pool, his strokes steady, his muscles aching slightly but functioning better than they ever have in the water. You swim beside him, your movements smooth, effortless, like the water bends around you rather than resists. The contrast is almost funny, where you glide, Minho is still learning, still adjusting, but for the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s fighting against the pool itself.

“Remember what I taught you,” you say, your voice lighter than usual, more open. There’s a warmth to it now, something easier, something softer.

Minho grins. “Obviously,” he scoffs, then actually fucking does it—his arms and legs moving in sync, his body pushing forward without immediately sinking. It’s not perfect, but it’s breaststroke, and it’s working.

You watch for a few moments, and then, to his absolute fucking delight, you smile at him.

“What now? I’m like a fucking fish!”

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “At best, you’re at a six-year-old’s swimming competency.”

Minho gasps, hand dramatically slapping his chest. "How fucking dare you-"

His overreaction costs him immediately. The second he loses focus, his rhythm breaks, and his body tilts awkwardly, sinking slightly. His instincts kick in, panic flaring for half a second, but before he can do anything, you move first.

You dive forward, reaching out without hesitation, your hands gripping his arms, steadying him, keeping him above water before he can actually fuck himself over.

Minho exhales sharply, adjusting, getting his balance back, and then grins triumphantly as he resumes swimming, this time more controlled. “You,” he pants, paddling closer to you, his voice smoother, cockier. “You’re a fucking miracle worker.”

You glance away, almost shy, before nodding slightly, the corners of your lips twitching again. Minho watches you for a beat longer before he moves.

Without thinking, without second-guessing, he surges forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. His fingers tangle into your damp hair, and before you can react, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is hot and demanding, his lips moving over yours with no hesitation, no uncertainty, just pure fucking intention. His other hand grips the pool ledge, holding you right where he wants you, his body pressing against yours, chest-to-chest, nothing between you but water and heat.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your thighs squeezing slightly as you pull him closer, and he fucking groans into your mouth, his fingers tightening in your hair as he kisses you deeper, harder, hungrier. Your hands find his shoulders, gripping lightly, nails digging in as you kiss him back, the slow burn of tension between you finally fucking snapping.

Minho’s hand slides down, dragging over your thighs, your hips, your waist, mapping out your skin like he’s memorizing it, like he’s claiming it, like he’s been waiting for this the entire fucking time. And then, slowly, he pulls back, his breathing slightly uneven, his forehead resting against yours as he smirks. “I’m gonna take you on a date,” he says, voice rough, but amused, like the words just popped into his head and stuck.

You blink at him, slightly dazed, and he grins. “Somewhere where I have the high ground,” he muses, still catching his breath. “Like football.” His fingers trail lazily down your spine, and he smirks even wider. “Yes. I’m going to teach you how to play football.”

You stare at him for a second, and he knows you’re about to call him a dumbass, but before you can, he tilts his head slightly. “Wanna go on a date?”

There’s a pause, a small one, but a pause nonetheless, before you finally nod. "Sure."

The college football field is eerily quiet this late at night, the floodlights casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The grass is slightly damp from the evening air, but the field itself is pristine, untouched, a perfect stretch of green beneath the stadium lights.

You stand near the centre, arms crossed loosely over your chest, dressed in black leggings, black Converse, and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. The fabric clings to your frame just enough to be flattering, but loose enough to be comfortable, your movements easy, fluid, as you watch Minho with quiet curiosity.

Minho, on the other hand, is grinning like a fucking idiot, clearly thrilled about whatever the fuck he has planned for tonight. In his hands, he holds his black and red #25 jersey, the fabric slightly worn but clearly well taken care of.

"Put it on," he says, handing it over with zero explanation.

You eye him for a second before taking it, fingers brushing against the material as you pull it over your head. The scent of fabric softener, faint cologne, and something distinctly Minho lingers in the material, comforting, familiar in a way you hadn’t expected. Minho watches, clearly pleased, before stepping closer and placing a football helmet on your head.

It immediately slips forward, covering your eyes. There’s a beat of silence. Then Minho sighs, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe we forget the helmet. Time to learn football."

You adjust the jersey, pushing the sleeves up slightly before glancing at him. "You know, I had hoped our date would involve food."

Minho waves a hand dismissively. "Food later. I’ll cook for you. I’m the best cook in the frat." His smirk widens. "But right now, I get to teach you something."

You exhale through your nose, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue, Minho tosses you a football.

You reach for it and miss completely. The ball thuds against the ground, bouncing off into the distance.

Minho throws his head back, letting out an obnoxiously loud whoop, his hands shooting up toward the sky. "YES!" He claps his hands together. "You suck at something! Thank you, God! Finally!"

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. "Shut up."

Minho grins, clearly delighted. "Okay, can you run?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Yes."

Minho smirks. "Of course you can. At least you’re terrible at catching. You need a flaw, sweetness, and God has finally given you one."

You don’t dignify that with a response, just watch as he tosses another football toward you. You reach for it and miss again. With a deep sigh, you drop your hands. "This isn’t fun."

Minho hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, he snaps his fingers. "Okay, let’s make it fun." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something lower, smoother. "Kisses. Lots of kisses. If you can take this ball from my hands, I’ll reward you."

You tilt your head, stepping closer. "Or," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers brushing against his as you lean in. "You could fuck me in your jersey."

Before he can process what the fuck just came out of your mouth, you snatch the ball straight from his hands and sprint. Minho freezes. His brain short-circuits completely, his entire system rebooting like a fucking crashed computer. His hands are still outstretched, fingers still slightly curled, like they haven’t quite registered the loss of the ball yet.

His brain screams at him to move, but all he can do is blink rapidly as the words repeat in his head on a fucking loop. 

Then, finally, he reacts. "HEY!" His body jerks forward, snapping into motion as he scrambles to chase after you, his feet digging into the turf as he takes off.

But, you’re faster. You fucking sprint, your movements quick and controlled, your legs carrying you with ease as you gain distance. Minho grits his teeth, pushing harder, but you’re already ahead, already laughing breathlessly as you weave across the field.

The cool night air rushes past as you sprint across the field, the football tucked securely under your arm. Your heart pounds, not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer exhilaration of being chased.

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see Minho gaining on you, his strides long, powerful, relentless. His expression is pure determination, sharp and focused, but beneath it is a grin, a cocky, teasing thing that says he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Before you can push forward, before you can even think about trying to outrun him again, he lunges. His arms wrap around your waist, and for a split second, the world tilts. But instead of hitting the ground hard, he twists mid-fall, flipping the position so you land right on top of him, his back hitting the grass instead of yours. The impact is cushioned, controlled, his body taking the fall for you effortlessly.

You blink down at him, breathless, the warmth of his body radiating up through your clothes.

Minho’s grin is smug, his dark eyes flickering in the dim stadium lights. "Nicely played," he murmurs, his voice low, amused, his hands still resting against your waist, fingers just barely digging into your hips.

You smile, something mischievous flickering behind your usually calm gaze. Slowly, deliberately, you lean down, your lips barely brushing against his, teasing, soft, fleeting before you’re gone again.

You push off of him, sprinting away before he can even think about stopping you, the ball still firmly in your grasp. Minho bursts out laughing, a full-bodied, genuine laugh, as he scrambles back to his feet, his boots digging into the turf as he launches himself after you.

"Come on, sweetness!" he calls after you, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. "You can’t run forever!"

You know he’s right, his endurance is better, his reaction time quicker, and before you can dodge, before you can make another move, he snatches your wrist mid-sprint.

With one fluid motion, he spins you back into his chest, your body colliding with his, and in an instant, his mouth is on yours. The kiss is nothing like the last one.

This one is fierce, unapologetic, possessive, his hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your skin, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you there, as if making sure you’re not slipping away again.

Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away, don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess. Instead, you press closer, your fingers gripping at his clothes, your entire body melting into the kiss like you’ve been waiting for it.

Minho makes a low, satisfied noise, something deep and approving, something that vibrates against your lips as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss even further, like he can’t help himself.

The football? 

Completely forgotten.

The swimming centre is buzzing with faint echoes of water slapping against tile, but the real noise comes from the group of seven loud-mouthed Alpha Phi assholes standing at the edge of the pool, all of them dressed in various pairs of swimming trunks, looking either confused, bored, or outright suspicious.

Minho stands in front of them, hands on his hips, grinning like he owns the fucking place.

"Good afternoon, bitches," he announces, his voice echoing through the space. "Meet Y/N."

You’re standing slightly behind him, relaxed but observant, dressed in your usual yoga shorts and a bikini top, arms loosely crossed as you watch them all process the introduction.

Chan, standing closest, immediately steps forward and wraps you into a warm, familiar side hug, squeezing lightly before pulling back just as quick. You return it, a small smile forming as his presence is steady, grounding, something safe.

Jisung, already grinning, waves happily at you, his expression bright, easy, open—completely different from the crackhead energy he had the first time you met him. You wave back, your movement small but genuine, and Jisung nods approvingly, like he’s decided he fully supports your existence now.

Then Hyunjin, who has been watching Minho with pure suspicion, tilts his head, arms crossed over his chest. "Why are we here, Minho, and why the fuck are you in swimming trunks?"

Minho’s grin widens, clearly thrilled to finally say it. "Because, dear Hyunjin, I can swim." He claps his hands together, turning slightly as he throws his arms out dramatically. "And I'm here to prove it to all you bitches." Then, his voice shifts, going softer, more playful, as he turns to you. "Not you, baby."

Your lips twitch slightly, but you don’t say anything, just watch as Hyunjin’s jaw actually fucking drops.

"What?" Hyunjin sputters, looking wildly at the others. "Are we being punked? Are there cameras? No fucking way."

Chan, still processing, frowns slightly before turning back to you, his eyes narrowing. "Y/N, you and Minho?"

You nod once, your face calm, unreadable.

Chan immediately loses it. "WHAT? NO, NO, NO! NOT MY LITTLE BABY!"

And then, before you can react, he fucking cradles you. Chan, all muscle, all protective instinct, literally wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re an actual fucking child, his voice dramatic, pained. "This is a disaster. This is the worst thing to ever happen. No. Nope. I refuse. We are undoing this. Y/N, blink twice if you need saving."

Minho, completely unfazed, crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he waits for Chan’s meltdown to pass.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Minho waves him off, stepping forward, leaning casually against your shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that Chan is still holding you like a toddler. "I corrupted your baby. Wasn't really hard anyway. It's me, Chan. Time to accept it."

Chan groans loudly, shaking his head. "I hate this. I hate everything."

Minho grins wider, fully basking in the moment. "And anyway, none of that matters because the real point is-" He gestures toward the pool with both arms, dramatic as ever. "Y/N taught me how to swim, so my only flaw? Gone. I am now perfect."

Jisung bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach, literally bending over as he wheezes. "Your only flaw? Minho, you are the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever met."

Hyunjin claps sarcastically, still looking personally betrayed. "Wow. Wow. I’m so happy for you. This is truly a moment for all of us."

Seungmin leans against the edge of the pool, arms crossed, his expression completely unimpressed as he watches Minho stand there like he’s about to unveil the greatest athletic achievement of all time.

“Get to swimming then, Tinky Winky,” Seungmin deadpans.

Minho’s head snaps toward him so fast it’s a miracle his neck doesn’t break. “Fuck you,” he shoots back, flipping him off before stepping toward the edge.

And then, without another word, he hops into the pool.

The water splashes around him, cool against his skin, but he barely registers it before he pushes off the wall, kicking off with force, and starts breaststroking up and down the pool. His movements are controlled, precise, smooth, nothing like the floundering disaster he started with weeks ago.

It’s not perfect, but it’s damn good.

The guys watch for a few moments, still processing the fact that Minho, Lee Minho, the man who refused to even put a toe in the deep end, is actually swimming like a normal fucking person.

“Pssst, Y/N,” Hyunjin suddenly whispers, leaning in slightly. "Hi, I’m Hyunjin. How bad was he when he started?"

You tilt your head, your expression calm, innocent, but there’s a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "He wore a life vest and arm floaties."

Hyunjin’s hand flies to his mouth, trying to smother his snort, but it’s too late—a wheeze escapes him, and the others immediately zero in on the conversation.

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to make them hang on every word. "The first time he tried combining the arms and legs for breaststroke," you continue, straight-faced, "I thought he was going to die."

The guys erupt into laughter, the sound echoing through the swimming centre, bouncing off the walls as Chan doubles over, clutching his stomach, while Jisung literally collapses onto Felix. Seungmin is wheezing, Changbin is cackling, and Jeongin actually has to sit down on the edge of the pool from laughing so hard.

You smile innocently in Minho’s direction just as he reaches the wall, finishing another length.

He catches the look on your face immediately, and his own grin grows wider. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin, still laughing, straightens up instantly, clearing his throat. "Oh, uh, nothing, right Y/N?"

You tilt your head, playing along effortlessly. "Nothing."

Minho narrows his eyes slightly, clearly not buying it, but before he can say anything else, he reaches up, grabs Hyunjin’s wrist, and yanks him straight into the pool.

Hyunjin yells in betrayal as he hits the water, arms flailing dramatically, his voice muffled by the splash as he disappears beneath the surface.

The others cheer loudly, jeering as Hyunjin resurfaces, coughing and spluttering, glaring at Minho like a wet cat.

Felix and Jisung, still grinning, move toward you, offering their hands. Without hesitation, you take them, letting them help you into the water, the cool temperature washing over you instantly. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin, and Jeongin all hop in after, the pool filling with energy and laughter as the guys start splashing each other, the tension from earlier completely gone.

Then, from somewhere behind you, Seungmin calls out.

"CHICKEN!"

Minho turns to you immediately, his smirk returning full force. "Get on my shoulders, baby."

You raise a brow but don’t hesitate, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders as he ducks under slightly, guiding your legs around him before standing up fully, lifting you above the water with ease. For a second, the world tilts, your vision filled with stadium lights reflecting off the rippling pool, the sounds of laughter and splashing fading slightly as your focus shifts solely to Minho.

He’s looking up at you, his hands firm around your thighs, holding you steady. But his expression is different now, his usual cocky smirk softened, his dark eyes taking you in with something quiet, unreadable.

The lights from the pool cast a soft glow around you, catching on the strands of your blue and silver hair, making them shimmer like fucking stardust. And then, before he can even stop himself, Minho murmurs, almost in awe,

"You’re beautiful, you know that?"

You smile at him, a small, genuine thing, one that lights up your eyes. Minho smiles back instantly, warmth spreading through his chest, a deep, easy kind of happiness settling in his bones.

For the first time, he lets himself think about it, really fucking think about it. If the guys hadn’t bullied him into learning how to swim, if he hadn’t let his own stubborn pride push him to prove himself, he would have never met you.

And in Minho’s mind, that would have been the greatest fucking tragedy.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind

Lee Minho Taglist: @0haerireah0 @linowzzzz

Proofread by the lovely @eastjonowhere

[flowerandblood]

Death and Resurrection

The Gate of Salvation Universe Oneshot

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension, anxiety, doubts related to faith, religious guilt, breaking celibacy ]

[ description: When the Pope decides, after drawing inspiration from TV series, that they will go on a date, she knows that she cannot refuse. However, it turns out that their adventure ends differently than they both expected and a boundary is crossed from which there is no return. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place a few months after The Gate of Salvation and The Songs of Songs. It can be read as a oneshot, but at the same time it is a complement to the entire series.

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Where are we going?" She asked apprehensively − they had never gone underground together before, the cramped, dark corridor beneath the Papal Residence through which he led her while holding her hand smelled of centuries-old dampness.

His attire also made her uneasy − he was dressed all in a white tracksuit, a hood over his head and sunglasses with white frames on his nose.

He wore this outfit whenever he wanted to get away somewhere.

"We're going on a date." He communicated softly, as if he was just explaining to her what they were going to have for breakfast. She shook her head, looking back in horror, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Please, Holy Father. We can't." She mumbled helplessly, knowing that usually when he came up with an idea it was difficult to dissuade him from it.

She thought with horror that it was because of a TV series they had recently watched. He insisted that she show him the blockbusters she loved as a child on her laptop, so she decided to show him The Office for fun. She turned on a random episode and the main characters in it went on a date, leaving him bewildered.

She thought he would be disgusted by the jokes and humor in this series, but he was intrigued by something completely different.

"What's so great about dating? What's the point of it? Why can't they just meet up and talk about what's important to them?" He asked with a frustration that surprised her.

She realised that his years in the church and convent had completely disconnected him from the life he could have lived as a teenager.

She wasn't sure how she should explain this.

"It's true, however, you can't be serious all your life. Sometimes, as we are doing now, a couple feels like watching a film and just being together. It's pleasant then, for example, to go to eat ice cream, to take a walk in the park, to have shared memories, shared moments." She muttered, feeling embarrassed that her explanation was childish and that he certainly thought she was silly.

He, however, only pressed his lips together at her words, as if something in her words troubled him, his fingers beginning to play with the fabric of her dress covering her knees, trailing over her bare skin after a moment.

"Would you like to experience something like this?" He asked as if unwillingly, tense.

She knew she couldn't ask that of him.

What they were doing was too much anyway, and they both knew it.

She smiled at that thought, squeezing his fingers in hers.

"No, Holy Father. You give me more than I would dare to ask. I am happy and fulfilled." She said softly. His gaze lifted to her as if to see if she was telling the truth − his arm finally embraced her and drew her close, her cheek pressed lightly against his chest.

She was sure he'd forgotten about it, but he'd clearly taken her words so personally that he couldn't get over it.

"I had it all planned out. We’ll blend in with the crowd, have an ice creams, walk around the Vatican and come back. After this we can kiss if you want." He added after a moment, as if he thought that might be part of her ideal image of the event.

She swallowed loudly at the thought, feeling at once terror, discomfort and warmth in her heart, love for him, gratitude at how much he cared, how much he wanted to give her everything she could possibly need in his mind.

She pressed her lips together at the thought that when they stepped outside he hadn't let go of her hand − he intertwined their fingers together as they headed quickly down the main street between the cramped tenements, looking around.

"It should be somewhere in there. I checked on the map." He said excitedly, like a little boy pulling her behind him towards a café that held a huge fridge outside, where you could actually order ice cream.

She looked around as they got closer, afraid that by some miracle even though no one knew what he looked like, someone would connect the dots, someone would recognise him.

As if he always had to wear that bloody white tracksuit.

"Good evening." The girl standing at the counter greeted them, waiting for their order.

"Good evening. We'd like five scoops of ice cream in two different cones, please. What flavours do you want?"

"Five? That's too many, we won't eat it all." She muttered surprised, looking at him in disbelief. He turned towards her, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, all she saw was that he furrowed his brow.

"No? Are you sure?" He asked with disappointment, from which she scratched her cheek.

"I mean…if you are sure you can eat that much then, take it. I'll stick with two."

Holy Father seemed displeased, however, he cheered up when he saw the size of his cone with scoops in cream, vanilla, strawberry, toffee and blueberry. She watched with amusement as he struggled to eat with a plastic spoon what had started to run down the waffle into the bottom of his cone, herself taking her ice cream from the seller.

"How is it? Do you like it?" She asked with a laugh, seeing him lick his fingers, all sticky from the berry cream.

"Very much. It's delicious. What should we do now?" He asked, looking around, eating and at the same time trying not to stain his snowy white tracksuit.

"Let's just stroll."

They moved ahead arm in arm, looking around the evening skyline of the Vatican, focusing only on the food and this surprisingly pleasant moment.

"Have you done this before? Dating and all?" He asked reluctantly, as if the thought that she might have done it with another man before him made him uncomfortable. She looked at him indulgently, trying to hide a smile of amusement.

"Not really. I haven't had the opportunity. I have never been as close to anyone as I have been to you, Holy Father."

"Aemond."

"Pardon?"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking a bit of strawberry ice cream into his mouth.

"That's my name. I won't mind if you use it when we're alone." He muttered, visibly tense, as if what he'd said, the fact that he'd exposed himself to her terrified him.

She smiled involuntarily at his words, embarrassed.

"Very well."

After a few minutes, she could clearly see that the portion he'd ordered for himself had outgrown him − he was eating slower and slower, and it occurred to her that he'd gone pale when she'd long since finished eating her ice cream. He wanted to share his portion with her, but she shook her head.

"I can't fit any more. But if you don't have the strength to eat it, don't force yourself." She muttered, seeing him sigh heavily.

"Wasting food is a sin." He mumbled and continued eating, apparently trying not to think about the discomfort in his stomach.

It wasn't even a few seconds after he had squeezed the last bit of cone into himself when he vomited the entire contents of his stomach into one of the bins.

She ran up to him quickly, horrified, stroking his back, taking from his face the glasses that had rolled down his nose so they wouldn't fall right into his puke.

"Oh dear. Are you okay?" She asked tenderly, at the same time unable to hold back a smile of pity thinking that she had warned him after all.

He was like a little child.

When they returned back to his residence by the same route they had fled he wanted to go back to his room, although he usually insisted that she let him sleep in her bed.

"Let's go to my place. I don't want you to spend the night alone when you're feeling unwell." She said softly, grasping his fingers. He pulled down the hood from his head, all pale, fatigue in his eye.

"I ruined everything."

Though reluctantly, he followed her as she began to pull him towards her room. After he had brushed his teeth and brought himself to order, he lay on the bed without strength − he watched indifferently as she changed into her pyjamas, closing his eyes, as he always did when she revealed her naked flesh.

She was touched by how much respect he had for her, how important it was for him to treat her body with proper reverence.

She lay down beside him, turning off the lamp beforehand, his face immediately snuggled against her soft breasts.

"Do you love me?"

She froze and swallowed loudly, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad under his cheek, her hand that had been stroking his hair stopped in mid-motion.

"I love you. You are the love of my life."

She pressed her lips together when she heard him gasp, an indication that he was crying but didn't want her to see it. It took him a moment to get more out of himself, her lips placing warm, reassuring kisses on his head.

"Forgive me for not being able to give you what you need."

"You give it to me."

"You know what I mean. Sometimes I wonder…" He began and hesitated, swallowing heavily, as if afraid to say his words aloud.

"…I wonder what would happen if I left, if I married you. I imagine we would have had children, a house with a garden. That we would have had a dog. That we would pray in the evening and then make love and it wouldn't be a sin."

She shuddered at his words, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down her back, her body tensed, all hot.

"− I − you would not forgive me for that −" She muttered helplessly. She felt him rise up on his elbow, his lips parted in an accelerated breath, his cheeks swollen from tears.

"− for what? −"

"− that I have destroyed your life − pulled you away from God and your destiny −" She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling a warm tear fall from the corner of her eyes onto the pillow under her head.

He looked at her with a gaze filled with pain, breathing heavily, playing with the fabric of her shirt between his fingers.

"− but it is in your presence that I feel his presence most strongly − as if he were in the room with us −"

"− the devil takes the form of angels −" She mumbled wearily, letting the air out loudly, feeling that her throat was squeezed with pain.

Was this the moment?

The moment when she would have to say farewell to him, do the right thing?

"I have deceived you for too long. Forgive me. I will give my official notice tomorrow."

He looked at her dully, as if he didn't understand what she had just said, his breath stuck in his throat.

"− you said you love me −"

"− I do −"

"− that you won't leave me alone −"

"− I won't leave, not in my prayers − but I'm destroying your life, pulling you away from what matters −"

"− is it because of this stupid date? − I regret ever taking you there −" He hissed, as if he was furious at his idea and the woman who sold them ice cream.

"− no, of course not − Holy Father −"

"− Aemond −" He growled.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing hard, the first time she had seen him like this − his jaw clenched, his nostrils twitching in accelerated, anxious breathing, his gaze dark and cold.

She didn't recognise him.

"− don't you remember what I said to you when I first met you? − there is no greater sinner in the world than me − because I am eternally, eternally thirsty −" He said slowly and carefully, like a predator who was just slowly preparing to lash out at its prey.

"− do you think you know what I desire? − what I really need? − I'll show you −" He said lowly, not even giving her time to reply − his lips immediately clung to hers in an aggressive, impatient kiss that took her breath away, a startled, muffled squeal escaping from her throat.

She felt his body pressed her back against the bed as his hips began to rub his hard manhood hidden under the material of his sweatpants to the spot between her thighs making her shake with a strong, wonderful shiver of pleasure.

"− mghm −" She mumbled out, clenching her fingers in his hair as she felt his slick tongue invade deep into her throat, licking her with its tip − she was panting into his mouth, shocked, involuntarily responding by rocking her hips to his movements.

"− undress −" He breathed out, rising up on his knees, pulling the material of his sweatshirt over his head with a quick, impatient swipe of his hands − she stared at him with wide eyes, feeling her insides clench greedily around nothing at the sight of his bare chest.

Her trembling fingers quickly rose to the buttons of her shirt, undoing it one by one, exposing her skin piece after piece. She shuddered and moaned, surprised, as his hands pushed the material aside, revealing her breasts and stomach.

His lips parted in desire at the sight − his hand tentatively rose higher, running gently over her bare flesh, kneading and massaging her breast between his fingers.

For the first time he was looking at her naked body, at what he was doing, and she felt like she was going to die of desire. It seemed to her that everything that happened next was like a dream − his swollen lips that clung to hers, their panting as they impatiently slid every piece of their clothing off each other, when at last his bare skin pressed against hers.

"− Aemond −" She gasped out into his mouth, feeling his thick length rubbing against her achingly swollen folds, their hands trailing blindly over their naked, sweaty bodies, pressing into their exposed skin as if to melt them into one.

"− fuck − so warm − so soft − like silk −" He murmured, sliding his lips down to her jaw, neck and shoulders, leaving wet, sticky trails behind − her body arched back with her innocent, surprised whine as his mouth finally pressed down around her puffy, hard nipple and began to suck on it.

"− yes − God, yes −" She mumbled, involuntarily spreading her legs in front of him − she heard his grunt of delight as he moved his hips back in a soft motion so that a moment later she could feel the fat, leaking head of his cock begin to push against her slick opening.

She guided him with the movement of her body to where he should slide in, only to hear his sigh of delight a moment later as he thrust deeply into her with an impatient, desperate push of his hips.

"− yes − yes, yes, yes −" She panted, tilting her head back with her eyes closed, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his buttocks, startling him as she threw her legs around his waist, crossing them over his back.

Nothing but grunts and noises of pleasure left his throat as, with his lips pressed against her nipple, he pounded into her again and again with deep, greedy, fast thrusts, from which their bodies slapped against each other again and again with loud, sticky splats.

For the first time in her life, she was experiencing something so animal and spiritual at the same time − him deep inside her, stretching her tight, fleshy walls apart, doing what was natural to man, what Adam had done to Eve back in Eden.

"− forgive me − I −" He breathed out at last, as if with each successive brutal thrust of his hips he understood that there would be no turning back from this, that they had crossed a line after which nothing would be the same again, that he would take her for himself in every sense of the word.

"− inside me − please, inside me −" She mumbled helplessly, thinking only of the fact that she craved his seed inside her, that she could be his lover, his whore, bear his children if it meant spending her life by his side.

By the side of the man she loved.

She reached her peak with a sweet little moan of relief at the thought, at the image of herself and him, holding their children in their arms. She heard him gasp loudly at her words and closed his eyes, panting heavily as she suddenly felt something hot and sticky squirt out of him deep inside her.

"− f-fuck − fuck, oh, God −" He mumbled out, rocking his hips inside her with a loud click of their shared wetness for a moment longer, his mouth wide open, his eyes closed, as if he wanted to remember this moment forever.

After a moment, he looked at her − there was a calmness in his eyes and some kind of certainty, as if he already knew what was right.

"− marry me −"

[yandere-sins]

Hello Chief, I was kinda hoping you could continue Yandere Geralt? I was envisioning him chasing the reader through the woods, completely feral. Like he completely snapped after they was able to get away a second time, and prepare themselves for the hunt? What if they were able to get away for like a month or week?! So many options, but you can choose which scenario is best. I just want to read a feral geralt.

Chief... that's a new nickname unlocked! xD Thanks for requesting, sorry for taking so long!! I couldn't come up with a full-on scenario so I opted for more scenic headcanons, hope that is okay! ^-^

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❥ Geralt isn't the same after you managed to escape. Everyone can feel it, not just those who know him. He was always easy to identify as a witcher, but still, the rumors spread about a witcher, shrouded in dark clothes, stalking after prey. They say there's madness in his eyes and blood all over his body from those who crossed his path. If he comes to a town, people are quick to hide away, afraid he might mistake them for who or what he's searching, and he's known to appear in houses at night, searching basements and other hiding spots. No one dares to stop him, too afraid they might be the next victim to his blade. Rumors like these even reach your ears, only making you more careful not to be predictable for him, and so, the hunt continues.

❥ Lots of people and creatures have seen him ride through the forests, sword in hand, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Geralt doesn't care about who he encounters as long as it isn't who he is hunting. So it's no surprise that people start calling him feral and out of his mind when they encounter him taking a short, calculated break on his travels, always lost in thoughts and shrouded in an unapproachable aura. Some people try to reason with him, get him to trust their information, or take advantage of his situation by selling their own goods, but he's not that stupid. Because you wouldn't be so stupid, so he can't afford it either. Anyone who insists on having a lead won't live to see the day if it turns out to be wrong, so sooner or later, even these people stop approaching him.

❥ Because all he thinks about is you. Strangely enough, he is sure you are still alive and out there somewhere. You are nifty, you have the skills he taught you, and you have something else remarkably: determination. A smile creeps on his face when he imagines you struggling but pushing through. You managed to escape him with all his heightened senses, carefulness, and obsession. You wouldn't let yourself or your new freedom be endangered by carelessness. Geralt trusts in you taking care of yourself as long as he can't, no matter what you must do. And seeing how this is your second attempt already, you are sure to have grown wiser since the last time. Perhaps knowing he is always just a few steps behind you also reassures you. At least, that's what he tells himself.

❥ The ale tastes twice as good with you on his mind, making him sigh blissfully, a shiver of anticipation running through him. Oh, he can't wait to get you back. The thought alone makes his heart pump harder than ever before, his body struck by so many emotions that he can no longer suppress them, no matter if it is unlike him. Geralt thinks of all the things he'll do to you once you are back. Hug you, kiss you—just to name the good ones. Dragging you back to a safe space, crying and screaming, is a given. But this time, he'll also make sure you are gagged so you have time to think about your actions and all the worry you caused. You won't go a day without being chained up after your little stunt, the longer it takes to get you back, the more inclined Geralt is to break some bones to immobilize you further.

❥ Thinking about you is the only thing that can keep him sane. He feels like he has already lost too much, so without you, his carefully crafted nonchalantness, the calm and unbothered personality he has fooled everyone with, breaks into a million pieces. Only a handful of people got to see his other sides, the ones that are softer, kinder, less hard, and shaped by the world's darkness and his own discipline. But there are also sides only you have seen, the obsessive, possessive ones. Protectiveness lies in his field of work, but he's behaving like a dog only around you. It's something other people would be too scared to see, and at some point, you were, too. But now that you escaped him, you have proven that you understand him. You know what it takes to be with him and to take him on. What it's like to challenge him, order him, love him. You are the only one worthy of losing himself over, just like he thought. You are his.

❥ Every time he sees someone that resembles you, he gets so agitated. Both worry and anger overcome him, and Geralt, usually so good at suppressing unnecessary emotions, is helplessly overwhelmed by the outbursts. He is constantly taken aback when the person doesn't turn out to be you, another piece of his sanity breaking off as he immediately lets go of them again, not caring if they are hurt or if other people call out to him. How could he have mistaken them for you? They weren't even close to you. Nothing about them was as perfect and breathtaking as you are. It honestly disgusts him that he even touched them, and Geralt's been through a lot of shit before so that really shouldn't matter.

❥ On the lonely nights out in the woods, he barely sleeps, always listening, waiting for a sign of you. A small laugh, the snapping of twigs, your breath in his ear. If he didn't know it better, he'd say you are a daydream even in this nightmare he has to endure because of you. All he can do is imagine your hands on his body again, your sweet voice whispering apologies, your hair brushing his skin as you curl up against his chest. Life could be easy like this, peaceful, gentle. He could love you again and for the rest of your life, even after you ran from him. But every time Geralt does close his eyes, it's with the knowledge that he'll have you back. He will find you. Losing you isn't an option; it's not even a consideration. And then he'll hold you again, kiss you, tell you, you are safe as he wipes away the tears that will undoubtedly fall after your reunion. The thought of breaking your legs tastes amazing on his tongue, but the greatest pleasure will be telling you he loves you again.

[wordsvomit101]

(I probably only do this with cards I like in the future)

It is part 2 of Juno L Card, here is the original video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6e7GQxiTuY&rco=1 (credit to @shyanimeboi on X)

... I feel like I'm being accused of something I'm not. Defamatory, slander, the audacity of this guy

This is lore-accurate MC BUT STILL, how dare-

I wouldn't mind being a cat for a day you know, so I just lounge around wherever and being treated like those ancient royal Egyptian's cats is a must.

Oh?

Okay Juno, didn't know you could have the green tea energy but keep cooking

This is where I got the feeling that his fans must be watching somewhere behind the rubble like I just got that gut feeling they're watching and having ovaries overload or combusting on the spot right now

I almost believed him BUT THEN

HE REALLY GOING MEAN GIRL ON ME

If I were MC I would poke his eyes- Cause ain't no way you saying that to me with that face boy

So he DOES have mean girl energy in him. I like it, to observe it, but he better not use it on me because I will not take him seriously if he wants intimacy later, I'm not built like that

Yeah, dude what ya think??? I have a job and a house on there, unfortunately an achievement in this economy (I remember MC still has a house, they just chose to stay with Minhyeok because they didn't want to be in a space where their parents died, which is valid)

So his regular head tilting as a red chewing gum is actually mean it like this??? Damn ok-

I can't believe they have Satan and Gehenna making a move with Minhyeok before MC.

I still didn't forgive Satan for kissing Minhyeok before MC could

Sir????

Ignoring Ppyong's being a smug little bastard, it is actually really nice that they show how close MC is with Minhyeok and how much they care for each other. If they don't get together, it's fine by me, at least let them be platonic soulmates.

??? How much time did you spend time with Minhyeok on Earth? Either Minhyeok's scent was mad strong and lingered easily or they had been all over each other-

I KNOW IT IS HIM! Tell me how you got his scent on you! Spill the tea sis!

What?

Wait-wait-wait they actually serious?!

Excuse me, how the hell do you think I can do it??? Ya'll devils must be having some goofy as-hell imagination if you think I can do it

Oooh more detail to take note on

So anyway, they end up touching each other and live up to his kink, because they are be TOUCHING. And there are some details of how Minhyeok and MC used to touch and caress each other heads and how MC feels at ease just by the familiarity of it which is really really cute (இ‸இ`｡)

I am actually surprised how I got a lot of Juno's personality spot on in my two fics of him and he is already my favorite, but I like him a lot more now that we got to know him more than just a silly little red dough.

Please watch the rest in Hiki's (@shyanimeboi) YouTube video that I write down at the top (they're the actual angel here) and thank you for listening to me ramble, I will do this again once Minhyeok, Paimon, and Selaphiel L cards come out... But if they got the same paywall treatment then I might open my wallet if I really like it.

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Wild Thing

Jon Moxley x fem reader

A young Jon Moxley meets Y/n somewhere in CZW in 2009 (inspired by Mox’s book)

Mentions: of blood, drug use, swearing, fighting, kidnapping

Main Masterlist

Tonight was my first match in CZW’s Tournament of Death. I stood pacing back and forth in the locker room mentally preparing myself for the events that would occur when I could hear Eddie Kingston yelling at someone in the hallway. He sounded mad. The other men in the locker room exchanged looks and oos before one of them said “She sure is a feisty one isn’t she” to which the men all began to laugh. ‘Who is this she?’ I thought to myself. Eddie then stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him, preventing whoever was behind him from entering the room. He leaned against the door and I could hear angry knocking from the other side. “What does she want now?” said Danny Havoc. (But I just call him Grant) .“She wants to be in TOD, Jon won’t let her” Eddie explained. I didn’t know who this girl they were referring to was but she seemed pretty badass to me. A female wanting to participate in the tournament of death?! “Of course she does! Let me talk to her” said Grant with his thick Jersey accent. Eddie then opened the door to reveal a tall blonde in a Juicy Couture tracksuit. I was not expecting that. 

The gorgeous blond stormed into the room before running into the arms of Grant. “Tell Jon Zandig that I should be in TOD!” she yelled “Now doll, why do you want to be a part of TOD? You know I love ya but you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of shit,” he told her. 

“I want to prove that I can do the same thing you guys can do. Why is it that there are never any women wrestling in these shows? You know I can wrestle! I train my ass off and what do I get back? Nothing, because no one wants to hire a girl. They only want female wrestlers for swimsuit contests and dog food fights. I’m sick of doing that shit! I want to go out there and taste my own blood. TOD or not I want to show these people that I know how to wrestle!” The room was silent. I felt like an outcast, everyone seemed to know about this situation but me. 

Eddie was the first to break the silence. “Let me talk to Jon again. You know he likes you Y/n. I’m sure if you promise not to do anything stupid he will put you in the opener without TOD stipulations” 

Sure enough, Y/n got her match. I watched the match backstage with Grant, both of us hypnotized by what we were seeing. “Who is she?” I asked him, he almost looked shocked that I didn’t know of Y/n. “That’s Y/n, she’s the most badass bitch I have ever met. They call her the Hardcore Barbie because she looks like a Barbie doll and lives off death match wrestling. She’s really nice if you don’t piss her off. She also has good weed.” he told me 

I was so fascinated with her. I needed to know more about her. “Anything else I should know about her? She seems young?” I asked Grant. “Well, she started wrestling when she was 16 and she just turned 20. I know what you’re thinking, she won’t sleep with you, everyone here has tried. It’s so funny that these freaks think she would get with them. She travels with Kingston and me, so don’t you dare try nothing. I will kill you with my bare hands” 

Grant and I watched the rest of the match. I had never seen such a beautiful match. Y/n did in fact know how to wrestle. The man she stood across the ring from was twice her weight yet she picked him up with such ease. The fans loved seeing a pretty girl like herself beat up a sweaty dude. Y/n had beat the man to a pulp, she pinned him 1..2..3 and it was over. I thought it was funny how Grant watched on as a proud parent, that was his girl. I thought about what he said, how she rode with him and Kingston. Why did Eddie never mention Y/n before?

After the show, Y/n officially introduced herself to me. I felt like I was hypnotized by her beauty. She noticed how nervous I was around her and she used it to her advantage, inviting me to hang out after the show with Grant and Eddie. I had to accept, how could you not? 

Eddie explained to me why he hadn’t introduced me to Y/n before. He told me she was known for using her looks to her advantage. “So like she sleeps with people for matches?” I asked him “That’s gross, she would never do that. She mentally fucks you. If you look her too long in the eye you’ll fall right into her trance. She hypnotizes you and manipulates you. She looks all sweet but trust me she has a bad attitude” “So why do you hang out with her then?” I asked him 

“Because she’s fucken wild. She’s so fun to hang out with and she always has weed. Someone needs to look out for her. There are creeps out there man. For god sake she’s a skinny tall blond who lives in Juicy Couture, what do you think will happen?” he told me. Eddie had a good point. 

That night Y/n and I became good friends. Eddie was right when she said she was wild. Once she had a few drinks in her and some of the good shit she was the life of the party. I didn’t understand why Eddie kept Y/n a secret, sure you could tell that she had a few screws loose but don’t we all? For fucks sake if someone willingly wants to participate in TOD you know there’s some form of mental issues going on.

Just then a man approached Kingston and me. He had a fresh buzz cut, was covered in tattoos, had what seemed like a freshly broken nose and looked like the kind of guy who would have women chained up in his basement. “Where is she?” he spat, in a thick Russian accent. I could tell that he and Kingston knew each other, the tension was thick in the air. “Where is who?” Eddie spat back, his New York accent being more noticeable when he was mad. “You know who, stop playing dumb, bum” he responded. “You’re a real fucking idiot, Sasha, she left hours ago. I have no idea where she went but even if I did there’s no way I would tell you” Kingston spat. The men stood chest to chest, eyeing the other down. I did nothing, even I knew not to get involved in whatever this is. Now I didn’t know who the ‘She’ was that they were referring to but by now I think I had an idea. Then Grant came into the mix yelling “I told you if you ever showed your face here again I would fucking kill you” Just then an all-out brawl began. The two men began beating Sasha to a pulp. That’s when I noticed Y/n had vanished into thin air.

I let Kingston and Grant take care of Sasha and went looking for Y/n. In the distance, I heard the sound of broken glass. I followed the sound and found Y/n smashing the windows of a beat-up junk car with a baseball bat. She was mad, she looked evil. Now I knew why Eddie had warned me. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here? What are you doing Y/n?” She turned to face me and I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Her once bright green eyes had turned a deep forest colour, the whites of her eyes now red. Her makeup was smudged and her cheeks were stained with fresh tears. I was scared. I felt like she was staring into my soul, being able to read my every thought, know all my secrets. “What do you want, Mox?” she said through gritted teeth. “I just want to know what’s going on here. Why are Grant and Eddie beating the snot out of a guy named Sasha?” Her face dropped at the name, that told me what I needed to know.

Just then I heard someone yelling and honking a horn in the background. I turned to find Grant and Eddie yelling at us to get in the car! Y/n and I jumped in the car and sped off. The car was deathly silent. No one dared to say a word. I looked at Grant’s hands that gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were bloody and bruised, that’s when I noticed the blood on Eddie. The silence was broken when Y/n began to laugh, Grant and Eddie began laughing as well. “What the fuck happened back there?” I asked with genuine concern in my voice. “That jackass back there Sasha, I broke his nose after he followed me home after the show last week. I don’t even want to think about what his intentions were, "she said. “Not to mention 'someone' stole $500 out of my purse at the show today” “If he ever showed his face around here again I said I would kill him” Grant responded. “I smashed his windows because that’s what he gets for trying to kidnap me and stealing my $500” I was honestly speechless. “ I found a bunch of money in his car so it’s only fair I split the reward with all of you,” Y/n said. I watched her pull the fat wad of hundreds out of her pocket and began counting it. “$500 for Grant, $500 for Eddie, $500 for Mox and $1,500 for me. Thank you, Sasha” “Thank you Sasha the rest of us chimed in” From that moment I knew Y/n and I would be best friends. 

[bopbobpbobpbobpbobpbobpb]

Sleepover gone wrong on noesss

Writing underneath

It had all started so well. Simple plan. Simple. Plan.

Step one: become unpossesed

Step two: sleepover

Step three: pie

Step four: wait for mom to go to sleep then get out the ouja board and play fun sleepover games!!!!! Thats how it works!!!! Kris would know!! They've had plenty of sleepovers with Azzy, Noelle and

Step five: have fun and go sleep. (Kris would NOT be sharing everyone else has to sleep somewhere else)

That was the plan!!

It had started of so well. Kris had entered the room and Susie and Berdly, well did what They always did. Argue. It was friendly though!! They always do that it was normal. Noelle suggested truth or dare (a classic) and it was going well!! Bonding!! With friends!!! Kris had missed this. They had missed having so many people in their life, shouting amd screaming, having fun until they were too loud and Toriel had come into their room and remind them to be a little quieter. They had missed laughing and being "sneaky", talking about the most random things and playing little games. They had missed the noise and the warmth of the ones close to you just simply being there. Kris had finally resolved everything with Noelle Berdly and Susie. Until they just made that shit go crashing down.

One thing had led to another. Berdly truthed susie to tell something. Susie got defensive. Things got heated. They both lashed out. Noelle tried to diffuse the situation. Berdly said something. Noelle got pissed. Berdly said something. It struck a nerve. Kris saw red.

The whole room had stared at Kris in shock. Kris's eyes widened. No. No. They didn't mean that they didn't mean tha- Berdly rushed out. Eyes suspiciously shiny. There were only three of them left. Kris, Noelle and Susie. All of them could only stare dumbly at eachother. Shit SHIT. Kris CAN'T go back to before they CAN'T they CAN'T. Panic rose. Kris had just made up with Berdly and they immediately ruined it. Kris went after Berdly, determined to make things right again.

Except ...

Kris stood at the doorway, frozen. How do they do this? Their breathing got funny. WWAD What would Asriel do? He was good at this sort of thing wasn't he? But.. Asriel wasn't there. Only an idiot human and a crying bird on the footsteps. Kris thought about what to say. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it .you're my friend. I love you. Kris flushed no they could NOT say that don't be an idiot. No they had to say what they were sorry about right? Like uh: Im sorry i-

"are you just gonna stand there"

Kris flinched. Berdly sighed and continued looking away form Kris.

"I'm sorry" Kris could only say.

Berdly ignored them. Kris sat down on the steps next to Berdly.

"I didn't mean it" Kris looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"It's not true"

There was a silence.

"But what if it is" Berdly's voice cracked. Kris looked up in shock.

"What if I am" Berdly burried his face in his wings

" I AM a forgettable little bluebird and when I die no one will care because I have done nothing in life and I'm not exceptional at all and I was so mean and I -"

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"Berdly I was being a dumb shit who got mad and took things too far you ARE NOT foegettable you ARE exceptional and if you died I would be really sad and track down your murderer and kill them and you're my friend and i love yo-" shit shit shit shit.

Berdly faced Kris.

"What"

"What"

"What did you just say"

"If you died I would be sad and kill your murderer"

"No after that"

"You're my friend??"

"No the one after that"

"That was it"

"KRIS STOP GASLIGHTING ME"

"I'm not??"

Berdly laughed. Kris could not help but grin a little at the sight. Suddenly they stiffened the birb hugged them tightly.

"I love you too kris"

Suddenly there were two idiots crying that night.

[iznyangwoni]

EASY TO LOVE | chapter four !

Nicholas gave all of you five tickets each to invite whoever you wanted. And of course you had to invite Jungwon, but you doubted that he would’ve accepted without giving one to his friends too. You gave the remaining two to a couple of guys you know, not really thinking too much about it.

Honestly, you kind of hoped for Jungwon to dm you and ask for those tickets directly, but he never did and the party was in less than two days, so you gotta do what you gotta do.

Once its time for lunch, you’re sitting with your friends, checking your phone annoyed. Jungwon is still nowhere to be seen, and its starting to annoy you. “What’s with that face, princess?” You raise your head to look at Nicholas, who was eating nonchalantly.

“Oh she’s just nervous because her toy hasn’t given her any attention the last days” you roll your eyes annoyed at Moka’s comment, she’s right but she has no business saying it out loud. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be ignoring him, not the other way around.”

you sigh as you play with your food, too annoyed to even look up, never in your life has anyone ever dared to ignore you. You feel Sunghoon’s hand rest on your thigh, and for a second you think its just him being a really good friend, but when you raise your head you notice where he is looking.

He’s looking at Jungwon, who’s happily joking and talking with a girl. You’ve seen her somewhere, but for the life of you you cant remember her name. you scoff and immediately get up, not even caring about saying something to your friends. They know not to say anything when you’re not in the mood.

You reach Jungwon’s table, a fake smile on your face as you put your hands on the table calmly. “You haven’t texted me.” you say, without even greeting the table. Riki who was sitting right in front of Jungwon, seemed to get paler at your cold tone of voice.

Jungwon turns to look at you, interrupting the girl next to him. His eyebrows are furrowed, making him look even more attractive than he already is. “Was i supposed to?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle, your eyes falling on the girl next to him, sure she’s pretty. But not as pretty as you.

“You’ve been here for a week have you learned nothing?” Jungwon gets up, his tall figure and his broad shoulders making you feel so tiny against him, still, you dont let that intimidate you. “Are you going to make a scene?” You cant tell if you love or hate this part of him. The annoyed, feisty and rebel one. One thing’s sure, he’s hot as hell when mad. “I’m telling you how things work here,”

“Besides, i got a gift for you and your friends.” Jungwon raises his eyebrows, probably not expecting something like that from you. You take out the vip tickets from your bag, of course there’s only three of them. You didnt know he had another friend, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have given her one.

“Thank you, Y/N… but-” you laugh sarcastically before he can say something else, already not liking that ‘but.’ “You, Jake and Riki,” You look at the other girl, who doesnt seem too surprised about your scene, but definitely disappointed. You notice her bag, its an old valentino bag, and by old you definitely dont mean vintage. “There’s no space for bags two seasons behind.”

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST @unhakki @firstclassjaylee @en-verse @mxxninthesky @seunghancore @erenmyman @jiamini @yoonzns @wonswondrland

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to you ignoring them for your cat

requested by anon: "hi best friend could i req an scenario similar to the puppy one u posted but with a kitty instead <3 thank u ily"

notes: literally speed wrote this lmao. the cat counterpart to the dog post i wrote somewhere

masterlist

seungcheol

literally does not care the slightest if your cat is the fluffiest, prettiest loveliest little kitten in the world. he is going to be annoyed no matter what. how dare you move your focus away from him to something else. sits there and pouts and whines for your attention to be back on him immediately because it is just unacceptable that you looked away from him for more than two seconds

jeonghan

trails off when your cat comes padding up to you, rubbing against your knee, and has half a mind to pretend to be dramatically upset that you're no longer listening to him but your cat is just. very very very cute so he just lets it be. definitely frowns and pretends to be angry once you finally look up at him though, and demands kisses as apology

joshua

your cat is fussing around in your lap while joshua is trying to explain something to you. instead of getting upset that you're not focused on him tho, shua just grins and clicks his tongue and makes all sorts of noises until the cat is coming over to him and within seconds he has it purring in his arms and carries on w his story, smiling smugly

junhui

it's!!!! a cat!!!! you have a cat!!!! :D honestly no one in the room is paying attention to what he's saying anymore. not you, not your cat, and not even him. doesn't even remember what he was going to say. sits there and pets your cat and makes all sorts of adorable noises like you're not even there and it's just him and the cat in their own world

hoshi

when he notices that you're not paying attention to what he's saying, he (gently) grabs your cat, holds it up to his face and says, "which of us is cuter??? huh??" effectively drawing your attention back to him. gets offended when you say your cat is cuter bc he's basically just a hamster. sulks. needs to be told he's the cutest and the cutest tiger otherwise he's not talking to you for the rest of the day

wonwoo

notices your cat before you do, starts ignoring you for the cat almost immediately. scratches behind the cat's ears, making it purr and roll over in happiness and you're just watching in shock bc one minute wonwoo is telling you something stupid that mingyu did and the next you're being ignored by your cat and your bf who seem to be engaging in some sort of telepathic conversation

woozi

just laughs as he watches you play with your cat who's getting all fussy and whiny in your lap. doesn't mind that you're essentially ignoring him, and definitely reaches over and asks if he can stroke your cat's fur too once you finally draw your attention back to him

minghao

your cat is essentially in love with minghao actually. he's still trying to tell you how his day went but your cat is pawing at his trouser leg and making those whining noises and wanting attention from your boyfriend (not even you???) so like. you can't really ignore minghao for your cat bc he's ignoring his cat for you

mingyu

is all "hey :((( i'm here too :((( am i not cute enough for you :(((" once you start looking a little too distracted while playing with your cat. you carry on ignoring him tho bc pouty mingyu is lowkey cute. laughs at you when your cat eventually gets bored while you're in the middle of baby talking it. gets hit over the head with a pillow for making fun of you

dokyeom

pretends to get mad at your cat. once you finally look up at him after being distracted by your cat, he laughs and points a finger at the cat in your lap, pretending to tell it off for taking your attention away from him, before his face melts into a smile and he asks with sparkles in his eyes if he can hold your lovely little kitten

seungkwan

sits there all annoyed hoping that you'll look back at him again but when it's clear you're intent on pretending he's not there, he's shuffling over and giving up on your previous conversation to ask you literally every question on the earth about your cat

vernon

just smiles and watches you, not even noticing that you're trying to ignore him, because he just thinks it's so cute to see you go all soft with a fluffy cat in your arms. you're smiling down at your cat so lovingly, and he just thinks that it's so lovely to see. asks if he can pet your cat too, falls in love with it immediately

chan

ends up just playing with your cat like fr. wiggles his fingers at the cat in your lap like it's a baby before eventually the cat pads over to him and it's in his lap and purring as he scratches behind the ears. you still try to ignore him to make him jealous but it doesn't work bc your cat is just straight up adoring chan so they're both simply ignoring you instead

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[oppopotamus]

angry sex

trans asra x dom male reader

Warning: nsfw, hate sex/angry sex, spanking, hair pulling, asra has a pussy, petnames such as baby, slut etc, feminine words used to name his pussy, cunt, clit etc

"What the fuck, Asra?" You yell, you've both been yelling back and forth for ages. You've been mad at Asra for a long time, since he's often disappearing without a word, causing you to worry.

Although he tends to go away due to whatever he thinks is important it still gets on your nerves.

"Well, what do you want me to do!? I'm sorry that I sometimes leave for a while and don't mention it to you." Asra says, rolling his eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm fucking worried about. Don't you understand? I care about you but you leave without a fucking word, causing me to worry where the fuck you are." You pause before taking a breath continuing, "Half the time I'm worried if you're dead somewhere. You leave and come back without telling me and just fucking expect me to be okay with it?"

"I don't see what the big deal is, I mean I always come back. So what's the big deal?" Asra's words have you seething with anger.

"You really don't see what the big deal is?" You say completely dumbfounded.

Asra just throws his hands up in the air and huffs.

"Fuck you." He says after a moment.

You move towards him until you're chest to chest.

"Say that again. I fucking dare you." You say, looking down at him with your eyebrows creasing together. God this boy gives you a headache.

"What? Fuck you?" He asks a tad confused.

"Yes. Exactly that." You repeat, arms crossed over your chest as you tower above him.

"Fuck you then." Asra says, starting to get a bit nervous but shakes it off.

"If you say that one more time, Asra then I swear to god." You say letting out a breath.

"Or what?" He asks moving even closer towards you.

"You'll find out."

Asra hesitates for a moment before repeating saying, "Fuck. You." He spits out every word.

"That's the final straw." You say before grabbing his hips with a deadly grip.

You turn him around and push him forward so he hits the table with his hips harshly.

"Hey! That fucking hurt." Asra says, turning his head back to look at you.

You grab a fistful of his hair and push his head down onto the table.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Asra questions.

"Teaching you a lesson." You say, keeping your hand gripping his hair and trace your free hand down so you can grab his pants and rip a hole in his pants right from his ass to his cunt.

"Fuck! (Name), these were my favourite pants."

"I'll buy you new ones."

You take notice of how conveniently he's not wearing any underwear. You raise an eyebrow down at Asra and you can see the hint of a blush creeping onto his ears.

"What a slut, you're getting wet already." You say, ghosting a finger over his cunt.

Asra stutters for a moment and doesn't know what to say until you press a finger against his clit and he calls out your name.

You remove the finger and Asra whines though that whine suddenly turns into a moan as he feels your hard dick grind against him through the fabric of your pants.

"You don't seem to be too angry now huh baby?" You say mockingly.

"Fuck you! I'm still mad." Asra replies, you're not sure if he's still actually angry at you or he's just saying that because he knows it gets a reaction out of you.

Oh well, you're still going to fuck him senseless.

You release your hand from his hair and bring your hands to undo your pants and let them fall to your ankles.

While your hands are not holding his head down anymore Asra takes the opportunity to bring both his hands up to push himself up and turn back to look at you.

Asra's in bliss as he sees your cock slip free from its confinements and raise up, slapping against your stomach.

You smirk down at him as you see his expression, finding it amusing as how just a minute ago he was yelling at you.

He sees you looking at him and glares at you before avoiding his eyes and looking back ahead of him.

"Ah, don't be so embarrassed now, darling." You say tracing a finger up his spine over his shirt, making him shiver.

"J-just put it in already." Asra whispers out, "Do you think you really deserve it after what you just did?" You ask and Asra doesn't answer.

From his lack of an answer you raise a hand and spank him, causing him to yelp and jolt up.

"Fuck! Don't fucking do that." Asra says, turning to look at you again and raising himself up, attempting to fully turn to look at you.

You stand there for a moment before bringing your left hand up and grab a fistful of his hair and slam the side of his face onto the table.

"Shit!" Asra yells out as the side of his face makes harsh contact with the table and grunts as he feels the harsh tug of your hand pulling his hair back harshly.

"Don't." spank! "Fucking." Spank! "Talk." Spank! "Like that." Spank! "To me." Spank! "Ever. Fucking. Again." You say to him, pushing his face further into the table with each spank.

"Aah-!" Asra whines out each time he feels you hitting him, he attempts to move out of your grasp but can't.

"Nothing but a fucking brat who doesn't know when to quit and just behave." You spit out, leaning down to his ear to say the words directly into his ears.

Asra shivers as he feels your dick rub against him when you lean down to whisper in his ear.

You lean back and grab your dick, rubbing the tip up and down the entrance of his cunt, slapping it against it a few times before easing the tip in.

Asra moans out when he feels just the tip in, he forgets how mad he is at you at first until he realizes how rough you were being.

Your hand was still pushing his head into the table, his cheek starting to hurt from how hard you were pushing it down.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you." Asra spouts out as he feels you push in deeper and deeper.

You scowl at his words and without a second thought you grip his hair tighter and pull it back whilst roughly pounding your dick deep into his hole.

"Oh god, oh fuck, fuck." Asra moans out as you pull his hair back, pain shooting through his neck and continuously pound into his tight hole.

"Fuck, Asra. You're so fucking tight, your pussy is hugging my cock," You say, pausing for a moment then continuing, "Too bad you're such a fucking brat."

All you can hear throughout the room is Asra's loud moans and the sound of your hips making contact with his ass.

"I fucking haah-hate.. Fuck. You." Asra says, stuttering his words. He doesn't even know what he's saying anymore.

Asra almost feels his eyes roll into the back of his head and you drag his head back and with your free hand bring it down to his clit, rubbing it with your fingers.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm gonna-" Asra moans out feeling his orgasm creeping up on him from your harsh treatment.

"You're really about to cum just from this?" You say mockingly.

"Fuuck.. I'm, oh god- You're a fucking dick just-!" Before Asra can even finish his sentence he's coming. Hard. He feels you hitting his ass again and again as he chases his orgasm.

When you continue to move your cock in and out again he starts feeling too sensitive.

"Please.. No more, I can't." Asra shakes his head side to side, wanting you to just finish already so he can rest.

"Just take what's, fuck, given to you, alright?" You say to him, you don't last much longer until you're spraying your cum into him.

You let go of his hair and pull out slowly. You both lay there resting for a moment, you don't say anything to test out whether or not he's still mad at you.

"M'sorry.." He says quietly. You rest your hands on his hips gently, rubbing small circles on his waist with your thumb.

"It's okay, baby."

[seungmin4president]

Sleepover

"You feel so good" hyunjin says between his kisses on your neck while his cock is hitting all the right places inside of you.

"Such a pretty whore hm? Too bad changbin cant see you like this because you're all ours right? Our little slut for only us to use" seungmin says while pulling your head off of his cock to see your pretty fucked out face you could only nod in reply, not trusting your voice.

You're probably wondering how you got in this position. On your hands and knees sucking seungmins cock while hyunjin is fucking your hole so good.

Well basically it all started while you were having a sleepover with the rest of the stray kids members, dahyun, soyeon, and shuhua.

Heres how it went down.

"Y/nah! Truth or dare?" Your friend dahyun said jumping up and down like a child "truth" You responded confidently not knowing what dahyun has under her sleeve but still trusting your gut to not trust her enough to say dare.

"Do you like doing group hugs-"

"Thats a boring question, y/n if you were to have a threesome with two of us who would it be" minho asked cutting dahyun off, well if you were being honest the question dahyun asked was boring but you weren't thinking he would just say that out of the blue so it really caught you off guard.

"What kind of question is that?!" You shout at minho who is across from you, eyes widening. "I wanna know too" changbin says making everyone look at you waiting for your answer. You look at everyones faces to see if they are being for real.

"Im not answering that" you say waving your hands in the air while shaking your head "cmon y/n you have to answer it dont be a boomer" chan says laughing at you "youre already a boomer old man but seriously y/n answer" seungmin says looking at you with dark eyes, if you weren't extremely embarrassed right now you would be able to see the change in his eyes from when he first got to your house and now.

"Okay fine uhmmm maybee.... seungmin and hyunjin??" You say looking down to hide your embarrassment.

Hyunjin and seungmin looks at you with suprised faces then looks at eachother and smirks and everyone else does a dramatic "ooohhh".

"Ahh really y/n?" Changbin says while shaking his head, disappointed in your answer "what? You guys asked and i answered you cant get mad because its not you" you say smirking at changbin while flattening your skirt.

You have a bad taste in men" minho says looking at his phone "its already 11:00 we should get to bed i have somewhere were going tomorrow" he continues while getting up.

"Lee minho its a sleepover, we're meant to stay up until 5am" shuhua says pushing minho back down to the ground "no he's right lets just sleep i dont wanna think about this day again" you say still embarrassed because of what just happend a few minutes ago.

"Ughh fine but im getting a drink before i g-" "no your not" soyeon says cutting shuhua off pushing her to their shared guest room "bye guyss" han says waving at them.

"We're gonna go too" hyunjin says taking your arm in his hand pulling you to your room with seungmin following "wait huh but your ro-" "sh" hyunjin says cutting you off (can you tell i love to write people getting cut off?) Not caring about saying bye to the others.

When you get into the room hyunjin told seungmin to lock the door "why are you telling him to lock the door?" You say looking at hyunjin curiously "wait guys if this is about the game it was just a joke i didn't mean it"

"Oh? So who would you actually have a threesome with" seungmin says walking towards you slowly "yeah.. is it by any chance changbin and minho hyungs?" Hyunjin adds on kissing your neck biting at some spots that will definitely leave marks, you dont even remember when he moved you to sit on his lap on the bed.

"I- uhm" you say stuttering because of the tension in the room "if it is we'll just leave but if not..." seungmin says tracing your thigh with his hand, moving his head to your ear "we wont hold back from fucking you to oblivion" seungmin then starts kissing down the other side of your neck but not biting.

You moaned softly biting your lip "so who is it then y/n" hyunjin says stopping and putting you on the bed so he can stand next to seungmin "its.. you guys" you whispered "hm what was that? You're gonna have to speak up do you want us or no?" Seungmin said looking down at you.

"yes i want you okay? I want you guys and you guys only. Now just come and do something" You say making hyunjin and seungmin smirk walking back towards you "well you're not getting anything with that attitude maybe say it a bit nicer then we will give you what you want" seungmin says while once again tracing your thigh with his finger

"Please just use me seungmin please" you begged. Seungmin looked at hyunjin and hyunjin hummed in delight "as you wish" seungmin says as his hand goes under your skirt.

❗please dont copy my work ❗

❗©️seungmin4president ❗

[lyssak09]

hello love!! could i please request yandere headcanons for Q from star trek: tng? thank youu so much!!! <3

Yandere Q hcs

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! Q is a basically canonically Yandere for Captain Janeway in Voyager. Also please enjoy my friend! 💙

Q is a manipulative, narcissistic, obsessive, and possessive yandere.

He first met you on one of his many adventures to f*ck with Picard and everyone on Enterprise. You were covering for one of your friends on the bridge.

When he saw you he froze, and he never freezes because of a puny human. You were just so breath taking.

Maybe you're different from humans. Or you're using some weird power over him, but thats highly unlikely.

Q continues his antics but he harasses you a bit. To the point Picard notices it.

Picard finds it annoying how often he harasses you during his time messing with the enterprise, and how often he forces you to be involved.

If Q doesn't see you while screwing with the Enterprise then he will force you to become a part of it some how, including threatening the captain and enterprise.

"Oh Picard, where is that little Lieutenant of yours? Its almost like you're hiding her from me. Don't tell me I have to shake the ship down till I find her?"

Q loves telling you how lucky you are to have caught the eye of an all powerful being like him. He also loves showing off how powerful he is.

He basically uses his powers as pallor tricks to impress show you how truly amazing he is.

Q periodically comes on the Enterprise to see you, and to piss of Picard.

He gets really mad if you're living your life avoidng him when he comes to visit. How dare you go on a lunch date! He is right here.

______________

“Oh, darling!” You hear a familiar voice say. ‘Oh god.’ you think. You duck your head down and look toward your date, “Don’t do anything to draw his attention please!”. Your date looks at you extremely confused, “Why are you hiding from Q?”, they whisper. You shake your head, saying you’ll explain later. All while Q is scanning the room for you, he starts to get more frustrated the longer he can’t find you. But then unfortunately for you, your server has come with your food, drawing Q’s attention to you. “Ahha! There you are my little-” Q starts to say as he nears you but then he notices you’re not sitting alone. His smile drops and his face tightens. “Who are you?” he hissed. Your date is about to introduce themselves when Q interrupts them, “Actually, I don’t care. I already know you’re an insignificant speck of matter, who has no right to be associating yourself with Y/N.”. You try to defend your date but Q snaps his fingers and sends your date to god knows where. He turns his attention back towards you, arms folded and nostrils flaring. “You should know better than to associate yourself with people like them” Q sneers. He gives you a hard stare before his personality takes a flip. “Why don’t we go eat somewhere new, hm? If you’re good I might bring your ‘friend’ back to the ship. Key word, might.”

Q loves to give you little tests, to see how you’ll respond and react. He says it's to gain more information on you humans for the continuum but that's a lie. 

He’ll try giving you powers just like he did to Riker, but whatever your answer is it doesn’t matter, he’ll find it fascinating either way. 

Because that's what you are to him, you’re a fascinating incredible human. Not that he’ll admit that to you. 

“Your race is so fascinating, you do realize how lucky you are to have caught my eye right?”

Q will eventually take you, one way or another. He already has a special dimension just for the two of you. 

The bridge crew will do whatever they can to protect you though. But it won’t be enough against him. Not unless they’re willing to start a war against an omnipotent being. 

______________

“Just give her to me and I’ll send you and your ship on your way Picard.” Q offered. Picard looks at him like he’s insane. “In case you haven’t noticed Q, but our civilization has evolved past selling humans.”, Picard spat. Q rolls his eyes which ticks Riker off. “Look Q, we’re not giving her to you. She’s a human being with rights, including the right to not give herself to a narcissistic lunatic.” Riker sneers at Q. Picard gives him a scolding look before continuing to argue with Q, “You’re not getting her Q. Now leave before this gets serious.”. Q chuckles darkly before giving Picard a pointed look. “I’m giving you one last chance Picard. Just bring her to me and nothing bad will happen.”. “That's not going to happen Q.” He glowered. Q let out a big sigh before giving Picard a wicked grin. “Well, that's too bad.” Q laughs as the ship starts to shake.

He can give you everything you could ever want, all you have to do is give in to him. Just give in and there won’t be a problem, no one will have to get hurt. Just give in

Q is willing to do and give you everything. He’ll show you the multiple universes to your heart's content, he’ll shower you with presents. But he’ll say it's because of how lucky you are to have him, not because he desperately wants to shower you with affection. 

He’ll also manipulate you to love on him. This man is desperate for your touch. Even just accidentally brushing your hand against him will do something to him.

Q can change his appearance, but he thinks the human form he’s chosen is amazing. He will change his appearance for you, but only slightly. And he won’t admit he did it because he overheard your dream guy has blue or green eyes. No, he didn’t add freckles to himself because he heard you talking about them with a coworker. He just felt like changing things up! That's why, no other reason. 

He’ll be willing to change certain things in the bedroom though, but that's for another day another headcanons. 

After a while of beating around the bush and acting subtly, he’ll just start being straightforward. (If you can call how he was acting that.)

He’ll start showing up in your quarters when you come from duty, he has changed how they looked to appear like a wedding venue and he’ll be wearing a suit and tie.

“There’s my dear little human! Are you ready for our wedding? I made it look just as amazing and spectacular as we are together.”

As time goes on his straightforwardness will get worse. Like, extremely.

“Oh my god!” You yell after coming from duty and finding a naked Q on your bed. He had just barely covered himself in rose petals. “Salut mon chéri,” Q purs with a rose in his mouth. You look around and notice all the lit candles, dimmed lights, and wine glasses. Before he knows it you’ve started throwing things at him, screaming for him to get out. He reluctantly leaves before you try attacking him.

I hope you understand how lucky you are that he hasn’t truly used his powers on you. He’s an omnipotent being for universes’ sake! With a snap of his fingers, he could have you in another universe with just you and him. Q could force you to agree to marry him. He could even force yourself on him if he gets that desperate. 

But, just because he hasn’t really used his powers yet doesn’t mean he won’t. Hopefully, you won’t push him that far.

I told you he’s utterly devoted to you right?

Like to an unhealthy amount, (who am I kidding, isn’t that part of the yandere criteria?)

Just the mere look of another human could set him off.

“Who do you think I am you harlot?! How dare you look into my eyes! I’m taken!”

The same goes if someone even glances at you. You’ll need to hold him back or something.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY TO GET INTO HER PANTS YOU WHORE!” He screeches and tries to lunge and attack the poor ensign who accidentally touched your arm. While you’re struggling to hold him back by his arm.

I’ve already mentioned that he’s manipulative but I didn’t explain how good he is at it. Of course, his powers help him manipulate people, but even without them, he’s still got a nack for it. He’s especially good at manipulating you with your own emotions. 

Q will use fear, guilt, anger, sadness, and any emotion of yours against yourself. 

Have a stalker (who he totally didn’t create) who won’t leave you be? He’ll send him away! Only if you kiss him though.

Your friend has an unexplainable incurable disease and is dying? Q will fix them up even better than before! Just agree to a date with him.

Your favorite commander (whom you were better than friends with) sacrificed themselves to save you and now you have not only grief but survivor’s guilt? He’ll bring him back with a flick of his wrist! You have to marry him and stay by his side forever though.

Just agree to be his forever and everything will be fine. Sure you might not see your family or friends again. But you’ll see every dimension and universe imaginable! And, no one gets hurt.

So unless you’re willing to sacrifice your friends’ lives, hell even the whole ship, just so he might have difficulty getting you, then by all means! Go ahead.

Just remember how much the crew cares for you, and how little Q cares for them.

[traumatizing-unnamed-ocs]

Careless

Summary: Villains Sidekick has been left to fend for themselves for a while and ends up kidnapped by Hero Themes: Some emotional whump / hurt comfort stuff, also found family (Sidekick is a child) Potential Triggers: Child neglect

Sidekick had just wanted to go get some food -  Villain had been gone for a few days, and everything in the fridge was going bad and they were so hungry - but they had barely made it out of their hideout before somebody had grabbed them. And now they were tied up in some chair somewhere, a black burlap sack thrown over their head, and all they could think about was how mad Villain was going to be.

“I am not scared”, they said out loud.

“Shure.” Sidekick cringed at that voice. It was Hero. “But if I can give you some advice, people who aren’t scared usually don’t feel the need to announce that fact.”

“Well now I’m really not scared”, Sidekick shot back. That was only half true. They were still scared of what Villain would do to them once they found out, but they weren’t scared of Hero. Hero wasn’t scary at all, they were just strange.

“Liar.” Heroes voice was pointed, and Sidekick tried to glare in their general direction. “But luckily for you I am happy to negotiate about the terms of your release.”

The words felt like a rock dropping in Sidekicks stomach, but they forced themself to put on a brave face.

“If you think you can negotiate with Villain, they know that I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, they seem to have that impression.” Heroes voice was eerily calm as they were moving around, doing… something. Sidekick didn’t dare to think about what that clinking sound might mean. “Though if you wouldn’t mind, tell me the last time you had a warm meal.”

“Fuck you”, Sidekick answered with out hesitation.

“Watch your tone.” Heroes voice was so icy that Sidekick immediately regretted snapping at them. Though they didn’t apologize - Villain had strictly forbidden Sidekick from apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be too harsh.” As if Hero had read Sidekicks mind, their voice had softened. “Let’s just drop the topic of meals for now and go back to the negotiation. I have a few options for you. Option one: I have a few options for haircuts we could do, but I have to warn you, with how matted your hair is, it will have to be short. Option two: I put on an age appropriate tv show for you and start detangling your hair, though that might take a while and hurt a bit. In both cases we will order some food, and I would also like to give you some clean clothes and throw the ones you are wearing in the laundry, but that last part is optional. But if you comply, I won’t tell Villain how easily I caught you.”

Sidekick tried to process what had been said. They had been prepared for a lot, but not one of the things Hero had said even seemed to make sense.

“You kidnapped me because of my hair?” Sidekick finally managed to ask. There was an amused huff.

“That’s a bit reductive, but if you want, yes. You haven’t been brushing it since Villain left town, have you?” Heroes voice was incredibly soft and patient now, and Sidekick hated it.

“Yes”, they said, kicking their feet against the chair. “I didn’t mean to, I just… I was busy. With cooking and cleaning, and Villain didn’t leave enough money to pay rent… but I’m fine. I was going to take care of it soon, probably just cut it off. It’s a distraction anyway, in a fight.”

“Do you want me to cut it off?”

“No.” Sidekick answered instinctively, with a bit too much desperation in their voice. “I mean, if you are offering… brushing it out would be alright, I guess. If it’s all the same to you.”

“Okay. So I assume you wont try to escape if I untie you?”

“No.” It felt shameful to admit that, but Sidekick was just so tired. And the idea of spending a while sitting around and getting food and just not having to worry was just so appealing.

“Good.” There was a movement at Sidekicks sides, as their hands were untied. “Then you can start thinking about what you want to eat.”

With the ties removed, Sidekick finally took off the sack covering their eyes and looked around. They were sitting on a chair in what seemed to be some abandoned warehouse. Hero handed them a tablet with available delivery services.

“Don’t think about the price, it’s my treat. And Sidekick? If it ever gets too much again, call me.” With that, Hero handed them a folded piece of paper, a number scribbled on that. “Villain might not care, but I do.”

This Story featured Supervillain as Hero and Hero as Sidekick