#nor do i have friends close by who could get food for me so i went by myself and i now feel HORRID

[sparklingdwarf]

.

[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[killsaki]

leather cushions ☆ touya hates the couch in the living room, but somehow you have him sitting on them every second of the day.

word count : 6.7k | MINORS DNI

CW / TW : date gone wrong comfort fic-ish, fuck boy!keigo, sexual pressure, roommate!touya, sweet sex. repost from old blog. <3.

“don’t be a fucking idiot.” you hear your best friend yell over his shoulder from his seat on the couch that doesn’t belong to you nor him but somehow made its way into the apartment that the two of you share.

“i don’t think that’s something you can call someone who has a higher iq than you do.” you laugh back, expecting his usual disgusted face that you usually get when you poke at him. instead you’re met with a death glare from over his arm that slung over the back of the couch. something you physically react to, which earns a scoff from him as he turns back to the tv.

“if you’re so smart, you’d know he’s just going to try and fuck you.”

you know touya’s just trying to look out for you, in his own stupid way. and you also know that keigo doesn’t have the best reputation when it came to relationships. not that most girls minded, because that one night with him was seemingly enough for most of them, that is until he stopped replying to their messages the next day.

but you also know that touya is no better than keigo is. so even if all the things keigo has filled your head with in the past two weeks is bullshit. that all the sweet texts and late night phone calls were all empty nothings, then at least you can say you tried something new. instead of sitting in your room doing all you can to muffle the sound of your roommate fucking some random’s throat on that same couch.

“don’t call me to pick you up when he starts being a fucking creep,” he stretches his tattooed arms, not bothering to look back at you. “i’m having bitch over, so i’ll be busy.”

“because it’s so hard for you to get up from a blowjob?” you say nonchalantly, slipping your jacket off the hook and onto your body.

“exactly.” he glances up at you again when you reach for the door, only making eye contact for a second, that permanently bored look etched on his face as his eyes drag down your body, before he snaps his head back to his phone. “you can fuck off now, she’ll be here soon.”

you can only sigh before securing your shoes on your feet and leaving out the door, being met with the bright smile and even brighter red car that both belong to keigo takami. you watch as he pushes himself off his car, phone shoved into his pocket, freeing both of his hands to rest at your waist.

“you look..” he starts, eyes dragging down between the two of you before meeting yours again, that pretty grin never once leaving his face. “god, do i feel underdressed.”

“stop it.” you shake your head, resting your hands against his chest that’s adorned with a tight black t-shirt, fingers playing with the gold chain that rests on top of it. “i think you look great how you are.”

“oh, you think?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“i think.” you confirm, letting go of the pendant and tapping his chest. “you ready to go?”

“i thought we could just stand here for the rest of the night.”

playfully, you swat at his chest, laughing when he lets out the fakest of groans, clutching his chest dramatically. once he finally ‘recovers’, he opens the passenger door of his car for you, letting you settle inside before closing it behind you and jogging over to the driver's side.

the rest of the night seems to go just as good. with him as chivalrous, just as sweet; he lets you play whatever you want on the aux, even nodding along with it, though there’s no way in hell he’s ever actually heard half of the songs that you play. he’d opened all your doors for you, pulled out your chair at the restaurant, and of course paid for your food despite the way you insisted you could pay for it on your own.

“everything tonight is my treat,” he smiled for the umpteenth time, something that you’ve found to be progressively harder to deny; something so sweet that it distracts you from the possible venom behind the next words that fall from his mouth. “you can always pay me back another time.”

it’s fine after that even, or it seems to be. after dinner, he insists on ice cream. the desert menu at the restaurant was just a bit too pricey for either of your liking, so the local mom and pop’s shop would suffice, if not exceed the fifteen dollar small plate of chocolate cake that you could’ve had.

“it feels so good out tonight.” you hear him say, one arm resting around your frame. “we should drive around and eat.”

the breeze does have plenty of warmth to it, so much that you actually ditched your jacket. you agree without much thought, smiling and leaning into his sturdy frame. as the line moves up. he starts chatting you up about one of the bands you played on the ride over, going on about how every other song seemed to be by them. the two of you talk music until you’re back in his car, then you’re having to struggle to eat because he just won't stop making you laugh.

you’re so caught up in the charm that you don't even notice whenever he pulls into the empty parking lot and rolls the windows down before he kills the engine.

“you’re so easy to talk to.” he rests his head back on the seat, before rolling it over to look at you. “thanks for hanging out with me.”

you can feel warmth creep on your cheeks as you play in the last bits of your now melted ice cream.

“why wouldn’t i?”

he laughs, raising an eyebrow. “i don't really see you hanging out with anyone.” he shrugs, glancing down to the cold cup that’s still nearly full in his hand.

“well, i’ll have you know,” you furrow your eyebrows playfully. “i hang out with my roommate whenever we’re in the living room at the same time, and that’s at least twice a week.”

you can feel yourself soften into the seat at the sound of his soft laugh, warmth blooming in your chest when his deep dimples show in the dim light from the parking lot.

he stares at you for just a moment, golden eyes glancing down to your lips back up to meet yours again. he leans in without another word, meeting your lips with his own and you can taste the vanilla ice cream on his tongue before he even slides it into your mouth.

his free hand comes up to cup your nape, fingers digging into your skin to pull you deeper into the kiss,

“d’you wanna get in the back seat?” he nods behind him as if you needed to know where it was.

“actually, keigo.. i don’t want-”

“fuck!” he jumps back, pulling at the crotch of his pants to keep the now spilled cold and runny ice cream from touching his skin.

“holy shit how did you-”

“is- i gotta- fuck, it’s gonna stain.”

you can’t help but laugh at the whine in his voice at the idea of his precious khaki pants staining with white, his head snaps over to you struggling to hide the sound.

“you think this is funny?” his eyes widen, as he looks back down to the mess in his lap. “i gotta go change.”

he starts the car again, one hand still holding the material off his skin the best he can manage as he maneuvers his way back to the big blue house with unreadable greek letters on the front. you find that it’s quiet, light chatting coming from the living room, and some gun fire playing off the tv, but not much other than that.

“you can come and wait in my room if you’d like, i’m just gonna shower.” he motions his free hand up the stairs, smiling when you start padding behind him.

another thing that catches you off guard is how clean his room is. not that he comes off as a dirty kind of guy, and it’s not like any of the rumours about him ever included his decor choices, but it was just so neat. no clutter, no cups, not even a sock hanging out of his laundry basket.

letting yourself fall onto his perfectly made bed, and almost instantly regretting it when the comforter wrinkles underneath you, you finally check your phone, finding messages from your roommate you must've missed the vibrations from over twenty minutes ago.

stinky bastard: | hows it going? |

stinky bastard: | not that i give a shit |

you nearly snort at the time stamps, how they were sent within the same minute and all you can think about is how fast he tried to recover from showing that he does in fact give a shit.

sent: | thought you were busy? |

after you press send, you lock your phone. it had been nearly half an hour ago since he sent that, so if he wasn’t then, he most likely is now. you’re most likely not going to get another reply for another thirty min- ding.

stinky bastard: | dont avoid my fuckin question |

stinky bastard: | but i’m getting my dick sucked as we speak |

sent: | make sure you clean the couch this time when you’re done |

stinky bastard: | spit that has been on my balls is an upgrade for this couch |

you audibly laugh at that, remembering all the times he’d be in his boxers, and you’d catch him walking from the bathroom with a wet rag about to wipe up the mess left on the couch seat, mumbling about how he should just ‘throw the fuckin’ thing out.’ as if the two of you could afford a new one.

sent: | what do you have against the poor couch? |

stinky bastard: | a lot, actually. |

you hover your thumbs over the keyboard, shaking your head at your roommate and his imaginary beef with the inanimate object before the sound of the shower turning off catches your attention, but another buzz brings you back to your phone.

stinky bastard: | he being a creep yet? |

sent: | touya, no |

you stand, though you’re not really sure why. tapping the corners of your phone, you walk mindlessly over to the dresser, glancing up at your reflection before turning to lean against it.

stinky bastard: | she’s not too good so i could come get you if you needed |

sent: | i’m fine, touya |

“sorry,“ you hear keigo apologize as he enters the room. “i forgot to grab some clothes.”

you look up to see him draped only in a white towel, one that’s tied loosely around his waist, looking like it’s going to fall any second as he closes the door behind him. heat creeps it’s way back up into your cheeks and you’re sure you look insane with how wide your eyes have gotten.

“don’t worry, i’ll go get dressed in the bathroom.” he laughs, no doubt trying to put your crazy expression at ease.

“right, yeah.” you mumbled, nodding, trying to look anywhere but at his toned chest, or at the way the water was still dripping from his hair down to the dips of his sculpted stomach, or even at the line of dirty blonde hair that leads below the towel to only god- and twenty something girls on campus- know what.

you feel him before you realize that he’s actually there. standing in front of you smirking as he looks down at you, and you can feel the heat off of his body, for a second you just stand there wondering if he’s always that warm or if the warmth of the shower is still sticking to him.

“you know,” his hands find themselves on your waist once again, his head tilted down as he leans his lips to brush against yours. “if you didn’t want me to put any clothes on, you could’ve said that.”

you gasp when you realise where you’ve come to stand and that you’re quite literally blocking the man from putting anything on.

“i’m sorry, i-”

he shushes you, nudging you to look up at him with his nose.

“it’s okay,” his voice is soft, then same as his lips as they press against yours once again. slowly, you ease into it, just like you did before. but the weight of his hands feel heavy, like sandpaper against your skin as they dip under your clothes and drag against your skin

his mouth makes it’s way from your own down to your chin, where he leaves open kisses against your neck. “i’d just end up taking them back off anyways.”

you feel him part your legs with his knee, hands gripping into your softness to pull you closer to him, to control your movements as he tries to get you to grind down against him.

“keigo, i don’t-” a sound escapes you at the worst possible moment when he starts to suck on the sensitive spot at the base of your neck. and the sound of his voice, soft and condensing in your ear makes you want the floor to swallow you whole.

“sounds like you do to me.”

you push at his chest to no avail, his sturdy body locking you into his own.

“keigo-” you groan as the uncomfortable feeling of him sucking your skin between his teeth. “please,” you plead, though you’re not even sure he’s listening. “stop.”

“i’m sorry,” he pulls back finally, leaning his forehead against your own, one of his hands coming to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”

“thank you, keigo, i’m just-” you can feel the shake in your voice as you speak and your face grows hotter when you know he can hear it.

“what’s wrong, dove?”

you’re sure if the situation wasn’t what it was, that pet name would make your heart soar.

“i’m not comfortable.” you admit, hoping he would drop all of it so that you could go back to the light hearted conversations that started the night.

“right.” he nods, pulling back slowly. “the bed’s probably better anyways.” that smile plasters itself back on his face and you feel your heart sink into your stomach when he tugs you by your wrist with him.

you thank whatever deity is out there watching over you when a crash downstairs stops him in his tracks. though the feeling of relief is quickly washed away with the grip he still holds on you and look on his face as snaps his head over to the door with naked anger, the cracks of his nice guy facade stripping down.

“you can’t fucking go up there!”

a slam follows the shout, and another after that.

“watch me.”

there’s heavy steps up the stairs, sounds that echo through the otherwise quiet house. just as keigo begins to let go of you, to approach the door to his room, it swings open and your roommate stands at the entryway staring back at you.

“can i help you?” keigo chimes in, stepping in front of you, trying to break eye contact between you two.

“nah, piss stain, you can’t.” touya quickly retorts, not sparing him a look, still eyeing you over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“what are you doing here?” you blink, words barely above a whisper but you know they both hear you.

“you didn’t text me back.” he shrugs.

“we’re busy.” keigo makes it a point to adjust his towel slightly before looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. “isn’t that right?”

you can’t miss how touya’s lip ring twitches, a habit he’s picked up when he’s trying to bite his tongue.

“no,” you let out meekly, bumping shoulders with the blonde as you walked past him, hoping touya’s presence would spare you from another bruising grab at your wrist, and lucky you, it does. “we weren’t.”

you miss the deathly glare they give one another, but you do turn around in time to catch a glimpse of keigo’s back tattoo as he throws his phone into the mattress. you think about how all the other girls described the wings to be so beautiful, how his muscles flexing only added to the serene scene, and now you start to wonder if any other part of their stories were just as fabricated.

“thank you.” you sigh as you lean your head against his back, hands wrapped firmly around his waist as he moves to start the bike’s engine.

“i wasn’t doing anything anyways.” you feel him shrug before he hits the kickstand with this boot and heads out onto the street.

there’s something comforting about being this close to touya, despite how just minutes ago you felt like you needed to scrub your body clean and you never wanted to be less than two feet away from anyone ever again. the way touya relaxes under you, how he breathes calmly despite being on a two wheel death machine, the smell of his three in one clinging to his skin, it makes you want to fall asleep right there. and you almost do, if not for the, again, two wheeled death machine.

he doesn’t say anything when the two of you make it back to the apartment, or whenever you get out of the shower, he leaves your favorite snacks on the counter without even asking if you wanted them. and when you come into the living room, you find him in his spot on the corner of the couch with the fuzzy blanket of his that you always threaten to steal right next to him.

you sit down, taking the blanket and wrapping yourself in it. two of you sit in silence for a while, save the sound of you digging into the plastic that holds your snacks and the show that play quietly on the tv. but there’s not much that you can really find the energy to say. slowly, you start to lean into his warmth, thankfully humming whenever he drops his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest.

“i’ll kick his teeth in if you want me to.” he whispers against the crown of your head.

you breathe a laugh out, shaking your head.

“or i could get some money off my old man and pay someone else to do it.” he rubs your arm slowly, his warm hands, as callous as they are, feel like silk as they brush against you. “since you care too much about me getting into trouble.”

you let out a small giggle out that time, a weak smile creeping up on your face.

“and why would you think that?”

you know your voice sounds broken, that all the crying you did in the shower took its toll and that it would be obvious now, but with touya, you can’t find a reason to care.

“because i know you.” he leans his cheek against your head, pulling you a little closer to his side. “you care too much about everything.”

you sigh, relaxing further into his hold.

“you think that’s why i wanted to go with him?” you ask, not really expecting an answer. “‘cause if everything he said was true, if he really meant all the sweet things he said to me-”

“you thought it would hurt his feelings.” you feel touya’s head shake slowly. “guys like that don’t even have feelings.”

“you don’t have feelings either though.” you joke, looking up at him whenever you feel his weight lift off of you.

you’re met with those bright blue eyes looking back into yours.

“and what makes you think that?”

your breath catches in your throat when you realise how close the two of you are, how much different it all is with him compared to the piece of shit you’d been with earlier.

“all the girls you have over..” you start but the sight of him twitching his lip ring catches your train of thought and you can’t find any words to finish the sentence.

“they come willingly.” he states, brows furrowing like he’s thinking over his words. “but i guess i don’t feel anything with them,” he rolls his head back towards the tv, lip rings swinging back and forth before he speaks again. “not unless i picture them as you.”

your mind swims with too many thoughts to even begin to process what he could mean by that.

“i’m not some kind of fucking creep, and i wouldn’t try anything after the shit you’ve been through tonight, i just,” he throws his head back on the couch staring up at he ceiling as he sighs. “i don’t know why the fuck i opened my mouth.”

“touya,” you squeeze your eyes closed, letting out a deep breath before you move, pushing yourself up to straddle his lap. he doesn’t move an inch, not even to pick his head up to look at you when you settle there. and he probably would just stay like that if you didn’t physically pick up his head and force him to look at you. “what the fuck are you saying?”

he just blinks at you for a moment, those pretty eyes searching for something in yours. you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, his soft, warm skin thumping slightly under your touch.

“i don’t have feelings,” he sighs, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes still focused on you. “not until it comes to you.”

you open your mouth to speak, but the words leak out of your brain before you can form any kind of sentence with them.

“i can’t say sweet shit to make you like me, or take you to nice ass resturants with those fancy fucking forks,” you start to panic when your heart beats against your chest, afraid that he’ll be able to feel it aswell. “but i sit on this stupid ass couch all fucking day, waiting for you to come in here and talk to me because you’re the only person who makes me feel anything.”

“touya..”

“and i let you go on that date with that fucker knowing damn well how fucking sick he is-”

“touya.” you interrupt, thumbs running over the highs of his cheeks.

he closes his mouth, blinking at you, waiting for whatever else you wanted to say, though he’d be fine if you just said his name again and again until time ended.

“kiss me.”

and he listens, slowly he leans down, giving you every chance to push him away, to tell him nevermind, that you didn’t actually want him to. but it never comes, instead you lean forward, still cradling his face in your hands as your lips mesh with his. it’s soft, slow, each move of your lips against his feels so full of purpose, so full of feeling.

cautiously, like you’re a wild bunny going to jump from his lap at any second, he rests his hands at your sides, just feeling your body above him. only resting the weight of them fully when you start humming happily into his mouth at the contact.

his hands feel warm and light against your skin, setting your ablaze under every inch that they trail over. you melt into him, you go to move your hands from his face, to find perch in his hair or on his shoulders to pull yourself closer to him, but they don’t get far off his cheeks before he’s capturing your wrists and keeping them there.

“don’t,” he warns when you pull back to speak. “just don’t.”

you laugh, leaning back in only to be stopped.

“not here,” he shakes his head, still keeping your hands attached to his face. “not on this stupid fucking couch.”

you lean your head back in laughter, something that brings a small smile onto touya’s face, something only you can do. a moment later, he’s dragging you to the door of his room and leading you in. the hold he has on you is loose, giving you every chance to pull away but you continue to follow him.

he walks over to change the color of his led lights, letting you linger behind him and take in the sight of his room. it’s a little messy, with things thrown here and there, but not too bad where you can’t walk or see his floor. surprisingly enough it smells good, like pine and a campfire.

“stop looking at my mess.” he mumbles coming back to you, pulling your hands back up to his face.

“but, i like your mess.” you say back, watching as his white teeth peek from behind his lips, reflecting the dark blue light in a way that makes your heart skip a few beats.

“you’re crazy, you know that?” he shakes his head, ducking down to pull you into another kiss, the two of you stumbling blindly until the back of your legs meet his bed and you fall out of his hold and on your back.

“then what does that make you?” you breath as you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he picks up your thighs and shoves you farther on his bed.

“if you’re crazy, i’m in-fucking-sane.”

he peels his shirt off by the bottom hem, exposing his tattooed stomach that you can’t remember if you’ve ever paid attention to before. his hands fall just above your shoulders as he leans down over you, nudging you chin with his nose in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. the feeling of his lips dragging up the column of your neck making heat start to pool in your stomach. you whine out something adjacent to his name as he starts to pepper kisses along your collarbone, and you can feel the comforter underneath you tighten with his fist.

a shaky breath is let out against your skin before he pulls himself back up to look into your eyes, resting his against yours and you can’t help but press your lips against his again despite that he definitely was about to say something. when you pull back, his eyes are closed and he’s nearly panting against your lips.

“you sure about this?” his eyes flutter open to look for your response, one that comes in a nod.

“say it for me.” he whispers, so softly that you’re sure if your bodies weren’t pressed together you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“i want you, touya.”

and his lips are on yours again, soft and sweet in a way that is anything but touya, but just like him all the same. the kiss is passionate, deep enough to pull sounds from your throat and make you completely dizzy. so much so that you wouldn’t even have noticed when he has started to pull your shirt off if he didn’t ask for permission before he did it, same with your shorts, and every other piece of clothing that you had left.

with each one he strips off of you, he presses kisses to the spot that the fabric had left bare for him, first your stomach, then the top of your thigh, followed by your sternum, then your hips. each press of his lips against your sensitive skin leaves you more eager, fills your stomach with want, and no doubt is leaving you with a mess of arousal between your thighs, waiting for him to finally touch you where you wanted him most.

you groan at the thought of his fingers, the silver that is somehow cold against his burning skin as they graze down your sides, and squeeze at the soft of your thighs. and gasp at the feeling of his lips, soft and also adored with cool metal as he kisses from your navel up to your throat.

“what is it?” he mumbles into your skin. “hm, baby?” his lips find their way to your ear, words hot against the shell of it.

“i wanna feel you, touya.” you whisper, hands reaching around his shoulder to hold him against you.

“but i’m all over you, doll.” he tsk’s back, obviously wanting you to be more clear with what you’re asking for.

“i want to feel you inside of me, touya.” you can feel your cheeks heat with the blunt words but you can’t find a reason to care, not if it’ll lead you to finally seeing how far his fingers can reach.

“oh, is that all?” he lets out a shaky laugh, fake confidence starting to crack as he shifts his weight onto one of his forearms, looking between your face and his hand that traces down the curves of your body until it meets with the apex of your thighs.

“you just tell me when to stop.” he whispers before kissing you, leaving himself hovering just above your lips.

his middle finger comes to slide along your slit, up to meet your clit with a few experimental circles around it. it draws a gasp from your lips, the feeling of the tip of it prodding at your entrance enough to force another out of you.

“did you hear me?” he asks, voice still soft.

you nod in response, not trusting your voice when you’re so doped out on the promise of ecstasy. but, clearly that wasn’t the right answer, you notice as he pulls his hand from your heat to rub at your thigh.

“i heard you, touya.” you whine out. “i’ll tell you when i want you to stop, i swear, please just fucking touch me.”

and again, he listening to your plead, fingers instantly finding their way back to your cunt. the tip of his middle finger starting to prod against your entrance, his lips making their way to your jaw as he starts to press in, his ear as close to your mouth as he could get it without being completely obvious.

pretty little gasps tumble from your lips as he starts a rhythm with it, pushing it all the way into the knuckle, letting you feel the cool metal against your cunt before he pulls back out, turning his wrist as he does so. you have his finger completely soaked by the second time he does this, which only motivates him to give you-

“more.” you whimper desperately.

he adds another, turning his wrist so he can press his fingertips up against that soft wall that has you letting out even sweeter, louder sounds. each flick of his hand has you seeing stars, the knot of pleasure in your stomach starting to fray away already, and each sound you tumble out, each pulse of your walls around his digits, has him grinding harder into the mattress below you.

“wait, wait, wait-” you say with no real urgency, cursing yourself of shaving off your high.

he retreats from your body immediately, leaning up on his knees so that he wasn’t touching you at all.

“you okay? did i hurt you?” he puts his hands up, making it easy for you to grab them and pull him back on top of you before he tries to slip off the bed completely.

you shake your head to answer his question as he eases himself back over you.

“i said i wanted to feel you, touya.”

you can see even in the dim blue light how his eyes widen the slightest bit, the way his mouth parts and you can feel the way his hands twitch again into the blanket by your head.

“yeah?” his voice is shaky, breathier than before. “is that really what you want?”

“mhm,” you hum back, feeling secure with him, knowing that with touya, this was safe, you were safe. “i want you, touya.”

“fuck,” he pulls himself from you, reaching over and digging through his nightsand drawer for god knows what before returning back to you with a shiny package that he bites and tears with his teeth. “you just tell me-”

“when to stop;” you finish for him. “i know, i will.”

he smirks down at you as he tugs the top of his boxers down, not missing the way your eyes dart down to catch sight of the size of him. and god does he revel in the way you lick your lips at the way his cock slaps up against his stomach. your eyes flutter between his face and the way he slowly unrolls the condom down the length of him.

“can i?” you ask, not expecting to hear the groan that’s only muffled by the way he bites his lip.

after he nods, hand retreating from his cock, letting it slap back up against his belly button, you lean up on your forearm, reaching to wrap around it and work the condom down just the tiniest bit faster. you can’t help but try to savour the sweet seconds that his hips jump forward towards your fist, or the way the curve of it feels against your palm. you regret not dragging it out longer because the second it seems to be completely unrolled, he’s pushing your shoulder back into the bed.

“such a tease.” you hum against his lips, one arm coming to rub his shoulders, the other cradling the back of his head. you mimic the feeling of his smile against your mouth, but it only lasts for a moment. the feeling of him rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit enough to make your face drop with pleasure. he takes his time, circling your clit with it before sliding it down to your entrance to push in the smallest bit before pulling his hips back again and repeating the motion all over.

“‘nd i’m the te-” you try to huff, only to be cut off by touya finally pushing past the head into your warmth. even with just a few shallow strokes, you can feel him pressing up against your most sensitive spots.

“were you saying somethin’?” he laughs above you, watching your face in awe as your eyes roll back with each cant forward of his hips. “c’mon,” you hear his voice become breathy once again. “let me hear you.”

and without a second thought, you let your lips part, each sound falling from your throat without a care. you mind too focus on the way his cock stretches you, how the tip of him presses so perfectly against your g-spot, how full he makes you feel and he hasn’t even fully bottomed out.

“‘so good” you whimper out as he drags his hips back once again, the slow, sensual pace making it even harder to work your brain.

he drops down closer to you, lips against your own like he wanted to taste every moan you made.

“‘s good, baby?” he asks softly, hips stuttering for a second but never once losing their gentle pace.

“mhm,” you attempt to hum, a moan making you drag out the ‘m’ longer than you intended. “feel so good, touya.”

his head drops to your shoulder where he leaves open mouth kisses that only make the feeling in your stomach ten times hotter. it makes you roll your hips up into his desperately, trying to get some friction against your clit, wanting just to get over the edge.

“slow down,” he warns, grabbing your hip with one of his big palms. “if you- fuck-” his hips fall flush with your own when your walls start to grip around him, which makes both of you let out ugly noises simountaliously. “tell me what you need.”

“my clit, i just-” you pant, trying again to roll your hips without any luck. “please, please, i need it.”

not a second later is his hand off your waist and his thumb is stuck to your clit, rubbing perfect circles against it that send warmth spilling out of your cheeks and sending it all down to your cunt. he starts his hips again, the extra stimulation almost sending you over already if your throbbing walls and shaking thighs were anything to go by.

“gonna cum with me?” he asks, knowing your far too gone to answer. “we’re almost there, baby.”

his pace becomes sloppier, faster, but never rougher, the sound of his balls sticking against your ass with each deep thrust he gives mixes with the desperate, pathetically needy sounds fill the room as you both start to feel the static spread through your veins, white and blue heat shooting into your vision and making your body spasm together.

it takes both of you a minute to move, to do anything other than hold one another and try to calm your breathing. but once you both finally come down, touya is pulling himself from you with a groan, face full of disgust as he pulls off the condom and ties it. squeezing it just the slightest bit in front of you so that you both could be sure there were no complications with the rubber. you throw your arm over your eyes as touya walks out to the room and flicks on the light to what has to be the bathroom. you don’t even move when he returns, just letting him take the warm wash cloth and clean you up before he retreats out of the room once again.

“aht aht.” he shakes your leg when he returns, sweats hanging low on his hips. “like hell we’re sleeping in here.”

you would laugh at him were it not for how sleepy you actually were.

“but ‘m tired.” you mumble, rolling over into his pillow.

“it smells like balls in here. lets go to your room.” he offers, gently pulling you up off his mattress.

“so your room can’t smell like balls, but the living room can?” you roll your head against him, letting him hold the majority of your weight as he leads you to your room.

“exactly.”

“gross.” you retort as he sits you on the edge of your bed. “hey, touya.”

“hey, baby.” he responds back, pulling someone’s shirt over your head.

“why did you bring all those girls over here if you liked me?”

the shirt smells like him, you decide.

“because i’m an idiot.”

you nod, not paying any mind to the way he scoffs at the action.

“and why did you always do stuff with them on the couch?”

“because that’s where i always see you,” his hands come to lay on your shoulders as he pulls you back off the mattress. “it was easiest to picture you when we were out there.”

he pulls down your comforter and helps you ease back into the bed, handling you like glass the entire time.

“i guess that makes sense.” you sigh into the pillow, eyes still closed as he lets himself into your bed.

“it doesn’t.”

you don’t waste a second before laying on his chest, not that he doesn’t welcome you by wrapping his arms around you immediately.

“oh and touya,” you start again, making his heart race. thinking it'd be another question about the girls he continued to bring over like an idiot.

“you think we can get rid of the couch now?”

you can feel the vibration of his laugh from where you lay, and sleepily, you half smile at it.

“where am i gonna sit to talk to you then?” he answers with a question of his own.

“right here.” you pat his bare abdomen, fingers moving on their own the moment after to trace the dips of his muscle.

“i dunno,” he sucks in a breath. “we had our first kiss there, it has sentimental value now.”

you raise up quickly from where you lay to snap your head up at him, though it’s probably less intimidating because it takes you a moment to actually open up your eyes.

“kidding.” he assures, pulling you back onto him by your shoulder. “i can always steal some money from my old man for a new one.”

“and we can pick the new one together?” you ask with a yawn.

“whatever you want, angel.” he hums, kissing the crown of your head. “just, no more leather cushions.”

[astraystayyh]

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Witch /// Part 1

Rhiana is your dear friend who lives just out of town in a cozy cottage in the forest. You met while shopping. You two talk about the different spices she suggests to flavor meat and veggies. It leads you to a fast but close friendship with Rhiana, close enough that it becomes a usual event to visit her monthly while you’re in the area. Whether it’s shopping, karaoke, or just coffee date hangouts there is one thing that comes up a lot.

“Rhiana you’re so pretty.”

“Aw (Y/n) thank you!”

“Seriously though you’re like a painting. I still can’t believe you don’t model.”

“Honestly (Y/n) you’re such a charmer!”

Your dear friend Rhiana doesn’t do anything for a nightly routine or facials or specific remedies to look how she does. Seeing her when you do it seems like the scale of her looks ranges from glowing to immaculate. It certainly makes getting free stuff with her much easier. She just will credit one thing to her looks and even then she doesn’t talk about it much.

“Maybe it’s what I eat…I have been eating more meat, lately.”

But your dear friend Rhiana doesn’t explain anymore, usually going on a tangent about how she can season her meat. She’ll refuse to tell you just how stringent her beauty is on her carnivorous diet. Because on top of being a good friend to you, she is a Witch. Specifically, the kind that maintains her health and youth by devouring the souls and bodies of human beings. She usually prefers eating children but since she’s met you she’s decided to reign it in.

“What if me and (Y/n) had a baby? Hehe, I can’t believe it’s making me blush so much.”

“Aaaaahh please let me go home!!! I promise not to tell!”

“Hmmmm maybe we’ll have 3…or 5 or 10. They won’t be allowed to leave if we have that many right?”

Rhiana the Witch has been doing this for hundreds of years and she’s had her fair share of lovers and harems. But she’s never found out about someone so early in advance. When she was much younger much dumber of 113  she’d seen a vision featuring you, of course at the time she didn’t know. Nor was she aware just how much seeing the future you had awakened something in her. Now she’s well in her 600s and she realizes how all of her flings in the past have features of yours or they speak like you. Or how her familiars mirror different aspects of your personality and as she delves into her past she realizes how all her life she’s been building up to be with you.

“(Y/n) is my….special person….their mine. All Mine!”

Now on top of feeding her voracious appetite, she’s trying to gain your affections so that she has your consent to make you immortal like she. If you might think it’s because she respects boundaries, then you’d be wrong. The potion she’s perfected over centuries only works if you give your express consent, with as little pressure as possible. So she’s refrained from drugging you on her many outings with you…for now. 

If I wanted to I could sprinkle a light aphrodisiac dust into the food they just keep shoveling into their mouth.

“But then I–HACK—*cough cough*”

“Hon, maybe don’t talk while you’re eating.”

“Right! So as I was saying–”

But Elements do I adore just watching them eat so happily.

She feels like a hapless teen all over again as her stomach flips and turns the more time she spends with you. No longer can she get a wink of her enchanted eyes and some choice sugar-coated words to get you exactly where she wants you. She has to try with you and she’s never wanted to do so more than with you. She’s even begun to tailor her meals with the ones that seem to bother you most. It’s risky but the satisfaction of a full tummy while she reads your letter about the creepy vendor finally stopping their emails makes her happy. 

“That is convenient.”

“I know. It’s not right to celebrate anyone going missing—”

“But it doesn’t take away from the harm they’ve done. Don’t feel bad hon it’s probably just an extended trip somewhere to the underworld.”

She thinks about how she’ll hide her rejuvenating diet when she finally gets you closer to her. You might not notice when she uses magic but you're not an idiot; you’d figure it out eventually. Not to mention the added trouble of her familiar’s growing interest and past suitors budding their noses in her business with you. She’s got a lot of work on her hands—and not a lot of time.

“Hey (Y/n) why don’t I come visit you every once in a while? Two days a month just isn’t enough time to make you fall in hopeless love with me+. What do say to me spending a night or two at yours?”

She's giving the former mc going for the side character reader Debating about a part 2 🖤🖤🖤🖤

I did it! Part 2: Here 🖤🖤🖤

[n0tamused]

Genshi/HSR Characters as Dragons!

A/n: It has been a bit since my last dragon post, sorry my friends. Gotten a bit under the weather but I think that small reprieve has given me a lot of time to think of these designs! So I really hope you like them. Let me know what you think, or maybe who you'd like to see next in dragon form?

Contents: Diluc Ragnvindr, Sunday, Trailblazers(Stelle and Caelus) x GN Reader (separate), angsty hcs and also fluff, implied religious trauma in Sunday's hcs? Trauma in general.

Words: 2000

Diluc Ragnvindr:

-The esteemed Uncrowned King of Mondstadt is not only famous for belonging to a rich family and being top of the food chain in the industry, but also for possessing a power unlike any other. Dragons and dragon shapeshifters, although not unheard of or rare, have been scarcely seen since the cataclysm. Besides Dragon Dvalin, not many others are present in Mondstadt today

-No one exactly knows whether the Ragnivindr family had dragon people before, as the family seems to have kept their history to themselves, but if secrecy was their goal then what did bring Diluc to display his skill with claws and fang? Some speculate that it is not the Ragnvindr lineage that carries this power, but rather it is his mother that passed down the dragon blood onto her son. Diluc doesn’t talk about it whatever the case is. 

-Even in dragon form he is hard to mistake for someone else. He carries himself with power in every step and is always well kept. 

-Kaeya used to tease him when they were children, when Diluc didn’t have much control over his draconic form and when he used to stumble from being a kid one moment and being a small hatchling the other. Kaeya would pull at his tail only to get smacked by it. But the two boys were inseparable and trusted one another. Kaeya never spilled the secret of his red-headed brother’s abilities 

-Not even the childhood friends Jean and Barbara knew of the secret

-Yet, that dreadful night came when Crepus died, and flames soared so high and so hot that not even the rain could quench it. 

-It goes without saying that Diluc carries a lot of guilt and trauma from those days and for the first time in his life he found himself truly and utterly alone. He had no one. Crepus was dead, Kaeya betrayed him, Adelinde was just a maid, he couldn’t trouble her and he and any other friend he may have had in his youth have long since drifted apart.

-Grief turned to anger and that anger swallowed him, pushing him onward on the path of vengeance.

-Shneznaya had suffered much of his attacks - well, the Fatui there did, Diluc never risked harming a civilians, and he had saved quite a few hostages that the Fatui had gotten their hands on. In the land of ice, Diluc almost died as well once he came face to face with one of the Fatui Harbingers, and a dragon shifter at that too. He managed to live by the skin of his teeth, dragging his battered self into the snowy deserts that stretched on endlessly

-That incident ultimately sent him back to his home. He had learnt much and suffered plenty, it was time to let the winter turn to spring.

-Adelinde and Elzer had sent him many letters, he knew, he received most of them. Yet he never had the heart to respond to them..

-He came back a new man, scarred both in flesh and soul, yet a small piece of him was… content, maybe numb too. The cold of the nation Tsaritsa governs over certainly took its toll on him.

-If truth be told, he didn’t expect to return from the trip and he certainly didn’t think he’d ever form any sort of notable relationships in his personal life. He didn’t look for them nor did he particularly look forward to any either. His wound always felt too fresh to let anyone close

-Yet you just managed to do just that. Get close enough into this barricade he built around himself, and you helped put soft linen around his wounds, holding him close when he yearned for touch, leaving him be when he yearned for the cold.

-It took a while, but a rose in the wall of ice began to bloom. Flowers, no matter how delicate, always find cracks to grow in, even stronger than on solid ground.

-Diluc is quite protective of you, very much so, but he is not pushy with it. He understands boundaries and he himself is not a fan of always hovering over someone’s head or being in someone’s space. He does have his ears and good eyes, not just his own, that would alert him should any harm come to you

-You did find some of his feathers around the winery. At first you didn’t know they were his, so you just picked it up as it was still a rather impressive feather, yet it became even more precious once you learnt it belonged to him. Diluc didn’t understand why you’d keep it or regard it with so much admiration, but he wasn’t going to voice whatever protest he had that soon died on his tongue

-He reveals his dragon form to you even later, in the lush grass around the Dawn Winery during one dusky evening. Winter was coming so the air was chilly and breezy. You wanted to watch the sunset and to eventually stargaze, but Diluc wanted you warm while you did that, and soon his dragon form was lying behind your back, his warmth seeping into you and keeping you comfortable.

Sunday:

-Not every eye that is open is seeing, and not every eye that is closed is dreaming, so who are we to judge another? Sunday, the dragon in rule over the Land of Festivities, had long since ascended past a simple ruler. His current form alone demanded a certain form of delicate respect, a cautious one at that.

-No one remembers how he may have looked like before, if he had eyes or if those had been claimed by the Harmony or ▇▇▇▇

-Aeon of Harmony keeps their eyes closed, and in doing so rids themselves of any subjective thoughts. All are equal, and together we are stronger, such is the mantra of Harmony and Sunday was adept at putting that image forth. People were happy, people were content. 

-How many wings does Sunday have that are his own? Only two pairs. One pair meant for flight was crippled, cut short, and the other pair shields his eyes from the world. He now only moves and flies when THEY wish he flies, when THEY allow it, when THEY deem it necessary, and not anytime else. These wings are a burden and a blessing. They’re not his own but he hates to think they’d hurt him should he make some error - not that he would, he won't allow himself an error. No..

-Sunday inhabits his dragon form a lot of times, which, in a way, is also dictated by THEM. The only time he is human is when he goes behind the screen to listen to people confessing their bad deeds and their sins, bestowing his blessing and forgiveness unto them and guiding them back on the right track. THEY are merciful, he says, you have been forgiven.

-His words of advice and the action he took to ‘renovate’ the Land of Festivities(Dreams) have gained him much support and love and even many more followers where he previously had less. People generally did like the Oak family, they also loved his sister. She was the pearl of the Oak family, the sun, and he was the moon and the sea. 

-The colorful pair of horns on his head is said to come from the Harmony as well, it is THEIR blessing to Sunday, to look more formidable yet more approachable. It is THEIR gift. People know and people see this as a sign that he is the true leader they should follow. Many have become more easy to get to do certain things - most of them good yes, like behaving and upholding the rules while in the Dreamscape, but other actions came as hidden tactics from THEM to harvest the necessary power needed for the next step.

-Sunday has become lost in this grand scheme of things, and even the thought of the next morning became a thought too far to consider. He barely has time alone and to himself, he can never escape the eyes of THEM.

-He hates to trouble you. You two have drifted apart it would seem, yet from time to time Sunday would find you visiting him, wishing to give him company at least for a little while. And silently he prays he can indulge you - he wants to, he misses you, your warmth, your presence, your voice, your touch. He is welcoming to you. You have an idea of what’s happening: stress, work, duty - it is a response that he offered one too many times, but there was more, something you couldn’t dig up. It was a thorn in your side, you couldn’t get it out.

-So you sit with him, sharing some words and stories over dinner, tea and cakes. Other times you lay with him, his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle drumming of your heart, a lullaby that is the last thing able to have him sleep soundly.

-He dislikes for you to see him in his dragon form, he considers it broken although it looks angelic in the eyes of the majority, but as it is the form he is found in a lot of the time it is unavoidable. Yet you are the only person he allows to touch him, besides his sister. 

-Touch him, pet him, do as you wish. He is there for you.

Trailblazers:

-Double trouble, Baseballer of the Cosmos, the Nameless, the…*looks at smudged ink writing* Yes, the esteemed Trailblazers!

-You may have heard many stories about them, but once you get a look at them in reality, you’ll see just how amazing they are. The world is vast, yet they seem to shock everyone with their…otherworldly appearance.

-They both claim they weren’t like this before - they were two different people, but now they’re not and they do not remember how it all came to be this way. It is odd, but they’ve gotten used to it.

-Despite the appearance, Stelle is the more aggressive of the two and usually packs a more meaner bite, headbutt or a nastier scratch of the claws. Caelus is more shy, despite him looking more scary, he is sheepish and a tad bit more naive. But both of them are determined to get to the bottom of their story and to get back to their own bodies. The stellaron within them also seems to have something to do with their current predicament. 

-There were times where they were glad for it, as they could provide each other with company and comfort, their heads nuzzling their cheeks together or tangling their necks when they go to sleep in the dragon form. 

-Going in human form is rather complicated, neither of the two like it as one would have to be “dormant” while the other roams the world. The dormant one is able to hear most of what goes on outside, but they’re stuck roaming the subconscious like a heliobi - roaming through hazy memories and corridors. They have gotten used to each other's company so much that it is odd to be “alone”.

-They both love the express a lot and their significant other - which also puzzles them as to how they even have one to begin with.. but alright, they’re not arguing against it nor are they dissatisfied. It is funny how, at times, one of them can get sassy with the other when it comes to dates and things, sometimes even jealous. 

-But it is cute, and it works out in the end.

-At times there are situations where it would be better for either Stelle or Caelus to go (battle - Stelle; something more diplomatic - Caelus), so the two can switch back and forth if really necessary

-Their tail in dragon form is something like a beaver tail, although much fluffier. It can pack a nasty hit if you’re unfortunate to be on the receiving end of their attacks..

Size chart:

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws2 @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached

+ @not-the-darknight (hope you don't mind the tag on there! <3)

[diejager]

could you write something for stepdad alejandro and dbf rodolfo?🩵

Cw: stepcest, praising, worshipping reader, fluff, barbecue, cheating, tell me if I missed any. Note: I stuck with the “canon” age, meaning Rudy and Alejandro are in their late 30s or early 40s.

Mexican summers were always warm - warmer than what you were used to when you were living farther up - with it’s blazing sun and vivid fauna that seemed to glow under the heat and clear blue sky. Thankfully, the air wasn’t stale, neither dry nor humid, but a equal temperament with a soft breeze that cooled the sweat that clung to your skin. You hadn’t dared wear anything other than your bikini when you stood in the busy backyard barbecue your mom and your stepdad had decorated and filled to have guests and friends alike over in the mids of a beautiful July. Unlike many of the older women who covered up in a dress or loose pants out of traditionalist convenience, their children - a cousin or a friend, young adults who were as rambunctious as you - were unabashedly prancing around in thin-strapped bikinis and low trunks, all happy to take in the warmth on their bronze skin. 

Some people you knew, others you didn’t, Alejandro often invited his ragtag group he called Los Vaqueros to every barbecue if he could, his bright and joyous smile lifting the corners of his lips while he flipped the spiced beef kebab he left marinating yesterday. You couldn’t say you knew them very well, boisterous and proud people, but you were familiar with his right-hand man, sweet Rudolf who seemed to loved pampering you as much as he adored you. A man of softness and tender praises, the rough texture of his fingers carefully holding your hips, massaging the fatty rolls and whispering compliments, affectionate confession about how pretty and perfect you were.

“Muñequita, ” Rudy mumbled, pulling you towards him by your waist in open affection, letting others see how close he was to you, arm wrapped around your back and cheek pressed to yours, a smile lighting up his face with every flustering words he let slip down his tongue, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lashes fluttering from how close his lips were to yours, his minty and warm musk filling your sense as much as it drowned out all your thoughts, “Why?”

He chuckled at your flustered and glazed expression, your lips pulled in a small and adorable pout while you clung to him, leaning your weight into his side as if you attempted to stand closer and closer to him despite being wrapped up in him arms:

“Ale and I were thinking of taking you out. That new restaurant you mentioned? We managed to reserve a table.”

“What?!” You turned to stare at him, gaping admiringly, “I- How’d you even do that? I’ve tried so many times and they always seem to be booked!”

“Well, Ale pulled some fa-”

“Honey!” Your mother called out to you from her side of the garden, surrounded with friends near the food table, “Could you go down and get more beers?”

“Of course, Ma!” You clambered out of the pool, water dripping down your thighs while you patted yourself dry, “Sorry, Rudy, I’ll be right back.”

You caught him smiling at you before you slipped through the kitchen door, carefully stepping down the basement-turned-man-cave’s stairs to get the beers out of the fridge. Finding the right pack, your bent down to rummage through the back to reach it when you felt hands grasp your hips. You jolted, eyes wide as you peered over your shoulder-

Only to see Alejandro’s shit eating rain, wild and blazing, smirking down at you with his crotch pressed to your ass. You swallowed thickly, watching the corded muscles of his arm flex and his swimming trunks hanging low, a bit of trimmed hair peaking out to tease you. 

“Thought I’d come down and help.”

Your body burned under his lidded gaze, thick and heavy, weighing you down with a churning in your core,

“Seems like more than just help.”

He laughed, a low bellow that rocked you forward, his shoulders shook and eyes gleamed so brightly, but mischievously. He was like the sun, hot and boisterous, and Rudy the ocean, all embracing and calm.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[clefairysoup]

Bells Ring

spencer reid x gn reader

genre - Fluff!

a/n - warning I can’t really write!Yes this is named after my favourite mazzy stars song because i dont know how to name fics. please give me feed back on anything you think i could improve on. I got this idea from a writing prompt list so if someone has done this idea im sorry!

It had been a peaceful bliss of the early stages of yours and Spencer’s relationship, him being the gentlemen he is always looking out for you, loving and doting on you. In fact it had been a little bit too peaceful.

Although you had never told the team that you were seeing each other. Every morning if you weren’t able to travel to work together, Spencer would bring your favourite baked goods in for you. Throughout the day you would each go in turns to the kitchenette to get two hot drinks one for you and one extremely sugary coffee for Spencer.

During cases you would sneak into each others hotel rooms to spend time together even to do something as small as reading a book in the same room tother, you both found peace in one and others presence. Spencer had also been more cautious with you going out into the field always double checking your vest for you, making sure it was on correctly.

This somehow didn’t seem to catch the eyes of profilers. Although you and Spencer had been close friends for as long as you had been in the Bau, they never presumed you nor Spencer would have the courage to actually date one and other.

That is until now you have your chair rolled up to Spencers desk. The both of you have been talking away about the episode of Star Trek you watched last night at Spencers for the entirety of your lunch break, not having even touched your food yet.

Emily who was sitting in her seat at her desk, and Derek who was leaning on her desk both watch in confusion.

“Okay how did we not realise pretty boy and girl were dating?” Derek states still not able to keep his eyes away from you two who still unawarely talking away to each other.

“I feel so stupid” Emily sighs turning away to sip on her coffee.

Rossi who had been walking past from the kitchenette getting his lunch,

“I bet you do, they have been doing this for 2 months. I think I’m going to have to assign you two some homework”.

Reblogs and feedback I appreciate

[kitasgloves]

idk if you’ll see this and it’s low key my first time requesting but like..Dazai and chuuya with orange cat girlfriend?

I'm ready to deliver anon 💪🏻

I've discussed this with a friend before and agreed that NAKAHARA CHUUYA is a Norwegian forest cat. I don't see Chuuya as some sort of guard dog or a chihuahua (it's fucking ridiculous). Sure, he's loyal to the Port Mafia but he's a pretty independent person. Norwegian forest cats are typically aggressive and cautious around strangers but they become affectionate when they get familiar with you. And I think that is very much like Chuuya.

Now, Chuuya with an orange cat gf is an interesting pair. Usually, I view Chuuya as someone who's reserved and can depend on himself, he does not seek chaos nor prefers to get entangled in it, however, you seem to attract trouble wherever you go. Your boyfriend always finds you in ridiculous situations that end up in catastrophe.

You try to cook spaghetti for date night, the kitchen almost sets aflame. Going on a date with him at a restaurant, you two were escorted out for getting into a fight with another couple (Chuuya caught the guy ogling you, got pissed off, and tried to kill him all the while you filmed it instead of prying him off the poor guy). Celebrating your anniversary by going on a romantic camping trip with him, you two ended up getting lost from your tent while getting chased by wolves (don't worry Chuuya saved you).

Your natural curiosity was usually the cause of trouble. You seemed to love to fuck around and find out. You're fortunate that the gravity manipulator adored you or else he would've lost his patience long ago. Chuuya does think that your clumsiness and playfulness add to your charm. You were always so outgoing and bright that it was difficult to resist you.

The mafioso was cautious of you at the beginning. He was closed off and didn't engage with you, since you were just a random civilian and he was part of the Port Mafia. You would always see him at your local stores or even the park just relaxing. However, with your persistence in constantly bothering him, he was starting to see how you genuinely wanted to get along with him. He tries to get to know you while slowly letting his guard down. When he sensed no maliciousness from your intentions, Chuuya felt like he could breathe easily.

The way you tugged on his heartstrings by learning all about his preferences made him think that he had to keep you in his life. The fact that you let him be vulnerable around you solidified the moment that he fell for you. It was a long time before he confessed to you, he was afraid at first considering he has lost a lot of dear people in his life, and he wouldn't want to permanently lose you. But after pondering and mustering enough courage, he confesses to you. Chuuya was bombarded with your sweet and wet kisses all over his face, and it made his insides melt.

There are even moments where you draw out the playful side in him too. Just like cats, you and Chuuya enjoy playing around. I would see you two going on dates that involve extracurricular activities like ice skating/rollerblading, hiking, swimming, etc. I also think Chuuya would love to take you on expensive and fancy dates just to see you dolled up for the occasion. And yes, he loves to spoil you with clothes and jewelry as well.

However, I think he's a bit peeved with your eccentric taste in food combinations or music. The executive spotted you mixing chocolate with pasta (rip Italians) once and he never wanted to talk about it again. You also love sending him weird playlists that have incredibly specific names, nonetheless, he still listens to them during his spare time.

"Babe, what are you doing up there?"

Chuuya peeked up on the tall tree where you were stuck, clinging to one of the branches. You grinned down at your boyfriend. Chuuya sighs.

"You know what, don't explain"

"Catch me!"

"What? ...shit! Wait—!"

Without having enough time to activate his ability, Chuuya ended up getting squished on the pavement by his girlfriend. He groans while he feels your giggling weight on top of him.

"Baby, you could've at least waited until I activated gravity"

"Whoops, sorry. Are you hurt?"

The gravity manipulator shakes his head but you lean down to kiss him, hoping any bit of physical pain would magically go away. This makes Chuuya smile and envelope you in his arms.

"You are one silly girl, [Name]"

"Can you carry me back home?"

You batted your eyelashes at him and you know it's enough for him to yield. Oh, how can he say no to his eccentric but lovable girlfriend?

Okay, we all know and agree with the fact that DAZAI OSAMU is a black cat. He's both weird and mysterious. So, him being paired up with an orange cat gf seems natural. Black cats are perceived as intelligent and aloof so I had a feeling that you met Dazai during his time at the Port Mafia.

You were nothing but a disposable civilian who had a quirky personality. And yet this quirky personality of yours has managed to capture his heart. You always found Dazai in public places (I mean, he's always wearing dark clothes so he was easy to spot), and you often tried to strike up a conversation with him. When you found out about his suicidal tendencies, you didn't mock or scold him. Weirdly enough, you started giving him more unique ideas on how to off himself.

"Try mixing bleach with a milkshake, I heard you wouldn't even taste the bleach"

Dazai suddenly looked at you with glimmering eyes and proposed for you and him to commit double suicide. Shockingly enough, you agree. So, when you both jump into a river and Dazai ends up being alive but you haven't emerged from the water yet, his body turns cold.

"Oh shit"

He starts to frantically search for you in the water. To his relief though, you finally swam up to the surface with...is that a fish in your mouth?

"Look! I caught one while I was at the bottom of the river!"

From that day forward, Dazai has officially fallen for you. However, he doesn't confess his feelings to you yet. It was not until he left the Port Mafia and began working at the Armed Detective Agency. He hasn't seen you ever since but that doesn't mean he doesn't think of you often. He has dreamt of your face with that fish in your mouth.

The moment you reunited with him felt like destiny. He was chasing a criminal down the street with Kunikida when all of a sudden, the criminal got hit by a car. His breath hitched when he saw you stepping out of the car and rushing to see if the criminal you hit was alright. Dazai felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.

You recognized him immediately and called him by his first name, which made his heart flutter. Dazai felt like he couldn't waste another moment without telling you how he felt. So, just like back then, he offers you to jump off into a river like before in another double suicide attempt. This time, he feels glad that both of you emerged from the water.

At that moment he tells you how he loved you then and now. You tackled him into a hug which sent you both plunging into the water again. But you gave Dazai a proper kiss when you two swam back to land.

I have a feeling that Dazai loves to enable your weird behavior. He'd encourage you to try outrageous things like diabolical food combinations or bungee jumping without the rope (he swears he's not trying to kill you, okay?). He doesn't have to stress about you being harassed by other men since your logic is to behave as crazy as possible so you won't get picked on. But if some bastard persists in bothering you, all Dazai has to do is stand menacingly behind you, truly channeling his scary black cat aura. It's enough to send them away while shitting bricks.

I've mentioned before that you give Dazai suicide ideas, it's clear to him now that it's all satirical. However, when you tried to off yourself once (as a joke of course), thinking it would make your boyfriend laugh, instead he firmly grabs you by the shoulders and gazes at you intently with his black eyes that are void of light.

"Don't ever do that again"

He scared you at first and almost made you cry. Dazai felt bad and apologized to you by cuddling you and feeding you your favorite food. As much as the thought of double suicide excites him, the idea of you dying genuinely disturbs him.

Dates with him aren't expensive. He's down with strolling with you on the streets and kissing on sidewalks or going stargazing on the rooftop with your legs dangling on the edge. He adored your jokes and silly pet names that you would call him. He'd pet your head affectionately like a cat.

Dazai would often indulge in your antics. You two enjoy chasing each other all over the house or outside like cats. You love plopping on top of him and rubbing your cheek against his chest. Even though he's on the skinnier side, Dazai is strong enough to support your weight and carry you around. He too enjoys snuggling against you and stealing all your body warmth.

You two were walking home after another double suicide attempt. Both of you were soaking wet from jumping into the river. People gave you and your boyfriend weird looks as you two entered the local fast food. Dazai was fishing his pockets and chuckling before whispering to you.

"Darling, I may have lost my wallet again"

You paused mid-chew on your burger and blinked at Dazai. You smiled reassuringly at him.

"Don't worry I'll pay—"

Your stomach drops when you can't feel your wallet in your pockets. You cast Dazai a look and he immediately knows it. Both of you looked at your surroundings and back towards each other. Immediately, you and Dazai made a run for it, bolting out of the establishment with one of the employees cussing at the two of you. Dazai couldn't be happier and content spending the remainder of his existence with you like this.

[nyuoqi]

            — SO I MARRIED MY ANTI-FAN     ౨ৎ     SES

OO7.    old times

✸ SYNOPSIS !  : congratulations! you have been invited to korea's #1 romance reality show 'We Got Married' where you will be living with your co-star like a married couple. but what will you do when you find out that your husband is actually your anti-fan?

(626 words, not proofread)

"MY MANAGER JUST TEXTED me that he will come pick us up for today's activities. " EUNSEOK mutters as he munches on his breakfast. 

the breakfast in question being a sugary pancake paired with pickled radishes. despite you telling your friends that this dish is not that bad, you must admit that it indeed, tastes terrible. never once in your 22 years of life have you ever thought that you will be eating such combinations for breakfast but here you are, munching down the food while pretending that it tastes nice.

besides how could you point out the terrible taste when your fake husband is clearly enjoying them. you can't just reject such act of kindness, can you?

"do you know what the activities would be? " you push your plate away from you and reach for a glass of water, thanking the heavens for giving you a way to escape from eating this hell of a breakfast.

EUNSEOK stays silent for a while as he types on his phone before nodding negatively. "he did tell me to dress up casually though, said something about how we have a costume time change into later. " his words a bit muffled as a result of him talking while eating. 

you chuckle at the sight, cute.

spending a day at your old middle school is definitely not what you think you will do with your future husband— maybe not really, considering the fact that he graduated from here unlike you who left to debut at an early age.

now with the both of you clad in your old school uniforms, you must admit that you're quite confused about how you didn't noticed EUNSEOK back then. he's an eye candy after all.

"for today's activity, you guys will be spending a day as a middle schooler. worry not, you will only do fun activities such as lunch times, recess, after school and so on. no classes nor learning! " the pd explains. both you and EUNSEOK cheers when the pd says that you will not be learning.

your first stop is the cafeteria. the both of you rushing to get in line which nearly ended in an argument— well at least not until EUNSEOK decides to make your heart flutter by saying ladies first.

settled down in your seats, you and EUNSEOK dig in your lunches while talking about old days.

"i don't want to make myself sound entitled but how have i never noticed you before? i'm pretty sure i knew everyone back then. " you asked, your chopsticks hanging mid-air. 

EUNSEOK furrows his eyebrows, "you don't remember me? " he mutters, making you panic slightly, "i'm sorry but what do you mean by that? "

"oh nothing. it's just that we actually participated in the same maths competition, i was in my 2nd year while you were in your 1st year of school, you won and i was the runner up. " despite him smiling while telling you that information, the fire and sirens going off inside EUNSEOK's brain says otherwise.

you cover your mouth with your palm, "oh my god, you were in that competition? how could i not recognise you? " you pout, "i remembered the runner up being a guy but i thought he looked different. but well, i guess it was you all along. "

EUNSEOK laughs through his gritted teeth, "haha, i had quite a glow up, didn't i? " he jokes.

you are still in awe at the unfolding scene in front of you. "i can't believe that after all these years we would reunite with each other as husband and wife. it's almost as if it's fate! "

"yeah, fate. " EUNSEOK swears he can feel his right eye threatening to twitch but he contains it for the sake of the rolling cameras.

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[c1eepypas1a]

Can you do some dark Dean Winchester smut? With an age gap, daddy kink, and virgin reader?

A/n: I can only try, this is my first smut pls don't make fun, plus I dunno how to do the writing color change thingy, cringe ahh title name (plus: this is fictional, I know it's fucked up but honestly I've been through shit like this, and if you don't like it, don't read it, there are multiple fics like this, I'm just doing what people want okay?)

Parings: dean Winchester x fem! Virgin!sub! Reader (I can do a male version if it's not supposed to be fem)

Warnings: age gap (dean is 29 reader is 18, daddy kink, dean forcing reader to call him daddy/dean calling himself daddy, non-con, pain for the reader, forced oral (m!rec), tit palming/slapping, slight choking, kissing, swearing, obviously Dom!dean and sub!fem! Reader, nipple play (for like a second), crying, blood (slightly yk since she's a virgin)

"Please, don't...daddy."

*gif isn't mine I got it from Pinterest*

*readers pov*

Me and dean have been friends for awhile now, he thinks I'm stupid, that I don't know about all the staring or lingering touches when he's fixing up my wounds, I hate the looks, I remember when it all changed, when he changed

*flashback*

I smile as I walk into my house with jo, I jump as everyone shouts surprise at me,my dad, bobby singer walks up to me "wow kid, the big 18, do you feel older yet." He smiles warmly and I smile "uh, yeah I guess." I giggle, dean makes a backhanded joke about me finally being legal,

Sam rolls his eyes "dude, your almost thirty, stop being so gross, you knew her when she was in pigtails." Dean grumbles and hands me a present, telling me to open it later when nobody's around and his hand lingers on my shoulder,

That night I open the gift dean gave me, a fucking vibrator, in the shape of a rose and a photo of him, gripping his clothed hard cock, I quickly throw it under my bed along with the vibrator and I pretend nothing ever happened.

*end of flashback*

I walk into the motel room, I look at dean who's binging through channels on the tv "where's Sam?." I sit down next to him, "gone to get food." I nod and I continue to watch the tv, dean lands on a horror movie,

My eyes wander to the hand he placed on my thigh, I don't move it nor I say anything and I get back to watching the shit gore on the tv, "you know sweetheart, sammy's gonna be gone for a while." He says in his usual flirty tone, his hand sliding more up, I push his hand back down, "so what if he's going to be gone." I say feigning my clueless tone, bile rises in my throat as I feel his eyes move down from my face to my tits, "means we could find other things to do then this shitty ass movie." He grips my thigh tighter, borderlining on pain "d-dean what the fuc-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine,

I try to push him away and get up but he pins me down and he tsk's "no, your not going anywhere, I've waited to fucking long for you, I'm not letting you go now." He smirks and starts to undo and push down his jeans "as much as I want your cunt, I'm gonna use your mouth first."

He manhandles me so I'm on my knees, tears sting my cheeks and he smiles condescendingly, "oh baby, you started this, this is your fault, parading in your short shorts and your tight shirts, wearing no bra thinking I won't notice." He says, gripping my hair with one hand and palming my tits and thumbing at my nipples with the other, against my mind praying for this to stop, my body reacts, my nipples getting hard and my cunt getting wet, he smirks at me, pushing down his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, the imprint of his dick visible,

He stops palming at my breasts and pulls his boxers down, his hard cock slaps against his stomach, leaking pre-cum at the angry red tip, "open up for daddy." He smirks but I don't, I keep my mouth shut and he gets visibly annoyed, he grips my hair tighter and then his other hand closes my nose, "c'mon baby, you gotta breathe soon." He says in a condescending tone,

I try my hardest but I finally open my mouth to breath, he quickly shoves his cock down my throat, I gag and spit forms around my lips and his length, he lets go of my nose and I try to breathe but its hard, "you know, this all could of been avoided if you didn't play fucking coy with me.", he says as he practically skull fuck's me, gripping my face and hair, thrusting his hips roughly,

After about 5 minutes he finally pulls away, I take a deep breath of air,tears streaming down my face, he roughly pulls me up against him, his cock against my clothed stomach, he pushes me down and sits in between my legs, trying to push my shirt up but I twist and I turn to get away, "c'mon babygirl, the less you resist, the less it'll hurt your little virgin pussy." I whimper at those words,

After what felt like forever of struggling, he finally gets my clothes off of me, leaving me in my panties, "lace...it's like you asked for me to fuck you.", I cry at those words "c'mon baby tell me how much you want this, tell daddy how much you want his big cock to stretch you open." He grins sadistically, I stay silent and dean doesn't like that, I feel his hand strike my left breast, "say it!." He shouts in my face, I whimper and I finally speak with a scared tone, "i-i want d-daddy's big cock to stretch me open." He smirks, "that's a girl.",

"please don't...daddy."

That's all I can say hoping that will please him but before I know it he thrusts into me, pain shoots through my whole body and I start to cry again "awe, baby don't cry, daddy's got you." He says as he fuck's me faster, taking away the one thing I thought I could control, but I can't, I'm helpless as he takes it from me, I feel liquid down at my pussy and I look down, I notice the crimson liquid leak down my cunt,

"I fucking knew you would bleed, don't worry sweetheart, it won't hurt that much anymore.", he says as he fuck's me harder, it hurts, no pleasure from it, I beg for him to stop, I cry to god that it'll be over soon and before I know it, I feel him pull out and his cum spurt on my tits and stomach, I feel dirty as dean kisses me before he flops down beside me and cuddles me, like he didn't just destroy me, exhaustion takes over me, before I slip into sleep I hear dean mutter something and I fall asleep.

*the end*

(a/n: my first smut, I hope it was good, if there is any mistakes or anything you didn't like please tell me, I'm sorry it's so short, I wrote this at 1am.)

[literaila]

Hey, I don’t know what you make of love triangles but I’ve always wondered how Typical Family would look like if reader once had a “not so obvious” crush on Geto and the two almost looked like a couple except Geto only saw her as a friend and Satoru doesn’t actually start to “see” reader until he sees how broken up she is after Geto’s betrayal. Kind of looks like the thing between Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto (ahem Except Sakura takes the less toxic path). You don’t have to indulge in this nor does it have to be canon to your original story but I’m just curious 🌚

now i dont think satoru was ever jealous of suguru because 1. suguru is all-knowing and 2. suguru is a literal big brother to you and there is only platonic admiration there.

but. you know who satoru is jealous of? nanami kento.

okay, there’s really no arguing—the boy needs a haircut.

he also needs to stop letting you hang off of him, and taking you out to dinner (because you find his interest in food a bit bizarre, and funny), and making you laugh all of the goddamn time.

satoru may be the strongest, the prettiest—but he has the disadvantage of being older than you. it’s not often yaga sends the two of you somewhere together—or any of the first years with the seconds.

and it’s just not fair, okay?

the only reason you even train with satoru is because he’s the only person who can see your technique, the only one who has a fair fight.

in fact, the only reason satoru gets to hang out with you at all is because you like everyone else. your classmates like suguru and shoko—and tolerate satoru.

and maybe it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees you standing a little bit too close to nanami. maybe it makes him feel like his world could collapse—disappear—right in front of him.

he does not want to endure being subjected to your schoolgirl crush on a boy who can’t even be bothered to cut his hair. and what would you see in him anyway? are brown eyes preferable to his outer-worldly blue ones? is satoru’s hair just not yellow enough?

…is nanami your type?

all of this to say, it’s definitely not satoru’s fault that he just accidentally threw nanami across the courtyard.

it’s the boys fault, obviously, for daring you to wish him good luck, for saying something so funny before they began that his smug face is still so pleased from making you laugh.

it’s not satoru’s fault.

but he does realize his mistake when instead of aweing over him like he’d wanted—you rush to nanami.

satoru is standing there, a rare frown on his face, looking down at his hands like they’re going to give him some answers.

“are you taking your anger out on the first years, now?” suguru asks, dryly, looking over to where you’re checking nanami’s pupillary response.

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” satoru grumbles, feeling even more betrayed.

what does that kid offer than he can’t?

“you know you could just talk to her, right? you don’t need to beat nanami up to prove a point.”

“if he wasn’t so weak i wouldn’t have—“

and then you’re walking back to them, nanami’s arm slung over your back as you half carry him. his face is already puffing up. “where’s shoko?”

you give him a look with unbridled rage. satoru can already feel the scolding coming on.

“i think she had a meeting with yaga, or something,” satoru answers, giving you his best innocent look.

it does nothing.

suguru inspects nanami. “do you need help?”

“no,” you frown at the boy hanging on you and sigh. “i’m taking him to the infirmary. i don’t know where yu went, but if you see him will you tell him that we left?”

“sure.”

suguru nudges satoru. “uh, yeah. we’ll tell him.”

you nod sternly at them both. “thank you.”

and then you’re walking away, even closer to nanami than you were before.

satoru is already pouting. it doesn’t take much.

“you’re stupid, you know that?”

“he asked me to—!”

“he wanted to learn. not get a concussion for no reason.”

satoru waves a hand. “he wont even remember it tomorrow.”

suguru is smirking at him, looking like he knows something that satoru doesn’t. “because he has brain damage?”

“because shoko will heal him.”

suguru only shakes his head. “i’m going to find haibara. he probably got lost again.”

satoru nods but remains there, with his arms crossed.

seriously, nanami kento of all people?

*

meanwhile, you’re lugging kento up onto one of the tables in the infirmary, feeling like you should’ve forced gojo to carry him the whole way.

you would’ve—if the sight of him didn’t make you want to rip your hair out.

…for a multitude of reasons, of course.

“okay. you okay? how’s your head?”

“bruised.”

you snort, pushing his hair back so you can see the black eye that’s already developing. at least it won’t get the chance to turn purple, you think.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why gojo did that.”

kento laughs, leaning again away from your hand. you wonder if it’s his possible concussion, or if what you said was really all that funny.

you’ve only gotten him to laugh like… three times.

“you can tell him that i’m not interested in stealing you away.”

“gojo?”

he nods.

“why would i tell him that?”

nanami’s eyes closed. he looks like he’s aged years in the last hour. “are you naturally ignorant, or are you trying to distract me?”

you cross your arms. “what do you mean?”

“whatever’s going on between you and that white haired freak, just leave me out of it.”

“going on? there’s nothing going on. gojo is just an idiot—“

“seems like it’s spreading.”

“are you sure you’re okay, ken? i think you’re going crazy.”

nanami sighs. you can practically see his eyes rolling under his eyelids. “where’s shoko?”

you look around, biting your lip. “i don’t know… i thought she’d be here by now. i’ll go check the classrooms.”

he nods.

“don’t fall asleep, okay? i mean it.”

“just hurry.”

and you turn around the door, more questions running through your head than when you walked in.

*

satoru is still standing there, contemplating his life choices (of which there have been few) when you’re running back across the courtyard.

but you slow as you near him, your eyes filled with intent.

and maybe he was waiting for this.

“you asshole,” you say, hitting him on the shoulder—which he allows because any moment of you touching him is one that satoru wants to savor. “what were you thinking?”

he stands there, completely still, for just a moment more. you’re here now. with him. who’s with nanami then?

still, he shrugs. “i just forgot how weak he was.”

“oh, you forgot? you forgot that it was training and kento isn’t some special grade curse you—“

“is he dead?”

“what? why would you say that?”

“if he was really a special grade curse he’d already be dead.”

“you’re so arrogant,” you grind out, shaking your head at him. “and reckless! kento probably has a concussion.”

“then why aren’t you looking after him?”

“i—what?”

“why are you here yelling at me,” satoru gestures to himself, a grin forming on his face. “instead of making sure that he’s okay?”

“i—“ your mouth opens. then closes. “i went to go look for shoko and i didn’t think that you…” you shake your head again, frowning.

satoru just smiles at you.

he likes you a bit flushed and angry anyway.

“stop smiling at me like that!”

“what? i’m not allowed to smile now?”

“no. after today you’re not allowed to do anything. you’re lucky i’m such a good person or else you’d be six feet under—“

“you expect me to believe that you would actually kill me?”

“if i didn’t have a moral obligation, yes.”

satoru laughs.

“shut up,” you say, hitting him again. “i’m angry enough that i could do it.”

he shakes his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder. he has to make up for all of the time that nanami got to cling to you—has to repossess this, or he might go insane.

“that’s not why i’m laughing.”

“get off of me.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” satoru whispers, right in your ear, delighting in a shiver that you can’t hold back. “even if you could. you like me too much to do it.”

you push him off of you, scowling. “i do not like you—“ you insist, only slightly breathless. “you just beat up my friend for no reason.”

“friend?”

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking up at satoru like he’s a demon sent straight from hell—just to torment you.

have you ever looked at nanami like that?

no, satoru thinks, you haven’t.

“yes, friend,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, “i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but really. why is everyone acting so weird today?”

satoru’s grin is almost blinding. there’s no one else you get so worked up over. no one else who you would pause just to yell at.

“c’mon,” he says, instead of answering. he pushes himself back onto you, pulling you close by your waist. “i’ll look for shoko with you. you can tell me about how much you like me on the way.”

“gojo satoru, i will still murder you—“

[brunnerasposts]

hiiiiii!

i saw your tbbt fix AND OMG IT WAS ADORABLE could i maybe get a story about the whole gang getting overprotective when Somone flirts with reader [ik it's basic I just love the overprotective trope]

tysm!♡ of course!

Dinner Disaster

The Big Bang Theory x GN!Reader

Summary: A dinner at the Cheesecake Factory gets awkward when the gang defends you from a stranger coming onto you

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: Outside of TBBT storyline, no shipping with anyone, gender neutral pronouns for reader

Additional Note: I had no idea what to name this one, I'm so sorry 😭

It was another average day for the gang in Pasadena. Everyone had just gotten home from work and decided to go have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory per Sheldon's consistent schedule.

You, Leonard, Howard, Amy, Bernadette, Penny, Raj, and Sheldon all took your usual places at the eight person table.

"Let's see... what am I going to order that isn't going to make me nauseous?" Penny asked herself, confusing Howard.

"Is something wrong with the food?" His chair made a slight scrape sound against the floor as he shifted. "Should I be eating a tum?" He joked.

Bernadette shook her head, rubbing her boyfriend's back. "No, silly. It's just that when you work in a restaurant for a while, the consistent smell of the food plus eating it on your break makes you get sick of it." She explained.

"Don't you feel weird eating dinner at the place you work?" Leonard asked you, making you shrug.

"I make a point not to eat the food here. Otherwise, I'd never step foot into the Cheesecake Factory again. I honestly can't smell half the foods in here anymore." You explained, the short scientist nodding as he looked over his menu.

"Excuse me," a voice came from next to you. Everyone, confused, looked to what they assumed was the waiter, but it was an unfamiliar man.

He was tall, clean shaven, but something felt off. Your gut told you this guy was going to cause trouble. Realizing that he was speaking to you, you turned to face him more. "Yes?"

"I know this might be a little forward, but you're really attractive, and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me at the bar?" The guy asked.

You froze.

Never had someone been so forward with you before, nor had anyone been so blatantly rude to the fact that you were otherwise busy. Penny, who sat next to you, leaned forward. "Who are you exactly?"

The man glanced at Penny, a bit taken back but also not doing anything to hide the fact that he was also checking her out. "Just a guy who noticed an attractive person and wanted to say hi."

Sheldon interjected, sounding annoyed with a stranger interrupting their dinner. "Excuse me, but I don't believe you understand the social protocols here. Our friend is clearly enjoying our company, and we are more than capable of fulfilling their intellectual and social needs."

Amy was quick to follow up. "Sheldon's right. We're a close-knit friend group, and quite honestly, I think you're making our friend uncomfortable." She added, her tone protective.

The man raised his hands defensively, clearly surprised that everyone was snapping back. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

Raj, who had been silent up to this point due to his incapability to speak in front of women, managed to muster up the ability to say, "Back off, dude or Penny will kick your ass."

Penny gave Raj a look, but everyone knew that she'd be able to take him down.

"Woah, woah! Hey, look, I'm sorry. I was just trying to meet someone. No need for a fight." Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked to you. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Not really sure what to say, you shrugged. "You did, and I appreciate the apology. I'm going to have to decline." You tried to be nice about it, but your friends were making that a little difficult.

"Yeah, our friend is not interested. Goodbye!" Bernadette shooed him off. Surprised, the man blinked a few times before quickly scurrying off.

Once he was out of sight, the tension at the table seemed to disperse. You turned to everyone, laughing a little. "What was that, you guys?"

"What?" Leonard pretended to be oblivious, adjusting his glasses. "That whole thing that just happened!" You laughed, looking between everyone.

Amy, who sat adjacent to you, tilted her head a little. "Someone was making you uncomfortable. Did you think we were just going to let him?"

That made you smile, warmth spreading through you as you looked to everyone. Although you were slightly embarrassed, you were mainly appreciative that they were so quick to help.

"Thank you, guys." You said, touched by their concern. "Just remember I can take care of myself."

"We know. We just care about you." Bernadette smiled from a few seats down.

As dinner shifted back to its normal rhythm, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the people around you. Being apart of this quirky, overprotective group of friends meant you'd always have someone looking out for you.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

The End.

[oceantornadoo]

cleanse me (bsf!johnny mactavish x reader, fluff with groping)

it had been a rough mission. the kind where the team gets out by a hair, bleeding and scraped as they ran to exfil. the kind with a silent ride back to base, neither you nor johnny able to fill the air with a laugh or two. the kind where you think of what could have happened if things hadn’t fell into place at the last second, who you could be mourning now.

johnny’s your best friend, and maybe something more. late night cuddles, waist hugs and forehead kisses all feel like a little more. that night with the drunken marriage pact (you both were only tipsy, but you like to use alcohol as your reasoning for stupidity) that you both ignore to this day.

so when you see him in the communal showers, a man whose seen you naked in every way, you can’t help but seek comfort from your other half. you strip your clothes into a pile on the floor and walk over to where this scottish god stands under a shower head, letting the water wash off his sins.

he hears you come up from behind him and tenses a bit, still in fight mode from the mission. you take a hand and smooth out his tense back muscles, his body relaxing at the familiar feel of your calluses. his mohawk has grown out, almost breaking regulation standards, but you like the feel, sliding your hand from his neck to his longer strands. your nails scrape his scalp, every movement reminding you that you didn’t lose him, he’s still here. you reach your other hand around him, and he silently squirts shampoo into it.

you take your time massaging his hair, getting out the dried bomb residue and drops of blood. the water finally runs clean after a few minutes, and you finish him off with your own conditioner since you know he doesn’t own one.

you move on to body wash, massaging him up and down until he’s covered in suds, in soap. you take your time with his back, tracing scars and healed-over bullet wounds. you crouch and get the back of his legs, kneading tense muscles. he turns around and you choke back a whine, coming face to face with his hardened cock, but now isn’t the time. instead, you lather the front of his legs and slowly stand, giving his cock a couple pumps to make everything gets cleaned.

finally you clean his torso, playing with his light chest hair as you work in the last of the soap. his arms are so masculine, thick veins protruding as you work him down to the fingers. and now you’re done.

you make eye contact nervously, for the first time since this entire endeavor started. his blue eyes sear into you, a world of want and understanding found behind them. johnny grabs your chin and pulls you closer, forcing you into the cleansing stream of water. “leannan.” darling. love. you had looked it up before, his tender nickname for you, never really understanding the breadth of it until he looked at you like this. like you were his love.

“johnny.” he was cleaning you now, with the same care you gave him. the hands of a soldier, a bomb maker, an engineer, practiced in deft and slight movements. “ye take care of me so well.” you nodded, choking back some unknown emotion. he was cupping your pussy, muttering sweet nothings about treating her right and my wet little thing, things in his language you didn’t understand.

“how long do i have to wait to marry ye again?” he moved from your cunt to your breasts, memorizing their feel. storing it for later, in the darkness of his room, fist pumping his cock with rough strokes. “five-“ his hand gripped your throat, thumb stroking your jaw, distracting you for a second. “five years.” he hummed. “i’ll marry ye tomorrow if ye want, just say the word.” your mouth opened and closed, resembling a gaping fish. he laughed and gave you that cheeky grin, slowly returning to himself. because of you.

“cmon, let’s get some food in ye.”

—

best friend!johnny GETS ME

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

What's Left Unsaid

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Desc: Just you and Ace pining over each other and making everyone sick of it.

There’s an elephant in the room that neither you nor Ace seem to want to address. To the passerby, nothing strange seems to be occurring between you. Instead on the outside you both appear to be really close friends, which in itself is not an issue. And if that was simply the case no one would bat an eye. But to the people who know you and him, it is most definitely not the case. And they are tired.

There have been times where Thatch has spotted you both sitting down to eat breakfast but you’re too busy staring at one another that the food seems to go cold, despite how heated your gazes were getting. To the point where he could be across the room and feel uncomfortable for the strange energy going on between the two of you. Bringing it up with Ace was a lost cause, as he’d just punch his arm and tell him to shove off because nothing was going on. “So… you and Ace?” But bringing it up with you doesn’t seem to be anymore fruitful. You pretend to act coy about the issue.

“We’re just friends, Thatch.”

“I don’t think any of my friends look at me like you two look at each other.” You were both bordering on undressing each other with your eyes, which if it was a once of occurrence, he’d leave it alone. But he’s witnessed it several days in a row. You open your mouth to retort, only for him to cut you off. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” You sigh, grimacing into your food.

“What if he doesn’t like me back?” Thatch is speechless. He’s just provided you some form of evidence that clearly Ace might be thinking about you more then just a friend, and you still aren’t sure. He’s not sure what’s got him more stumped, how you just seem to have no idea. Or the fact that two of the most reckless people he knows both appear to be shying away from confronting their feelings.

Marco, is just as perplexed when Thatch fills him in. Because he’s heard more times than he has fingers both of you flirt with one another, and some of those lines made him do a double take. It can’t be that you’re both oblivious, there’s just no way that’s the case. Not with the shared glances, incessant flirting, and how strange you both get upon any physical contact with one another.  You both seem to be enabling each other, but neither daring to finally bite the bullet with it outright. And it was just starting to get irritating.

There’s nothing more annoying than trying to fill Ace in on something important, who can zone out at the best of times. When you happen to be in the vicinity, because every ounce of his attention just falls onto you. He’s not sure who’s worse, Ace, who while denies up and down what he was doing, doesn’t seem to hold much shame about his blatant staring. Or you, who will also deny it up and down, to the point of being overly flustered about the whole ordeal.

“Ace you’re seriously dragging this out.” Marco decides to voice the next time it occurs, Ace’s head snaps straight back to him. “Just confess already. You can’t really think they don’t like you? Because if I had a 100 Berries for every time you said to each other things that even some couples would blush at, I’d have enough to cover several bounties on this ship.” Ace can’t argue with that, holding his hands up defensively in defeat.

“Alright, alright, point taken.” Marco was satisfied enough to drop the subject. But made a mental note if this drags out any further to take matters into his own hands.  

You both knew you were dancing around the topic. The actual admission lingering around like a cloud over head. Perhaps it was the deep-rooted fear of rejection that was stopping either of you from finally voicing it aloud. Or the wanting of finally having the other being the one to crack and finally confess. Either way, you both knew it was time to do something due to the questioning of your crewmates.  

“So…” you both spoke at the same time. It was late, you were both alone together, with the words dancing in your throats. “You go first,” you and Ace laugh as you interrupt each other again, he gives you one of his signature grins before speaking.

“Would it be crazy for me to think that you like me more than a friend or crewmate?” You match his grin with one of your own.

“Hmm I don’t know; would it be crazy for me to think that you feel the same way?” A silence inserts itself of between the pair of you. You both look to one another, waiting for someone to make the final leap over the line. And upon not wanting to have another strange conversation with Thatch or Marco about the relationship status of you and Ace, you decide to do it. “I like you, Ace.” You feel relieved to finally voice it aloud, and so does he, taking your hands into his.

“I like you too,” echoing the sentiment straight back to you. Joy radiating out his features the same way heat does from his body.

“So, uh did Marco have a conversation with you about our flirting or?” Ace eventually brings up while you’re both standing there overlooking the dark ocean into the night.

“No but Thatch did bring up our um staring contests? At breakfast.” You both laugh again. “No wonder they are so over us.”

“How much do you think Marco heard? Because you said some crazy stuff-“ you’re quick to stop his sentence, recalling some of the things rather recently that he’s said to you in passing.

“Now hang on just a minute, you also said some crazy stuff, that I can’t even repeat while being sober.”

[bubbbii]

..Princess?

title : …Princess?

pairing : Jungkook x reader

genre : kpop smut, jungkook smut, dirty content

warning : friends to lovers, doggystyle, name calling, degrading, daddy kink, choking, multiple orgasms, spanking, fingering, blowjob, handjob, spitting, sucking out, hickey kink, very dirty content

summary : she’s still stuck on her and her best friend’s magical night the night before, can’t believe he took control over her. Y/n stands on her ground tonight and confronts Jungkook for what happened. But one thing led to another, and she can’t help but fall into the same trap again…princess? Jungkook didn’t think so.

[REQUESTED]

!PURELY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal story or idea without permission please and thank uu :)

Let’s go <3

________________________________________________

The others went out to get food and shopping, telling the two who was stuck to the couch for an hour and a half that decided to stay back. Well, one of them decided to stay back. Y/N’s house, they were staying at for the weekend. Jungkook, who decided to stay back to stay with Y/N…both of them, remembering the night before all of this was planned. Both of them were itching to talk about it. And Y/N went first.

“Ok, we need to talk about last night” “What about it?” “Jungkook! Come on! I can’t be the only one who’s wondering what happens next!?” Jungkook chuckled, pausing the tv series and looked at Y/N in her eyes. “What? What do you wanna talk about baby hm? What could we possible talk about?” Y/N scoffed, huffing at the nickname she heard. “D—Don’t..don’t call me that” “Oh really? Last night said otherwise” “And this is why I wanted to talk about it! You and..seducing me! I don’t understand!” Jungkook smirked, chuckling again as he scooted closer to y/n. He looked at her, snaking his hand down his inner thigh.

“H-Hey..hey, no. What are you doing? Why are you so close” Jungkook could tell she liked it, despite her pride. Y/N liked it for sure..but she didn’t like the fact Jungkook could see through her, the only person who didn’t follow her around. He didn’t fall for her..she fell for him. And that was only because Jungkook didn’t treat her like a princess like everyone else did, he treated her like she was his own..and that’s what y/n liked, but didn’t like.

And that made Jungkook like her for sure.

“What’s wrong? You wanted to talk about it, so talk” “I just - why do I have to be the one to beg? A-And chase you!? You’re different-“ “And you don’t like that. Well baby sometimes there’s gotta be a someone who teaches you that you can’t be bossing everyone around, nor..act like you’re a princess. And that someone was me” Y/n gulped, feeling his hand massage her thigh as it crossed over his leg. “N-No, it’s not fair..this isn’t fair - I am a princess! And i deserve to get treated as so!” “True..but you won’t be bossing me around” Y/n huffed, rolling her eyes a little.

“Well i have all of the boys swoon over me, it can happen for you too” Jungkook chuckled, making y/n get taken back. “What-“ “You’re cute sweetheart..but that shit don’t work with me” Y/n sighed, knowing it wouldn’t on him. “By the way..you looked very gorgeous sucking my cock” Y/n scoffed at Jungkook’s say. “I did not! No!” “Oh let’s be real..you loved getting eaten out by me” Y/n poked her cheek with her tongue, not denying the fact.

It was the truth after all.

Y/N couldn’t get enough of Jungkook, and vice versa as they stared at each other. “Just kiss me already what are you waiting for!?” Jungkook scoffed, smirking as his eyes were still on her. “That’s not how you ask baby” “Don’t make me beg! Why are you making me beg!?” “Maybe because you don’t know your godamn manners” Jungkook responded softly, raising an eyebrow at her. “..no, please” Jungkook gave her that look. That look…makes her fall every time.

“..please?” He smirked, kissing her, feeling her immediately respond, moaning at the contact. They kissed for a while, not getting enough until Jungkook broke it. “Good hm?” “No..no - why are you doing this to me!?” Y/n fought, standing up as she stood in front of him. Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back on the couch, his legs spreading apart normally. “Doll” “I mean - why can’t you just beg for me!? Why am I the one being token advantage of?” “Babe-“ “Like why?! You’re acting so different I don’t understand!” Jungkook looked at y/n, seeing her clear her throat and straighten herself.

“Ok..I see” Jungkook slowly nodded, making y/n whine and throw her head back. “I just don’t get it!” Jungkook chuckled, smiling at her cuteness. “Come here” Y/n followed, jungkook pulling her down on his lap. Jungkook made her feel at ease, looking up at her. “You do realize..that sex, just means more to me right?” “Well..all of those other girls meant something to you!” “No..every girl was a distraction from you” y/n blinked, her mouth parting. “So how about this. We’re not thinking about, who can fall in first. We aren’t thinking about none of that. We’re gonna think about us, right now. Ok?” Jungkook whispered, his hands traveling up her thighs and to her ass.

Y/n sighed, finally letting go of her pride and nodded as Jungkook kissed up her neck and to her naked shoulder. Y/n started to feel a little desperate, rolling her hips a little. “W-What about the others?” “Don’t worry, they won’t be here until..another hour or so” Jungkook assured her, kissing her making her immediately respond as her hands went through his long black locks. Jungkook’s hands were gripping y/n’s hips and took control over them, rolling them in a circular motion. “F-Fuck..oh my god” “feel that? Feel that hard cock hm?” He made her hips go faster, making y/n’s moans progress as her pussy managed to create a wet patch on her shorts.

“Mmh..kook-“shh it’s ok I know, I know that pussy’s soaked. She’s soaked isn’t she” he slapped her ass, making y/n jolt at the move. She nodded, speechless at the pleasure she was feeling from beneath her. “I cant..I can’t take it - shit!” Jungkook flipped the two of them over. Jungkook now hovering over her and kissed down her neck and collarbone again, creating hickeys and love bites. He tore her shirt, her shorts, only leaving her with matching bra and panties. “JUNGKOOK!” “I’ll buy you more calm down princess”

Y/n hummed at the nickname, quickly covering her mouth as Jungkook looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “What-“ “You’ll buy me more, good” Jungkook smirked, his fingers playing with her soaked pussy as he rubbed up and down. “You like that princess?” Y/N moaned at the name, getting her more wet than she already was. “Yess, yes i love it..fuck” jungkook ripped the panties as well, throwing the item on the floor before sticking 2 fingers inside. “Mmmh fuck yes yes yes yes - kook!” “You’re doing great baby girl take them for me” Jungkook scissored his fingers like nothing, hearing y/n’s moans and whines fill the room.

“Fucking shit - i’m not gonna last long. I’m not gonna last long” “You wanna come for me? How do you wanna come baby” Y/n whined, throwing her head back at the pleasure she was feeling. “You know…you loved my mouth last night, you came almost too quick” Jungkook said cockily, taking out his fingers and sucked them clean before getting on his knees. Jungkook pulled y/n closed to him, her legs over the muscular shoulders of his before making eye contact with her.

“Look at me, and don’t look away” He sternly instructed, and dug in her pussy, still keeping the eye contact. “Fuckkk kook! Oh my god - it feels so good, your tongue!” “Stop squirming princess” He muffled out, eating her out like it was his last meal on earth. The eye contact was still held as he vigorously sucked her pussy, the moans and whimpers and whines filling his ears. He loved it. “I’m gonna come.. i’m gonna come - jungkook!” “Come for me baby” Jungkook focused on a specific spot and never stopped, keeping the same pace and y/n came on his face, keeping her body still as it jolted at the orgasm she was having.

“Ooh good girl, that’s a good girl for me” Jungkook whispered, sucking all of her juices before backing away and placed his hand on it. “You’re still wet angel?” “F—For you, only for you” “that’s right glad you know” Jungkook’s hand slithered up her neck, gripping it as she felt kissed on her cleavage and exposed parts of her bra. Jungkook un clipped it with ease and saw the hard nipples that the bra was hiding. “Who’s bitch are you?” “I’m your bitch..I’m daddy’s bitch” “oooh that’s right good job” he kissed on her chest lightly, making hickeys here and there and finally took the nipples in his mouth.

He gave them a bit of love, taking his precious time with both of them before bringing his cock out of his pants and boxers. Y/N loved when he stroked it in front of her, her pussy clenching for dear life as she wanted nothing but for him to fuck her brains out. “You want it?” “I want it” “How bad you want it?” “Badly daddy please, fuck me until i’m..fucking numb” “mh pleasure” he smirked, sticking it inside of her.

Oh what did she get herself into.

“Fuck that pussy tight. That pussy clenching on me not letting go huh?” Jungkook rammed into her, his pace steady as his hips snapped against her making his cock hit all of the right places. Y/n gripped the muscular arms, trying to keep her noises in..even though it was hard as hell too. “Don’t fucking keep your noises from me” Jungkook slapped her thigh not giving a care in the world if it hurt or not just to hear her squeal at the hard slap she received. “FUCK! Oh my god - Jungkook! JUNGKOOK!” “There you go im fucking that pussy good aren’t I? I’m fucking that pussy like she deserves it. My princess deserves getting that pussy fucked doesn’t she”

Y/! moaned and whined at the dirty words, noticing it went straight to her throbbing pussy that clenched more around him. “Stop clenching me like that - fuck” His pace quickened, the skin slap heard loud and clear as jungkook’s hand never left y/n’s throat. The grip got tighter, y/n’s moans turned into choked out moans and jungkook loved to hear it. “You-You’re so big in me…I feel like coming again” “Oh you wanna come again yea?” Jungkook stopped, turning her around and propped her hips so she was doggy styled.

“You’re gonna fucking come” Jungkook slapped her ass making y/n whine at the slaps. “And you’re gonna come remembering who’s fucking bitch you are understand?” “Y-Yes!” “Yes what!?” Jungkook slapped her ass again making her squeal out. “Yes daddy! Y—Yes daddy i’ll come for you” “Good girl, now make it happen” Jungkook fucked her vigorously with no mercy shown, doing low moans himself as his ears got filled with Y/N’s loud and pleasurable ones. “I’m getting close, daddy i’m getting close - fuck!!” Y/n yelled out, clenching the couch below her. Jungkook pulled her hair, making her look all the way back until they met eyes upside down.

“You’re gonna come for me slut hm? You’re gonna come for daddy i’ll make sure to fuck this pussy raw, until you got no more come left in you you hear me? I’ll make sure you remember nothing but my fucking name, i’ll make sure you cream on this dick, making that pussy cream over and over and over again because you’re who’s bitch?” “I’m Daddy’s bitch!” “WHOS BITCH ARE YOU?” “I’M DADDY’S BITCH OH MY GOD IM COMING, IM COMING’ Jungkook got faster and Y/N for sure creamed his cock white, soaking every inch he had making him smirk.

“That’s my princess. That’s my princess good girl” Jungkook praised, giving y/n’s neck a tight squeeze before taking the cock out. “Forgetting someone?” y/n immediately got on her knees, taking the whole thing in her mouth making Jungkook hiss at the move. “Yea you know what the fuck to do - make me fucking come bitch” Jungkook thrusted in her mouth, keeping her head down at the base and still as his orgasm built up inside him. “Yes yes yes yes fuckkk i’m coming baby, i’m coming - shit” jungkook soon came in y/n’s mouth, feeling her swallow it all.

“Swallow it all angel good girl” Jungkook peaked again, rolling his hips before slowly taken the cock out. Y/N stood, Jungkook immediately holding onto her and kissed the marks he made on her neck. “I-I’m still horny” “I was never done in the first place” Jungkook rasped before picking her up and took her to the kitchen.

The kitchen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YES YES YES YES FUCK ME! FUCK ME LIKE THAT - OH MY GOD! KOOK!” “Shit. you feel so good. Oh my god” Jungkook wrapped a good amount of hair around his fingers and yanked making her head yank back and her back to arch. “Fuckkk yes daddy harder, harder daddy please! Please I need you” “Ooh my baby’s a desperate bitch tonight. You wanna come the 4th time for me tonight? You wanna cream this dick again hm?” “I do! I do daddy fuck me, fuck me im getting close!” “You dirty whore who would’ve known you were such a bitch for me. But I love it, i’ll give my princess what she wants and let everyone know who fucked her so good”

Jungkook’s hands gripped her already bruised hips and fucked her like there was no tomorrow, sending her over the edge. “Ooh fuck fuck fuckkk that pussy feels amazing. That pussy feels so fucking good - that’s my pussy, that’s my fucking pussy isn’t that right doll?” “YES! This pussy belongs to you it’s your pussy it’s your pussy - fuck i’m coming! I’m coming again!” “Me too baby girl come for me come for daddy angel” His hips fucked into me with 10x much effort and we both came together, Jungkook fucking into y/n harder than before.

“Yea yes yes - fuck..daddy” “Good girl, that’s my good girl you did so good for me” Jungkook rasped. He hummed, slowly taking the cock out of her and turned her over to her back gently. “You ok?” “Mhm..best sex ever by the way” they laughed, kissing each other gently. “..so-“ “I wanna be with you. Spend the rest of my days with you - you’re the only..one, i want. Can you give me a chance?” y/n smiled, cupping his sweaty cheeks. “It’s almost like you read my mind” they smiled at each other, kissing each other once more.

“We gotta lot to work on” “And you’ll help me do just that. I rather work on it with you than with anyone else” Jungkook whispered, kissing her cheeks and neck making her giggle at the tickled spots. Then the door opened. “KOOK! Y/N! YOU HUNGRY?!” their eyes widened, looking at each other.

“Let’s get to cleaning”