#oh this is brilliant actually 😭

[k-wame]

For your consumption. via twitter @Saltburnfilm

[jadelemonadee]

im pretty sure there’s someone pretending to be thayne on pinterest and ITS SO HILARIOUS

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[skitskatdacat63]

Its basically to keep track of what characterization notes I want to push but. Why am I writing myself comments on my wip that read like comments I would leave on ao3 😭😭 would this be considered egotism

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

I have joined

A new Whouffaldi server

With my best friend’s account and

ACTUALLY THIS FEELS ILLEGAL THIS FEELS LIKE IM REWRITING A MEMORY THIS FEELS LIKE THAT EPISODE OF A SITCOM WHERE YOU’RE SEEING EVERYTHING FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S PERSPECTIVE

[chuluoyi]

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

[soobnny]

dating him | hwang hyunjin

❝ i’ve never seen anything quite like you, my love ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | HYUNJIN | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

hopeless romantic hwang hyunjin

love is beautiful and brilliant hwang hyunjin

yall cannot convince me that he isn’t the BIGGEST lover

romance is in his blood

he is so fascinated by it

so, for that reason, i feel like dating him would be like the love you read about or watch in movies

bc hyunjin would b the type to consume so much of romantic media

it’s where he learned everything from

wow what a dream

he strikes me as the type to fall in love with every little thing too

his eyes is just a lens of romance

and it’s set on YOU

every single love language he has it .. but here are some specifics

love language #1 gift giving

hyunjin is a traveler okay

and in every trip, he always has something to give you

keychains, t-shirts, bags, jewelry, stickers, refrigerator magnets, pins, you name it

even u have to remind him not to go all out sometimes

bc when that boy splurges, he SPENDS

esp for u ? he would spoil u in a heartbeat

he always makes sure he leaves a day of his travels dedicated to u and thinking about u

on that note, he tends to buy u guys matching items

matching phone cases, matching rings, matching scrunchie

whatever u can get that’s matching

he WILL get it

it excites him too

he loves being able to tell the world how in love he is

wait side note

whenever he’s traveling, he’s always just instinctively thinking about you

he buys this bagel for breakfast, oh ???? like hey guys yn loves bagels too

and the boys r like WE KNOWWWW 😭

everything is about u quite literally

ok continuing on

and he gifts u his art too

his art is very important to him

and he has found lately, u are the one person littering his sketch books

oh he’s down bad

i think for ur anniversary, he’d paint the constellations of how the stars looked that night and aligned perfectly

or his favorite picture of you

down bad that he also buys u a shit ton of dresses

and lingerie ………….

look he knows his fashion

he knows what looks great

u can’t blame him for buying what he knows will look so pretty on you

(he’d probably give u his card one time and say “go crazy” like wow he’s packed)

#2 quality time

i think his favorite dates would also be expensive

he just can’t help himself

BUT u know he has a sweet spot for self care dates too

spa days are very important to him

loves being able to relax and unwind with u

he especially loves when u play with his hair and when u paint his nails

one time, u caught him stealing one of your nail polishes

would also be the type to bring some bit of you in his travels

like ur perfume or ur shampoo

anything that’ll remind him of u

tho ur scent is his favorite

hence why he goes for perfumes or soap or shampoos bc u feel closer to him this way

he just loves being with u even if both of u are doing nothing

just like that bruno major song

conversations where u lose track of time

conversations as in talking shit about the people you hate together

😭😭😭😭

i think he’d want to paint with u

he’d be so shy to ask you too

just simple things

that cute date idea where you swap paintings every 5 mins or something

when u showed him that tiktok, he jumped in excitement

he wanted to do it right away

he prepares everything

he has both ur paintings framed in his room

it’s his most prized posession

oh, and he always invites u to game nights with the boys

he is SO competitive at monopoly

he couldn’t give two shits about other games

u don’t know why he gets so worked up with monopoly

“SEUNGMIN DONT DO IT SEUNGMIN!!!!”

it’s actually rly funny

he would be the type to take revenge

“you’re gonna regret buying a house there”

would cheer if his friends go to jail in the game or if they go bankrupt

doesn’t even try to hide it

and if he’s playing as the banker, he’d slip in extra bills for you

#3 words of affirmation

tho usually said when he thinks u’re asleep

he’s thankful that u take care of him when he forgets to

esp when he’s so immersed in his art

he whispers words of love

like poets and authors in books

he is just so full of love i can’t say it enough

physical touch except instead of touch, he loves kissing you

LIPS AND NECK ESPECIALLY

those are his top 2

he uses tongue 😕 sorry to break it to u

and he also leaves hickeys

so don’t run out of concealer okay!!!!!!! bc he tends to leave like a lot

before i end

here r some more dates he loves

botanical gardens

he’d pick a flower and place it behind your ear

now it’s his lockscreen

sunday markets

he loves the domesticity of shopping together

he buys u lots of flowers

every single type

u think he’s given u all types already

there is never a day where ur apartment doesn’t have flowers in a vase

bc as soon as the first sign of death arrives, he’s off to buy u new ones

he strikes me as the type to also go all out for valentines

hyunjin would send u mounts of chocolates and flowers

take u out to the fanciest date

u get to try new food and cuisines bc of him!

might even buy plane tickets so u two could travel together

maaaaaaaan just treasure everything

a love like hyunjin’s is hard to come by

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[sourszt]

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | torture + non-con

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — art the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, art the clown in general, torture, non-con, slight kidnapping (?), bondage, knife play, blood + blood play, violence, fingering (not sanitary knowing art, wash yall’s hands !!), slight dacryphilia

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — foreword, i do NOT condone anything in this fic ! david howard thornton himself actually said art would be against this and i find art a comfort character, this is just for kinktober purposes 😞 if you guys are NOT comfortable with non-con or torture please do not read this, spare yourself the pain please i beg 😭 i will not be upset bruh

you were a force to be reckoned with, that much was evident.

whether it was because you were drunk or with a friend group that made peer pressure feel good, it didn’t matter to the black and white clown you approached at the club. he had been standing there for the past hour or so, staring at you through the split in the crowd.

obviously he had a crush on you. that was what your friend whispered in your ear with a little nudge to your side and a drunken giggle.

your devil costume left very little to the imagination, faux red leather hugging your curves. that had to be it, without a doubt. you had already been getting attention throughout the night, so this was only more fuel to the fire that was your ego.

his costume was detailed to say the least. the fake blood on his costume looked rusty as opposed to the cherry coloring on everybody else’s clothes and faces. he must’ve made it himself.

it took a few more pushes of encouragement until you finally went up to him, wondering why he was unable to take his eyes off of you. it wasn’t flagged as creepy in your fogged mind, rather flattered.

“you’ve got a staring problem, don’t ya?” you shouted over the music with a giggle, leaning against the bar counter for support. your high heels definitely didn’t cheap out on the high part.

looking at him up close definitely made your mind wander a little more. he was much taller than you — likely over six foot — and seemed pretty lanky under that suit. his eyes were a brilliant blue, starkly contrasting the black makeup neatly circled around them, and they couldn’t seem to get away from you. his hooked nose, as well as his entire face, was painted white and had a singular black dot on the tip of it.

something about him piqued your interest, and it only grew when he didn’t answer you. instead, he smiled and tilted his head down, like he was feigning some bashfulness. it was cute. you respected the commitment to the act.

“i don’t suppose you want something from me?” those drinks you had earlier were kicking in, making your confidence soar to unnatural heights. “what’s your name?”

you expected him to drop his little facade and lean in and tell you. but he didn’t. he reached for your wrist and shifted your palm upwards. you were beyond curious, but allowed him into your space.

he dragged his finger across your palm a few times, you piecing the motions together. a-r-t. “art. oh, your name’s art?” the clown nodded with a wide grin.

that wasn’t his last trick, it seemed. from the palm of his hand, he revealed a fake red rose. the synthetic petals were slightly crumpled and stained with drops of something even darker than its natural color.

it was a little corny, but you blushed nonetheless. it was sweet. he gestured for you to take it, so you did.

“hey, let’s get outta here. the music’s making my head hurt.” the second part was a lie, but your motives were relatively pure. you thought that he was only silent because of the volume. maybe the fresh air would make him open up a little bit more.

art nodded a little too eagerly and started moving you towards the door. you could only give your friends a very brief glance, them offering you smiles and raised thumbs before you vanished outside. you would soon wish that they’d kept you inside.

you took in a deep breath of fresh air outside, observing the parking lot. there was not a person in sight. they were all inside. except for you and art.

art. you spun around to see where he had gone and found him hunched over a black trash bag. initially, you were going to pull him away from it, thinking he was digging through waste when he suddenly straightened up and turned towards you. his hands were behind his back.

words got caught in your throat and you found yourself laughing to fill the silence. a wave of anxiety washed over you until art revealed another fake rose. this one was attached to a plastic stem.

but while you graciously accepted his second offering, you failed to notice the bat he had brought down onto the side of your head.

—

you never had a concussion in your life, but you were sure this was what it felt like.

you awoke to a blinding headache and nausea bubbling in your stomach. your vision refused to adjust properly, but you couldn’t miss art’s black and white suit in front of you. your depth perception wasn’t the most reliable, but your body knew to start acting.

you went to kick and scream but found it futile. duct tape muffled your cries, though it was ripped off faster than you could register it was there, and thick rope around your limbs kept you still against the table you were draped over. a few blinks helped you understand your predicament: you had been moved to some sort of warehouse and were tied down to a cold, steel table that had goosebumps prickling on your exposed skin.

your clothes were intact, which made you sigh. one victory.

though you weren’t sure for how long. art hovered over you from the side of the table, his sick grin mocking you as he eyed you from head to toe. it felt like he had already undressed you just by the way he was sizing you up.

that came next. with his one hand that was free, he started to drag his finger down the center of your chest. the closer he got to the low-cut hem of your top, the louder your protests became. art was prepared for that.

he brought a thick chain with several rusted scalpels and medical scissors down onto your legs, creating multiple shallow breaks in your skin. you screamed out. he whipped you again. this time you bit back guttural cries and accepted his hand.

his face screamed disgust and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe that you would ever ask him to stop. the way his creased white face morphed was eerie. it rendered you silent while he unzipped your tiny red corset.

you flinched when it popped open, exposing your tits. you hurried to cover yourself but your arms only moved as far as the rope allowed you to. either way, art flung his chain at the arm closest to him and you had to choke back a scream.

blood seeped from countless wounds, warmth running down and onto the table. you squirmed and cried as much as art allowed you to. he seemed to enjoy your agonized writhing, running dirtied fingertips over your open cuts.

“please, please,” you whined. it was mindless rambling at that point because you knew he wouldn’t.

he had shifted his attention down to your pleather skirt, slowly undoing the zipper on the side. you wanted to kick and fight but you dreaded the idea of getting cut into even worse. so you let him peel it off of you, along with your panties.

“oh god, oh god,” you sobbed, clamping your legs together to keep some of your dignity. art must have been keeping a spare blade tucked in his hand because suddenly he sliced deep into the side of your thigh. you couldn’t help the scream that tore from you, which earned you another gash along your ribcage.

you started to think he was bleeding you dry as slowly as he could. but not after he had his fun first. your body shook underneath his gloved hand as it traveled down your stomach and towards your bare pussy.

part of you thought he was going to force your legs apart and jam as many scalpels inside of you as he could manage, so you resisted when he tried to pry them open. but when he did, after lashing you a few more times, he ran his blood soaked fingertips through your folds, making it slick for him.

it was nauseating at first. but after he pushed two fingers into you, the strange sensation of his fingerless gloves sliding inside, that feeling simmered into pleasure. you choked on a whine, your body fighting the urge to roll your hips into his hand.

your skepticism prevailed the second he slid his blade across your stomach. you cried out, and art felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers. the reaction was satisfactory to him and he gave you a few more markings before deciding you’d had enough for now.

the blade clattered onto the table a moment later and his freed hand went to your breast. you couldn’t deny what it did to you. the pain was beginning to make you delirious and you melted into his touch a few times. you pulled against your restraints but it didn’t get you very far.

for a while, he worked into a steady pace that had you crying out with more pleasure than pain. your cuts stung, but those sharp pains added to your rapidly building orgasm, that was only really accumulating with your eyes closed.

art didn’t seem to appreciate that, quickly finding his blade and carving something into your skin. it tore you out of your momentary tranquility and a scream ripped from your throat. as you did, his other hand curled inside of you and a moan fought to follow. pain and pleasure battled inside of you, and it was sick that the pleasure was threatening to win.

your body twisted to get away from the scalpel in your side but it was to no avail. he cut and sliced until he had crudely carved the word “CUNT” into the fleshy part of the side of your waist. blood oozed out of the deep gashes and art ran his gloved hand through it, smearing it all over your skin. crimson covered your breast as he came up to grab it again.

you got the message to look him in the eyes while you came, which came soon after he added a third finger. how he was able to do it with ease made you sick. you shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself in any way. you would probably need stitches and therapy after this.

but now, all you could focus on was his long fingers. the feel of his fabric white fingerless gloves inside of you, probably soaked with your blood and slick. your gashes burned every time your back arched off of the table but somehow, it intensified the growing fire in your stomach. that tensing of your thighs, the weak thrusts of your hips that attempted to match his.

it amazed you how he was still silent, blue beady eyes focused on you and only you. they started to widen when your moans went pitchy, like he was encouraging you to let go. he didn’t look so scary then. his face went closer to yours, and he was shocked that you didn’t immediately flinch back.

he offered you slow nods as his fingers continued their assault on you. your thighs parted in acceptance and defeat, your orgasm finally crashing into you. moans came out mingled with sobs because it was over.

your mind was spinning, and he granted you a moment to compose yourself before getting back to work. breathy pants quickly turned into raspy screams once more as he swiftly carved something else into the bloodied inside of your thigh:

ART WAS HERE

[gay-dorito-dust]

wahhhh reading that hurts me 😭 could you please write a part 2 where they all find out that it was bill who possessed reader?

Tag list: @babypeapoddd @i-am-tiredd @sly-thou-pookie @x-seyaa @sweetlumpkinseedlin @kawaii1369 @roo024 @lightmaren

Part 1 right here

‘What?’ Ford asked.

Bill cackled. ‘For someone as smart as you sixer, you sure are stupid as not to notice the obvious signs of whenever I’m possessing someone. I mean out of everyone you should know better.’

Ford clenches his jaw. All this time he had thought you had betrayed him when in actually you had been loyal to him and his family, up until he and his brother ostracised you even more then you already were for the past thirty years. He made you feel like shit, and he could tell that Stanley felt the same amount of guilt as he clenched his fists in silent anger; Ford then levels Bill with a glare. ‘You possessed y/n! My assistant!’ He roared at his once muse.

Bill only chuckles. ‘Correction!WAS your assistant Stanford! And pushed you through the portal whilst wearing the face is someone you cared for,’ Bill then gasps as he looked at the guilt ridden faces of the Pines Family and feeling the joy bubble up in his triangular body, the look of defeat and realisation was all too sweet, ‘Oh wait! Someone you once cared for before throwing them out like they were nothing to you, not once letting them the space to explain what had happened and how I tricked them into making a deal with me.’ He finished by pretending to wipe a tear from his one eye after cackling some more at the hilarity of the situation.

Humans loved to cause more problems within problems they didn’t fully handle properly as they stockpiled on top of each other, giving him the leeway to get what he wants without issue or confrontation from the pathetic family.

Possessing you during a brotherly squabble was perfect! Ford had cut all ties with him and decided to call upon his idiotic brother- as though that would’ve ever worked in any timeline- to help hide his work but when things didn’t go Ford’s way, they fought. You were trying to stop the fight and bill took advantage of that by claiming he could help you stop the fight, fat chance, he was going to make it worse and leave you to be his scapegoat! It was a brilliant plan to make up for multiple set backs thanks to Ford’s sudden realisation of his hermit tendencies, everything was out in place for the ultimate betrayal by the hands of Ford’s assistant; you!

Bill found that Tragedy was at its finest when the betrayal comes from someone you love and it did.

‘They didn’t-‘ Ford began.

‘Say anything?’ Bill interrupts, causing Ford and Stan to glare at him as the demon cackle as he got in close to their shared triangle shaped prison, staring them down with his one eye, unblinking. ‘You and your piece of shit brother over here didn’t even let them speak! Never less believe them when they were telling the truth!’ He roared, ‘and now you don’t know whether they’re even alive so that you can apologise to them!’

Mabel slams against the bars of hers and dippers prison. ‘they’re alive!’ She shouts and Bill now looks at her, amused.

‘How can you be so sure shooting star? For all you know they could be dead, cursing your grunkles names as they die with an unsatisfying end.’ Bill mocked her as she falters in her resolve, he was right, how could she be certain that you were alive when Gravity Falls was literally on fire and demons from another dimension were running amok? She couldn’t and that’s what upset her the most.

‘Because we know our great aunt/uncle better than you bill and we know they’re alive!’ Dipper pips up this time as he laid a reassuring hand on his sister’s shoulder, smiling at her as she smiled back at him in thanks for having her back. Bill looks at the twins, hating their optimism and hope that you were okay and decided to destroy this by reaching into thin air and producing a realistic illusion of your unmoving body before them.

‘Are you so sure now pine tree? They don’t look very much alive to me!’ Bill exclaims as Mabel, Dipper, Stan and Ford could only look up the body that Bill claimed was yours in disbelief and shock. This couldn’t be how it ended, could it? They still had to apologise to you after all for everything and make it up to you however you wished!

‘No, no this is some foul trick of yours bill!’ Ford screamed as he threw himself against the bars, forcing himself not to cry at the sight of your body while seething with rage and a need to avenge your supposed death. ‘You sick son of a bitch!’ Stanley joined in as he felt even more useless than ever, he felt the most guilt out of everyone as his eyes seemed to refused to move from your supposed body. You couldn’t be dead, he refused to believe such bullshit lies, you were still alive and fighting with the rest of them! He knew it, deep down in his heart he knew it to be true!

‘No.’ Mabel cried as she tried to reach out to you as Dipper held her while silently crying himself, vowing to take down bill now more than ever as he tugged his hat down to cover his eyes. You were the most encouraging person he’s ever met and now you were gone, you asked him and Mabel to trust you when contemplating to stay with Stan, and they did believe and they never regretted doing so because you were right! You were always right and yet in the end you died thinking they hated you more than anything; which wasn’t true! Far from it and now…now they can’t make it up to you, they had lost their chance.

Bill had won over the pines family once again.

[leaderwonim]

𓇻 I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME.

▸ PAIRING.. class president!yang jungwon x outcast!fem!reader

▸ SYNP. jang y/n hated yang jungwon. perfect, loved by everybody, class president yang jungwon. people only liked him because he was a man and he was charismatic. however, when she’s being picked on by the girls at school, yang jungwon comes to her rescue, and weirdly, she didn’t mind it?

▸ GENRE. enemies to lovers (it’s one sided though, yn just hates jw😭) angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of sexism, fluff

author’s note: this is based off of olivia rodrigo’s unreleased song! This was honestly so much fun to write and it took me about 3 days cause I fell violently ILL like the day after I started writing😭 As usual, REBLOGS and COMMENTS are so greatly appreciated <33

Jang Y/N was what people called an outcast. Although she was pretty and had the grades, she heavily disliked half of her class, which in turn, didn’t exactly make her very popular.

“I hate him.” She says as she shoves a spoonful of rice into her mouth. Her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung, who told her that she shouldn’t be so negative all the time.

“Who, Jungwon?” Wonyoung asks, frowning. “Yah Y/N, you can’t hate him forever. He’s nothing but nice to you.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N mumbles angrily, putting away her lunch. “Wonyo, people only like him because he’s a man who can say a few charming words. He smiles and at least half of our class falls onto their knees or something.”

Wonyoung chokes at her sister’s comparison, and can’t help but let out a little laugh. “I’m just saying Y/nie, you can’t just despise him because he seems perfect to the naked eye. In fact, I say become friends with him. It’ll be good for you.”

Y/N shuts down the idea right away, much to Wonyoung’s dismay.

“I am just saying,” Wonyoung stands up, finished with her lunch. “I mean, don’t you find it sad? That you eat lunch everyday with your sister instead of eating with friends or a boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N says, frowning. “I like eating lunch with you Wonyo.”

“Hm, I guess.”

The Jang sisters lock arms, strolling to their next class. They miss the longing glance that Yang Jungwon sends towards Y/N’s direction, already too far gone into the Decelis Academy hallway.

‏‏‎ ‎

Unfortunately for Y/N, she had her leadership class with Jungwon, where they would discuss things like student politics and how to better the school so that Decelis could stay at its rightful place of number one on private academy rankings.

It was stupid, Y/N thought, Decelis shouldn’t even be close to number one, this school was filled with a bunch of spoilt children who were obsessed with the idea of money and power.

“Is there a problem, Miss. Jang?” The teacher asks, noticing the little scoffs she was adding each time Jungwon spoke about an initiative he wanted to add.

“No,” Y/N shrugs. “I just think Yang Jungwon’s new initiative is just a waste of time. It's not going to solve anything.”

Jungwon smirks, something that Y/N so desperately wants to wipe the floor with. “Y/N, always the critic of my ideas. Very well, let’s hear your brilliant solution.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course Yang Jungwon wanted to pretend to remain civil, if he had blown up on her, it would’ve tarnish his reputation, and Yang Jungwon would be nothing without his reputation, right?

“Instead of your one-size-fits-all approach method, we need personalized mentorship programs. Each student faces unique challenges, and your initiative doesn't address that.”

Jungwon smiles. “Well I suppose you’re right. But perhaps if you actually joined the initiative, you'd understand its effectiveness.”

Y/N grits her teeth, not enjoying how much Yang Jungwon was enjoying this. “Oh, right, because following the herd blindly is the key to success? Unlike half of Decelis’ population, I prefer independent thinking.”

The boy leans closer in, face almost touching the girl. “Sometimes collaboration is the key to progress, Y/N. Try it sometime.”

The two students make eye contact until Y/N breaks, finally pulling her eyes away.

“As usual, Yang Jungwon always has to be right.” She mumbles under her breath. “God, please save me from being in this class any longer,”

‏‏‎ ‎

Y/N throws her backpack on the floor as soon as she steps into her house, not caring about the expensive computer her grandmother had bought her last Christmas that was stuffed inside. Her parents were in the kitchen, discussing something in hushed whispers, almost as if it was top secret.

Always being the curious child, she leans onto the wall that separated the living room and kitchen, trying to make out what the topic was about.

“I’m just worried honey,” she can hear her mom say as her dad rubs her back comfortingly. “Y/N doesn’t have a lot of friends at that school, Wonyoung told me about it. You know she only hangs out with her sister and that’s it?”

“I mean, is it really that bad that she only hangs out with Wonyoung? She’s always been quiet, I think we’ve just got to respect that. She’s an excellent student anyway, there’s no harm in having little friends.”

Although her parents truly just wanted the best for her, Y/N felt like a complete loser by how they were going about it.

She quickly rushed to her room, biting her lip in annoyance at how everybody seemed to have an opinion about her life. She was happy with how it was going, and she didn’t care that her only friend was her sister, Wonyoung was a sweetheart and lived with her, it was a built in best friend for life.

“Just you wait,” Y/N huffs, sharpening her pencil. “I’m gonna go to university, leave this place, and I won’t have to hear about any of these kids ever again.”

‏‏‎

Y/N woke up the next day with a red eye, probably from crying last night despite telling herself she didn’t care.

She cared, a lot.

Romanticizing being alone was fun until she realized that she was truly all alone, with no friends to lean on.

“Is that Jang Y/N?”

Park Jiwon. The devil herself. She was evil as she was pretty, and she had no problem making Y/N’s life a living hell.

“Where’s Wonyoung? Did your own sister finally get tired of you?” Her little group of minions laugh as if it was the funniest thing ever, and Y/N tries and stops herself from giving them all a swing to the face.

“No, but I’m sure you’re used to that feeling, right Jiwon?”

“Oh you little b—”

“Jiwon, you can’t hit her! You’ll get suspended and it’ll go on your permanent record.” Her friend says, which makes the girl straighten up right away.

“You’re lucky Jang,” the girl snarls. “But yah, what were you thinking? Talking back to Jungwon? He’s so smart and handsome, dedicating his time to make initiatives for the school. You should be more grateful.”

She and her minions get so close that they practically push Y/N back onto the locker, suffocating her with their glares.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The voice of Jungwon doesn’t go unnoticed by a single girl, who, all but Y/N, straighten up their hair when they realize he’s behind them.

“We’re just talking, right Y/N?” Jiwon says, pinching onto the girl tightly.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Park Jiwon, don’t make me give you detention for picking on other students. It doesn’t make you attractive.”

The girl gasps, immediately letting Y/N go as her face heats up in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t—”

“Just go.” With one point of a finger, Yang Jungwon got Park Jiwon and her minions out of the hallway, leaving Y/N and him alone.

“You okay?” He asks her, eyes concerned.

“Thank you,” she breathes out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows. “You were getting picked on.”

“Well, I’m not the nicest to you.” The girl says, suddenly embarrassed. “At all, actually. So thank you Jungwon, really.”

“Ah,” the boy smiles. “It’s nothing. I don’t hate you if that’s what you think, I think you have a brilliant mind just like me.”

And for the first time since she’s stepped into the school, Jang Y/N finds herself liking Yang Jungwon, and not just for his looks.

‏‏‎

“Y/N!” The loud voice of Yang Jungwon doesn’t go by Wonyoung, who gives her sister a smirk as she slightly pushes back her shoulder.

“Wonder why he’s coming,” she teases, which makes Y/N scrunch up her nose in annoyance.

“Would you like to come with me to this new bread place?” He asks, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Sorry—I ran all the way from the cabinet office to here.”

“It’s alright,” Y/N giggles, which makes Wonyoung’s eyes pop out of their sockets because she swears she never heard that sound coming from her sister’s mouth before. “I’d love to Jungwon.”

“Great! I’ll uh.. I’ll see you later!”

Wonyoung turns to face Y/N as soon as Jungwon leaves, giving her the biggest grin ever. “What was that?!”

“Let’s just say, I don’t hate Yang Jungwon anymore.” Y/N smiles, laughing as she watches Wonyoung’s jaw practically drop to the ground.

‏‏‎

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Jungwon says as he and Y/N walk to the new bread place.

“Yes,” Y/N puffs out, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

Before she knew it, Jungwon already takes off his jacket and wraps it around the girl’s shoulder.

“Jungwon,” she whines, “then you’ll be cold!”

“It’s alright really!” He laughs, giving her a big smile. “I’m practically invincible to cold. Was just asking because you seemed to be freezing.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I feel really guilty for trying to one up up all the time or prove you wrong. I just hate it, you know?”

“Hate what?”

“You might not realize it but a lot of people don’t want to hear what I say because I’m a woman, and that’s it. Just because I’m a woman. Like sometimes, I have ideas just as brilliant and changing as yours, but everybody says I’m complaining and over analyzing. When you say it, with your handsome face and clear voice, everybody’s suddenly entranced, and they’re so interested in school politics.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing back Jungwon slightly as he laughs.

“I’m kidding, Y/N. I know what you mean now. I’m sorry that I can’t change how people view and perceive things, but I want you to know that I listen to your ideas, that I care. You might not realize this either but whenever you’re talking, I always listen. Like your initiative about bringing better programs into the school, I listened through the whole thing because I just—I’m inlove with the way you articulate things and the way you speak. If I was half as good at speaking my mind like you were, I’d be unstoppable. You’re a great person, Y/N, and I’m so glad I’m able to see that.”

The way Yang Jungwon speaks about her makes Y/N want to cry and smother him in a hug, which she does a second later by bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you Jungwon.” She says, face in his neck. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He feels like he’s out of breath by how close the two of them were, his heartbeat racing by each second that passed. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

‏‏‎

“Hey!” Y/N is practically used to seeing Yang Jungwon come up to her everyday now, the two even spending lunch together every two days.

“What’s up Yang?” She says, noticing a packet of papers in his hand.

“You know your feedback on my initiative? Your personalized mentorship program idea! The headmaster really liked it and he’s implementing it starting next semester with your name as the credit on it!”

Y/N’s eyes widen in joy, shrieking as her hands unconsciously come in contact with Jungwon’s, the two holding both of each other’s hands tightly as they jumped in happiness.

“You’re amazing Yang Jungwon!” She says giddily, “you really are.”

The two of them stop to stare at one another for a brief second before Jungwon finds himself leaning in, closing the gap between their lips.

When they pull away, the smiles on their faces never fades, Jungwon’s dimple ever so prominent.

“I love you,” Y/N breathes out. “My wonderful class president.”

And although Y/N is a feminist, obviously, she wouldn’t mind a man like Yang Jungwon saving her, for he taught her what love was like, and that she should never ever settle for less.

[imaginesig]

In Every Realm

SMAU

Aaron Taylor Johnson x Wife!Reader

Yn is the muse of the brilliant Robert Eggers, she has been in multiple of his films. When she is casted in "Nosferatu" the entire cast becomes family, in some cases literally.

Idea sent by @ateliefloresdaprimavera

ynjohnson

liked by lilyrosedepp, aarontaylorjohnson, johnnydepp, and 928,928 others

ynjohnson always a good day when I get to celebrate family! Lily-Rose I love you to the moon and back!! Have the best birthday ever, you deserve it 🩷🩷

tagged: lilyrosedepp

lilyrosedepp I love you!!!

lilyrosedepp the second photo 😭

ynjohnson moments before we choreographed a Disney dance number

ellefanning Happy Birthday Lily-Rose!!

nicholashoult Have a great birthday Lily-Rose!!

aarontaylorjohnson Happy birthday to the best cousin-in-law I could've asked for!

user1 ugh the best cousin duo ever

user2 I could only dream to be so iconic

user3 imagine showing up to family holiday and you see Yn and Lily-Rose in the corner

user4 and then Aaron Taylor Johnson shows up

user5 what a stacked family

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Twitter--

Instagram--

ynjohnson

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ynjohnson oh rumours! How they fly!

tagged: no one

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Twitter--

Instagram--

ynjohnson

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ynjohnson from a fresh faces, young actress to now, mine and Robert's careers have been interconnected. We constantly go back and forth about potential projects and I've had the pleasure to act in for him several times. I am so excited to be apart of his dream come true!!

Lily-Rose, I am over the moon to finally work with you! You are one of the most talented actresses I know and I cannot wait to see your brilliance up close 🫶🫶

Aaron, my love, it is an absolute honor to be your wife in life and now on screen 🤍🤍

tagged: aarontaylorjohnson, lilrosedepp

lilyrosedepp I love you!!! This is going to be the best movie yet

ynjohnson 🩷🩷

aarontaylorjohnson you are such an admirable women, I love you 🤍🤍

ynjohnson 😘

robberteggers_ lets make the movie of the year

ynjohnson hell yea!!

user1 I am way to excited about this!!!

user2 always a good day when Yn is in a Robert movie

user3 also the rest of the cast is stacked

user4 I need it now!!!!

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Time Skip-- Middle of Production

Twitter--

Interview--

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aarontaylorjohnson

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aarontaylorjohnson "Kraven the Hunter" is in theaters today!!

tagged: kraven_movie

arianadebose 👏👏👏

ynjohnson DAYUM

ynjohnson THATS MY MAN

ynjohnson YOU BITCHES MAY LOOK BUT YOU CAN'T TOUCH

aarontaylorjohnson my love, I'm flattered 🤭

user1 they're both insane

user2 matching each others freak

user3 Mrs. Johnson I am looking respectfully ✋🥵

user4 the creme jacket is making me feral

user5 the last pic, he's so babygirl

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Time Skip-- Nosferatu Wrap

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aarontaylorjohnson post-wrap holiday 🤍🤍

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ynjohnson best surprise ever!! I love you 🤍🤍

aarontaylorjohnson I love you too my angel

user4 "my angel" SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

user1 ok Aaron, we get it your wife is hot 🙄🙄

user2 he said let me flex real quick

user3 God its me again 🙏🙏

user5 I need this more than life

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ynjohnson

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ynjohnson get away with my love 🤍

tagged aarontaylorjohnson

aarontaylorjohnson 🤍🤍

user1 not them both posting a thirst trap of the other 💀

user2 and if I was in a hot ass relationship like them I would too

user3 ugh I need him in a way thats concerning to feminism

user4 I'm glad to see they still take time for their relationship/each other even with their hectic schedules

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lilyrosedepp posted a story!

caption: cousins day out!! @/ynjohnson

ynjohnson posted a story!

caption: she's actually my favorite person ever @/lilyrosedepp

Time Skip-- Press Tour

Twitter--

Instagram--

ynjohnson

liked by lilyrosedepp, nicholashoult, robberteggers_, and 948,104 others

ynjohnson press tour is over which marks the end of my official "Noferatu" duties 😭 I will forever cherish this film and its cast!! I eagerly await to see what you all do next 🫶🫶

tagged: no one

Brittany_broski thou shalt not forget thou's final quest

ynjohnson i shan't your majesty

aarontaylorjohnson picture of excellence that final photo is

ynjohnson a real man you are

lilyrosedepp I miss you already!!

ynjohnson 🩷🩷🩷

user1 she's gorgeous

user2 her outfits ate every interview

user3 she was amazing in the movie

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royalcourt

liked by ynjohnson, aarontaylorjohnson, user54, and 928,920 others

royalcourt citizens of Broski Nation, attention! Please welcome to the council Aaron Taylor Johnson, royal ass kicker, four legged freak of the realm!

tagged: aarontaylorjohnson

aarontaylorjohnson a privilege and an honor

ynjohnson MY TWO FAV PEOPLE!!!

user1 omg this was the best video every

user2 they work so well together

user3 the only video on the internet

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royalcourt

liked by ynjohnson, aarontaylorjohnson, user1, and 928,834 others

royalcourt hear ye, hear ye!! A new member has been added to the royal court! Please welcome the fairest maiden in all the land, Yn Johnson!!

tagged: ynjohnson

ynjohnson I've never had more fun in my life!!

aarontaylotjohnson be my princess @/ynjohnson?

ynjohnson in this realm and the next 🤍

user1 this was the best thing ever

user2 between this and Aaron's episode this couple has once again broken the internet

user3 I'm in love with her your honor

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[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | eleven.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, san x oc talk a bit, talking also leads to other things 🤭, a quickie in san’s office, riding him on the chair hehehe, covering his mouth cause he gets a lil loud, flashback scene is just ppl talkin about this whole thing and switching up 😭, san x iseul x yunho moment, the start of namjoon’s stress chronicles pt. 2, some overthinking and pondering decisions

san: goodmorning my love. i hope you slept well. i'm sorry to upset you last night, and i'm sorry i put you in that position. i wasn't thinking and acted impulsively. let me know if i can get a few mins with you at some point - i still wanna talk to you. i miss you, baby. have a good day today, okay?

You wake up a little later than expected, and it has you rushing out the door before you can even respond to San's text. You do feel bad for not responding right away but truthfully, you just needed to get your mind together and be in your own space to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

You were starting to get scared and you weren't sure where this would lead you and San. You knew what you were getting into, but the last thing you wanted was for San to get in trouble— especially him, not you.

"Hey ma." You answer the call on your way to class, tugging your bag strap up on your shoulder.

"Hi lovey." She says cheerfully even though she's coming off of a shift.

"Did you just get off of work?" She sighs as she slams her car door and hops in, the call being picked up on the bluetooth.

"Yeah, we're a bit short-staffed so I picked up another shift. I came in around 7pm last night." You nod.

"Well, try to take it easy."

"I will. Are you on your way to class? How's it all going?"

"Um." You pause. "It's alright. But, yeah. I'm on my way over."

"Uh oh." She teases. "Wanna come home this weekend so you can tell me all about it while we get our nails done?"

"Actually, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Okay, babe." She chuckles. "You sure you're okay?" You nod even though you feel your heart drop, tears threatening to spill this early in the morning.

"Yeah, I am. I just have lots of stuff to update you on."

"Okay. Can't wait. Have a good day, hun. Make sure you take your breaks properly, eat and hydrate well."

"I will, mom. I love you."

"Love you too!" The call ends and you suddenly feel alone although the campus has moving parts, bodies floating around to move from point A to point B. You tuck your phone into your bag, fully deciding you'll get to San in between classes today. You do plan to stop by the lab to wean your mice really quickly at some point; maybe you'll deal with San then.

Which is crazy to think about cause that's exactly how things unfold.

Your first class of the day drags on, the lecture today being packed with a ton of overwhelming information. You've already got a few assignments for this class alone, causing you to huff out a heavy sigh when you write it all down in your planner and try to organize your to-do list. When class finally wraps up, you take your time packing up before heading to lab to work on the mice. You grab a parfait to go, quietly eating away as you make your way to the basement. The very back door to the west wing basement is the closest to the café you grabbed the parfait from, so you easily make your way over and toss your empty cup into the trash just as you tackle the steps and head downstairs to the door. When you pull out your badge and get ready to tap it against the reader, the door swings open and causes you to jump aside to prevent yourself from getting hit.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" San stops in his steps. "Y/N?"

"San." You breathe out, clutching your bag tighter. You weren't expecting to run into him now, but you suppose the universe had other plans for you.

"Hey." He fully steps outside and lets the door shut close. You can't help but automatically glance at him from head to toe; he's wearing denim on denim, and you realize he's the only person who could truly pull off the look. He's got on a denim button-up and jeans, chucks. Sleeves are rolled up halfway. He digs his hands into his pockets, soft black hair framing his face. You can smell his cologne from where you stand.

You're not standing very far from him when you should be creating more distance.

"Hi."

"Going into lab?"

"For a second, yeah. I gotta wean my mice before my PI gets mad at me." You look up at him and he chuckles a bit, biting onto his lip.

"For the record, I could never be mad at you." You slightly scoff and playfully roll your eyes. 

"Sure, Professor Choi." You pause. "I'm sorry I haven't responded to your text. I was meaning to come see you later, but I guess now is a good time, too?" 

"Uh, yeah. I gotta meet Jongho and Namjoon to plan out this proposal for the space in the new building." You nod. "But, it's not for a bit. Was just gonna grab some food before heading over."

"Goodluck."

"Thanks, love." He clears his throat. "Wanna give me a quick run down of what happened yesterday? With Yunho and Iseul?"

"Don't let me get in the way of you getting food."

"You're not. I can always grab some after."

"Are you sure?" He nods.

"You're more important." He lets out a breath. "So, what happened?"

"Yunho said he thought he saw me at the conference, that's all. I know he was gonna try to get it out of me, but students started walking into class."

"I didn't even know he was there."

"Well, I clearly didn't either. He said he stopped by last minute cause he was in the area." San sighs. "Iseul knew about it, too. I saw the way she looked at me when I walked out." You look up at him with innocent eyes, and it makes him weak. "San, we need to be more careful and this isn't helping."

"Well, that's why I wanted you to come over so we could talk about this in private. Why haven't you texted me back, angel? I know there's a reason. Are you still angry with me?" He asks so gently and so sweetly it makes your knees buckle. But at this very moment, Iseul is passing by the stairway, on her way back to the office after a meeting in the west wing of the Harvey Center. She doesn't typically pass this way but today, the conference room was closer to the back end, and she wanted to stop by the nearby café to grab another cup of coffee— excited to try the seasonal flavors on the menu that just arrived.

As she passes the stairway that leads towards the very back west wing basement door, she hears muffled talking echoing from below and can't necessarily help herself.

"I just.. don't know right now, San. It feels like everything is crumbling and I don't know how to feel. Jiung knows, and he thinks you forced me into this for the lab—"

"What? You told him that wasn't true, right?" His tone rises slightly, but it's enough for you to remind him to keep it down. It's also enough for Iseul to just slightly peek over the edge to confirm who is speaking near the back end basement doors;

And of course it's you and San.

No one ever passes through this way, and of course San would be taking that opportunity.

"Obviously." You sigh. "I'm just saying, people are onto us. The happy hour thing was probably the cherry on top."

"I got angry and I acted on impulse, I'm sorry." He reaches for your hand and as much as you wanna hold onto it tightly, you can't. You just let him take it in his, his lips lightly grazing the surface of your hand. "Can we take this to my office?"

"I thought you were on your way out."

"And I told you I've got a few minutes to spare. Please?" He pleads and you simply nod, removing your hand from his hold just as he badges in and leads the way to his office. Iseul lets out a breath as she continues on her way, texting her husband the exact scene that just unfolded in front of her.

iseul: i just saw san and y/n talking by the basement doors. he was holding her hand and kissing it.

yunho: so what now?

iseul: i told you i'm gonna try to catch san later. if he doesn't wanna admit to it then i'm going to namjoon.

yunho: iseul.

iseul: yunho, no. i can see the look you're giving me already. they're being way too obvious on campus now, and he better be grateful that i'm just trying to look out for him.

yunho: okay.

That's all Yunho replies with because what else can he say? He knows Iseul is stubborn, and he knows she won't change her mind. He agrees that it's wrong but he's not sure if they're overstepping.

Maybe Iseul really was looking out for him. He'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt because she's right.

This is wrong.

He's convinced this is all wrong because of her.

When you get to the basement, it's as empty as can be and you couldn't even be more relieved while trailing behind San. He looks down at his watch again, fiddling with the door lock and handle before he swings it open.

"Are you sure you even have enough time to spare?" You ask as he locks the door and makes his way over to you.

"Swear."

"We should make this quick before people come back to the basement."

"You know people are always in and out of here."

"Still."

"Why are you upset, love? Talk to me."

"I just don't know what to do. Your ex seems to be onto us the most, and they probably saw the whole thing go down yesterday. You were like.. angry-angry, San, and it was obvious—" You don't even realize you're going on and on about the same thing until San cups your cheeks, softly shushing you; trying to keep the peace by easing you.

"Baby." He says softly, his eyes looking into yours. "Baby, don't worry about this right now. I'm sure it will all blow over—"

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then, I'll face it when the time comes but—"

"San."

"We'll figure it out." He reassures again, even though truthfully and honestly, he's not sure what that means. He's not sure what he'll do if it actually unfolds out of hand, he's not sure what he'll tell you if things do go wrong. He's not sure how he'll be able to salvage everything even if he wants to more than anything in this world 

He just doesn't work on empty promises like that.

"I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll take care of this." He adds.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, though." He sighs and shakes his head.

"Nothing will. Just— just trust me like you've already been doing, okay?"

"Okay." You respond softly, hands resting on his wrists as he continues to cup your cheeks— thumb caressing the surface while his eyes roam over your features.

"I'm sorry for yesterday and I'm sorry you've been upset."

"It's alright."

"I missed you."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. I just needed a moment."

"You don't have to apologize, sweetheart." He kisses the tip of your nose before chuckling. "Although, I'll still beat his ass for trying to put his hands on you the way he did."

"He was such a dumbass." You roll your eyes. "I am grateful for you being there in time, though."

"Yeah, well. Couldn't really do much, but I'm glad you ended up okay." He's still looking at you, his thumb now lightly tracing your bottom lip. He looks deep into your eyes and he can't help but feel like mush; knees getting weak, heart melting at the way he looks at you. He prays to God nothing happens with all this going on because he's afraid to lose you.

He's afraid he can't lose you.

When he looks at you, he feels a sense of calmness. He sees the affection and adoration swirling in those orbs of yours. Your entire being radiating warmth and love. He'd hate for Iseul and Yunho to take away the one thing that has finally kept him grounded. But, he wouldn't put it past them and that's what scares him the most.

They hadn't stopped to think about their actions before. And for someone like San, who loves so hard and trusts wholeheartedly, he just didn't think the love of his life and his bestfriend would ever do that to him.

This is how everything has unfolded and he'd hate for them to be the reason behind all of this, too.

"Baby." He calls for you, and you don't respond verbally. The way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you, caressing you and keeping you close, is enough for you to dip forward and meet him in a sweet kiss. You hear him exhale as he cups your cheeks and takes the kiss, deepening it as you stand in the middle of his office. Your hands grip at his sides as your tongue fights for dominance with his, the kiss easily turning into a sloppy, wet mess. "Fuck, baby." He sighs. "Need you."

"Here?" He nods. He rushes over to his chair, bringing you onto his lap. His eyes are full of desire, lust— pleading for you to give him all of you. "Sannie."

"We'll make it quick." He smirks, hands coming up your thighs to hike up your maxi skirt just enough; thumb immediately finding your clothed core. "No one's around. Just us." You shut your eyes in pleasure, already aching, craving, for him bad. "You do know how to keep quiet, right?" He teases, watching as you continue to react to the way he's touching you.

"Mm— shouldn't I be asking you?" You tease back, fiddling with his belt and undoing his jeans to release his heavy, hard cock. 

"Brat." He chuckles. "Ride me." 

"So demanding." You playfully roll your eyes the moment you position his cock at your entrance, shutting them close when you ease down his length. He lets out a soft, breathless groan, head cocked back against the chair as he tries to adjust to the feeling. "Fuck, San."

"Yeah, baby. It's all yours." He whispers, looking at you through hooded lids. You pick up your pace, working your hips back and forth; dragging your walls against his member. You let out a quiet moan against his lips, San whispering a string of cuss words as you roll your hips—

Driving him to insanity.

"Missed you so much. My perfect girl." He mutters. He can't even help himself when he feels you tighten around him, letting out a moan that might be a little too loud for your liking. 

"Sannie." You whine a bit, covering his mouth with your hand as you continue to push and push towards the edge, clit rubbing against him so deliciously you feel like you'll come undone sooner than later. You watch as San's face contorts in pleasure— pretty brows knitting together, tightly as his eyes shut close. He's murmuring small moans against the palm of your hand, whining and begging for you to cum first because you always come first.

And it doesn't take long before you do.

Your movements become sloppy while San continues to grip your ass in an attempt to help guide you; his cock filling you up perfectly as you bounce up and down before resorting back to rolling your hips against him. It takes two, three, four turns before you press your forehead against San's and unravel in his hold. 

"Ohhhh—fuck—gonna cum—" You gasp just as San fucks upward into you once, twice— releasing his load into you and filling you up with every last bit. He lets out choked moans against your hand, panting and heavily breathing when you feel like it's safe to finally remove it.

"Good god, sweetheart." He breathes. "I'll never get tired of this." You giggle, kissing him sweetly on the lips before slowly removing yourself from his length. You both let out small breaths, San keeping you near so he can wipe you down with a napkin before tending to himself. 

"Hopefully no one's in the basement still." You fix your skirt and get yourself together.

"Uh, not like you had anything to worry about. You seemed to have that under control the entire time." You laugh.

"Taking precautionary measures since we need to."

"That was kinda fun, though." San smirks. "Maybe we should do that more often." He stands to adjust his jeans and fixes his belt.

"Did our little fight just go over your head?" You joke and he sighs.

"Fine." He playfully rolls his eyes. "We'll just keep it to the bedroom."

"You're so annoying." You smile. "You should get to your meeting before you end up being late."

"I will, boss lady." He puckers his lips. "Just one more." You shake your head and meet him for another kiss.

"Bye Professor Choi." 

"Bye baby." He smiles, subtly biting onto his bottom lip as he watches you sway your hips and walk out. As soon as the door shuts, he feels empty. He misses you already and he can't wait to spend time with you again.

"Oh shit—Sunwoo!" You almost shriek just as you come out of San's office. You're afraid he might've heard something, or that he might even sense it, see it on you, with the way he cocks a brow up and tilts his head to the side. "You scared me." He laughs, though it's obvious he's kinda confused as to why you're so startled by his presence.

"You okay?" 

"Mhm." You hum.

"Meeting with Professor Choi?" He gives you a look again and you feel like your ass is on fire. Sunwoo has probably gotten wind of the whole thing and now he's trying to read you.

"Just a quick last minute check-in."

"Oh, that's nice he let you pop in. Everything all good with your progress and stuff? Think you'll stay so you can continue being my right hand?" You laugh and shrug. 

"Maybe. We'll see. But yeah, all is well!" You look at your phone. "Anyway, gonna run off to wean the mice before class." He nods, watching as you hurriedly drop your things off at your desk and scurry along without looking back.

—FLASHBACK

"So, did you hear about Professor Choi getting hella angry over some postdoc at the happy hour event? I guess he was getting handsy with Y/N and was being a total dick."

"Okay? So, he deserved it."

"Yeah, but people there said it was weird."

"How is sticking up for someone weird?"

"No like, guys. He was angry. Like the type to get angry over your girlfriend, angry."

"What are you insinuating?" Belle cocks a brow up.

"I'm so surprised you guys haven't heard about it. It's like the talk on campus right now. People think Professor Choi and Y/N are a thing. Professor Lee and Professor Jeong are also apparently fueling hella shit behind it."

"That's ridiculous, Y/N would never. That'd never happen." Belle tries to laugh it off until she sees Sunwoo sitting quietly in his chair. "Right?" Sunwoo looks at her and shrugs. "Sunwoo."

"Dude, I don't know. I've just seen Y/N go into his office a few times and I thought they were meeting about projects. But, now that I think about it.."

"Are you serious?" Belle furrows her brows. She's slightly annoyed that you'd actually take it this far, and she's not sure how she feels about it if it were true. "Is she trying to secure her spot in lab that bad? She wanted him to like her so bad she had to sleep with him?" Sunwoo knits his forehead at her.

"Yo, hold on. You don't even know if it's true. Even if it is, I'm sure there's a story behind it and not just that. Y/N wouldn't do that."

"We didn't expect her to be wrapped up in rumors like this, too." Belle scoffs. "Wow. If their so-called relationship ends up being true, bet it was because Y/N threw herself on him."

"That's fucked up. She's your friend, Belle."

"Not really, we just knew each other because of school and now we work together."

"Belle."

"What? You really can't tell me you don't think that? You're lying."

"No?! Belle, what?" Sunwoo's tone grows. "I'm saying they're two grown ass adults who are capable of making their own decisions. I'm not dismissing it or saying it's right, but I'm saying there could be more to it than that. Why are you assuming that so quickly?"

"Whatever, Sunwoo. It's gross, regardless. Especially for her as his rotation student." She rolls her eyes. "God, can't wait for it to be over so I don't have to deal with her." Sunwoo starts packing his things and shaking his head.

"That's crazy." Sunwoo chuckles a bit. "She was your friend before anything, bro. I'd expect you to at least have her back." He scoffs a bit. "I gotta go, I got shit to tend to with Y/N. Cause you know, I don't just switch up on people without having my facts straight." He almost mocks Belle's attitude as he throws the peace sign up to his other friend and starts walking off.

—END

After you tend to the mice, San gathers himself and heads out of the basement to head to the bathroom and freshen up before grabbing a quick snack on his way to Namjoon's office. On his way out, he didn't see anyone in the basement; Sunwoo must have gone to hide in one of the rooms to do some work. He's able to whisk himself away without any issues, prancing into Namjoon's office in a better mood.

Jongho definitely picks up on it, but doesn't comment on it. So doesn't Namjoon, but he needed to make use of his time wisely since he's got a busy ass schedule today.

They have a good conversation and are able to draft out some very good points about letting Jongho and San take some real estate in the new building. Namjoon is always good with words and although he's taking quick notes on his laptop, he's making a mental note on how they should present this to the dean. He has a good feeling about it, and he thinks it's perfect timing because the dean has been wondering about other ways to foster good collaboration between schools and departments and how to make their programs a little more unique and prestigious compared to others.

San is coming out of his day way better than yesterday, way better than he expected this morning.

Too bad it's all about to go out the window again.

When San heads back to his office, he powers through his check-in meetings with a select few postdocs and grad students— discussing different avenues they could take with their projects and what their goals should be by the end of the quarter. Afterwards, he finishes the remaining items on his to-do list before sending out his last emails of the day and packing up.

you: can i come over tonight?

san: course you can, baby. you don't have to ask. lol

you: yes, i do. lol. okay, see you later? i have office hours then i'll wrap it up for the day.

san: sounds good, beautiful. i'll have dinner ready for us, k? just come over as soon as you can.

you: ☺️

He smiles to himself as he slings the bag strap over his shoulder, excited to tell you about how the meeting went today and how optimistic he's feeling about everything despite the chaos that has ensued.

Maybe things will be okay after all.

Right?

"San. Can we talk?" Iseul catches him as he steps out onto the first floor of the Harvey Center from the elevator. He furrows his brows at her, unsure what in the hell she could possibly wanna talk to him about right now.

Well, scratch that— he knows, but he's also not sure why she's the one doing the talking on this. It's kinda ironic coming from her. But, San isn't gonna be rude nor is he gonna be a dick to her, especially on campus grounds. 

So, he lets out a sigh and shrugs.

"Sure." He plainly says, leading the way to one of the empty conference rooms down the hall. He sets his bag down on a chair before crossing his arms to his chest, distancing himself from Iseul on the other end of the room. "What's up?"

"You're seeing her, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Is all he can defend himself with because he's truly appalled she's doing the talking on this when it shouldn't be any of her business—

"That's crazy. All this time and effort to keep her around and you couldn't even do that for me." San's brows knit together so tightly— he's not sure what the fuck he's hearing right now.

"We're bringing this up because why exactly? Even if we hadn't worked out, you still found your way with Yunho." She rolls her eyes.

"You're being so stupid, San. How are you so comfortable dating your student? You could lose everything if anyone found out."

"I don't see why this is any of your business."

"Because if you aren't gonna get your shit together, I have no choice but to go to Namjoon—"

"You can't actually be serious—"

"Ask yourself that! You're so hung up over her that you're willing to give up everything for your little relationship." She pauses. "She's young, she's got the doe-eyed look going on. Seems sweet, but she probably doesn't even actually care about you. Get real, San. Wake the hell up!"

"Iseul, you're treading on very thin ice." He warns. "You still haven't told me what any of this has to do with you." He steps forward.

"It has nothing to do with me. It has to do with the fact that I'm trying to do the right thing. You know this is wrong." San scoffs and pathetically chuckles, hands dug deep into his pants.

"Does it make you happy, Iseul?" San almost corners her. "Does it make you that fucking happy to keep destroying everything for me?"

"No one destroyed anything for you, you continuously do that for yourself!"

"You're the only person who has ever painted me as a failure and disappointment. You don't get to do that now, you don't get to have a say in any of this!"

"She's a fucking student, San. What's wrong with—"

"And he was my bestfriend!" San finds himself seeing red as his tone grows. All of the happy, good luck shit he was feeling today went out the window in one swift motion. He should've known Iseul would've taken this road. He should've known she would've done this.

For some reason, Iseul continues to be the reason why he can't be happy.

"Hey." Yunho walks into the conference room. "You two are gonna need to keep it down." San can't help but roll his eyes because of course.

Of fucking course.

"Great to see you've been invited to this unnecessary discussion." San looks at the both of them.

"Unnecessary?!—" Iseul fires back.

"Iseul." Yunho calls for her sternly.

"Whatever, you know what? I tried. You do whatever you want, San. Risk all your shit for some student who won't give a damn once it's all been taken away. All she wants from you is your resources and to move up, but I guess that's what you wanted—"

"You know nothing about her!" San growls back. "You know absolutely nothing about her." He repeats.

"Iseul." Yunho calls for her again. This time, there's a lace of anger because this was not what he wanted out of this. He warned Iseul about getting into San's business and she wouldn't listen— now they were all here, arguing over shit when there's already so much bad blood and tension between the three of them. "Can you please just wait outside?" She huffs and clicks her teeth, grabbing her things before storming out.

"Yunho, honestly. Save it. We don't have to do this."

"San, she's right. You could get into a lot of trouble if people start putting the pieces of the puzzle together. People are already onto you after the happy hour event, and I can't exactly say you two have been the most discreet."

"What are you even talking about?" San asks, exasperated and completely over the conversation.

"You two by the basement doors?"

"Oh, so you guys are just spying on us?" San cocks a brow up. "Really makes it better."

"It could have been anyone."

"Could it have been? Exactly how long were you guys watching us?" Yunho sighs.

"I'm only looking out for you—"

"And what makes you think I want you looking out for me, Yunho?" San's tone grows. "Hm? Cause last time you ended up looking out for me, I found you tangled up with my wife." Yunho's jaw ticks, but he doesn't say anything else. Because what can he say?

"You know this will fuck up everything for you." Is all Yunho responds with. "Everything."

"So be it. Sorry, but I literally have no reason to listen to you. Or her." San pauses, his jaw clenching as he swallows thickly. Borderline aching from how hard he's been clenching. "I hope that one day the both of you will finally learn how to mind your own business. Stop coming into mine. We're not friends, we're not acquaintances, we're nothing. We haven't been anything for a very long time and I'd appreciate it if we kept it that way." San grabs his things and rushes out the door, the force almost causing the door to hit the wall on his way out.

"San?" Namjoon comes from around the corner as he watches San walk out of the conference room, loosening his tie as he tries to gather himself. To be honest, he had been standing there for a good minute trying to make sense of the arguing and loud talking going on within the conference room. It didn't take him long to realize who was inside and what exactly was being discussed— especially when Iseul storms out, mumbling a few cuss words and San slander to herself. Luckily, not too many people were around, and if they were, they didn't try to focus much of their attention on their whereabouts. Namjoon is lost because he doesn't have any actual concrete facts to have a say in this. Maybe the happy hour event. San’s little antics.

He does need to get to the bottom of it, though.

Before it all goes south and it comes raining down on San, on him.

"Not right now, Joon. I'm sorry. I gotta get home." Namjoon doesn't say anything else as he watches San hurry off, needing to take a break from this place and get some fresh air ASAP.

"The hell is going on?" Namjoon mumbles to himself before nodding to a few oncoming students when he slowly walks back to his office and pulls out his phone to send a few texts.

If not today, he sure as hell is getting to the bottom of all of this tomorrow.

San hasn't felt this angry in so, so long, and quite frankly, it scares him. He's afraid of reverting back to his old self, his old way of coping. He's afraid of taking the wrong step forward that'll undo all the progress and work he's done on himself.

But truthfully, he fucking hates this.

He fucking hates this because at this point, he feels like it'll only bring more anger. Sadness. Hurt,

He hates that Yunho and Iseul are getting under his skin this way, he hates the predicament you're both in, he hates that Namjoon was there. He hates that he knows this is wrong but he absolutely refuses to let you go—

Even though, he's starting to feel like he needs to rethink those choices.

Mainly because he doesn't want anything to happen to you, mainly because he wants you to succeed and be happy. Mainly because he wants to protect you and keep pushing you forward; even if that means he has to support from afar.

He fucking hates this.

San drives with one hand on the wheel, finger brushing against his bottom lip as all the thoughts run at a thousand miles per hour in his head. He knows it's wishful thinking to assume it'll all blow over and be yesterday's news that didn't really mean much. He feels like it's far from that, and he knows Namjoon is eventually going to talk to him about everything.

He wishes he can hold on for a little longer, push it out a bit more.

Despite his feelings and how shot his mood is, San still manages to stop by for some aburasoba— remembering how you've mentioned time and time again that you had been craving it. He makes a pitstop at a random flower shop nearby, grabbing a small bouquet of baby pink roses. He gives the florist a small smile when she asks him if it's for a special someone, his dimples poking out; heart fluttering, butterflies swarming his tummy when he thinks about you.

And only you.

He wishes he could give you the world without having to hide it. There are so, so many things he wishes he could do or say that don't involve him acting behind doors or away from people.

This shit truly is hard.

When he finally pulls into his garage and parks, he sits in the seat for a little and huffs out a heavy sigh. He grabs his things and sets the food and bouquet down on the island counter before heading upstairs to shower. He gets comfortable in sweats and a matching crewneck, heading back down to the kitchen to get everything set up and ready for your arrival. You let him know you'll be over in the next few minutes, so he lights up a candle and gets the TV going— leaving it on the home page so that you can freely choose what you're in the mood for.

"Hi!" You greet in a sing-song tone as you let yourself in and walk into the kitchen. San is washing some dishes, which gives you the opportunity to hug him from behind and place a chaste kiss to the back of his neck. He chuckles, sinking into your hold before you pull away. "Aburasoba?" You gasp. "And pink roses?" You turn again just as he wipes his hands down and faces you. "Thank you, Sannie." Your bottom lip pokes out in a small pout.

"Of course, baby." He playfully runs a finger down your bottom lip and smiles. "How was the rest of your day? Sounded like you ran into Sunwoo after you left?" 

"Oh my god, yeah. But, I don't think he really caught onto anything. I just told him we met real quick then left, and he didn't question it." You sigh. "But otherwise, the rest of the day was good. Exhausting. I had tons of students coming into office hours so I ended up being done a little later than expected."

"Planning their proposals for finals?" You nod.

"Yup!"

"I know the feeling." You laugh, helping him grab the bowls and taking it over to the living room. You plop next to him on the couch, already flipping through options for tonight. You settle for rewatching The Walking Dead, San chuckling at your pick to sit through while eating dinner. You manage to yap away in between bites of your aburasoba, San only humming or giving you short answers in response.

At first, you don't think much about it. You assume he's exhausted and he's trying his best to keep you company like the good man he is. But then, you turn and he's not really watching. He's kinda scrolling through his phone, setting it aside then blankly looking at the TV. It's obvious San isn't entirely present. It's obvious he's got things in his mind, and you're not sure if you did anything wrong or if something happened in between the time you two were apart—

But, he seems unhappy and you wish you could fix whatever it is.

"Babe." 

"Hm?" He hums.

"What's wrong?" You turn over to look at him, cupping his cheek while you crawl onto his lap.

"Nothing." He chuckles and rubs your back, eyes looking deep into yours. All he sees is a personification of love, comfort. And nothing is harder than fighting the 'what if's' in his head when you look at him the way you do, when you touch him the way you do. "Nothing baby, sorry. I'm just really exhausted." He doesn't like to lie, but he sees the soft smile that grows on your face when you receive his reassurance and he can't help but brush it under the rug.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Yeah, baby." Though, he isn't. 

"Okay." You kiss him on the lips and caress his cheek, smiling at him. His heart aches because he thinks about all the moments you've had to share secretly or behind doors, not being able to put your relationship out there like you both wish to. He finally lets the 'what if's' free, thinking about how this could affect your future, you;

He can't help but feel like, maybe, you deserved better than this.

—read 11.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[nipuni]

Hello time to yap about life and media again! 🥰

It's been a month and a half since we fully moved into this new old house and it's been a steep learning curve!! so far we had to learn how to care for a garden and grow fruit, how to deal with extremely humid weather, the mold!! also learning about various repairs, electricity and plumbing, we had a leak that turned one lamp into a waterfall, the rcd keeps tripping every time it rains, had to fix a door in the dark after Nicolas got himself trapped in a room when the handle broke during a power outage, the heating system is an air to water heat pump and it took us ages to figure out how to set it up correctly so we spent weeks wearing 3 layers inside the house, I even fell down the stairs!! I'm not used to having stairs inside the house lmao It's a big adjustment when you've always lived in small apartments in big cities all your adult life, but to be honest we love it!! everything feels like a new quest for us to tackle and it is so much fun figuring it all out as we go, reading technical manuals by candle light, the teamwork of installing and assembling furniture and networks, pruning the trees, celebrating every small mundane accomplishment and new skill learned every night over dinner, I may be corny as hell but it all feels like a privilege and an adventure 😭

Media wise we watched the second season of Arcane! This series never fails to make me fall in love with art again, not that I've ever fallen out but I can't say that the whole AI debacle hasn't been ass for the morale. Aesthetically it is a masterpiece. The character design, the cinematography, the mixed media montages aaaa Seeing the work, the skill and care that was put into every frame reminded me of how important and human the storytelling aspect of art really is. I wonder if we will see a shift to the more story driven or conceptual arts when we look back on this period, but I ramble, back to Arcane. I have mostly praise for it, wonderful characters and very touching relationships. I think our only issues were with the pacing being too slow at the start, every character climbing out of a very low point, and then too fast which made the second half feel a bit rushed. This season also felt a bit more tropey than the first one but still really solid. It remains one of the best animated series ever made and I am so happy to see it succeed in this current environment 😭 It feels like teenagehood condensed into a show, we really enjoyed it. I hope we get a season 3!!

Also there was an update in our David Tennant filmography quest! we watched The Politician's Husband and unsurprisingly we loved it!! It was gripping and the acting was brilliant. It is actually what I was expecting Rivals to be like, I realize 🤔 I think it could have used a 4th episode, felt like it ended too quickly and there was room for more, as if they ran out of time to tie things up so they picked the quickest route. But it was really good!! These miniseries are always so engaging and so short, I need mooreee.

We missed our DT nights!! Nicolas spent the last week hunting for more of David's work for us to watch. We've been hosting family for a few days again last week and on top of work and everything else we had to pause them for a bit. But now we are back to our nightly routine and he's over the moon!! Instant mood boost it's embarrassing lmao both of us falling this hard for this guy is too enabling, he even made his name our guest wifi password, we are besotted 😂

Oh! I also I saw a Veilguard Q&A was happening and read a few replies I saw posted here, and it proved to be a huge mistake! It was a disappointing and truly infuriating read. What even happened during the production of this game lmao How come the average fan seems to have a much better grasp on the lore, characters and plot than the people who made it 😭 There is this gaping disconnect between intent and execution. The way that fans are trying to make sense and give meaning to the complete mess that is the writing in an attempt to salvage and preserve the aspects they loved about it is saddening. I am mentally throwing tomatoes at John Epler as we speak. His answers felt so unserious and baffling at best and offensive and petty at worst. It's been eye opening, I could go on a two hour rant but the more I learn and dwell on it the more bitter I become about it all and I'm already seeing ten year old discourse resurface and people getting weird about it so I'll just ..🚶‍♀️ In my eyes this world and it's characters now belong only to those who love it and lives in my memory 🫡

Anyway, this ended up being at least twice as long as I was planning to make it again 😭 and I still have to catch up with asks aaaa it's been a busy month sorry I'll get to them soon!! Thank you for reading and for the support and for just being here!! I hope you all have a great week 🥺❤️

[astridthevalkyrie]

the floor between you and xavier is thin. you are beautiful. and xavier is tortured.

cw: afab reader, masturbation, nonconsensual auditory voyeurism 😭, xavier being a pervert

i have a midterm in two hours and i spent the last two hours writing all of this. dammit. inspired by this brilliant post (original poster is @skynapple) thank you for giving me permission to write this lolz

once a habit forms, it is incredibly difficult to break. he knows that. he has known that. xavier has had years and years and years to make habits and to subsequently break them.

those twenty-something years he was a nail biter. the tugging of his hair whenever he was tired for around thirty-two decades. six hundred years strong and he still can’t keep a straight face whenever he smells something his nose doesn’t agree with. 

some habits he’s fine with not breaking. 

but this one.

oh, he needs to break this one as soon as possible.

and yet, every friday evening he tells himself that this time will be the last time. when friday morning arrives, he wakes up refreshed and confident that it will not happen again. by the time the clock hits 3 pm, he can already feel his palms become clammy; if he was a cartoon he’d think an ironic bead of sweat would form on his temple. and by the time the sun is going down and the rain has soaked his hair completely, xavier is shoving his too practical key into the too practical lock of his apartment door, and the dread in his chest has already settled with the weight of what he knows he’s going to do.

he could leave. he could go.

he doesn’t.

xavier takes his time changing out of his uniform and showering. the water burns even when he sets it at a lower temperature. his entire space feels too hot. sweat is actually building on his forehead now. 

it’s been a long week, he thinks, as he rolls onto his bed, opting to wear nothing but boxers (and even that’s useless). he tries to remember all the missions he’s been on since monday, and more importantly all the missions you’ve been on. you’re a bit of a braggart, so he hears all about them, and he never minds, because he could listen to you brag about yourself for centuries on end and the whole time he’d only nod along and agree.

the more missions there’s been, though, the more exhausted you are at the end of the week. and the more exhausted you are, the more orgasms you try to pull from your fingers every friday night.

when tara’s over, your music is never loud. your laughs rarely carry over. and your volume has never been disruptive (not that he would consider hearing you to be disruptive at all). it’s as if you know that the walls are thin and you’re trying to be as polite as possible. 

then why is it that when you touch yourself, you’re so loud?

are you trying to make sure he can hear you?

or, and this is what already has him hardening at the thought, are you just so sensitive that you can’t help it?

your first whimper blesses his ears, and xavier shuts his eyes, lying flat with his head against his pillow. closing his eyes helps. it makes him feel less like a stalker who’s crossed through time and space for you, and more like he’s just someone you care for, because this way he can imagine you’re in front of him, on top of him, letting out those first few sweet sounds at his touch.

“mmh,” your voice carries over, and goosebumps litter his arms as he swallows, teasing the line of his boxers with the tips of his fingers. there isn’t a rush. usually, he has just enough restraint to make sure he comes with you.

the next thing he hears is a sharp gasp, and xavier groans lowly, trying to be quiet, or at least more quiet than you. already he’s building tonight’s fantasy up, spurred on by the sound of the rain beating against the window. the last time you and he had spent the night in the rain…

“just stay until tomorrow morning,” you’d urged him, lashes fluttering innocently, not knowing the key that he’d supposedly forgotten was heavy in his pocket. even though he was the one who’d lied, he’d still argued against it, because now that the invitation was out in the open you were too close for his rapidly beating heart, your eyes too inviting and your hands too soft.

xavier imagines he didn’t argue that night. he imagines he’d agreed instead, and had accepted the change of clothes from your closet. the acid in his chest that hisses knowing you even have another man’s clothes in your closet is quickly silenced when you don’t wait for him to leave the room, and instead lift your own shirt right above your head.

he’s never seen you like that. but his imagination is more than ready to supply him with what you’d look like, evidence gathered from how your uniform would cling to you while you fought, or even from how your robes would slip up a little when you were sparring him some hundred years ago—

his hand wraps around his cock without him even realizing it, and he lets out a small, choked moan.

your hands are softer than this. they’d feel better. in the corner of his mind he sees you, topless, pushing him back onto the bed and crawling above him, caressing his face with those soft hands before running them down his chest. your touch does so love to wander. and his body is yours to explore. he’s never belonged to someone else.

he whispers your name and almost as if in response, you let out a cute little squeal, and xavier curses under his breath as he pictures you making that sound while he fingers you. he’d start off with one, just because you seem sensitive. but then he’d add another. and another, and then he’d watch you ride them. 

slowly, he rubs his hand up and down his length, remembering the last time you’d held this hand to resonate with his evol. last week, for a particularly tough wanderer. your palm had been smooth against it, and now the next time you do it he’ll remember that he touched himself to the thought of you with that same hand.

“mmh, don’t tease me…”

oh, you’re speaking today. pleading with an invisible voice, or maybe you really do know that he’s just below you, hanging on to your every word. and he’s disinclined to acquiesce to your request—he’d do nothing but tease you. once he’d make you come once with his fingers, he’d toss your legs over his shoulders and drag his tongue along your folds, bring you to the brink before pulling away. he’d watch the way your lips pout and the way your eyes flare up whenever you’re emotional, and he wouldn’t give you time to complain before diving in again.

“sorry, sweetheart, you know i can’t help it.”

xavier’s eyes fly open with a gasp at the sudden other voice—there’s someone with you. there’s someone in your room, on your bed, with their hands on you. 

there’s a pause, and then he hears you again, letting out a small, “y-you’re so…haah, mean…”

one of his hands curl into the sheets below, clutching them so tightly in his fist that he wouldn’t be surprised if they came off.

someone is touching you. someone is making you—incredible, wonderful, beautiful you—whine like that, close enough to hear you, far closer than xavier has ever been.  

“i’m not mean,” the man who is invading your bedroom right now says, “you can’t look like that and expect me not to edge you. you’re the most beautiful when you’re begging, you know?”

“i could say the same about you,” is your not-so-hushed response, and during the next pause he can barely hear anything but he knows you must be kissing him. him, whoever he is. a date, your boyfriend, the devil—you’re kissing him, those soft, gorgeous lips of yours are against someone else’s when all xavier has done in his time with you is try to tear his eyes off those lips, wondering what they would like against him.

“c’mon,” your voice pleads again, “i need you. i’ve needed you all day.”

the man groans, and xavier hears the kiss this time, one fierce and stolen in the heat of the moment. 

“if you insist. you know i can’t resist you, sweetheart.”

there’s some shuffling and xavier thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. he feels…he feels everything, sick and jealous and almost angry, and he can feel himself trembling with every inch of him screaming to get up and confront whoever thinks they can touch your skin and draw those noises from your throat—

but when you let out a high-pitched, muffled cry, xavier’s hand goes back down, and he starts stroking himself with more urgency.

you’ve never been this loud before. and xavier used to enjoy that, thinking of it as a challenge, that if he ever got to have you, he’d make sure you were louder with him than you were with anyone else. he’s brought himself to orgasm at just the idea. but now it’s torture, hearing your voice go up several octaves for someone who isn’t him, for whoever’s hips are roughly colliding against your own, filling his ears with a muted plap, plap, plap…

“fu-u-ck, baby, how are you this tight?” the interloper groans, “gonna make me come, m’gonna come inside you…”

xavier’s skin crawls at the needy moan you let out in response.

the fantasy in his head is ruined. there is no more vision of a seductive version of you having your wicked way with him, but instead he is imagining exactly what is happening, a dirty picture of him in a corner watching someone else enjoy you to the fullest extent. wrecking your beautiful body the way you deserve.

your moans are building, higher and higher, and his back is arching off the bed as he fucks his fist, still trying to pretend like he’s yours and you’re his, that he’s the one burying himself inside your wet heat, that your nails are digging into his back, leaving lines on his skin, drawing blood if that’s what you wanted—

“raf!” you wail, and your voice breaks, and xavier’s eyes roll back, and he spills into his hand.

there’s still a ringing in his ears as he pants, breathing heavily while the sound of skin slapping becomes more desperate, as the intruder—raf— speeds up to try and reach his own end too.

his hand moves on its own. with barely an intention formed in his mind, he presses it to his heart, and he feels a surge of energy run through his chest, no time left to regret anything.

the sounds stop completely.

after a minute, his phone lights up with a notification.

starlight: hey did your lights go out too???

starlight: my room just blacked out

starlight: i had a friend over i’m so embarrassed lol

with his chest heaving as he lays back against the pillows, and his right hand sticky, xavier texts you back with his left, a soft, tired sigh escaping him.

xav: no mine’s still on

xav: i’ve got tea and takeout come over

xav: i’d love to meet your friend

[acid-ixx]

Hey, how are you? I hope I'm not bothering you.

I want to tell you that I love the way you write and I hope you are well and taking good care of yourself, that you drink water and sleep well.

I also just wanted to show some drawings I made of my version of the reader from the a&a series.

I was inspired by some other cool fanarts

The scars may not be very noticeable, but they are there, the one on the mouth was because I love Ezio Auditore (from Assassin's Creed) and I just felt like it looked great.

I hope you are well, remember to drink water.

P.S. Sorry for the Google Translate English, English is not my native language 👉👈 xD

— masterlist !

oh my god, they look so absolutely handsome here !! <33 thank you so much for sending this in, i appreciate it a lot. the scar on the mouth is actually brilliant i (might) just incorporate it into the fic. i love the entire composition, especially the second drawing with the finger guns, it reminds me of the brutus au, inspired by jinx so of course it's imperative that i mention it!!! you guys are honestly so creative with your very own portrayals of the main character, each unique trait is presented into the art very well.

i love how depressed they look in the second pic too 😭 that's probably them contemplating the current state of their life after another hour trying to ignore dick's incessant messages (i, too, would be sitting in a corner after my tears have dried up from crying while my phone buzzes off showing me another one of dick's desperate attempts at reconciliating an already irreparable relationship.

once again, thank you for sending this in! fortunately, this wasn't buried under a thousand asks.

[quickstappen]

track 004: the see is calm (before the storm)

A/N: i know i've disappeared for a while but it turns out that second year of college is very different to the first. now finally after two months i've got it under control so hopefully we'll have a semi-regular schedule for now, i'll try to post something every two weeks (on weekends most likely). anyway, this one's not very plot heavy but it's needed for the story, enjoy!

masterlist | previous next

liked by carlitosalcarazz, oscarpiastri and others

paola_sainz contrary to popular belief, I do actually work sometimes ;) keep your eyes open guys, things are getting done here

tagged: sean_cliff

see all comments...

F4ST_C4R oh please say its a new collection, i was too late for the 1st one and it sold out 😭

oui_lyanne who the fuck is sean

↳ 4ND1 from what i can see he's another designer

↳ oui_lyanne ooh, collab maybe? 👀

↳ f1w1tch OR the super secret boyf

L3CH41R well, looks like she's not in spa after all

mcwilliams are you gonna comment on the williams/carlos announcement??

↳ prplsector i mean,, why would she?? it's not her announcement, she's got a job

lightning_enjyr oh my god are those pieces from the new collection?? 😳

danielricciardo Respect the grind 💪🤠

↳ sadiebull sorry what is daniel ricciardo doing

↳ fastkiwi trying to relate to the youth lol

shithappens oh god women in suits 😳

STARG3N guys,,, what is carlos alcaraz doing in the likes

↳ hamilteaa the tennis player???

↳ STARG3N yeahhh

sean_cliff you know it's always a pleasure working with you 🤭

↳ paola_sainz oh I know, I am brilliant of course

↳ elmatadorf1 jesus what a self-centred bitch 💀

predestined55 no one's gonna buy this crap anyway 🐍

carlitosalcarazz We need to play again sometime! 🎾

↳ paola_sainz do your job at the Olympics first, then we'll see 👏

↳ isawthesainz THEY KNOW EACH OTHER???

↳ dutchlion sure looks like it 👀

oscarpiastri You gonna spend the whole summer break working too?

↳ paola_sainz actually no, this one guy invited me to visit his family you know

↳ oscarpiastri Lucky guy

↳ lightning_enjyr oui_lyanne surely you see my point now

↳ oui_lyanne everyday i am closer to believing you

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paola's messages:

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: a little pitstop before our journey ;)

caption 2: mid-rant and a little drunk but he's fine, alive and well

⟶ alex_albon replied to your story!

alex_albon oh thank god you're with him, he hasn't been answering my calls and texts

paola_sainz yeahh, we figured. me and Osc are with him rn but we have to leave in the morning

alex_albon shit, how is he really? do you seriously have to leave?

paola_sainz he's better than yesterday, mostly pissed atp but I'm sure that the self-hatered and misery will come soon

paola_sainz and yeah we have to, we've been trying to visit Oscar's family together for ages

paola_sainz I think he's going home for the rest of the break

alex_albon jesus, that's good at least

alex_albon I'll try to reach out again

paola_sainz good idea

caption 3: couldn't take this little guy home, apparently "2 is enough cats Lola"

⟶ maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1 I think you should've taken him anyway, he is very cute

paola_sainz I knoww! I named him Barron Meowmilton

paola_sainz unfortunately, I do not fancy sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future so we left Barron at a local shelter ;)

maxverstappen1 Ah, I understand

maxverstappen1 We'll always remember you, Barron Meowmilton

caption 4: and we're off to see the future in-laws ;)

⟶ hattiepiastri replied to your story!

hattiepiastri has my brother done something we don't know about??

paola_sainz nahh, dw about it, you'd be first to know after your mum

paola_sainz I'm just sure I'm gonna marry him someday, there's no other option

hattiepiastri you're both so disgustingly gone for each other it should be studied

hattiepiastri can't wait to see you though

paola_sainz girll me too, it's been too long

paola's messages:

liked by jensonbutton, hattiepiastri and others

paola_sainz can confirm that kitties are just as cute down under as in the rest of the world ;)

see all comments...

shithappens paola talking about cats at all times? fork found in kitchen

arthur_leclerc did you try to take the cat home?

↳ oscarpiastri take a wild guess mate

↳ paola_sainz don't know what you're talking about mate

↳ oscarpiastri I have a feeling that you're gonna grossly overuse mate now

↳ paola_sainz now why would I do that... mate 😇

barbiegirl what are you doing in Australia girllll

elmatadorf1 thank god she's not going home with Carlos, he doesn't need her 🐍

jensonbutton Come back in one piece please

↳ paola_sainz don't you worry about that Jense, I am well taken care of ;)

oui_lyanne yeah okay she's actually in australia

charles_leclerc You're right, that's a very cute kitty

lightning_enjyr did you buy any new records?

oscarpiastri Have you seen the sights yet?

↳ paola_sainz not really, my tour guide has been kinda busy

↳ oscarpiastri That's a shame, there's a lot of great things to see

↳ paola_sainz don't worry mate, I've been looking at different kind of sights plenty enough, lot of beach days yk? I can wait a few more days 😉

↳ oscarpiastri Oh, well in that case 🫢

prplsector oscar is brave fr, I'll give him that 😳

4ND1 god the tension is this comment section is something else

ada_moore if Oscar's not the boyfriend and I was the boyfriend I am straight up fighting that man in some dark alley because that is so flirty and for what (if he IS the boyfriend, carry on please, the energy is unmatched)

L3CH41R how are her outfits always so good???

predestined55 Carlos just signed a contract and she's talking about cats and being a slut in the comments, great 😒

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hattiepiastri posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: did you know, we're killer on karaoke nights?

caption 2: doing all this late night talking

caption 3: we're keeping her oscarpiastri, if you don't wife her up I will

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri You don't have to worry about that

paola_sainz posted new instagram stories!

caption 1: g'day mate! celebrity crush meet up officially checked out from my wishlist

caption 2: the locals showing me the best ice cream places in town

caption 3: hands that have never seen manual labour

⟶ oscarpiastri replied to your story!

oscarpiastri hey!

paola_sainz you're offended like it's not true

caption 4: bad bitch on the beach

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and others

paola_sainz most unexpected crossover of the year? maybe not as unexpected as you think! me and Robert did some cool things this week and I got to meet some sweet pets, I might not come back from 'Straya

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N3CKSTRI excuse me- Robert Irwin and Paola Sainz in one place? i might actually die

prplsector spain's sweetheart with australia's sweetheart, way too cute

dutchlion can someone actually explain to me how people can hate her? if you don't like her content just stop looking at it, but actually hating on her?? can't imagine

robertirwinphotography It was good to finally see you! The animals already miss you

↳ paola_sainz oh god please don't say that, I'll cry for real 😭 I miss them too

shithappens i dunno, i still think it's pretty unexpected

fastkiwi the way this isn't even the wildest thing she's done this season 😳

predestined55 can you like rot in hell now? two faced bitch 🐍

barbiegirl they'd look sooooo goooood together

↳ zoebryne_x ik right??

logansargeant Is zookeeper next on the cv?

↳ paola_sainz you're laughing but I'd be an amazing zookeeper

↳ logansargeant Who told you that? I wouldn't trust them, you'd end up taking all the animals home

↳ paola_sainz Robert said I'd do great!

↳ logansargeant I think that's just his job, plus he's too nice to tell you the truth

↳ paola_sainz you're mean, see if I bring you gifts when I get back

4ND1 can I meet Robert Irwin now??

oscarpiastri Still looking at sights?

↳ paola_sainz why, you jealous mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Don't worry, just curious

lightning_enjyr are they even trying to hide it atp???

elmatadorf1 can she just injure sth since she's playing tennis so much? maybe then we'd get a break from her stupid face 🤢

↳ STARG3N you guys are literally insane what the hell

madi_races every time i open the comment section i get whiplash, on twt everyone is trying to figure out who the boyfriend is, the press is eating this all up, people are placing bets and here is oscar just shamelessly flirting, it's like a different universe

arthur_leclerc I'm coming with you next time

↳ paola_sainz ditch Charles and come here then

hammertime_1 guys i really don't think Oscar's the boyfriend, she's just way out of his league

isawthesainz jesus she's so cringe, excuse me while i throw up

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paola's messages:

NETHERLANDS 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

oscarpiastri And we're back 👍 break at home was good but it's nice to be racing again

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laile_f1 he's never beating the calm cat allegations

catstri81 that is the most oscar caption to ever caption

maximumformula he's doing the dad pose 😭

4ND1 i can't with him 😭 he's just a guyy

chat_withmani ohh he's posted the girlfriend!!

elmatadorf1 i can't believe he still has a seat

↳ prplsector can you guys stop being fucking petty for a minute

paola_sainz so did the girlfriend like it in the down under mate?

↳ oscarpiastri Yeah, since she's now best friends with my sister I'm pretty sure she did mate 🙄

↳ paola_sainz what, you jealous of your sister?

↳ oscarpiastri She basically stole my girlfriend

lestappen116 he looks so happy 😭

fastkiwi it was good to see you back at home

landonorris Let's go mate! Good weekend 👍

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paola's messages:

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

taglist: @blushmimi @Ale-522 @joalslibrary @jaydaaasworld @vroomvroommuppett @sugarhoneylemons @formulaonebuff @clove0 @rockyhayzkid @glitzyditzy @coriyaps @irishmanwhore @gr3yhues @kikiki04 @fall-bambi @nichmeddar @sunfairyy @formulaal @marauders-wife @theseus-jpg @heavy-vettel @anxxiousaries @linaversion @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @d3kstar @camelliaflow3r @delululeclerc @lesliiieeeee (xxx - couldn't tag you)

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!