#saccharine!reader would love it tho

[slicznymartwy]

is it ok if i billypost sloppystyle for a second

billy hiding under ur bed because he got stuck while wandering the house. you were running up the stairs before he could react to the front door opening, there was no way he could get to the attic without getting caught

idk i feel like he would get horny about u laying on the bed on top of him :3 like super super horny

he doesn’t want to get caught, so he stays perfectly still and tries to keep his breath quiet, but he’s so hard in his pants that he tries to rub at himself with his palm.

amyways idk how to end it he probably cums in his pants

[withleeknow]

my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2024]

[dkfile]

gold rush

❛ everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ❜ ━gold rush, taylor swift

word count | 19.2k (19,220) genre | fluff, angst, slowburn, exes to lovers, summer au ━ gn!reader

though there is no denying that kim mingyu was once a big part of your life, you believe that the pain he’s left you with is long gone; he is a memory, and that is all he will ever be. but then you get home, and he’s there, and maybe you have to reconsider just how much you’ve moved on.

★ warnings | brief mention of injury/scars/blood, alcohol consumption, suggestive if u squint, seokmin and minghao meddling, i think thats it tell me if i missed anything ★ author’s note | it’s finally here!!! this took me longer than i thought it would, i really thought it’d only be on the shorter side (shorter side in dkfile means >10k words) but. this is literally 19k. i lied to myself i guess. hope u guys enjoy tho !! lmk your thoughts :D

In movies, summer signifies new beginnings. The sun’s radiance is bright enough to blind, the ocean glimmers underneath its attention, the sand is warm to the touch. Ice cream drips down your fingers and makes them uncomfortably sticky against the humid breeze. Some people come home, others leave, but they all have the intent of starting their new chapter right. Summer is about growth. It is about moving on.

It is not supposed to be about Kim Mingyu.

seok ☀️ > can you pls pick up the phone > i’m sorryyyyy that i lied to you ☹️ > forgive me!! 😓💔🙏 > do you need me to grovel? because i will

You scowl.

When you came back from college, welcomed home with open arms by your family and childhood friends, you were reassured that a certain boy — with golden skin, starry eyes, and your crushed heart in the palm of his hand — would not be back in town. Foolishly, you looked past the mischievous quirk of Minghao’s eyebrow, and the sheepish wince painted across Seokmin’s face when you expressed your delight at having them all to yourself.

There would be no ex-boyfriend to thwart your plans, no boy to drown your summer in gasoline and set it aflame.

But then your shopping cart bumps into someone else’s at the store, and when you look up, the bane of your existence is staring at you, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

You vaguely remember the rather sharp inhale Seokmin took from behind you before you scoffed, incredulous and irritated, and harshly stated that Seokmin could finish grocery shopping by himself. You do not want to associate yourself with the traitor and the liar your so-called best friend has become.

Seokmin claims you’re being rather overdramatic. He swears he didn’t know Mingyu would be home so soon.

(“So soon?” you repeated when you picked up Seokmin’s fifteenth call ten minutes ago. “What does that mean? That you knew he was always going to be coming home?”

“…Listen—”

You hung up).

You find yourself sitting in the skatepark a few blocks from the mart, legs curled up on the bench and your chin resting on your knees. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, the occupants slowly pack up and leave, until the sounds of wheels against concrete is replaced with the murmur of cicadas and the laughter from the occasional passerby.

The warmth of the wood seeps through your denim shorts, percolating across your body until you are hot underneath your clothes. Despite the heat of the day giving way to the mellow cool of the evening, sweat forms on your upper lip and hairline, an indicator that it’s too hot to sit out here and contemplate every choice you’ve made up until this moment.

Still, you stay; you’re not sure why. You never quite liked it here, had only enjoyed it when you were surrounded by your friends and their saccharine laughter. The scars on your leg are painful reminders of the multiple falls you took when he was teaching you how to skate.

(Sometimes, on bad nights, you still feel the ghost of his fingers on your waist and your wrist, guiding you on his board while children much younger than you zoom by).

You never left this area without a new injury, whether it be a bruise on the shin or a scrape on the knee.

Memories of what once was linger.

You do not remember what you had for breakfast this morning, or what show Seokmin recommended to you a few hours ago, or what car your dad was planning on buying.

But you remember Mingyu. You remember his smile and his sweet cologne and the way his hair fell into his eyes whenever his shoulders shook with laughter. You remember what it feels like to be in his bubble; it feels like you’ve been dumped into molasses — you become aware of your every move, and time begins to move just a little slower, as if you are trying to savour every moment before he disappears.

You feel him before you hear him.

That’s why you’re not surprised when he talks, his voice soft from where he stands behind the bench. You imagine him with his hands tucked into his pockets, staring at the empty ramps (he is not looking at you. You would know if he was looking at you. His gaze would burn more than a thousand wildfires).

“I thought they told you.”

Your voice comes out hoarse. “They told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t sound surprised, but he stills offers an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who lied.”

A quiet heartbeat passes. “Right.”

Your fingers drum against your calf. “How did you find me, anyway? Did Seokmin track my location?”

“No,” he murmurs. His voice has been quiet ever since he arrived. “I just… figured you’d be here.”

You swallow a large lump in your throat. “Oh,” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he responds. There’s a brief moment of contemplation. He knows there’s a line he cannot cross, but he tries anyway. “Do you want a ride home?”

Your response is immediate and firm, and its harshness is enough to break the calm façade he unintentionally built around the both of you. “No. I’ll walk.”

“It’s hot,” he argues.

“I don’t need you, Mingyu,” you bite back. He clamps his mouth shut as unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t— I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate; you aren’t sure how long he stands behind you, searching for a response.

Then, as if it pains him to say: “Okay.”

“Damn,” Minghao falls into Seokmin’s shoulder as they both laugh at your stumbling, “You suck!”

“Hey,” Mingyu barks, though he looks more like a puppy than the intimidating boy he imagines himself to be, “it’s not like you’re any better!”

You know Mingyu’s only saying this to make you feel better — Minghao is, arguably, the best on wheels out of the four of you — but the sentiment still warms your heart. At your smile, Mingyu’s annoyed mien is replaced with a grin of his own. He reaches over to squeeze your cheek.

“I believe in you,” he declares.

“As much as I appreciate what you’re doing,” you begin, stretching out your arms to balance on the board, “I don’t think I’m ever going to master this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mingyu huffs, hands hovering over your sides once the skateboard begins to move, eyes trained on your feet. “By the time we get out of here, you’re gonna give Minghao a run for his money.”

You sigh. Mingyu was always one for wishful thinking.

“You really think I’ll be able to do this by myself in half an hour?”

Mingyu hums hopefully.

The sun has already begun to set, and you had promised your parents you’d be home for dinner. With fall around the corner, the days are slowly becoming shorter, a constant reminder that your last year of school is upon you. Next are college applications, then admissions, and conversations about your future that you aren’t quite ready to have.

But you’ll worry about that when you need to.

Because right now, there is the skate park, the late summer breeze, and Mingyu, who shrieks along with you when you lose balance. His arms grab onto your waist, bringing you back to the ground as the skateboard continues to roll down the concrete. Right now, there is the furrow of his eyebrows, the mixture of disappointment and amusement swirling in his eyes, and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I thought I told you not to zone out,” he says with a slight shake of his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You shrug, pecking his nose before pulling away to chase after the skateboard. “You’re so dramatic. The worst I could’ve gotten was a scraped knee.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So? I don’t want you getting hurt under my watch.”

“You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter.”

“Well, I might as well be,” he argues. “You’re more accident prone than me.”

Laughing, you jokingly say, “Guess that means you’ve finally met your match, Kim.”

People used to say you and Mingyu were made for each other.

It is something you’ve tried to forget, but the fact follows you around like a shadow. This town, small and aware of the breakup, can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that you and Mingyu are no longer extensions of one another.

At some point, you hoped that people would understand your discomfort whenever he’s mentioned, but the fact of the matter is that you and Mingyu had been a package deal from when you were in diapers up until the end of senior year, and when you’re intertwined with someone for that long, it’s just as hard for you as it is for everyone to forget that part of yourself.

When you stop by the pharmacy, you don’t ask about him (you have no reason to), but the pharmacist still informs you that you’ve just missed him; when you see your mother’s colleague, she gushes about how nice it must be to see him after all this time (you do not have the heart to tell her otherwise); when you buy a pack of Sprite bottles for Mrs. Boo’s annual summer barbecue, the clerk asks if you know if he’s going to be in attendance (you say you have not talked to him in three years, and the clerk tilts his head in confusion).

Your patience has been worn thin by the time you arrive at Seokmin’s house.

“Hello, sunshine,” Minghao drawls when his attention settles on you. He watches you scowl before setting your bag on the armchair and taking a seat beside him on the couch. “How was your morning?”

“I’m ditching,” you declare, brushing off his question.

“Ditching what?”

“The barbecue,” you deadpan. “What else?”

“Now, why the hell would you do that?”

“Minghao,” you say blankly, “would it kill you to use your brain for once?”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Seokmin enters the living room, carrying three cans of iced tea, all of which he places on the coffee table. He throws you and Minghao a look of annoyance. “If you guys are going to argue, please don’t do it under my roof,” he gestures around the room, “it kills the vibes.”

You roll your eyes but mutter an apology under your breath. Beside you, Minghao quips, “Y/N decided ditching the barbecue would be a good idea.”

You’re used to Seokmin’s mannerisms by now, so you don’t even flinch when he waves his arms around in disbelief. “What?” he exclaims, crouching in front of your legs and taking your hands into his. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Minghao hums. “That’s what I said.”

“Put that brain of yours to good use.”

“They said that to me, too.”

Seokmin huffs, knowing better than to let your quips deter him. “Please don’t tell me this is about Mingyu.”

You quirk an eyebrow, to which Seokmin scoffs, letting go of your hands before plopping down in front of you, even though there’s a free spot on the other side of Minghao. They scrutinize you for a moment, Seokmin’s eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown while Minghao stares blankly, showing no emotion or an indication of what’s going on inside his head.

It does nothing to make you feel comfortable.

You aren’t a stranger to Minghao and Seokmin’s examinations — they’re experts when it comes to breaking you down with analyzations and calculating eyes. But you haven’t been home in three years, and being on the receiving end of something as intense as this is startling, if not a little troubling.

(Being the only one enduring this, absent of a certain boy, is unsettling as well, though you’d rather die than admit that).

Seokmin nudges your ankle with his knee. “You know you’ll regret not going to this thing,” he says, eyes sparkling with amusement when you bristle. “You haven’t seen the Boo’s in forever, too. They’d be sad if you miss it.”

“Imagine how Seungkwan would feel,” Minghao adds, poking your arm to look at him, and continues to do so when you don’t. “He’d be miserable.”

You pout. “I doubt it.”

“You were in the same badminton club for five years,” Minghao argues softly, “I think he would be.”

Seokmin states, “And you’re not the type of person to let someone down, are you?” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Well, other than me and Minghao, on occasion.”

You cross your arms, leaning further into the couch as you avoid eye contact. You’re adamant on skipping, but Seokmin and Minghao know you better than anyone else, so they know exactly how to word their sentences and fabricate their bribes to get you to agree. They know, as long as you keep this up, the entirety of your summer will be spent in the four walls in your house, the only place in town guaranteed to not have Kim Mingyu.

And it may be pathetic, really, to continue letting him affect you like this.

(But it has always been you and Mingyu, Mingyu and you. He is part of your soul. There is a void in your chest that’s the shape of him. How are you supposed to erase all memory of someone like that?)

A painted fingernail pokes your side, a knee bumps your shin. Your friends look at you, hopeful.

A sigh.

“Okay, fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You hum, collapsing on the bench beside Seungkwan, his newly dyed platinum blonde hair appearing orange under the setting sun. Sweat trinkles down his frame but his breathing remains even, showing no sign that he just finished playing a rather intense badminton game a few minutes prior.

“What are you guys doing after you graduate?”

You take a sip from your water bottle in hopes the liquid will make it easier to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You have never minded these types of conversations, though the reminder of the future creates a pit in your stomach that only continues to grow larger with each passing day. And, knowing Seungkwan, you know there is more to his question than college applications and major declarations.

“What do you mean?”

“You, Mingyu, Minghao, and Seokmin,” Seungkwan elaborates. “You’re all going to different colleges, right?”

Pursing your lips, you risk a glance at him, only to find that he’s staring ahead. “Minghao’s going abroad, yeah, and Seokmin’s thinking of staying here,” you explain, voice low. “Mingyu and I are going to be together, though.”

At this, Seungkwan turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “You two are going to the same university?”

There is something about the way he asks this — unsure, withdrawn, and cautious. You see the flare of uncertainty in his eyes, and it’s enough for your heartrate to quicken.

“Yeah. Why?”

He opens and closes his mouth. There is war in his head. Very rarely do you see Seungkwan at a loss for words. He is usually so quick on his feet, so witty, so talkative, and the silence that falls between you both is painful and nerve-wracking.

Should you be worried?

“Nothing,” he eventually settles for, ignoring the silent question in your eyes. “I was just thinking about how nice that would be.”

You decide to believe him. It is so much easier to be ignorant, you think.

(But it is also much more painful later. You do not allow yourself to dwell).

“Why’d you ask, anyway?”

“I was just talking to Vernon and Chan, and I realized we all want different things,” Seungkwan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “We won’t all be together much longer. It feels… weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to stay in touch?”

You shrug hopefully. “I think so,” you say, shifting your gaze to the horizon, “we’ve been friends forever. It’d take a lot to break that up.”

The scent of tangerines and aftershave fill your nose as you’re ambushed by a boy bursting with energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he resides in your arms, squeezing you tight as he spews angry statements that all come from a place of love.

Seungkwan is grinning by the time you pull away, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you further into the backyard to catch up with other people. He doesn’t dare leave your side — he’s convinced you’ll slip away and disappear if he does — and you’re thankful; you don’t have the energy to steamroll through conversations today.

Though it’s humid, the warmth you’re engulfed in is a product of the Boo household. It is homely and welcoming and an embodiment of everything you’ve ever missed about home all in one lot. You should be happy to be here, surrounded by people you haven’t seen in years as a consequence of your avoidance, pulled into an endless pool of memories and nostalgia.

But you cannot shake it, the uneasiness.

You feel it as soon as the gate swings open and he enters, carrying two large Tupperware containers, one filled with brownies and the other with lemon squares. You feel it when he flashes his signature smile, canines as pearly white and blinding as you remember, and it still fills you with a sickening sense of joy.

“I’m gonna go get a brownie,” Seungkwan announces, loud enough to snap you out of it. “Do you want one?”

“No,” you decline, forcing yourself to smile even when you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. “Thank you, though.”

Seungkwan nods and makes his way to the refreshments table, but not before wagging a finger in warning, “Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

You frantically search the backyard, looking for any sign of Minghao or Seokmin, or maybe a superhero of some sorts to pull you away so you don’t disintegrate in the presence of Mingyu.

In your periphery, you see him excuse himself from conversations, eyes flickering towards you with a determination you aren’t unfamiliar with. It’s remorseful and desperate, and it reminds you of an instance in the skatepark a few years ago, you in his sweater and drowning in heartbreak and sorrow.

Someone swings their arm over your shoulder.

“Hey,” Minghao murmurs, steering you further into the backyard, away. You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you grit your teeth.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” he says, dropping his arm once he’s decided you’re far enough. “I feel like it’d do the both of you some good.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” you protest. “And I’m sure he has nothing to say to me.”

“I really don’t think that’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“You were in love with him,” he says. It slips out of his lips so easily, as if he were talking about the weather or the shapes of the clouds. You wish you could mutter an admission like that — accept something like that — the way he had. “And he was in love with you, and it ended badly. That is more than enough of a reason to talk.”

It ended badly. You always associated a statement like that with relationships that ended in screaming matches or slamming doors. Ones where a simple argument escalated into one that finalized a conclusion, ones where there was nothing in the room but anger and exhaustion that overpowered the love.

You’ve never associated it with how your relationship with Mingyu ended. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping, and you were standing in the same spot you asked him out, the same spot he asked you to prom, the same spot he murmured three simple words into your ear before you fell asleep on his shoulder on the park bench.

It didn’t end because of a fight. Sometimes, you wish it had — maybe then you’d feel differently about everything, about him.

It just came to a halt, and he had been the one to step on the brakes.

“Talk to him,” Minghao urges again, sympathetic but firm. “You don’t have to do it now, but just do it before you leave. Don’t you think you deserve some closure?”

You find him talking to some of your classmates from your graduating class. They hang onto every word he says, face alit with curiosity and admiration, because some things never change, and he has been put on a pedestal since birth. In the hallways of the high school, his name is on the trophies, he’s beaming in most of the pages in the yearbook, he is this town’s pride and joy.

But you know him.

You see him smile and you’re not blind to the discomfort and falseness behind it. He doesn’t want to be there, you think, and your thoughts are proven correct when he glances up to look at you, and his mask slips by a fraction. For a moment, you see sincerity, a glimpse of the Mingyu you once knew.

Someone taps him on the shoulder and, as you predicted, he puts the mask back on.

You hate that you still know him like the back of your hand.

He is leaning against your frame, playing with your fingers, when he asks the question.

“How do you do it?” he wonders, looking up briefly to meet your questioning gaze before returning his focus on your hands, tapping them to the beat of an overplayed pop song.

His head has dipped down, allowing you to rest your cheek against it. “Do what?”

“Talk to everyone like that,” he says, using his free hand to gesture towards the backyard filled with the people you’re currently hiding from. The both of you sit on the staircase by the front entrance, away from any prying eyes. “They were hanging onto every word you said. They’re practically in love with you.”

You snicker. “What, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Mingyu matches your teasing tone with a playful lilt of his own. “Oh, I am. I’ve got some competition.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Don’t be too upset when I pick Mrs. Boo over you.”

He hums. “No promises.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over you. He fidgets with your hands, brushing his thumb over your nails, and tracing the lines of your palms with his index finger. You close your eyes, listening to the fading chatter of the town and the faint sizzling of meat on the grill.

“I should be asking you that, y’know,” you eventually mumble. Mingyu’s movements stop. “You’ve got the whole town wrapped around your finger. I’m pretty sure everybody loves you.”

To get you to open your eyes, he pokes your cheek. “The same could be said about you,” he responds. “Besides, people only like the idea of me. What would they say if they found out my room’s never clean and I cycle through the same two pairs of socks year-round?”

You wrinkle your nose. “God, remind me to buy you a pack of socks from the store next time I’m at the mall.”

He laughs, an unpleasant snort involuntarily escaping his nose. “I’m serious. They don’t like me. They like the illusion.”

You finally look at him, meeting his softened gaze and mellow smile. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No, not really,” he shrugs, but there is a minuscule halt in his voice that you don’t catch. “The only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

You’re convinced Seokmin and Minghao are saints.

(You would never admit this, though. They would never shut up if you did).

For the entire 40-minute car ride, they manage to keep the calm, filling the silence with anecdotes about people you have only heard about through irregular video calls, and arguments about who should be in control of the music. Eventually, they settle for handing the aux over to Mingyu, who meets your gaze through the rearview mirror before clicking on a familiar playlist and looking out the window.

After the first five songs, your face heats up as you remember bashfully making him a playlist back in high school. You settle into your spot, hoping the battered polyester of Seokmin’s car seats will swallow you whole.

When you agreed to tag along on their trip out of town and into the city, Minghao and Seokmin didn’t bother hiding their surprise, especially since they made it clear Mingyu was going to be in attendance. Seungkwan even offered to let you carpool with him, Vernon, and Chan, but you declined — you might as well suck it up, seeing as you and Mingyu are going to be in the same vicinity for the rest of the summer.

Still, you can’t help but regret your decisions as you squirm in the backseat behind Seokmin, who’s fiddling with the A/C, listening intently to a story Minghao’s telling about some scandal involving two classmates he’s never talked to before. You’re thankful for their nosiness, because it gives you some level of comfort and helps you ignore Mingyu’s fleeting glances from the passenger seat.

“The professor’s a hardass so everyone was convinced they were fucking,” Minghao says, leaning forward in his seat. “Turns out he was just her stepdad, who suffered from a chronic case of favouritism.”

Seokmin snorts. “Out of all the conclusions to jump to, that’s the one they picked?”

Minghao quirks an eyebrow. “You of all people should not be saying that.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Seokmin and Minghao begin to bicker for the nth time that evening, your gaze slides from the window to the Snoopy trinket hanging from the rearview mirror to the mirror itself, and you can’t find it in you to be surprised when you see Mingyu already looking at you. An unsaid question dances in his eyes, wary and timid.

Are you sure this is okay?

You gulp, worrying your lips between your teeth before shrugging. Yes, it’s fine.

He raises his eyebrow. This is the first time you’ve acknowledged him tonight.

Really?

You shrug again. Really.

And you leave it at that, turning again to look outside.

Seokmin takes fifteen minutes to find a decent parking spot, so when you finally enter the nightclub, you’re prepared for the scowl on Seungkwan’s face when he spots the four of you. He scolds Seokmin first and receives a flick to his forehead in response, which only angers him more. Before you can meet his wrath, you slip away, moving to enter the booth and letting Mingyu and Minghao get the brunt of Seungkwan’s rage and disappointment.

“Y/N!” Chan exclaims when you settle next to him, wrapping his arms around your torso to give you a brief hug before sliding you his unfinished pint of beer. “I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

When you take a sip of the alcohol, you try your best to hide your grimace when the lukewarm liquid hits your tongue. “I talked to you at the barbecue two days ago.”

“Well, I missed you. Sue me,” he throws his hands up in exasperation. Across from you, Vernon hides his amused smile behind his own pint. “You come home after, what, three years? Forgive me if I’ve become clingy.”

“Didn’t know you missed me so much.”

Vernon’s eyes are dripping with mirth. “He went broke from using all his coins at the fountain in town square,” he says, laughing when Chan shoots him daggers. “He went there whenever he was free and was wishing you’d come back—”

“He’s exaggerating,” Chan huffs. In retaliation to Vernon’s teasing, Chan takes his friend’s pint of beer and chugs it down until there is nothing left. “I only wished whenever Mingyu was home, he was so mopey, he would’ve been happier if you were here.”

You freeze.

“Okay,” Vernon interjects, pushing himself out of his seat to move all the empty glasses away from Chan, as if doing so will help the situation. He throws you an apologetic look, though it lacks his usual sincerity. “That’s enough for tonight.”

Chan whines. “But I wanted to do tequila shots with everyone.”

“Drink this first,” Vernon instructs.

Chan grumbles but accepts the glass of water Vernon gives him.

Before you can say something about Chan’s offhanded comment, the rest of your friends climb into the booth, and Vernon and Chan ease their way into their conversation as soon as everyone’s seated. You lean back, cowering behind Minghao and Chan’s frames as Seungkwan makes a joke you barely catch and Minghao repeats every story he told on the journey here.

You try your best to engage in the conversation, really, but it’s been so long since you’ve been with this group of people. As they discuss events you were never there for, snippets of a summer you weren’t part of, the awkwardness begins to build in your stomach, because it was never supposed to be like this, you were never supposed to feel left out.

If the person you were a few years ago saw you now, you know they’d be a little disappointed. Maybe they’d pity you, too.

The consequences, you suppose, of never coming home.

Sighing, you gesture for Minghao to slip out of the booth so you can get out. You say something about going to the bar to get another drink, and he nods, squeezing your shoulder — his silent way of telling you to stay safe — before letting you go.

You try your best to avoid any stumbling individuals, wrinkling your nose and murmuring apologies that get lost in the noise when you can’t avoid bumping into someone. With a glance over your shoulder, you make sure your friends aren’t paying any attention to you before making your way towards the exit.

It’s a warm evening, but it’s cooler than it is inside, and you relish in the temporary peace before you have to inevitably make your way back. They’ll notice if you’re gone too long, and they’ve always been easy to worry.

“Hey.”

A tall frame enters your periphery, clad in a loose white t-shirt and light-washed jeans, staring ahead at the passing cars. You ignore the way his face falls when you shuffle further to the side, away from him.

Your history aside, Kim Mingyu has always run hot. Before, you wouldn’t mind — before, you would’ve been clinging onto him — but time has passed, and you aren’t the same people you were back in high school.

A part of you misses it. There is something so comfortable about Mingyu that you can only describe in insignificant memories, like when he moves you to the side furthest from the road, or when he wraps his scarf around your neck because the cold is nipping at your nose, or when he buys mini versions of your skincare products to keep in his house for when you’re too tired to drive back home.

It's almost homely. Like a hug, maybe.

(You missed it a lot, at first, his aura. Whenever you needed it most, you’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, and instead of sheep lulling you into slumber, it’s him. Way back when, he’d rub circles into your wrist to help you fall asleep, and you think of it then, because it used to bring you so much comfort).

(In your dreams, you murmur his name — Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu — like a prayer, like an incantation).

“I’m sorry.”

You jolt in surprise. Not at his voice, but at the apology. “Why?”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” you protest with a frown. “I’m just… I couldn’t think of how to contribute to the conversation, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says gently. He looks relieved. “So, you’re okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re your friends, too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

A quiet moment passes, and you see the relief begin to crumble.

“Yeah, I don’t mind that you’re here,” you offer. The next sentence slips out before you can stop it, “I’m glad, actually.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, wincing. “A little. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Before this month, you only saw him through Instagram, glimpses of his life that were curated to make his life seem special and happy and void of any worries. You only heard about him — the real him — when his name accidentally slipped out of your friends’ or your family’s mouths.

You can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough.

“How’s school?” he asks, subtly moving so he’s slightly facing you.

“It’s alright,” you answer. “Stressful, but that’s a given. My roommate got a boyfriend, though. He leaves his shit everywhere and he acts like he lives there.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “Yeah, I know, Minghao told me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Oh? Why would he tell you that?”

“I asked,” he shrugs. You finally, really look at him now, and your confusion is evident. He seems unfazed by it, but you can see the crimson slowly climbing up his neck. “I ask about you sometimes.”

“Why?”

You know why, you think. What’s the point in asking when you already know the reason behind his actions and intentions? Your soul is intertwined with his, it has been for a while, but you can’t seem to accept it.

You still hurt.

Minghao’s right. Maybe the closure is needed.

“Because I care about you,” he confesses, trying his best to hide his yearning. “You were my best friend, and I want to know if you’re still doing okay.”

Your fingers shake, so you stuff them into the pockets of your sweater. “And what do they tell you when you ask?”

He hesitates, scanning your face while he plans his best course of action. The wounds haven’t closed, the stitches were poorly sewn, and blood spills out of the cuts he left like the damage he’s done is fresh.

“They tell me that I should ask you myself,” he says, “But sometimes they take pity on me, and they’ll tell me things you’ve told them. Like the roommate situation, or the barista who fucked up your order, or how you scored the highest on an exam— congratulations, by the way.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Thank you,” you reply meekly.

“It’s no problem,” he responds. Contemplation flickers across his face before he adds, rather reluctantly, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

You feel the same way you did when he first confessed, like an immature and blubbering teenager, full of hope and optimism and dreams of what could be.

“Mingyu—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve posted, and I should’ve congratulated you then, I know that, but—”

You give him a small smile. “Better late than never.”

He flashes you a grin, the same one you’d longed to see, the one you used to humiliate yourself for. You would’ve done anything to see him smile like that — a smile that isn’t put on just for show, but one that’s genuine and blinding. It’s something reserved for certain people, those who have seen through the illusion that was created for him, those who have seen it and still love him for who he is, despite his faults and imperfections.

He nods. “Better late than never.”

Despite your best efforts to squash your delight, your heart escapes your desperate grip, and it soars.

It’s cold.

The ground has frozen over, leaving jagged pieces of ice all over the concrete. The snow, previously a crisp white, has turned brown due to its contact with cars. The wind is cold, persistent, it refuses to let you forget about its existence with each gust.

On the other side of the parking lot, you see your friends whisper amongst themselves before one of them throws his hands up in exasperation and stomps over to his car, a beat-up vehicle with torn polyester seats and discarded bubblegum wrappers on the floor. He’s grumbling something under his breath as he settles into the driver’s seat and leaves without so much as a goodbye.

It’s cold, and something’s wrong.

Your eyes find Mingyu’s and your stomach sinks.

Something’s wrong, but you’re unsure whether you’ll find out what it is tonight.

“Hey,” you say once he’s in earshot. He stiffens at the sound of your voice. “Is Seokmin okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “I’ll just apologize tomorrow morning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing big.” He tightens the scarf around his neck and turns to walk towards his car. You follow, because with Mingyu you always do, and look at him over the roof as he digs in his pockets for his keys.

You clench your jaw, uncomfortable (when was the last time you’ve felt unpleasant around him? Things have started getting weirder since everyone started sending in their college applications). You wonder if you should push for answers, but you stop yourself before you can open your mouth. You’ve never done something like this before — Mingyu has always told you everything; secrets between the two of you are scarce.

He unlocks the doors. “Is it okay if we stop by the convenience store before I bring you home? I gotta buy some ramen for my sister.”

He looks tired. Maybe you can ask him about what happened another day.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods in thanks and enters before another gust of wind hits — it’s harsher this time, as if it’s sending you a warning.

You really should’ve brought your own scarf.

When your family yells for you to open the door, the last thing you expect to see on the other side of it is Kim Mingyu.

Your ire is gone in a flash.

“Um…”

Mingyu winces. “Hi. Sorry, I— your brother called me, he said it was an emergency, and I was worried, so—”

“Mingyu!” your brother yells excitedly, running out of the kitchen before throwing his arms around Mingyu’s torso. “You’re here! Thank God, Y/N was ruining the cake—”

You scoff loudly. “What the fuck, Daeshim? You’re the one who put in salt instead of sugar—"

“Get in, get in!” Daeshim says cheerily, throwing you a glare. You narrow your eyes in return, ignoring how Mingyu’s hands brush against yours when he makes his way towards the kitchen after toeing off his shoes. Daeshim pokes you. “I’m telling Mom you swore.”

“What are you, five?”

Daeshim sticks his tongue out. “Add some money in the swear jar.”

“I hate you,” you deadpan. Your eyes flicker to the white sneakers neatly placed by the other footwear, worn from years of use. “Why did you ask him to come here?”

Your brother shrugs. “He usually stops by, anyway, to help for Mom’s birthday.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” he says sarcastically, gesturing for you to move so he can shut the front door. “Are you sure you guys broke up? Cause when you didn’t come home for the summer, he would still check up on us and stuff, and he’d always ask about you. It was so weird. It felt like I was a child of divorce.”

You smack him on the head. “Can you not say that about my relationship?”

“Well, it’s not a relationship anymore,” he quips.

You tense, crossing your arms so you don’t give Daeshim the delight of seeing your clenched fists. “You know what I meant.”

“If you don’t want to stay, then go. But he’s not going anywhere until Mom’s cake is done.”

“Why not? We were doing just fine without him.”

“Are you serious? You know he’s better at baking than you ever will be.”

“Okay, rude.”

“It’s true—”

“Uh, guys?” Both of your heads snap to wear Mingyu peeks around the corner, his amusement thinly veiled behind his distress. “Your kitchen’s a mess.”

Daeshim grins, pointing his finger at you. “Y/N’s fault!” he exclaims before heading to the kitchen.

You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance, watching your sibling nonchalantly disappear from your line of sight before you focus on Mingyu. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands shoved in his sweatpants and his head tilted to the side. He looks at you like he’s studying you, trying to find a sign of any kind that he needs to leave.

He must’ve found nothing because he stays.

You clear your throat, straightening your posture. “It was not my fault.”

His lips quirk up. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He disappears before you can retort.

(He’s always been good at that — leaving before you have a chance to fight).

When you finally join them in the kitchen, there’s a familiar baby pink apron around Mingyu’s neck, already splattered with cake batter as he whisks something in a steel bowl. Daeshim is crouched in front of the fridge, putting containers of leftovers on the floor in search of something. You kick his leg with your foot, throwing him off balance, and you both give each other matching scowls.

“Don’t put the Tupperware on the floor.”

He rolls his eyes but picks them up without argument, placing them on the empty counter by the fridge. You don’t understand why he couldn’t have done that in the first place, but Daeshim is notorious for making terrible decisions.

You don’t miss the way Mingyu’s eyes soften when he sees you. “You’re gonna help?”

“I came with the intention to supervise Daeshim and make sure he doesn’t accidentally set something on fire, but…” you shrug, “I could help, yeah.”

“Perfect,” Mingyu grins. “Can you get the baking pan?”

You do as he asks, handing it over to him over the kitchen island. “You’re gonna put it in the oven already? Daeshim was complaining about the batter so much he almost convinced me there was no saving it.”

Mingyu snorts as he cautiously pours the mixture into the pan. “He was just being overdramatic—”

Daeshim snaps from his spot near the fridge. “Are you guys just gonna talk about me as if I’m not here?”

“—it was only a little runny,” he assures, making sure not a drop of batter ends up on the floor or the countertop. Once he’s done, he brushes his hands on the apron and wipes his forehead with his arm. “Can you put it in the oven? You guys preheated it, right?”

You hum in confirmation, carefully placing the tin in the oven as Mingyu steps over Daeshim to try and get to the sink. You frown at your brother, who’s been scouring for something since you walked in. “What the hell are you even looking for?”

“Strawberry milk.”

“I drank it all.”

Daeshim huffs. “Of course you did.” He stands, slamming the fridge door with a dramatic flick of his wrist before hastily making his way out of the kitchen and towards the exit. “I’m gonna go to the convenience store to get some.”

“Wha— No, you have to help clean—”

“Can’t hear you!”

There’s a few more footsteps and the sound of Daeshim struggling to put his shoes on before the door inevitably slams shut.

You don’t let the shock of your brother’s irritating audacity bother you for too long. The way your fingers swipe through your phone to find his contact is lightning quick, but the first call is sent to voicemail and before you can even try his cell a second time, you find that you’re blocked.

Prick.

Mingyu’s humming catches your attention. You look up from your phone to find him with his back against the sink. “Voicemail?”

“Blocked.”

Mingyu snorts. “Of course.”

You send him an awkward smile before turning away so you don’t have to face him. You and Mingyu haven’t spoken since last week on that trip out of town; after the two of you slipped back inside, no words were exchanged except for an apprehensive goodnight when Seokmin dropped you off at home.

With friends as nosy as your own, privacy is hard to come by, but now, in their absence, there’s nothing more you want than a buffer. The tension’s become more palpable without a third party, and your palms are getting clammy at just the thought of searching for an excuse to kick Mingyu out of the house without hurting his feelings.

(Why do you care? He hurt you first, didn’t he?)

“Hey,” Mingyu calls out tentatively. “Do you want me to help clean up? It’s a mess in here.” When you don’t reply, he adds, “I don’t want you to do this all by yourself.”

You take a look at the kitchen around you and decide that you don’t want him to leave, either.

“Okay.”

Mingyu grins. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find a system that’s not messy or chaotic or involves stepping into the other’s path — you and Mingyu have always been like that, like a cohesive unit. The feeling that shoots through your veins at the realization that you still are is nothing short of euphoric.

Before you know it, the kitchen is clean. The surface sparkles as Mingyu swipes a finger at it to see if there’s anything he’s missed, looking up at you with fleeting disappointment.

You think he’s about to announce that it’s time for him to go, but he surprises you when what comes out of his mouth is a question instead.

“Can I ask you something?”

You press yourself against the counter, thankful for the kitchen island acting as a barrier between you both. “Sure.”

“If we…” he pauses. Regret already begins to fester in his skin, pulled down by the weight of his frown and the pinch in his eyebrows. “Uh, never mind.”

Your heart lurches in your ribcage. “Mingyu—”

“It’s fine,” he assures but his smile is tight, and his tone says otherwise, “I should probably head back. I’ll — uh — I’ll see you?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip. “Yeah,” you say, ignoring the way your heart begins to crack as Mingyu unties the apron and slips it over his head. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

A worrying cloud has attached itself to you, nibbling on every last bit of your sanity like a parasite. Because something is wrong, you’re sure of it, even if everyone around you acts otherwise. Seokmin still laughs and makes bad jokes, Minghao still scolds you for not bundling up more when it’s so cold outside, and Mingyu still attracts attention and reaches for your hand and pokes your cheek whenever you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Everything is normal.

(But…)

“Does this look stupid?” Mingyu asks, staring at the banner he’s hung up.

Minghao grabs a macaroon from the table and rearranges the assortment, so it looks like he never laid a finger on it. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs before turning to you. “Is it really?”

“It’s a little crooked,” you say, taking your eyes off him for a moment when Minghao presses the macaroon into your palm after making a face to suggest he doesn’t like it.

As Mingyu assesses the best way to fix the Happy Birthday! banner, Minghao starts poking at the pile of presents. You frown, kicking his ankle with your foot in an attempt to get him to stop. He only flicks your shoulder in response.

“Don’t touch those,” you hiss.

“I’m just trying to guess what other people got him,” Minghao retorts.

You deadpan, “You’re sizing up the competition.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “I need to make sure my present is better than all of these.”

“You got him a gift card to Party City. I didn’t even know they had those.”

“He can use it for Halloween!”

“Halloween is nine months away.”

“Oh, whatever,” Minghao grumbles. “Seungkwan will find some sort of use for it. All that matters is that my present isn’t the worst one.” He turns to you, jabbing a finger at your shoulder. “Hey, wait, what did you get him?”

You push his wrist as a scowl takes over your previous amused expression. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re a horrible gift-giver.”

“That’s not true!” you object, immediately turning to walk over to Mingyu, who’s staring at the banner in distress. “Gyu! I need to ask you something—”

“Nuh-uh, you can’t ask him, he’ll agree with you!”

You mockingly pout at Minghao before tugging Mingyu’s sleeve. “Hey, babe, question.”

Mingyu’s more than happy to have his attention on something else, letting his hands that were previously taping up the banner fall onto your shoulders. “What’s up?”

“I’m a good gift-giver, right?”

A moment passes. You scoff. Minghao cackles.

“Listen—”

“What the hell?”

“I love you and everything,” Mingyu begins, “but you really aren’t.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he says quickly. “You love me. Even though you gave me a terrible birthday present last year.”

“You said you liked that apron!”

Minghao pipes up, “There’s a reason why he leaves it at your house, Y/N.”

You gasp, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend’s chest. Before you have a chance to defend your honour, Seokmin comes barrelling into the rented community centre, carrying two boxes of used decorations.

“Hey, guys,” he exhales, out of breath, dropping the large containers on the floor with a relieved huff. “So, the guests are coming in, like, twenty minutes, and Chan’s getting Seungkwan here in forty-five, so that should give us enough time to finish decorating… Mingyu, I thought I told you to deal with the banner?”

“It’s not cooperating with me,” your boyfriend whines.

Seokmin rolls his eyes before stomping over to the wall to fix the banner himself. Mingyu follows, grabbing the tape on his way so he can help. They don’t talk, at least not at a volume that allows you to hear what they’re saying — it’s only heated whispers that are exchanged, and you catch a glimpse of Mingyu’s nervous expression before it disappears completely.

He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a smile and it’s the same one you’ve seen him give everyone else. It’s a mask.

This isn’t something you should be on the receiving end of.

You open your mouth to say something — to say what, exactly, you aren’t sure — but Minghao tugs at your wrists and holds up a packet of balloons.

“We should start doing something before Seokmin gets mad,” he says before dragging you out of Seokmin and Mingyu’s earshot.

It’ll be okay, you think. This will pass over and your friend group will still be as close as you can be once university comes and you and Mingyu pack your bags, leaving this small town behind.

(But your worries refuse to let go; they’ve seeped into your bones, and you think their weight may crush you until you’re broken beyond repair. But ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? That’s what you’ve always said to yourself. And you’ve never needed to worry about something like this, whatever it is, before).

Everything will be fine.

Everything will not be fine, and you aren’t sure why Minghao thought it would be, but he was unbelievably wrong.

A rainy day has caused a picnic in the park to turn into a board game night at Seokmin’s house, and a homicidal game of Monopoly (a skit between Chan and Seokmin had been the last straw before Minghao flipped the board over) quickly transformed into a homicidal game of Twister. Before you is a jungle of limbs, and you’re glad that you were fast enough to volunteer to spin the wheel so you wouldn’t be caught in the inevitable crossfire.

“Left hand, red.”

Chan’s complaints come immediately.

“Chan,” Seungkwan warns, “I will kill you if you try to push me off.”

“I haven’t even moved yet.”

Seungkwan mocks his words with a high-pitched tone that barely resembles Chan’s voice before Minghao scolds them to cut it out and hurry up. Chan scoffs indignantly before moving his hand to a free red circle, struggling to find his balance.

“Are you good?” you ask blankly.

“Fine,” he grits out, “Just go so it gets to my turn faster.”

“Go slower!” Vernon exclaims from beside you, the first to be eliminated with his phone in one hand and a handful of popcorn in the other.

“Fuck you, Vernon!”

You spin the wheel. “Hao, right foot, green.”

Minghao huffs, but his new position, although uncomfortable, has given him the perfect opportunity to sabotage Seokmin. Almost as if they can sense your thoughts, your friends look at each other, one mischievous and the other in warning, before Minghao fakes a move, successfully luring Seokmin into his trap when the latter flinches and flails like a fish out of water before landing on his side.

Seokmin groans, sitting up and rubbing his ribcage as everyone laughs. He looks to you, giving you those puppy-dog eyes that always manage to worm him out of any undesirable situation he’s ever found himself in, but you only shrug helplessly in response. Seokmin sighs, flicking Minghao’s forehead, before making he settles beside you in all his pouty, wronged glory.

“It’s okay,” Vernon says from your other side, phone speaker pressed against his ear as a video of what just occurred plays on the phone. The sound of Seokmin’s yelp of surprise from 30 seconds ago causes your lips to twitch upwards. “You’ll get them next time!”

Seokmin leans into your shoulder. “Y/N! He’s making fun of me!”

You pat him reassuringly. “You’ll survive, don’t worry.”

“Hey!” Seungkwan interrupts. “Spin the wheel! It’s my turn.”

“Okay, okay! Right foot, blue.”

Much to your surprise, the rest of the game goes by smoothly with Seungkwan as the victor. Chan is beside himself, grumbling with his arms crossed as Seungkwan mimics the fall that led to his demise. When Chan opens his mouth to snap back, Minghao reaches over Vernon’s lap for the remote to increase the volume of the TV.

Once their argument has died down, Chan suggests, “Does anyone want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

“Lame, absolutely not,” Seokmin replies instantly. “I’m hungry.”

Seungkwan makes himself comfortable on the armchair. “Pizza should be coming soon. Who ordered it, anyway?” Mingyu raises his hand. “What did you get?”

“One cheese, one pepperoni.”

Chan boos, making a comment about the mediocre order which Mingyu skillfully brushes off, immune to his friends’ instigations after years of receiving them.

Minghao pokes Mingyu with his foot. “Can you check to see what time it’ll get here?”

Mingyu unlocks his phone while Vernon begins complaining about having to register for classes first thing tomorrow morning. His whines are halted, however, when Mingyu sharply inhales a breath and clears his throat sheepishly.

You raise an eyebrow. Everyone in the room knows what that means.

“Oh, what did you do now?”

“Seungkwan! What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Mingyu shakes his head before turning his phone so the screen is facing all of you. The screen says the order’s been good to go for the past five minutes, but— “I accidentally ordered for pick-up, not delivery.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Then go pick it up.”

“What?”

“Well, it says the order’s ready, right? Go pick it up.”

“But I’m so comfortable here.”

“And we’re hungry.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“Whose fault is it that the pizza guy isn’t on Seokmin’s doorstep right now?”

Mingyu huffs, clearly having run out of retorts. He’s quick to admit defeat, pushing himself off the couch and adjusting the hoodie that’s ridden up his torso. You watch his every move, ignoring Minghao’s gaze.

Just as he begins searching for his car keys, Minghao pipes up, “You shouldn’t go alone, though.”

Mingyu frowns. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because you’re clumsy and you’ll drop something.”

“Can’t you guys put some faith in me—?”

“Y/N could go with you.”

Mingyu closes his mouth, trapping any more complaints behind his teeth. You stare at Minghao like a deer caught in headlights.

Vernon is the first to protest, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I don’t—”

“Mingyu’s clumsy and he’ll drop something,” Minghao repeats impatiently. He shares a glance with Seokmin, who seems to understand Minghao’s intentions in milliseconds.

“Yeah, and we can’t let Y/N go by themselves because the last time they drove they ran over my mailbox.”

You squawk in protest. “That was when I was sixteen, I—”

“And I’ve feared you every time you’ve gotten behind a wheel ever since,” Seokmin says. He swiftly dodges Seungkwan’s questioning nudge and Chan’s panic, giving you the biggest smile he can muster before letting his eyes land back on Minghao.

Minghao looks at you, apologetic and stern all at once. “The ride will only be, like, ten minutes. Five minutes there and back,” he shrugs, turning away to face the TV. “You’re both adults, you’ll be fine.”

You think you might strangle them.

“Okay,” Mingyu says from behind you. You look at him, he stares back. “We’ll be okay. Right?”

He’s offering you one last final chance to back out. Your fingers twitch at your side before you gulp, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

You’re shoved out the door before you can even blink, wearing Seokmin’s old Crocs instead of the sneakers you had arrived with (“These are faster to put on, make haste, make haste! Get out of here, I want my pizza!”). You sink further and further into the passenger seat as Mingyu pulls out of the driveway, trying your best to focus on anything besides him.

But it proves to be impossible. The air freshener is the same as it was all those years ago, the same cheap dog bobblehead is on the dashboard, the pack of gum he’s left in the cupholder is the same one he used to buy in bulk at the supermarket. Nothing in here has changed, as if the vehicle is stuck in time, refusing to move forward despite all the years that have passed.

Mingyu must’ve noticed you staring at the gum because he picks it up and hands it to you in silent offering. You shake your head, and he puts it down.

The awkwardness might as well eat you whole.

The radio does nothing to ease the tension when the next song that plays is about heartbreak and being left behind while everyone moves on. Your sanity is hanging on by a thread that might snap if you’re in this car any longer.

In the corner of your eye, Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, but he decides against it when the pizza parlour comes into view. He swiftly parks by the front entrance, and once you get out, you notice that the car is centred perfectly between the lines.

You suppose he’s gotten better at driving over the years. The last time you were here, he’d parked so crookedly your stomach hurt from laughing.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, staring at you quizzically. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, slipping past him when he holds the door open for you. “Thanks.”

He walks up to the counter, saying his order number to the employee and nodding understandingly when she explains that one of the pizzas had been dropped on the floor and they’ve gone to remake the order. He returns to you — beside you, as if it has always been his rightful place — hands tucked into his pockets as he sways on the balls of his feet.

This must be some form of torture, you think. Minghao and Seokmin have done this in retaliation for every bad thing you’ve ever done to them.

(“Seokmin and I love you both,” Minghao confesses over the phone, face blurry due to your unpredictable wi-fi, “You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And we really think you should talk to each other,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at your phone, you can tell he’s staring at you in that analytical way of his while you try to finish an assignment. “Maybe it’ll do you some good.”

You sigh. “Hao—”

“It’s been three months. Let him explain.”

“I did,” you hiss. “He was the one that left.”

Silence. You rub your temples.

When you finally look at Minghao, he’s remorseful. “Sorry,” he murmurs, flopping onto his bed and letting his camera pan up to the ceiling. You can no longer see his face, but you can hear the despair in his voice. “It’s just hard, being in the middle of this.”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides.”

“I know that,” he argues softly. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”)

You dig your nails into your skin as Mingyu begins humming to a song playing over the speakers. It’s one that they’ve been playing for years, a pop song that will have to be pried out of a radio host’s dead, cold hands.

It’s a song Mingyu despises.

(It’s so catchy, though, he used to tell you, ashamed. You need to save me from it).

When Daeshim had called you at the end of the semester, the first thing out of his lips was a question about your return. You had agreed with reluctance, and he said something about how long it’s been, how time heals all wounds, that nothing should hurt anymore.

But three years cannot erase a lifetime.

You foolishly thought it could. When you arrived, you pretended you didn’t see an old photo of him taped on your closet door. When you first saw him at the supermarket, you ignored the way his hand twitched to reach over to you. When he talked to you outside of that nightclub, you evaded the familiarity of his warmth like it was a virus.

You foolishly thought it was enough. You built a wall of indifference around yourself, but it had begun to chip away just as quickly as you constructed it. It was never foolproof. It was never made of stone, but of cards.

One glance from Mingyu and it all comes tumbling down.

“Minghao told me a few days ago that you wanted to talk,” Mingyu says once the song has ended.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well,” he says, taking a step towards the counter when the employee calls out his order number, “whenever you’re ready to, I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong.”

He understands what you mean. You’re not referring to the TV that won’t play the movie or the takeout that tastes a little off. You look at him nervously, afraid to break the flimsy spell of calm he’s enchanted on everything he touches.

“Yeah,” he replies, gripping the armrest tightly.

You blink at him, waiting for something he won’t offer. For a moment, he thinks you might push, but you have never been one to do so; you have always believed that doing something like that only throws you down a road of hurt.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised when you eventually nod in defeat.

“Well,” you say with a smile reserved for strangers you can only pretend to care about, “if you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

Four friends occupy a small corner of the skatepark. One of them is on the ramps, appearing in the air to do a trick before disappearing from sight. Another is rolling down the concrete, hands stretched out to maintain balance.

Two sit in the shade, watching.

“Do you think they’ll talk soon?” one of them asks, a taller boy with light brown hair and a beauty mark near the apple of his cheek.

The other, dressed in all black despite the sweltering heat, runs a hand through his mullet. “I don’t know, Seokmin. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Do you think they’re mad at us for forcing them to get the pizza?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin snorts, but his amusement is short-lived. He continues to observe his friends as they stray further and further from each other. He catches the way they glance over their shoulders in concern.

“They’re stupid, aren’t they, Minghao?” he finally says. The boy beside him hums in agreement. “Were they always like this in high school?”

“I don’t think so,” Minghao replies. “If they were, I don’t know how I managed to survive.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Hypocrite.”

Seokmin sticks his tongue out. Then, quietly, as if the other two friends will hear, he says, “Well, they need to hurry up and talk. I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he grumbles. “Maybe if I just told Y/N about it sooner, or pushed Mingyu—”

“Probably,” Minghao interrupts before Seokmin can concoct any more what-ifs from his brain. His stomach churns at the numerous possibilities he will never see. “But there’s nothing we can do it about it now.”

“Maybe things would be better if we did things differently.”

“Yeah, but the past is the past. Besides,” he sighs, watching one friend trip on his way towards them and the other struggle to stop themselves on the board, “this isn’t our problem to fix. I don’t think it ever was. We’ll just leave it to them.”

“You really think they’ll work it out?”

“God. I really hope so. It would put all of us out of our misery.”

Spring has long since bled into winter when you find yourself at the skatepark, wearing a sweater that was never yours with your heart dangling from its sleeve. It’s chilly at this hour of the morning when the world is quiet and your denial is prominent, and it gets even colder when your name falls from Mingyu’s lips and his touch is uncharacteristically icy against your skin.

You rip your wrist from his grasp and hurt flashes across his face before he takes a step back.

“I—” he gulps, “you shouldn’t run out like that.”

He purses his lips, and you notice how chapped they’ve gotten over the past few days. Everything about him has roughened up — it goes farther than his dry hands and the unruly state of his hair; he’s grown distant. He looks at you with a mixture of emotions you can’t explain, his words have are clipped, and you aren’t sure how long this behaviour would’ve gone on for if you hadn’t caught him signing up for classes at a university he never told you he was going to attend.

“You lied to me.”

He exhales shakily. “I know. I’m sorry, I—” he rubs a hand over his face because he doesn’t know what to say. Mingyu isn’t like this. People would kill to own even a sliver of his charisma; it’s so easy for him to talk himself out of things, but the words have died in his mouth before they even reached the tip of his tongue.

“You—You should’ve told me,” you stammer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mingyu has never felt this moronic before, standing before you and stretching his hand in your direction only to watch how, every time without fail, you take a step back as if any contact from him will result in third-degree burns.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But you were already so worried about all of us growing apart after graduation, and I didn’t want to add onto that stress. So I kept putting it off, and I shouldn’t have, I know that, I just—” his face falls, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

It takes everything in him not to flinch when your anger flares. Your resolve is rotting away to dissolve into the morning air; he thinks, offhandedly, that the molecules of your decaying calm have collided once again and found purchase over his head. A cloud to loom over him, made up of your melancholy and his guilt.

“You didn’t want to hurt me,” you say incredulously, in a tone so hurt that Mingyu’s heart drops. “Well, look where we are now, Mingyu.”

He doesn’t like the position he’s put the both of you in. He doesn’t like how this conversation is tainting every happy memory he ever had at this skatepark. He wonders if he’ll see your hurt expression every time he closes his eyes.

This could’ve been avoided, he’s aware of that. Seokmin made sure to voice his disapproval every time they crossed paths, Minghao’s veil of indifference was slowly crumbling with each passing day, and Seungkwan — who made the mistake of being around when Mingyu let it slip that his post-graduation plans didn’t match yours — grew more nervous than all of them combined.

For as long as he can remember, everyone he knows has never done well with secrets. He’s always been a firm believer that they’re parasitic, the reason behind every downfall he’s ever had the displeasure of witnessing. But that was before he had a secret worth keeping.

(It does not matter if it’s worth it or not. At the end of the day, he was right all along. They are infectious, deadly little things).

Soon after he was born, it was common belief amongst townsfolk that he would change the world. It did not matter how; they would support him regardless. He thinks his entire being may as well have been made from diamonds with how he was created to be the star of something he never asked to be part of.

It’s exhausting.

The university you two had chosen at fifteen-years-old was perfect for you. When you took the virtual tours and exchanged messages with its students, you looked like you had stepped right out of a fairy tale. But it was two hours away from this town, so far yet so close to the very thing that’s been draining him of energy, and he quickly came to realize last summer that your dream school was the last thing he wanted.

But you would’ve followed him anywhere. If it weren’t for his, Minghao, and Seokmin’s insistence, you would’ve chosen to stay at home, because you never liked the idea of leaving everything behind.

That’s where you and he differ.

And he couldn’t take that from you.

Because you and him were always believed to be cut from the same cloth — model students, the perfect fit — but everything he touched tarnished and everything you touched turned to gold dust. He’s hidden behind an illusion all his life, but he knows for a fact that you’re meant to go above and beyond every expectation that’s ever been set for you.

Who is he to get in the way of that?

(He’s sure the only thing that’s setting you back is him. It has always been him. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it, too).

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, startling you to your core. “And I’m so sorry.”

You look at him warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“But…” he trails off. When your eyes meet, something ignites inside of you.

(You have always known him better than any of them ever could).

“Mingyu—”

“Maybe it’s for the best if we—”

“Mingyu.”

He closes his eyes and hopes it’s enough to push the tears back. “I love you,” he says again, but his lips are quivering, and a sob threatens to escape the confines of his throat. “I love you so much that it physically hurt to do that to you, but it was for the better—”

Disbelief engulfs you in an instant, and you take a spontaneous step towards him in your surprise. “You’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you say, frantic, “I’m still really fucking mad at you, but we can talk this out, because I have no idea what you’re—”

“Just listen to me, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“You listen to me, because—”

“You deserve so much better than this, don’t you know that?” he snaps, shrinking into himself seconds later. His voice shakes with frustration. This hurts him beyond your imagination, but he’d do anything for you, even if it ends with him sporting wounds that will never heal. “And I’m holding you back, and I— I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

A sob melts into your words before you can stop it. “So you think the best way to fix that is to move across the country?”

“There were better ways to go about it,” he admits. “Ways that wouldn’t have ended like this, but I stand by what I said, Y/N.”

“Don’t do this, Mingyu. You don’t get to—” you stutter, inhaling hastily to regain your composure before looking him through your teary vision, “—you don’t get to break up with me over something as stupid as this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says it like a mantra, like it’s engraved into his brain and there’s no use trying to rid him of it.

“You don’t get to decide that!” you exclaim. “And even if that was true, it doesn’t matter to me. We love each other, Mingyu, isn’t that enough?”

You go to cup his face. This time, it’s he who takes a step back, and his heart screeches in pain at the sight of your crestfallen face.

“Maybe if I—” he runs a hand through his hair and tugs at the strands, forcing himself to continue, “Maybe if I loved you less, I’d let myself be selfish. But that’s not the case. That’s never been the case.”

That day you do not leave the skatepark with a scrape on your knee or a new bruise on your shins. But you don’t leave unscathed, either.

Your heart has been ripped from your chest, and Kim Mingyu carries the remnants of it with him.

Mingyu always liked people-watching.

He’d tell you it was nice to be on the other side of the microscope; to observe, not be observed. On the trips out of town, he’d sit anywhere that was bustling with people and make up stories about anyone who caught his eye: he’s cheating on his wife with his high school sweetheart, or she’s talking to her estranged cousin and she’s threatening to get a restraining order, or that little boy was meant to be a twin but he ate his sibling in the womb.

“That guy’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend even though they broke up a decade ago,” Mingyu says, subtly nodding towards a man supervising his child on the ramps.

The snort that escapes you dents the discomfort hanging in the air. “He reached out to her on Facebook, and it turns out she’s coming to visit.”

“They’re going to meet in the city. He told his wife he has work stuff.”

“His wife’s suspicious. She’s definitely hiring a PI.”

“But the PI sucks, he’s a fake and a scammer. He ends up tailing the wrong guy.”

“And the wife spent good money on him, too.”

“But she doesn’t really care since she paid the investigator using her husband’s money.”

“Good for her! It’s what he deserves for cheating.”

You smile, pressing your legs against your chest as you watch the kid soar through the park on her rollerskates. Her laughter’s loud, and you allow it to ring in your ears to momentarily distract yourself from Mingyu.

It’s overwhelming being here next to him. You’ve been here multiple times since you’ve come home, but the nostalgia and ache of watching him from afar does not compare to what you feel now that he’s by your side, sitting stiff on the park bench with his hands clasped in his lap. The dull throb in your chest becomes more prominent when he glances and catches your eye, hiding his yearning beneath a thin veil of indifference.

You turn away, and that’s enough for him to adorn the last bit of confidence he has. “Why’d you call me here?”

Resting your cheek against your knee, you murmur, “You know why I called you here.”

It does not matter that he’s known you almost as long as you’ve been alive — a room full of newborns would realize that he’s here because you want an explanation.

Closure really would be nice.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Ask me anything.”

When you slipped out of your house this morning, full of anticipation, you thought that it’d be hard for you to find the words. But you’ve stuffed the curiosity down your throat long enough. For years, all you could feel was a weight on your esophagus; the air you’ve been inhaling and expelling is nothing if not tainted with heartbreak, and you crave the feeling of fresh air again — something that’s free from the insecurities and the anguish and everything in between.

“Back then, did you tell Minghao we fought?” you ask. “Because he seems to think that we did. Every time he called me that’s all he would ask. Have you and Mingyu stopped fighting?”

He tilts his head. “Would you not say that was a fight?”

“Well, no,” you reply. “You just ended it, and I was trying to get you not to.”

Mingyu flinches but he’s quick to recover. “Nothing could’ve changed my mind back then.”

“Why?” you demand, unable to hide your despair.

Mingyu finally looks at you without tearing his gaze away. He’s exhausted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how early it is or if he’s just as drained from all of this as you are. The limbo between forgiveness and disdain was never made for the weak.

“Listen, I—”

“You told me you didn’t deserve me,” you say, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I thought I could’ve been enough for you — I tried to be. But you always had everything planned out and I didn’t, I was living with a façade and you weren’t, and I— I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Clenching your jaw, you say, “So, you moved.”

“I loved you,” he says quickly before you have the chance to ask him otherwise. “That was never the problem. I was scared. I guess part of me wanted to let go while you still thought I was worth it.”

“Don’t say that, Mingyu.”

“I know, I know,” he replies. “I’m working on the self-worth. It’s hard to come by.”

It hits you then, like you’re standing in the ocean as a large wave of water looms over your figure. You used to watch as everyone fawned over Mingyu as if he was untouchable, a divinity amongst men. You used to watch and lust for the days where you would turn out to be exactly the person he deserved to love.

But while Mingyu ached to be the person everyone made him out to be, you saw past your own desires and those who desired him. Through all that was carefully crafted, you saw him for who he truly was.

And you loved every inch of him. So much so that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to feel this way for anybody else.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, “back then, you were it for me. I would’ve loved you regardless.”

His gaze softens and, for a moment, sitting next to you is the same boy from all those years ago, who accepted your proposal for a date, who asked you to prom, who tattooed eight letters into your skin before slumber took you over.

“If we…” he begins carefully, “If I did things differently, do you think we could’ve made it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think that we would’ve,” you nudge his shoulder in hopes that being playful will lighten the mood. “But none of that matters. We’re here now, and we talked.”

“We talked,” he nods. “We used to be terrible at that.”

“Not the best at communication, sure,” you smile softly. “But at least we fixed it. Better late than never.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop his own smile from growing any larger. “Better late than never.”

The sun envelopes you in a warm hug the moment you sit down, a companion in the serene summer’s day. Sand sticks to your skin, adhered to it by the sweat, clinging to you as if you’re its last hope to live.

The tranquility is interrupted by a screech, and you bet with closed eyes that it’s either Mingyu, who left a while back to get some ice cream and probably dropped it, or Chan, who decided to build a sandcastle close to the ocean despite the various protests he received in response.

You crack an eye open just as the water retreats from the shore. Chan stands before his unfinished monstrosity, staring in distress, while Vernon gives him a look as if to say I told you so.

From where he lies beside you, Seokmin announces, “If it makes you feel any better, it was a little ugly.”

“You said five minutes ago that it was good!”

“I was lying to you.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees, toeing the area where the castle once resided. “The moat was fucked up, too.”

“It was a moat.”

“And yet you fucked it up.”

Chan gives them an unsavoury gesture before instructing both Vernon and Seungkwan to help him make another. Reluctant but compliant, they take the pails you’d bought last minute at the dollar store and settle themselves farther away from the shore.

Seokmin salutes them for good luck before glancing at his phone. “Is Mingyu still at the boardwalk?"

Minghao hums. “Yeah, the line for ice cream’s probably long.”

“Okay, good,” Seokmin says before poking your shoulder aggressively, ignoring your complaints about how easily you bruise. “Gives me time to interrogate you.”

“Interrogate me?” you ask incredulously. “About what?”

He raises his hand, and you prepare yourself for the worst. It’s over for you the moment Seokmin begins listing things off his fingers. “You willingly sat in the backseat with Mingyu on the way here, you willingly talked to him for the entire car ride, and you willingly offered to go with him to get ice cream.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over.”

“Hardly things to interrogate me over,” he mimics. “Don’t be ridiculous. Are you guys dating again?”

“What?”

“Ah. Have you two eloped?”

Minghao snorts as he opens the cap to his sunscreen. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just engaged.”

Seokmin places a hand on his chest. “Oh, thank goodness—”

“Are you guys insane?” you shriek, briefly scanning the beach in hopes nobody heard your friends’ remarks. “We just talked yesterday.”

“Oh,” Minghao muses, throwing the sunscreen over your head for Seokmin to catch. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirm. “What else would there be?”

Minghao shrugs as he rubs the cream onto his arms. “Nothing, I guess.”

A noise escapes Seokmin’s throat, something akin to disagreement. You whip your head to face him as he raises his hands up in defence. “What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…” he waves his hand in the air with a small pout on his lips. “I’m confused, I guess. Everything’s resolved now? Just like that? We’re all friends again?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” you huff. “I don’t know what we are, either. But we have the rest of the summer to figure that out, so why the rush?”

Seokmin leans back on his elbows. “Well, whatever the two of you are, I’m glad you two talked, it was long overdue.”

Minghao nods in agreement.

From a few feet away, Seungkwan’s voice is loud amongst the waves crashing onto shore, the families relaxing under beach umbrellas, and the seagulls soaring through the sky. “Mingyu!” he exclaims in disbelief. “You didn’t drop any!”

You can’t catch a good glimpse of him without craning your neck, but his voice alone is enough to quicken your heartbeat. “Yeah, I know,” you hear him say, “I told you guys I’m not completely hopeless. Seven Drumsticks, all in perfect condition. Vernon, did you want the original flavour?”

It only takes a couple moments before he’s in your line of sight, standing in front of you with the sun’s blinding rays crowning his head like a halo. He grins, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so you can see his eyes, and hands you a cone.

“Thanks,” you say.

His grin widens, just a little. “Don’t mention it. Hao, which one do you want?”

Once everyone’s finished their ice cream (and after a long debate that occurred due to Chan innocently asking for advice on what to do about his roommates back at his on-campus apartment), Seungkwan manages to find a beach volleyball court that’s unoccupied and persuades everyone to participate.

One set to ten points turns into the best out of three, and when your team begins to buckle under the pressure, Seungkwan suggests something with a sinister grin. “Losing team has to get buried under the sand and stay there for fifteen minutes.”

“Ten,” Seokmin negotiates.

“Twelve.”

“Five.”

Seungkwan squints. “You can’t go lower, that’s not how a negotiation works.”

“One person from the losing team gets buried under the sand for ten minutes and has to pay for dinner,” Chan says.

Seungkwan snaps his fingers before pointing to him. “Deal.”

It all ends, as expected, with Seungkwan’s team victorious. The three boys on the other side of the net exchange high-fives before returning to you and your sullen teammates with cocky grins. Minghao urges all of you to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide the true loser of today, and though you feigned indifference when you fumbled the last ball, the mask speedily cracks when the last two people left is you and Mingyu.

(“A duel between lovers,” Chan sighs dramatically. Minghao pinches his side).

Your eyes meet his, and something flickers in his expression. Gone too quick for you to decipher, but something in the back of your mind tells you that you should know exactly what he’s about to do.

Seokmin booms, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

You ball your hand into a fist and Mingyu curls his fingers into his palm except for two.

“Scissors beats rock,” Vernon slaps him on the back sympathetically before pointing at the ground. “Get comfortable, dude.”

With the amount of eagerness your friends exhibit, Mingyu is buried in minutes, stiff under the copious warm dust he’s under. Seokmin, with sand sticking to his hands, ruffles Mingyu’s hair and laughs when the latter crinkles his nose in disgust. Taking his sunglasses from his bag, you place them on the bridge of nose and brush off anything that got on his face.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” you echo. “I’m sure you’ll have fun here.”

He kisses his teeth in annoyance. “Oh, I bet. Once I get out of here, I’m gonna have tan lines on my collarbone.”

You smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can stay here with you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“You’re here for ten minutes by yourself and the reason we lost is because of me,” you say, wincing at the memory of Seokmin and Chan shouting for you to retrieve the ball despite it being too far away for you to save. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Since I let you win rock, paper, scissors.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You always choose rock.”

“What? Then why’d you choose scissors?”

Mingyu attempts to shrug and scowls when he can’t.

You flick his forehead. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Of course,” you snicker. “And how are you finding it underneath all that sand?”

He doesn’t even bother to pretend to be nonchalant. “Oh, it’s the worst. It’s slightly better with you here, though.”

You turn to look at the sea. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he pouts. “I thought we were going to tell each other stuff from now on. You know, communicate better.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous and it heals something in your very being. There’s a mirth in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time, and you yearn to hear it again. Mingyu has always been beautiful, but he’s even more so when he’s happy, a boy so golden he could rival the sun and the stars in its beauty.

And he would win, you think.

(What you don’t know is that Mingyu thinks the same of you. Many things have changed, but one thing that never will is how much you shine. The sky and all its confidants, try as they might, would never rid you of your luster. To him, they’ll never prevail).

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question.

He smiles. “No reason.”

Considering the fact that you spent a good part of your childhood running around the mall and giving into the urge of buying things you’ll never need, it’s a surprise that you forgot just how busy it gets during the summer.

(“Wow,” Mingyu had said. “You avoid me and this town for three years and suddenly you forget everything about it?”)

(He, along with everyone you’ve grown up with, will never let you live this down).

It’s a miracle the four of you even found somewhere to sit in the food court — a booth, no less. Part of you wonders if Seokmin sweet-talked a family into giving up this table for him, and you feel only a sliver of pity for whoever has to eat in an area that’s affected by the vibrant rays of the sun.

Once Minghao and Seokmin have returned from buying their food, they send you and Mingyu off to get your lunch with the promise that they’ll wait for you both before they start eating. Mingyu walks ahead, careful not to trip over anyone as he observes the signs of each food joint you pass, and glances over his shoulder to make sure you haven’t gotten lost in the crowd amid his indecision.

“What are you getting?” he asks once the two of you can hear each other above the many mallgoers.

“Don’t know. Pad Thai, maybe.”

“Nice. I was thinking getting a burger at Burger King, but…” he gestures towards the long line and winces. “I don’t have the patience for that.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What are you going to eat then?”

“Oh,” Mingyu frowns before shrugging nonchalantly. “Pad Thai it is, then. I think that has the shortest line.”

“Really? When we passed by KFC it didn’t look too bad—”

Mingyu turns, pointing to the Thai place across from you. “Pad Thai! Let’s go before the line gets any longer,” he proclaims, wrapping a hand around your elbow and gently tugging you towards the smell of stir-fry.

It’s easy to fall back into rhythm with Mingyu — so much so that it scares you, just a little. While you assumed it wouldn’t have been too weird once the barrier of the old relationship was removed, you hadn’t thought it would’ve been this comfortable. You assumed everything would be stilted for a short period before the puzzle pieces returned to their places, but this was unpredictable. This is familiar (everything with Mingyu always is); more familiar than riding a bike, or the scar on your knee, or your mom’s tendency to hover over you now that you’ve returned.

His skin against yours all while offering to lend you his jacket and pay for your food could be seen as simple acts of friendship — and if it were anybody else, you would agree, but your ties with each other, since the beginning of time, have regularly toed the line of romantic. It is a fact you cannot deny, and trying to do so would be like saying the sky is green or oxygen isn’t a requirement for survival.

The void in your chest used to be in the shape of him — freshly eighteen and brought down by his expectations along with everybody else’s — and you have tried other remedies to heal it: avoidance, sinking into other people’s sheets, tossing every physical memory you have of him in a box that you never ended up donating.

Who knew that the void would be filled by the same boy who caused it? Only this time, he’s standing in front of you, a little taller, sporting a different haircut, and learning how to live on his own terms.

“Fuck,” he says as he digs through his wallet. “I think I don’t have any cash to pay with. Man, I really didn’t want to use my credit card today.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’ll pay. You already gave me your jacket even though I said you didn’t have to.”

“You were cold,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to give it to you, then maybe don’t get cold next time.”

You scoff. “Well, tell whoever’s managing the A/C to turn it down. It’s like stepping into a freezer in here.”

Mingyu mutters — something along the lines of so dramatic — before he shifts the position of his open wallet in his hands and continues digging for bills that aren’t there. What is there, however, is a photo all too familiar.

You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from moving. “Hey, is that a picture of me?”

Mingyu freezes. Then, he pulls away from your grip. “No.”

“Okay. Then who was it?”

You stare at each other for a beat too long, interrupted by someone asking if you can move up the line, and it’s only then that Mingyu turns away, bashful, and murmuring, “Okay, fine. It’s you.”

You try not to let the giddiness get to you. “And why, exactly, do you have a picture of me in there?”

“It’s not just you,” he lies. “Minghao and Seokmin are also in there.”

“No, I don’t think so,” you reply matter-of-factly. “I got a good glimpse, and I think it was just me.”

He tuts. “Believe what you want to believe.”

“I’m choosing to believe the truth.”

He sulks, taking another step towards the register. “You’re finding this too funny for my liking.”

“I’m not! I think it’s cute,” you object. “Why is it in there in the first place?”

“Maybe I just wanted to put it in there, it’s a good photo!”

“Of course.”

“You’re photogenic,” he adds. “Besides, what’s wrong with keeping a photo of my friend in my wallet?”

The question escapes you before you can think twice. “Is that what we are?”

Mingyu quietens, uncertain. Then, after rapidly fighting an internal battle, he says, “Before everything else, you’re my best friend.”

You nod because that’s the case for you, too. “But?”

His digs his teeth into his bottom lip before he opens his mouth, the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I—”

“Next, please!”

Mingyu flinches, but it only takes a glance at the long line behind him before he’s grabbing his credit card. “C’mon,” he interlocks his pinky with yours. “Order what you want, it’s on me.”

“Mingyu—”

He gives you a smile. “It’s fine,” he assures quietly. “I want to.”

(In his wallet is a candid polaroid — a person on the beach, laughing at a joke made by someone who hasn’t been photographed. The picture has no crinkles, either because it’s deeply cherished or because it’s new — maybe both is the case.

It replaces an older photo, one that’s years old, taken while he was in high school of the same person. Still candid, still radiant, still laughing. He’s treasured it for years, but he decides it’s time to relocate it. Maybe when he gets back to his apartment, he’ll put it on his fridge. It was looking a little empty, anyway).

Mingyu doesn’t particularly like it here. It brings up old feelings he’s working to retire as well as a medley of insecurities and unease.

But he would be lying if he said that the bad was the only thing this town has to offer.

The skatepark brings comfort, a corner of the world where freedom comes from touching the sky in the seconds his board lifts from the ground, a playground of cement and ramps and splintered benches found under trees that have been alive far longer than he has. It comes from his friends’ homes; Seungkwan’s spacious backyard and Seokmin’s living room where drink rings litter the coffee table as a consequence of never using the coasters.

It comes from the people. It comes from his family, who hugs him tight and listens to every concern he has under the sun. It comes from his friends, a group of rambunctious people who he has too many inside jokes with, and who drag him into shenanigans he has no option of backing out of.

It comes from you. Comfort always comes from you.

From where he stands in the corner, he watches you scour the karaoke song book, protesting all of Chan’s suggestions before entering a number onto the TV. Then you squint at the lyrics on the screen before you begin singing.

The others in the living room are in awe, captivated despite your inability to hold a note. Your gleeful smile makes up for what you lack in the singing department, and Mingyu supposes he’s no different than everybody else when you meet his eyes in the crowd and his palms begin to sweat. You hold his gaze for far too long, causing you to lose your spot in the song, and you sheepishly turn away before trying to make up for your mistakes.

He stays until the end, the loudest to clap despite your score being nothing exciting (it’s exciting to him, and that’s all that matters), and raises his hand in greeting with a silent promise to see you later when you’re pulled into a conversation with someone you used to play badminton with.

He ducks into the kitchen before he’s forced to engage in more small talk with another person. His footsteps quicken along with his growing desire to grab another beer, hidden behind the soda cans Seungkwan shoved inside for the party.

(Mingyu doesn’t entirely know what or who this party is for. He only recalls the texts between him and Minghao three days prior:

hao 👨‍🎨 > party at seungkwan’s on saturday

mingyu > not coming

hao 👨‍🎨 > 😐 ok ur loss > y/n is tho

mingyu > … i’ll bring my mom’s brownies).

Mingyu opens the can the moment it’s in his hands, relishing in the temporary sound of fizzing before taking a sip. The only straggler in the kitchen is him; everyone gathered in the living room the moment Seungkwan turned the karaoke machine on. He situates himself so he can see just through the threshold, keeping an eye out for the moment you’re free so he can pull you aside to talk.

About what, he doesn’t know. Winging it has always been his thing.

“Yo, Mingyu,” Seokmin greets as he makes his way to the fridge. “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding.”

“It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed,” Seokmin quips, digging through the variety of drinks, “you’re still a loser.”

“You love me.”

“Oh, of course, that was never in question. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a loser.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Sprite for me, beer for Vernon.” He stands to his full height and cranes his neck to look at Mingyu around the fridge door. “Was that the last of it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Seokmin doesn’t look that defeated when he grabs two cans of Sprite. “Maybe that’s for the best. He’s drunk enough as it is.” Off Mingyu’s confusion, Seokmin adds, “I know, he never gets wasted, but he’s on the waitlist for a screenwriting class, so he’s upset beyond repair.”

“And he’s always saying everyone else is more dramatic than he is.”

“Right? He’s only second on the waitlist, too.”

Mingyu laughs but his eyes involuntarily flicker back to the door to see if you’re still talking to other people. He frowns when he notices you’ve disappeared from where he spotted you last, and he debates taking out his phone and texting you to ask where you are.

Seokmin kisses his teeth. “Are you sure you want to stay in here by yourself? Y/N probably wants to talk to you.”

“They’re talking to other people. I’m fine waiting it out.”

Seokmin looks like he’s going to oppose Mingyu’s decisions, but he opts for shrugging instead. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait too long, though.”

“I won’t,” Mingyu promises. Seokmin begins his trek back to the living room, one soda dangling from each hand, when Mingyu suddenly calls out, “Hey, wait.”

Seokmin falters awkwardly in his step before turning around with furrowed eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” Mingyu rubs his neck, wincing. “I don’t think I ever apologized.”

The confusion on Seokmin’s face is wiped away to be replaced with triumph. He points an accusatory finger at his friend while his voice echoes in the four walls of the Boo kitchen. “I knew it! You did steal my beanie, you liar, the next time I visit you, I’m taking it back, and it better be in good condition! I can’t believe you took it with you across the country, that’s so fucked up—”

“Huh? No, what?” Mingyu says in disbelief. “For the last time, I didn’t steal your beanie—”

“Okay, sure, then who was it, then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“For not listening to you!” Mingyu exclaims. “Back then, you told me to tell Y/N the truth and I didn’t listen when I should have. If I did, you and Hao wouldn’t have been put in the middle of everything.”

“Oh,” Seokmin makes a face and waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“You made a mistake. A stupid one, yeah, and I’m probably never going to let you live it down, but,” he smiles gently, “we’re okay now. Just focus on what you’ll do about… you know.”

“…What?”

“You know,” Seokmin parrots. “Y/N. I mean, you still love them, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, Mingyu responds, “Well, no fucking shit.”

Seokmin makes a noise of satisfaction before turning on his heel. Over his shoulder, he singsongs, “Don’t fuck anything up!”

Mingyu scoffs. “I won’t!”

With each passing minute, the night gets livelier, and Mingyu ends up re-entering the living room and talking to other people despite his internal insistence not to. It keeps him busy, momentarily distracting him from the way his heartrate spikes at the thought of speaking to you tonight.

In the middle of his conversation with a former basketball teammate, a microphone ends up in his hands, and before he can blink, he’s pushed in front of the TV. It takes him a moment too long before he realizes that he’s been forced to sing a duet with you.

(Behind the couch, Minghao snorts at Seokmin’s devilish grin.

“I thought I told you to stay out of it.”

“I am!” Seokmin says, “I’m only giving them a slight push in the right direction!”)

The timer begins counting down.

Five.

“Just so you know,” you begin, “Seungkwan and Chan are going after us. We have to score as high as possible.”

Four.

“I don’t think we can manage that, to be honest.”

Three.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great at singing, so you can make up for how bad I am.”

Two.

“I don’t—”

One.

“Believe in yourself, Mingyu.”

You bring the microphone up to your lips and begin to sing, and he can only follow your movements.

It takes an unfathomable amount of willpower to stop himself from staring at you for the song’s entirety. He clenches his fist as he recites the lyrics, but when it gets to the bridge and it’s your turn to take the reins, Mingyu lets his guard down, his hand falling limply to his side as you laugh through your part.

He has never been an expert in love — few of the decisions he’s made in the name of it have seldom ended well — and when he was younger, the only thing he ever knew regarding it was you. Before, he thought that wouldn’t have been enough, that in order to be the person you deserved, he had to know more.

However, he’s older now, and things change with time.

You glance at him and the butterfly in his stomach rapidly flaps its wings.

(Other things don’t).

He doesn’t even know the song’s ended until arms wrap around his neck. He stumbles backwards before he forces himself to find his footing so he can properly return your excited hug. Mingyu pays no mind to the score flashing onscreen, nor the claps coming from everyone else; all he can smell is your shampoo, he feels your breath on his skin, and that is much more important than a karaoke score ever will be.

Seungkwan says, “That’s not even a good score.”

You loosen your grip around Mingyu so you can look at Seungkwan, and he immediately yearns for more. “Be quiet, this is the best I’ve gotten all night,” you retort. You turn to face Mingyu again, shaking him by the shoulders. “We did good! I told you to believe in yourself!”

Before he can reply, you’re pulled apart by Chan, who’s itching to take his turn. He rips the mics from his and your hands, and you slip from Mingyu’s fingers once again when Vernon asks you if you can help him look for another can of beer.

He exhales in defeat, accepts Chan shooing him away with grace, and slips outside.

He leans over the porch railing, staring at the watercolour sky, a mixture of pink and orange and yellow.

Mingyu hangs his head, wondering just how many more times you’ll get whisked away before he even has a chance to utter a word. He prefers smaller gatherings, because at least then he’d be able to talk to you with ease.

He’s not quite sure how many more times he’ll be able to stand by and watch you go before he loses his mind.

Behind him, the door slides open, and he assumes it’s Seokmin telling him to get a move on. But the footsteps sound different than his friend’s, and he immediately perks up when a familiar scent reaches his nose.

“Hey.”

Your frame enters his periphery, your university jacket hanging on your shoulders with the sleeves covering your hands.

Mingyu straightens. “Hi.”

You settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and Mingyu immediately relaxes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “what makes you think I’m not?”

“You’ve been hiding from everyone since the night began,” you answer. “You don’t wanna be here, huh?”

“Of course I want to be here.” You raise an eyebrow at his lie. “Okay, fine, I don’t really want to be here.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“…I thought it would’ve been fun.”

“Really?” you snort. “Do you even know what this party is for?”

“Well… no.”

He expects you to roll your eyes, but instead you sigh in relief. “Okay, that makes me feel better, because I don’t either.”

“Well, I only came because Minghao told me you’d be coming,” he confesses.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I only came because Seokmin told me you’d be coming.”

He furrows his eyebrows and spares a glance through the glass doors at his friends. “…Huh.”

You huff, following his gaze. “I swear they always have their nose in our business.”

Mingyu looks back at you. “You have to admit, though, they’re pretty good at luring us into parties we don’t want to attend,” he smirks good-naturedly. “Who knew you still had a soft spot for me?”

Turning away from him, flustered, you grumble, “Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t come here because you wanted to see me.”

“I’m not!” he proclaims. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I make it pretty obvious that I like seeing you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you.”

You lightly punch his arm when the laughs that escape his lips grow louder. “I thought I told you that you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he hums. “I mean what I say, Y/N.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, it’s just…” you place your arms on the railing, leaning forward to avoid eye contact, “It’s confusing, that’s all.”

Mingyu faces you while you face away, watches how you stare at the setting sun instead of him, and his heart clenches. When you went your separate ways, he craved to be near you again, but even next to him, you still feel so far away.

(In hindsight, maybe he should’ve planned out how to go about this beforehand).

“You used to say stuff like that all the time,” you explain. “You know, before, uh—”

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

A million scenarios flash through his mind; different results depending on what he says next. He’s typically so good at saying the right thing — his words got him out of trouble and charmed his neighbours — but he’s found that his voice fails him whenever he needs it the most. When he tried to muster the courage to tell you about everything, he was never able to, and he gave into the false reassurances his mind offered that all would be alright in the end.

But none of that matters, you had said. We’re here now.

“You know what I never understood?” you ask.

“What?”

“You don’t like it here. Not a lot, anyway,” you start, “so why did you keep coming back?”

“Well, my family’s here, you know. So are our friends,” he gulps. “And I thought you would be, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He nudges your elbow. “Can I ask you something?”

You chance a glance at him. “Sure, yeah.”

“What you said the other day,” he murmurs, unblinking, “about how I would’ve been it for you, has that changed?”

“Why are you asking?”

He bites the inside of his cheek as his cheeks begin to redden. “Do you really need me to say it?”

You frown. “Say what—?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “And I know that might be kind of weird, since a lot’s changed since we last saw each other, but that’s the one thing I haven’t been able to shake. Not that— not that I ever wanted to— I just… I think it’s a part of me. Like I was born with it.”

You look at him, eyes glassy, unable to speak.

“But y’know what’s weirder?” he adds. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never get sick of it.”

It’s his turn to face away, turning towards the sun as you stare at the side of his face. The silence drenches the backyard like sudden, thunderous rainfall. For him, it’s unwelcome, and his eardrums echo with his confession.

He tries his best to hide his lovesickness, but the intensity of his longing prevents him from doing so. For the entire summer — perhaps for years, really — he’s been pushing it all down. He’s tired of it all. Of hiding, of pretending, of brushing off his esurient desire for you.

“It’s not weird,” you say, finally, saving him from his misery.

“Sorry?”

“You said it’s weird that you still love me,” you muse. “But I don’t think it is. It wouldn’t be fair of me to.”

His lips part. “What do you—?”

“Of course you’re it for me, Mingyu,” you tell him frustratedly. “You have been since the beginning of time. I don’t want you to go a day without believing it. I know what it’s like to live with you and to live without you, and I really prefer the first option.”

Mingyu’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits.

With quick movements, he inches closer to you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he asks, “Really?”

“What do you mean, really? Why would I—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupts, slowly moving his hands closer to your face. “Please?”

He’s sure the longing in your eyes is wild enough to rival his.

(What an odd turn of events, is it not? Despite being on opposite sides of the country, you used to believe there weren’t enough miles between you and Mingyu for you to heal properly. But now, with his lips hovering over yours, you’re beginning to think that he is not close enough).

You take his face into your hands, and you kiss him.

Mingyu stumbles, surprised by your fervor, but matches it with ease. His hands move from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he moves to have his back against the railing. Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he surprises himself with a moan at just how much he’s missed it — your hands pulling at his locks, his lips against yours.

He used to pray for this.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he chases you, too dazed to acknowledge your amused mien. You go to peck his lips to soothe him, but he makes sure to hold you against him, his hunger far from satiated.

He stops himself for a moment, breath hot on your skin. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You smile against his mouth. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“I feel like you’ve been faking it.”

“I have not.”

“You definitely have. Skateboarding isn’t that hard.”

Mingyu throws his arm around you in defence. “Hey, give them a break, Minghao.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin pipes up, “Y/N was just terrible at it because they can’t balance at all.”

“You know,” you grunt, crossing your arms, “I thought you guys would be proud of me for finally managing to skate across the park without actually falling.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mingyu says, pecking the side of your head. “And I think that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, I can always count on you having my back,” you say, leaning further into him and pointedly glaring at the other two boys in front of you.

Seokmin waves you off. “Hey, I think this might be the first time ever you didn’t get injured at the skatepark.”

You go to protest before frowning. “…I think you’re right, actually. That’s so weird.”

Minghao snorts. “Maybe we should teach you some tricks then.”

You glance at Mingyu, and he seems to really be considering it. “Oh, absolutely not. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’ll teach you the easy ones!” Mingyu begins, standing in front of you so he’s all you see. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them in reassurance. “You’re already a pro at just skating around, so this should be a piece of cake!”

“Mingyu,” you whine.

“Please,” he matches your tone. “I like teaching you stuff! It’ll be fun!” he lets go of your shoulders and rolls the board so it’s by your feet and offers you his hand as if you’ll need help getting on. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Your wariness is squashed the moment he flashes you a soothing smile.

You sigh. “You promise?”

He crosses his heart. “With everything that I have.”

Without a second thought, you place your hand in his.

He squeezes it immediately in a silent vow:

I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.

© dkfile, 2023. do not translate or copy my works.

[starlost-mochi-x]

lee know - skz fluff headcanons

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: lee know headcanons

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, general fluff headcanons, i'm calling him minho bc it's easier to type sorry not sorry

a/n: posting for the first time in a while. divider from @plutism

masterlist

we all know how much minho loves his dancing

so he'll often drag you to the studio to teach you some moves

since you're into stray kids as a whole, you're often trying to learn the choreo

it helps when your boyfriend is the one who helps make it lol

so whenever he can

he's teaching you the moves and how to make them look fluid

you're bored? studio. you just woke up? studio. it's the middle of the night and you can't sleep?

studio

he also likes performing the choreo for you so he can get your feedback

doesn't matter if you're a dancer or not

he just likes doing it for you so he can get another perspective on how he can do better

of course, it's not always helpful because you're always so enthusiastic and think he's amazing at it

he doesn't mind though, as long as you're happy

will tease you when you try and execute the movements like he does with varying levels of success

actually, when i think of it, i think he would love teaching you because it helps him understand the routine better

sometimes even drags you along to the group practices so you can give little opinions and try the moves yourself

likes watching his members show you how to move your arms in legs in a particular position

but he does get a bit irritated when hyunjin gets a little too close to you

airfryer

minho also loves cooking, we all know him as the chef of skz

and you're often hungry at night time for some reason

so you usually just roll over in bed and lightly shake him awake

he'll carry you to the kitchen and sit you down on the counter before turning a nearby lamp on

you might tell him what you're craving or tell him to just surprise you

one night it might be ramen, another it might be a simple sandwich

but whatever he makes for you, it's always really tasty and you have a little tradition of splitting it in half so he can eat too

he doesn't have much of an appetite at night time but he eats his half anyway to make you happy

you always feel super sleepy afterwards so you just let him carry you back to bed

he'll just wrap his arms around you and bury his face in your neck

he's out within a minute

he likes waking up early too, and just breathing you in next to him, fast asleep

for him, it's the highest form of vulnerability

trusting him to be around you when you're unconscious

he's honoured and it's not a surprise when you wake up to see him sleepily smiling next to you

also i feel like he sniffs a lot in the mornings

like he's a sniffy boy when he wakes up

anyways

minho loves anything cosy and warm

he's a whole cat

so expect lots of blanket forts and plush cushions in your living room

you two like collecting knitted blankies and little plush toys cos it makes for super cosy nights in

you could get home at the end of the day and just see him up to his neck in plushies and cushions

usually with a blanket all balled up next to him so the cats can share it

and he's usually asleep too after a long day at the company

so you just collapse into the fluffy mess next to him and take it easy

you and minho also have a friendly competition of who can come up with the most pet names

knowing how teasing this man is, he'll be coming up with the most disgustingly cringy sweet nicknames

he'll say one out of the blue and you'll fire right back, equally as saccharine

then it's usually a back and forth to see how unhinged it'll get

'honey pie' 'sweet pookums' 'fluffy wuffy cupcake' 'my darling toenail' and so forth

they just get more and more ridiculous and by the end of the back-and-forth you're both fighting not to throw up

still funny tho

despite the teasing, minho is the sweetest guy you've ever known

also so supportive of your dreams and ambitions

he also encourages you to talk about your feelings with him

if you're the trusting type, great

but if you're a little more wary, he'll gently encourage you to open up

but he never pushes you beyond your limits, since he hates being pushed past his boundaries himself

that's the thing about minho

he knows what he hates and so he doesn't tend to do those things to other people

he doesn't like it when people ask him why he's quiet sometimes and so he doesn't ask you the same thing

he just sorta knows

he's also very gentle with you in private, always making sure you're comfortable

around the guys he'll be a lot more teasing but you don't mind

in turn, you encourage him to do the same

you know some people call him cold or heartless

it often affects him when he feels he can't convey his feelings about you as well as he wants to

you know he means well and you know he loves you

he's very clear about that

so whatever he gives you, whether it's a little gift or a compliment or even just physical affection, you accept it

and it must be enough because he always gets all smiley

you know his little smile? yeah, that one

he compliments you? you'll thank him happily and he starts getting that little shy smile on his face

it's so cute so you make sure to be as open as you can towards him

there's nothing you both love more than each other <3

a/n: legend says hyunjin is still in the airfryer

[itoshi-s]

Heyy :) I hope you’re doing good! I see your taking thirsts and stuff 👀 I would like to have bachira x reader (aged up obv) where they’re married and he gets a special lingerie surprise ✨ + breeding kink 🏃‍♀️ Thank you <33

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

*.✧ ft. 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

*.✧ wc: 2.6k. nsfw / 17+ only / minors dni ! - fem reader, characters are in their early/mid twenties, meguru & reader are married, breeding kink, mentions of planning babies. not proofread // notes: this is such a cute idea ,, thank u nonnie for the request !! and sorry for makin u wait that long </3 hope u like it tho !!

there is something saccharine about the way you treat him, meguru thinks. 

he’s tried his whole life to be a good person - never really did anyone wrong, at least not by intention - but could meeting you really be an adequate reward for his heartfelt nature? 

just in case the universe ever decided to change it’s mind about it, he doesn’t want to waste no time or take you for granted. it’s a little unexpected, perhaps crazy - but meguru knows it well. isagi pounces on his best friend as soon as he opens the neat cream-colored envelope and reads the very few words of the wedding invitation; and as you both stand at the altar and read out your vows to each other a few months later, you swear you can see the rest of the former blue lock top players wipe at their eyes.

he’s never been big on giving out details on his private life to the media, even despite his open and playful personality, but the wedding of course brought their attention; once you’re back from the two weeks long honeymoon trip and the season starts, meguru can only laugh and grin at the reporters as they congratulate him on the marriage.

“yeah, i really am a lucky guy,” he looks over to the camera, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion making him pant slightly still. he brings a hand up, showing off the white gold ring that beams in the reflectors, “love you, baby.”

the news about japan’s best dribbler tying the knot at such an early age surprisingly doesn’t bring too much negative feedback - and actually, you two might just be one of the favorite soccer couples in the country. you’re just too sweet - always in the very front row of the bleachers, clad in your husband’s jersey, screaming your lungs out whenever he steals the ball. there’s always a picture of bachira with his arms wrapped around your waist, you giving the crown of his head an earnest kiss, taken just minutes after the final whistle of the game. you’re the very first thing he wants to feel - the only person that can handle his emotions, his frustration, his joy. 

despite being only in his mid twenties and the idea of being a married man at this age would make him roll with laughter long years ago, meguru’s sure that somehow, this had to be written in his fate - because it just feels too right to have you.

    he thinks the exact same when you welcome him home at the front door, in your cream colored silk robe already due to the late hour, and manages to steal a glance of the white lace hiding underneath.

    “is that a prize for yesterday?” he sounds playful, giddy, even, but you can tell by his dilated pupils that it takes a lot of control for him not to bend you right over the couch. 

he kicks his shoes off, a slight grin tugging at his lips, and rests his hands on your hips with an urgent squeeze.

you hum, a small giggle slipping past as you feel meguru’s teeth nibble on your earlobe, “you noticed? i wanted to give you a little show,” you mumble, hands resting on the slippery material of his training jersey. he breathes against your ear, heavier and quicker than usual. he’s needy and you can tell - feel his already fully hard cock press against your abdomen. 

“you still can,” he murmurs, pressing little kisses to the sensitive skin just below your ear, “please, baby?” his lips move against your heated skin and a sigh slips past your mouth, the feeling causing your head to lull to the side and your eyelashes to tickle against your cheekbones. 

meguru gives your waist a squeeze, fingers digging into the satin clad flesh, before moving to the couch and plopping down. he lets go of you just enough to keep you standing between his spread legs and looks up at you, waiting. bangs stick to his forehead slightly, still sweaty from his practice, and his eyes are wide - excited and bright.

if there was one thing you loved most about your husband, it’s definitely the glint behind the honey colored irises that makes him so warm, inviting, and so alluring.

leaning his head back comfortably, his eyes follow the way your hands slowly slip the robe off your shoulder, then work on untying the knot at your waist.

“fuck,” there’s an urgency to his little whisper, a sound that makes the corners of your lips twitch. “reminds me of-”

“i know,” you mumble with a smile, so sweet it makes bachira’s tummy flutter. the eyelash lace is a bright white, a pretty contrast to the hue of your skin, a rich gold thread drawing pretty little flowers along the swell of your breast.”figured you’ll like this.”

oh of course he did. in fact, anyone else would probably feel embarrassed upon getting so worked up so quickly - but meguru has no shame in the way looking at his pretty little wife, clad in a lace set that resembles the one you wore on your wedding night, makes his cock twitch in his shorts within a minute.

he’s needy, but you’re at fault for it.

your fingers slip up, nails catching on the white elastic of the garters that digs into the flesh of your thighs, and meguru’s eyes follow the movement, saliva thick in his throat. as your fingertips caress along the lace suspender belt, your gaze moves down, catching on the visible bulge in his shorts, and how he keeps his hands on his knees - so well behaved it makes you chuckle. “don’t be shy,” you tease, and bachi blinks once before grinning himself. he leans forward, hands moving to grab at your thighs and pulling you forward. you stumble a bit, not expecting such an urgent movement, but don’t have time to react as meguru’s mouth already latches onto your neck.

he breathes against the soft skin, a trail of goosebumps rising in turn, and grips your hips tightly to rut his hips against your core. it’s sudden and quick, desperate, and you can hear the exhilaration as he whines. 

“so pretty,” he sighs, nearly dreamily, and digs his fingers in the flesh of your ass. “want you so bad now, baby. you make me so hard it hurts.” 

bachira isn’t ever the one to shy away from letting his mouth run - always vocalizes each and every need, no matter how filthy and desperate it is - and hearing his breath hitch as he does it is just enough to make arousal cling to your thighs. 

“meguru,” you whimper, the force of his grip enough to make you bruise - but it’s okay. “please, i need you.” 

gold eyes lock with yours, and he pulls away from your chest, where he was busy nipping and kissing. “yeah? y’missed me?” there’s a hint of hope in his voice, as if surprised. as if you weren’t soaking wet for him nearly all of the time - particularly waiting for him to get back home from practice.

he hooks a few fingers behind the elastic of the thong and pulls it down with your help, a little lift and shimmy of your hips, and eases the flimsy material down your legs. as soon as it’s off, he cups your heat with one hand, warm and rough, and it makes you jolt. 

“hah- fuck- you’re dripping all over me, baby. m’sorry i kept you waitin.” he moans, palm rubbing against your clit messily, and he can feel the throbbing pulse against his hand. his fingers are wet with your slick already, but he doesn’t mind - not at all.

resting one hand at the small of your back, bachira’s quick to flip you over with no effort, lips connecting with yours the second your back hits the couch.

his kiss is messy, soft moans breathy against your mouth as he pushes his tongue against yours with need. it’s hot and wet, desperate as his hands stumble to push his shorts down and hold himself up above you at the same time.

your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, the movement almost a muscle memory by this point, and you watch as meguru takes his shirt off hurriedly. slim muscles flex at the action, the scent of sweat and his cologne still clinging to his milky skin. you moan out, the pheromones clouding over your mind, and you reach between your bodies, fingers barely wrapping around his throbbing cock.

“ah-” there’s a slight whine ripping from bachira’s throat, a sound that’s so pretty, so fitting to the already fucked out expression on his features. “you’re a needy thing, aren’t you? want me inside of you already~” you flick your wrist, giving a few long strokes to his length, and muster a quick nod. 

“yeah, ‘guru,” you breathe, chest heaving softly with every breath, fingers moving from his crotch to grab at his bicep instead. you watch, eyes glued between your legs, as he slides his cock between your folds a few times, coating it in your slick, before eventually easing himself in.

your body grows tense at the feeling, walls throbbing and tightening on bachira, swallowing him whole - right up to the very base as he bottoms out fully, a grunt rumbling in his chest.

your head tilts back, not a single moan having slipped out yet, and it feels as if your mind’s slowly turning into mush. it’s just him, all inside of you, his body so hot against your frame, pressing against you and overwhelming each and every of your senses. it only ever brings you back afloat when meguru starts to move, hips moving back just slightly before pushing back in. he’s so deep inside if you, it feels as if he’s in your guts.

“just like that,” you struggle to focus your eyes on bachira’s face as he moans, voice already reaching an octave higher with arousal, and you notice his eyes are trained just above where your cunt is grappling to fit all of him. “fuck- ngh- can you feel me here?” 

your quick pants turn into little whines when meguru places a hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down on the flesh, and the crazed look behind his eyes makes you shudder. you can feel him move inside of you, rubbing up all against the most sensitive spots, the flared head of his cock stumbling against your cervix - and it would usually make you wince, but this time, as he presses a large palm against the fucking bulge in your tummy, it makes you feral.

“you’re- ‘re so big,” your voice is wet with tears, adrenaline pumping through your veins and easing the discomfort that comes with each of bachira’s thrust that almost feels like he’s going to break you apart. “feel you whole, meguru.” there’s something so sweet about the way you say his name, it makes his hips stutter before picking up a quicker, steadier rhythm. bachira groans under his breath, bending his arm so he can rest his elbow beside your head, and moves his hand from your tummy to wrap your leg around his waist even tighter. 

your pussy’s so warm, so slippery, and it’s almost as if you’re sucking him in even deeper each time he pushes his hips forward. he wonders how is it even possible for you to feel so heavenly, as if your cunt was molded perfectly for him to fit. 

maybe you really were made for him only.

bachira feels the familiar pull in his balls, as if a jolt of electricity runs through his nerves, and he whines, shameless and breathy as his eyes find yours.

“my pretty girl,” he moans, watching your face contort in pleasure, brows furrowing and eyes glimmering, “wanna stuff you full, ‘kay? you want that?” there’s no time for a coherent response as his hips smack against your ass, thrusting so hard it makes you jostle. the slight twitch of bachira’s cock inside of you is just enough to give away his climax creeping in, but as he lets the filth spill out past his mouth you realize just how desperate he is to reach it. “fill you up with m’ cum until you leak. yeah? wanna make me a daddy, pretty girl?” 

he’s blabbering at this point, high pitched moans breaking into a whine as he watches your eyes roll back. he’s down so bad, chasing his orgasm and the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, you don’t think he even realizes the weight of his words. 

your back arches, legs tightening around bachira’s slim waist, and cry out as his hand once again rests on your abdomen, pressing down and making your pussy spasm. 

“please, meguru,” you gasp, the familiar spark growing stronger in your tummy. you can feel his cock drag against the front wall of your cunt, rubbing against the spot that makes your muscles grow pliant. “please- fill me up.” you breathe, shakily, and your voice barely makes it out of your throat. “wanna give you- aah- give you a baby.”

it’s experimental, sounds so lewd as you say it between little moans, but you know bachira’s lovesick. you know that the slim, white gold band that sits snugly on his finger is his greatest possession, a reminder of his devotion to you - and even though the two of you haven’t discussed expanding your family yet, you can see the way meguru’s eyes widen slightly and adam’s apple bobs upon hearing your words.

you can feel his hips stutter, sturdy quads pressing against your ass, and bachira whines, long and needy, as his heavy thrusts grow sloppy. you can see him struggling to keep his eyes on you, drinking up the look you give him, egging him on - but as your walls throb around him and a gasp catches in your throat, your orgasm hitting you full force, he squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head in the crook of your neck.

he ruts into you, the few last pushes into you reaching so deep it makes you cry and grab at his back, and eventually, he stills. his hips are snug against yours, breathy whimpers loud in your ear, breaking through the white noise that echoes through your head, and you feel his seed spurt right against your cervix. it’s hot, feels sticky and thick as he fills you up, granting you your wish and stuffing you so full, there’s a rivulet of milky cum seeping out and down your thigh. 

“baby,” he sounds so riled up as he breathes, mouthing against your collarbone, “shit - feels so good.” he’s choked up with pleasure, body trembling slightly with aftershocks of his climax, and you wrap your arms around his neck - inviting, easing him through.

“i know,” you whisper, legs eventually loosening in their spot around his hips as he lets himself rest on top of you. his body’s spent, heavy as it lays on you, but you don’t mind it one bit - not when he nuzzles against your neck, eyelashes fluttering against your jugular, and sighs. 

bachira sneaks his arms around your waist, skin clammy on one another, but it feels so familiar, it’s warm in his chest and makes his heart throb. 

it doesn’t stay silent for too long as meguru’s soft laughter cuts through the heavy, humid air. he cocks his head up, a glint in his eye.

“you meant it?” he’s curious, almost hopeful, and despite your cheeks already having reddened with exhaustion, his inquiring brings an even deeper blush to your face.

you shrug, softly, and meguru reads right through it, the giddy smile wide on his lips.

“do you want me to?” 

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[sentoooo]

Hiii I’ve been following your writing for a little bit and first off want to say you write so well! <3

I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if you would possibly consider writing something for mk11 Kuai Liang with a masc/gn reader who hasn’t gotten top surgery?

✧ a/n: THANK YOU NONNY... of COURSE i'll do more than consider it... teehee.... needed this tho lowkey.... hgrhghrhrghhh anon you GENIUS im frothing at the mouth, actually.

🗒 cw: afab, male reader, manhandling, slight body worship, nipple play, titfucking, praise, yeah..., he whimpers too btdubs, not proofread

✎ wc: 544

MINORS DNI

ᴋᴜᴀɪ ʟɪᴀɴɢ [ᴍᴋ11] + ᴀ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ [18+]

Regardless of where you are– pre-T, pre-top surgery, on T, anything– Kuai loves you for you. So, he doesn’t mind, really. That being said… he is a chest man. He’s kind of grabby in the bedroom, and when his hands wander, they often end up on your chest.

He’s oh so touchy, half of foreplay is his hands roaming your body, all sorts of praises and compliments spilling from his lips. Good god, he won’t initiate any penetration unless he’s been able to run his fingers over every single inch of skin.

He’ll pepper kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, down to your chest. Every little noise you make is worth it, as you squirm in his touch. Sometimes you feel him smile against your skin when he nears your nipple… and he pulls away, only to continue teasing you with lingering touches.

Kuai enjoys making it a game, really. See how long you can last until you’re begging for him to get to the point. But, he breaks easily. All you have to do is pout a little and ask nicely, and he won’t deny you. As much as he’d like to draw out foreplay and tease you till you can’t take it anymore, you are his ultimate weakness.

He doesn’t do all of this to highlight your insecurities. The opposite, actually. He loves you for you. And there’s nothing that will make you any less attractive to him. If it makes you uncomfortable, then he can focus on other parts of your body. He’s got a myriad of favorites (and it’s just you. You in general. You’re his favorite.)

And if you’re shy? He’s slow, he’s real slow and tender and gentle, and sooooo goddamn sweet. Every little thing he does, he’s asking for permission. Don’t you dare hit him with the ‘what if you don’t like what you see?’ line, because he loves you. He’ll shut that line down immediately, damn near lecture you on why he loves you, and he’s going to do his darndest to make sure you KNOW.

But, holy shit, if you let him titfuck you… good gods, he’s in heaven. He can barely stay quiet, moans and whimpers and all sorts of saccharine words slipping from his mouth. He’s not necessarily quiet in bed, usually he’ll groan a bit, but something about this rips his composure from him. Sometimes his eyes will roll back, or his head will… force him to look at you and he’ll cum right then and there.

Ride him. For the love of all things pure, ride him. He will lose his mind. Kuai squirms a little underneath you, always. He finds it hard to stay composed. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands– one moment they’ll be on your hips, guiding you, the next gripping the sheets, and sometimes straying up to your chest.

His eyes go from your chest, to your face, to your chest. He doesn’t know what to focus on, really. He’s mesmerized by the way you move, and sometimes he can’t help but buck his hips up into yours. He isn’t trying to be mean or unfair, he swears. He just can’t take it, how beautiful you look, your entire body… he’s almost speechless.

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi

[abiiors]

self indulgent because i was sad last night and doing the math on time change it was about 9 hours between where i am and where matty is (lol do i have a problem?) currently being attacked before 10 am with his ripped shirt

but maybe reader had a tough day at work and was not as good with communication as they normally would be with their long distance agreements, and just tries to keep it together when matty can finally get a hold of her and ask what’s up and he’s so sweet telling her she can always complain to him about her crappy days he wants to be the one she can lean on when she needs the extra care

aww babe, i’m so sorry. i hope you’re feeling better now tho <3

just something small and fluffy!

you have not left the bed for a few hours now. 

in fact, you haven’t left the bed at all since coming back from work and throwing yourself onto it; work clothes and all. normally, the thought of being in bed with outside clothes would have made you cringe. today, however, exhaustion dictates everything. 

your phone, plugged into its charger, buzzes on the nightstand for the tenth time. you already know it’s matty, sending a reel or a funny tweet or even just a random message about something silly but the thought of extending your arm to pick up the phone is too much. everything is too much. 

and so, matty and his messages remain unseen. 

you close your eyes again, thinking of all the work piling up in your inbox at this moment. no matter how much you do, it seems unending—something new always getting thrown at you when you’re least expecting it. 

your phone buzzes again. and this time it keeps buzzing. it’s a phone call. 

groaning, you inch your body close to the nightstand like a pathetic worm and tilt the phone to look at the caller id. of course, it’s matty. and of course you can’t ignore him again. it would be cruel to make him worry about you when he’s all the way in america; on another continent, in a time zone hours behind you. 

“hi baby,” you answer with as much cheer as you can muster. it’s a facetime call and there’s no other option but to plaster a saccharine-sweet smile on your face. 

“hi my darling,” he smiles before launching into his story. “so you know how i’ve been making a set list for the next show? well, ross and i thought it’d be hilarious if—what’s wrong?”

it’s like his entire mood shifts between one word and the next, the cheeky smile fading away into a frown and you feel yourself grimace. 

“what?” you sit up, propped up against the pillows and acting like you have no idea what he’s talking about. “what do you mean, what’s wrong.”

matty’s lips press into a straight line. he’s not impressed, and he’s not happy with you either. because his eyes are trained on your soft grey blouse which is certainly not something you wear at home or to bed. 

“you’re playing dumb, love,” he scolds lightly, “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t wanna start, matty. i’ll get over it, i promise.” you feel your lip wobbling halfway through that reassurance. still, a deep, shaky breath composes you a little. “i want to hear about the set list. come on.”

but matty’s having none of it. “you can hear about it when you tell me what’s wrong.”

letting out a loud sigh you wonder if it’s worth getting into. this is going to lead to more frustration and crying and he’s not even here to hug you till every other worry disappears. no, he’s not here to dote on you and let you whine like a baby about every minor (and major) inconvenience. 

internally, you curse america and his stupid band and the stupid shows and probably everything else you can think of in the ten second span before matty speaks again. 

“talk to me, darling,” he urges gently, “you’ve not talked to me all day.”

it’s true. you have been rather shit at communicating today. sighing, you give in. 

“it’s work,” a dry laugh, “it’s always work.”

matty’s eyes soften in sympathy. he knows it’s been a bit hard lately. for him too, being on the road is never easy but he knows it’s worse for you. that being away for too long makes your separation anxiety start acting up. 

“tell me more.”

“i don’t wanna complain to you all the time, babe. it’s always the same thing. it gets too much, i get overwhelmed and come crying to you. the same cycle.”

if he were here right now, he would already be letting you cry into his chest, kissing it all better. but since he is not, you have to resort to smushing your face into his pillow and groaning in frustration. 

“okay you listen to me,” his voice is stern but his eyes remain soft and loving. “you never. ever. have to worry about complaining to me. ever. now tell me more about what’s bothering you at work.”

you swallow past the lump in your throat and sniffle lightly. “it’s just all so much, matty. the thought of logging into my emails tomorrow makes me want to cry. there are so many that i haven’t even opened yet.”

he stays quiet for a second, a pensive expression on his face before he breaks out into another smile. 

“alright, time to bring out the big guns.” he walks around his hotel room in search of something—his laptop, it becomes clear a moment later—before plopping down onto his bed. 

“tell me your login details.”

“what?” there’s confusion written all over your face. 

“i’m not doing anything stupid, love. just give me your login details.”

“not that i don’t trust you,” you reply cautiously, “but what are you doing?”

“offering you my precious personal assistant services,” he beams. “they are in high demand, mind you. now come on. login details. i’m just going to sort your emails for you.”

his words unleash the floodgates. through grateful sobs and quiet sniffles, you rattle off the email id and password—it’s his name and your anniversary date which makes him giggle and reveal that his password is almost identical. your name and birthday. 

once you’ve calmed down a bit and wiped your nose on your shirt sleeve like a child, you take a proper look at him—slightly tired, but happy and smiling. and handsome as ever. 

“thank you,” you whisper, “i mean it, babe. this helps so much.”

“anything for you,” he smiles and then narrows his eyes. “next time,” his finger is right in front of you, occupying the better part of the screen, “if you shut down on me again… i was almost worried, you know?”

“i’m sorry,” you pout, knowing it’s his weakness. he has no chance of keeping his resolve in front of the pout. he breaks; shaking his head while trying to contain his smile.

“now," you return his small smile, "tell me about this set list…”

[cassiopeia-core]

Reyna with a s/o who loves playing with her dogs

they (i) love you

reyna x apollolegacy!reader

warning(s): kind of oc reyna, blood from injury, octavian mention, not proofread

a/n: kind of turned into dating reyna hcs (this plot literally came to me in a dream) idk if camp jupiter has an infirmary like camp half-blood but for the sake of this lets just pretend there is, also pretend reyna doesn't become a hunter :)

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

when reyna first met you, she thought you were too good to be true. the sunny apollo medic with an equally sunny personality, who always greeted people with a warm smile and a sweet saccharine voice. you charmed everyone you met and all the little kids in new rome loved you. reyna couldn't deny that there was something about you that made her heart flutter and her mouth go dry whenever she saw you.

even so, after a particularly rough war games, when reyna limped into the infirmary with aurum and argentum hot on her heels, she hadn't expected her loyal guard dogs to warm up to you so quick.

"hey y/n", she grimaced at you, unwrapping her blood soaked cloak from around her wounded upper arm.

you glanced up from where you where rearranging your medical supplies, not expecting patients this late into the night. "why didn't you come earlier? it could've gotten a lot worse" you scolded gently, leading her to one of the sickbeds. aurum and argentum wagged their tails as you passed by them, whining and yapping happily.

"um well, you know, praetor duties and all i was really busy and octavian wouldn't stop pestering me and - " she was rambling now, flushing from the proximity between the both of you. you were just so gentle with her, fingers dancing lightly over her injured arm.

"octavian is a bum and you know that," you tutted. "everything that comes out of his mouth belongs in the bin." you moved your fingers delicately over reyna's arm, applying a soothing ointment of sorts before wrapping a bandage around it. "there, all done."

"aurum and argentum seem to like you very much." reyna noted, nodding towards her metal dogs, who were basking in the attention you were giving them. "they usually have a hard time warming up to strangers."

you laughed. "oh, i don't think i'm a stranger. sometimes when it gets lonely in here, they like to bring me presents and just sit here for a bit while i go about my business." you scratched aurum under the chin and he thumped his tail happily against the ground.

reyna frowned. she was definitely going to be having a word with her dogs later. but right now the focus was you. she took in how you hummed happily as you flitted around the infirmary, seeming to be in your element and decided that today was the day where she would finally build up the courage to ask you out.

"so, um, y/n, would you like to grab a coffee or something sometime? i mean, youre really pretty and aurum and argentum seem to really like you and i really like you too and oh gods, im rambling - " reyna gulped at the proximity as you stepped closer to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"of course reyna, i would love to."

***

from that moment on, people would often see her smile more when she was around you

aurum and argentum prefer hanging out in the infirmary with you rather than accompany reyna

whine and whinge when reyna summons them away

you love having aurum and argentum around

they help calm injured legionnaires as you and the medics patch them up

reyna's dogs also helped her ask you to be her girlfriend, fetching shiny things and flowers that you would like

they were also there for you and reyna's first "i love you"s

she kinda messed up at first tho lol

("y/n, i think i really love you" you two were out stargazing, aurum and argentum playfully fighting over a stick theyd found

"sorry?" you hummed, turning to face your girlfriend.

"i- um, they really love you," reyna managed. "aurum and argentum, i mean. oh look, the moon is beautiful tonight."

you give her a knowing look. "i love you too."

as if knowing what it meant aurum and argentum stopped fighting over the stick and bounded over to where you were snuggled up on the picnic mat)

whenever octavian tries to bribe or bully reyna into something, youre always there to stand up for her, backed by aurum and argentum ofc

you two are the ultimate power couple fr

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I almost hate how much i switched teams from 2718 to abacus, but its just bc he's new and shiny and pretty and pushy. He stifles autonomy so i know 2817 is better in the long run bc u can reason w him and he puts mcs best interests first. Abacus gives me the kind of vibe that he'd let mc get hurt so long as shes his, and tbh i feel like he might enjoy it? Like he'd like to fix her up and *accidentally* press a lil too hard into her wounds wheras 2718 would just use his abilities so that she wont feel the pain to begin w. That's just my assumption tho given what we've seen. Abacus seem the type to only use his powers thingy to subdue reader.

We know that 2718 has met readers past forms/reincarnation w.e u call it and i originally thought abacus did too. Maybe he was her affair or lover in a previous reincarnation methinks? I just felt like he knows her before. This changed a bit towards the end when they were walkin thru the streets while he was giving her the endoscopy (😮‍💨💦) and we learned just how badly mc is seen. Now im starting to wonder if aba is just greedy n wanted her as his lil disabled spouse genuinely, no past relation. Idk. I still feel like they know each other previously. Or maybe he sensed something abt her back when 2817 brought her in to that place all the way back then. Mc is key to the universe type thing. Doubt that tho.

Neyways i think aba is gnna take her home where he reveals that he not only has four arms, but also two dicks n he's gnna try to fawk her but some event will inconveniently stop him. I also think he lives in an oasis like place, their version of natural wood everywhere, running waterfalls from the cieling, tons of glass that he can mentally control and shatter at will to threaten reader while having a saccharine smile on his face, the works really.

I wnna believe translator(TA) is gnna get 2718 and theyll find mc but now im thinking maybe they might not meet up like that. 2718 might find TA n ditch her to find mc and TA has to scramble to keep up, might even meet her on the way back after 2718 saves the day. Also wondering whts gnna happen to TA bc i dont think anything criminally bad happened to her even tho we heard her screaming. Be real interesting if she were screaming bc 2817 found her and juuuust missed mc and aba. I think when 2718 finds mc and aba they're gnna be familiar w eachother but not fight bc aba is one slippery bastard. Or maybe itll be convenient where aba leaves mc unattended for a bit and someone tries to harm her and then 2718 makes him big appearance, like when mc was first dropped into the world and 2718 saved her. I have more thoughts on that but ive already wrote an essay here and in my other ask 😭

Anywhooo ty fr the chapter, hope your healing well 💕💕💕 -🐰

Damn this sure is a well written essay 😳 its either ur a really good analyst or im just a predictable writer cause it almost seems like u have access to my drafts

Cuase that... Kinda exactly whats gonna happen ngl, its still pretty rough around the edges part 15 is just still in its embryo stage with a 50 word list of whars going to hapoen, but yea it pretty similar to what you just described , havent been writing cause i regained my leg freedom finally and i spent literally every waking hour outside, driving and shit

There is going to be a fawking scene in p15 ill tell u and whoevers reading that. Similar to what you descibe with their anatomy but a little different in sequence of events

Thanks for sending in this ask bunny anon this is so cool and i had a great read ❤️❤️ lovely motivation youve given me and i really appreciatte the essay asks -- like, i appreciate if A LOT actually, thanks for reading language barrier too

[writermask-0807-backupblog]

KOCHO SHINOBU X READER {"LET'S PLAY A GAME OF PRETEND." or: "THE HOLE IN MY HEART WHERE YOU USED TO BE."}

A/N: I'm backkkk! Honestly I'm so happy rn, seeing the amount of likes the all might piece got me so quickly! I might just burst from excitement and happiness. So here I am, with a Shinobu fic!! Honestly I just can't stop simping for this tiny lady 😘. I hope you enjoy!! And please COMMENT!!! I would really like to know what yalls think. *Writermask out 🎭*

Warnings: angst with no happy ending, hanahaki, blood and gore (not that graphic tho), character death, unrequited love??? Also, I may have used this - too much 🙃

KOCHO Shinobu is a hollow of the person whom she used to be. 

She's all empty smiles and even emptier promises, blank, listless stares and hollow kisses, and the saccharine of poisonous words, twisted and barbed and ready to cut and hurt, just as easily as she can heal those raw wounds with a simple flick of her smile, a touch of her deft, nimble hands. She's as dangerous as she is beautiful, and her smile is twisted and angry, and worst of all, she's not yours. Not anymore. 

(And now you think, she was never yours in the first place. ) 

The overly sweet, and cheerful disposition she wears- a remnant of her sister's, leaves a sour taste on your tongue, makes your heart wrench painfully under your ribs, and you can't look at that forever-present smile, knowing it's false- a lie. The weight of this bitter revelation stifles you to the point where it's unbearable, because it's not the same. She's not the girl you once knew, and it hurts knowing that. 

The girl you knew was all flustered, averted gazes, reddening blushes and sweet words, (that you know were genuine). That girl used to intertwine your hands together shyly, big lilac hues coy, and the soft curve to her mouth was never constant as it is now- weathered by her short temper and disapproving frown, though every time she offered you that mild smile, you knew it was heartfelt and raw and tender with love and warmth. 

That girl was full, brimming with emotions- with a sort of life and energy you could never tire of, all sweet smiles and even sweeter kisses, not the blank, dead hollow she is now. Now, she's shattered dreams and broken promises and the very epitome of hurt. 

Though, you know, deep within your heart, that she must have loved you too- a long, long time ago, when both her sisters and you were by her side, at that one point in the whisper of time when all had been right with the world- when all had been right with her life. 

(Fleeting smiles, tender touches and soft peaches on a summer day. The press of a delicate, rosebud-like mouth against yours, and the flutter of wings.)

It seems like an eternity ago now- the memory of that precious time, and you cradle every second you've lost, hold them close to your heart, tuck them in the corners of your mind- every treasured moment, when her mind hadn't yet been clouded by the thirst for vengeance, and her love had been true, once upon a time. 

She'd been so- so happy back then, youthful and nervous but still kind, and your heart aches with the memory of it all- the old scars pulsing back to life and stinging with a rekindled vehemence, as if telling you, can you feel it? The pain, the rawness, the agony? Because this is reality, this is the world you've forgotten, the world that's forgotten you. This is not your home, the dreamlands you've wasted your days frolicking about. Do you understand? 

(And you remember, that slight twitch in the corners of her mouth, no matter how rare or minute or bashful, had always been genuine, real like the emotion- the warmth pooling in her eyes.)

But fate, as cruel as it is, snatches that innocence and snuffs it out like a candle to the darkness- destines all the good things to come to an end. 

You remember her eyes on the day it happened, and the memory's vivid and agonizing, burning at the forefront of your mind even now, years later. 

(You still breathe the air of death, smell the metallic, rancid stench of blood.) 

Those big, innocent lilac hues had been forced wide by panic, round with pure terror, pulsing with a rawness you'd never seen from her. You remember every second and every sensation you'd felt in that moment: the wild, unsteady thumping of your heart threatening to surge out of your ribcage, plummeting into the pit of your stomach, the sting of bile rising in your throat, the sudden dryness of your mouth, the erratic racing of your pulse. The panic and the fear bursting through your veins- God there's so much blood, so much blood. Why's there so much blood?!, the cold dread coiling around your spine as you'd taken a shaky step towards Shinobu trembling in the corner of that alley, your hands clenched into fists as they'd trembled against your sides. 

Look, Y/N, she'd croaked, tone rasping, and voice breaking with the edge of tears, fueled with a wild desperation as she'd shook her limp, motionless sister by the shoulders, look. She's not moving- Kanae's not moving, she's not breathing. She's not moving, tell her to breathe! 

And you remember the spillage of blood, a splatter of ardent color eye-catching, and vivid against the dull canvas of the ground, as the bright crimson had pooled into a small ocean. The rich substance coated each and every surface, painfully prominent against her paling skin, drenching her hands and clothes, harsh scarlet staining Kanae's lifeless corpse, and your own flesh as you'd dropped beside her, knees wobbling and buckling under the weight of your horror. 

The thick liquid stained your hands as you'd slowly reached out to the shuddering, petite frame of your lover, as she'd hunched over her sister's dead body, and you remember how your wavering voice had breathed desperate, shaky (lieslieslies-!) reassurances into her hair. Less hysterical than Shinobu, despite the panic squeezing at your chest and the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, you'd tried to pull her away from the blood and gore, pry her away from all that pain and hurt and death- but it all ended in vain, futile efforts, as she'd scrabbled to clutch at Kanae's tighter than ever before.

(Don't take- don't take her away from me! Please, Y/N, please…) 

You remember the funeral and the grief and the tears, rolling down your own cheeks, as you'd wept and mourned for the loss of a dear friend. Shinobu didn't cry. She'd remained frozen and emotionless throughout the event, but her eyes were red rimmed and glassy, like she was in a far away place, or maybe even stuck inside her mind- inside the fabrications of her own little hell-hole. 

When you'd squeezed her hand in yours, to remind her that you were still there- to be an anchor if she needed to remain grounded, a shoulder to cry on, someone to share her woes with, she'd looked at you silently with those dull eyes, and there was so much grief and mourning in them that it broke your heart. 

She was never the same after that. 

For a while, she was distant, despite you offering support and help in any way you could. Things had been tense between the both of you, and you'd been filled with nothing but worry and unease when she offered you nothing but silence. 

But then one day, out of the blue, she visited you- with a smile so sickeningly sweet that it felt bitter, more cordial and polite than it was genuine, and you'd known immediately that she'd changed. That mild smile was full of laughter and false brightness, but it never reached her eyes. 

She was uncharacteristic- sugary sweet in a way that felt sick and bitter on your tongue, and her eyes unsettled you to the point where you felt discomfort creeping down your spine and pooling into the pit of your stomach. Her eyes, those deep violet hues- they were glazed and dull despite that bright smile twisting her lips, lifeless even. 

(And yet somehow, they were also colored dark with the hue of hatred.) 

Your Kocho Shinobu had died, and from her ashes was rebirthed another- all hollow and bitter with loss, filled with an unadulterated rage and seething with silent fury, but it's always carefully masked- always concealed behind a well constructed, unwavering facade- the stretch of her lips opening into a broad, false smile. 

And yet, like the masochist you were (that you still are), you selfishly chose to be back with her, coaxed by that terrible, terrible smile, even though she never truly loved you- at least, not anymore. 

Kocho Shinobu is a hollow of the person whom she used to be, but in all of her empty smiles and false cheer, she manages to complete you- piece your fragments together and mend the broken parts of you, in the most inconvenient of ways- fills you up in a way only her, and no full person ever can. You hate her and love her for it.

But you only wish you could heal her hurt, mend her cracks and soothe her heartache in the way she so dutifully eases yours. It's painful, going about everyday and playing pretend with her like this- like you do everyday, despite knowing that there's a certain edge of darkness behind that bright smile, that there's anger above the pain and deceit beneath the false-love. 

But despite all that- the lies and the deception, despite the obvious fact that you're both playing a game of pretend that slowly draws close to an inevitable end- she still manages to make your heart stutter and skip a beat, for your breath to hitch in your throat, for the most bittersweetest of aches to squeeze your chest, because she has buried seeds in your gardens and nurtures the life she knows she's grown. 

Because there- deep within the darkness, in the trenches of your heart, through the cracks and crevices, there are roots, the bittersweet fruits of your love, anchoring themselves to your very core, thin and spidery and subtle, before they invade you almost completely, corrupt you. 

And those petals, scattering on your palm like cremation ashes, soft and white and innocent as they are- they're stained with your blood, constrict your airways and suffocates your lungs, strangles the breath out of you, blooming quietly in the darkness, roots and fronds curling around your ribcage, pushing and pulsing beneath your flesh, ready to break out at any given second you spend in her presence. 

And in all of their beguiling innocence and purity, they're venomous- poisons every strained breath you manage to choke out, holds every trace of festering grief and despair and unrequited love you've so desperately tried to snuff out. 

But they're still traces of her you refuse to erase, growing and feeding on your pain, frost-hued blossoms unfurling in the darkness and falling past your lips like the floating of prayers. They're memories, this disease, this terrible illness, and they're memories you can't bring yourself to forget- remnants of a past you'll never be allowed to have again. 

(And every uncurling of the springtime blooms unfurling inside your chest, bunched and dropping past your mouth is as much as hope as they are memories. They're hope that she's still in there, that your lover is still there, just buried beneath the layers and layers of faux kindness and cheer. But they're also false hope, and that's what makes the pain all the more bitter for you to endure.) 

So- you'll go on like this. You've got no other choice than to lie in this bed you've made yourself, accept your fate with the pathetically weak resignation you've always possessed. 

You're not strong- not like she is, but you'll endure this sickness for her, no matter how selfish it is. Because every time you glimpse of might be a fragment of her previous self- it manages to bring so much joy, so much hope and happiness, despite the ache that follows after- the sudden hollowness that stretches open inside your chest, the feel of wet petals flooding your mouth, the tickling cough that rattles you to the very core. 

After all, she is the one who tends to your gardens- water the plants of her making and allow them to grow, for the venom to manifest, to take root deep inside of you, gnaw away at all the simple, bright soul that's you, and despite the bitterness your unrequited love that plagues you in flesh and blood and soul, you manage to swallow it down and fake a smile just as easily as she does. 

Because this is just a game of playing pretend, you can easily force the hurt down, and the selfish anger of your own, the grief and the despair like the coward you are, and hide that piece of ugliness deep inside the caverns of your heart- just like she hides her pain. 

(And it's tragic just how easily you fool yourself with this web of lies- how easily you've become more entangled in the threads- a puppet to your own emotions.) 

But no matter how good the both of you are at playing this game, at prolonging the torment just for that one blissful slice of paradise- you know, deep within the marrow of your bones, you can never truly fill up the gaping void yawning inside of you, can never replace it with stolen moments and lies and deception- the hole in your heart where your Kocho Shinobu used to be. 

FIN - 

[naddiesflower]

JJK boi gets jealous but isn't your boyfriend

Characters: Itadori Yuji, Satoru Gojo, Inumaki Toge, Megumi Fushiguro

i've had this in my drafts for almost a year and I need it gone asap lmao

Yuji

You and Yuji were good friends

Very very good friends

Yes the both of you had feelings for each other

Yes it was very obvious for everyone except the both of yall

Poor Nobara and Megumi were the ones who had to witness the endless pining firsthand

Nobara once tried to make a bet with Megumi about how long it would take for you and Yuji to get together and he turned down the bet

Megumi was kinda secretly invested tho 

You know who else was invested in your awkward pining?

Gojo

The devil himself

This man loves seeing you and Yuji be awkward with each other

He would actively put yall in awkward situations

Gojo would send only the two of you on some missions he knew yall could handle

And whenever yall would come back to the school, Gojo would always be looking at you guys with a smug smile

He’d have his blindfold on but god damn could you feel his stare burning into the back of your head whenever you were next to Yuji

Like damn mind your business, this is why you're in a-

Reader @ Gojo: https://youtu.be/Xp24sndMy80

anyways 

Valentine’s was right around the corner (shhh i know it’s different in Japan, but disregard that for plot purposes)

And you’d think Yuji would find some sort of way to confess his feelings

Cuz let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be the one to man up and confess, don’t lie

But you’d think Yuji would

Nah

He too would be a pussy

And he’s happy with his friendship with you and doesn’t wanna ruin that

So when the day comes he does nothing, he treats it like a normal day

You however do give everyone chocolates to everyone, calling them “friendship chocolates”

It makes you kinda makes you sad giving Yuji the “friendship chocolate”

But when you do, he gives you the most saccharine smile and it quickly dissipates the small pang in your heart and replaces it with pure unadulterated joy

It’s later in the day when you, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi decide to go and hang out

When it’s just you and Yuji you get a text from a friend from your old junior high asking you to meet up with them for something real quick

You ask Yuji to come with you seeing as it was quick like your friend said and you just wanted to spend more time with Yuji

Yuji like the sunshine he is, happily agrees to accompany you to meet up with your friend

What he didn’t expect was for your friend to be a guy…with a box of chocolates in his hands

It’s obvious you weren’t also expecting your friend to have a box of chocolates with them, but you’re quicker to shake off your confusion and greet your friend

Yuji doesn’t join you, only standing a couple of paces back

He can immediately tell your friend has a crush on you

He knew that look cuz Nobara says he would stare at you like that

He’s probably thinking something along the lines of, “I should be the only one staring at them like that >:(”

He doesn’t wanna be rude for your sake and just pouts and stares while the guy shoves the box of chocolates at you while saying something he can’t hear

You look flustered and say something that leaves your friend dejected

Which secretly makes Yuji a little happy inside 

Eventually, you and your friend walk away from each other and you approach Yuji

“Sooo, did anything happen.”

He couldn’t help but be nosey, especially when it came to you

“Oh, you know, something that doesn’t involve you.”

You pinch his nose and shake it lightly 

Yuji pries your finger off his nose and the two of you begin walking back to the school

He really wanted to push you into telling him more but he knew that was your way of telling him to drop the subject

Plus, he was now interested in you, who has now opened the small box of chocolates and was about to eat one of the chocolates

It’s like his fight or flight instincts kick in

He has no idea why but they do

He doesn’t want you eating another guy’s chocolate 

so he does what seems most logical in his mind

He grabs your wrist and shoves the chocolate into his mouth

“Ah! Yuji you bit me, why did you do that!”

He panics, how is he supposed to tell you that he didn’t want you eating some stranger's chocolates

That he wanted to be the one to give you that box and see you happily eat them

“You’ll get cavities!”

Now you’re confused

“Yuji what?”

“I don’t want you to be in pain if you get cavities,” he snatches the box away from you. “Here I’ll eat them and get cavities in your stead.” 

And now you’re pouting

“Yuji, I wanted to eat them though.”

God you looked so cute when you pouted

But he also didn’t want you to be sad so he grabs your hand and starts dragging you somewhere

“Look! This store is open, I can get you a better box of chocolates.”

Rolling your eyes you follow him inside without a complaint, because who are you to complain about getting chocolates from Yuji 

Gojo

You were a teacher at Jujutsu Tech

Or “Gojo Satorou’s babysitter,” as some of your coworkers loved to refer to you as playfully

As much as you hated the moniker, it was kind of true

The man loved bothering you in his free time

His love for bothering you has spanned years

Beginning in high school

You would think Gojo was your junior with the way he acts with you

But nope, somehow he was your senior by one year

You honestly didn’t like him at first

He was so cocky and not to mention he ALWAYS bothered you

But the more you got the know him over time the more you started to like him

Which eventually led to you having a crush on him

You never ended up admitting your crush to him in hopes of it going away and not burdening him

Sadly your crush never went away and still persisted to this day 

But with everything going on, you still didn’t want to burden Gojo 

And you wanted to focus on teaching and protecting your kids to your full extent

Your days would play out like clockwork

So when you’re in your office and hear knocking you answer it like you normally would

But when you open the door you’re greeted by Nanami 

Which is a surprise, since you were expecting to see Gojo ready to bother you

But it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless

“What can I do for you Nanami-san?”

“I came to pick up the paperwork from earlier, there’s also no need to for honorifics.”

“Right, sorry it’s a force a habit.”

You and Nanami are the same age so that also meant you were classmates in high school

Which also meant you two would talk trash about Gojo on days he was being particularly annoying

So before retrieving the papers you make some small talk to catch up with him

Imagine Gojo's surprise when he sees you laughing with Nanami when he rounds the corner of the hall

He had gone out of his way to buy some pastries from his favorite shop to share with you

Only he was allowed to bother you

He takes one of the pastries and admires it before lamentably chucking it at Nanami

“Nanamin!”

He could have gotten in between the two of you quickly

But this was much quicker and more effective in his opinion 

You don’t even know what hits Nanami since it zipped by you so fast but once it lands on his chest you can make out that it was a pastry…with filling

The filling in the pastry had splattered all over the front of his dress shirt

And by some miracle, the filling had entirely missed you

Both you and Nanami look toward the perpetrator and honestly, you’re almost not surprised to see Gojo

But Nanami looked like he wanted to murder Gojo

Luckily you had a handkerchief in your bag and start wiping away at his shirt

“Sorry, Nanami, let me try to get off as much as I can.”

Gojo also doesn’t like this so now he’s by you in an instant

He pulls your hand away from Nanami’s chest and pulls it towards him

“Wipe me off too.”

“Gojo you have nothing on you, now let me clean Nanami of your mess.”

A hand plants itself on Nanami’s chest that isn’t yours and further smears the frosting

Gojo takes his frosting-coated hand and drags it across his uniform

He has the smuggest smirk on his face and you almost want to physically wipe it off

Actually, that might not be a bad idea

“Forgive me Nanami, I think it would be best to give you the paperwork at a later time, let me deal with Gojo.”

“Yes I think that would be best lest we want any more frosting on stuff, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Grabbing Gojo by his ear you drag him inside your office

“Oh? This seems a little scandalous don't you think, just me and you alone in your office.”

You notice movement under his mask and realize he’s waggling his eyebrows at you

You scoff at what he’s insinuating, “Don’t get ideas, let me just wipe that off for you.”

Gojo, unsuspectingly, gets closer to you and presents his chest to you

And you quite literally wipe off the cocky smile he has

The frosting on the handkerchief smears all over his mouth and you can’t help but start laughing like crazy

“Oh man, the color white really does suit you hahaha!”

Gojo takes the time to appreciate your laugh and smile, they truly were beautiful

It’s a shame he’s not ready for commitment, or he would have asked you out back in high school

Out of nowhere, Gojo grabs your face with his big ass hands and pulls you towards him

He kisses you on the cheek and swipes his head left and right, trying to get as much frosting on your face

“Satoru nooo!”

He’ll just have to settle with warding off people who try to get too buddy with you

Toge

He could be extremely petty if he wanted to be

And you knew this because you’ve experienced it firsthand

You’ll never get over the fact that he once blocked your number over a small disagreement you both had

And when you tried to endless question him why behind your poorly concealed amusement Inumaki only writes 2 words on a piece of paper

Silent Treatment

You still crack up to this day when you think about it 

Incidents like this were common between the two of you ever since you met in your first year together

but that never stopped you from developing feelings for him

And Inumaki would say the same thing, if anything he would say it’s made him fall harder for you

Toge when he gets witty remarks and sarcasm from someone else: 😐

Toge when he gets witty remarks and sarcasm from you: 😍

What he really wasn’t a fan of was that you were extremely close to Yuji

He knew he had no right to feel jealous since you were allowed to be friends with whoever you wanted

But he felt that any chance he has with you is slowly being robbed by Yuji

So when you one day ask him to help you water some plants in school

He eagerly nods his head

This becomes a normal occurrence between the two of you

And a small part of him is smug about it since he knows you only ask him to water plants with you

Which means he has you all to himself 

Until one day it isn’t just you and him

It ends up being you, him, and Yuji

And you’re surprised too when he joins you guys 

So he guesses that you didn’t invite him like you usually do

At first, Toge doesn’t mind it, Yuji makes you smile and Toge loves seeing your smile

And he likes Yuji, he’s a great kouhai

But then every time you both go to water plants Yuji is somehow always there 

And one of the few times Toge had alone with you was gone 

So you can’t really blame him for thinking that Yuji is trying to steal you away

Yes you were close to Yuji

But he was more of an annoying little brother than anything else to you

And you know exactly why Yuji decided to barge into your time with Toge

All because you made the mistake of telling him about the crush you have on Toge

Since then Yuji had secretly insisted on being your wingman despite your refusal

But you couldn’t tell Toge that because you didn’t want to reveal your crush to him so you settled on an

“I don’t know, just ignore him I guess,” when Toge asked you over text why Yuji had joined you guys

And that’s exactly what he does, until one day he can’t

Usually, Yuji arrives late on days you guys water the plants

But not today, he was there earlier than him and right next to you nonetheless

You’re laughing at something Yuji says and push his arm

And deep down, Toge thinks that should be him instead

He looks around and spots a water hose on the ground near his feet

All he thinks is “nice.”

He picks up the hose and presses on the nozzle to see if the water is on and sure enough it is

Toge adjusts the pressure from mist to jet spray and points it at Yuji

Yuji screams because of how cold the water is 

And you scream because water being sprayed all over Yuji is the last thing you expect

Toge honestly thinks you sound cute tho

When Toge shuts off the spray, Yuji is thoroughly soaked and both of you look towards him with ajar mouths

“Inumaki senpai?!”

“Inumaki!”

One sounds surprised while the other is scolding, making him smile, which is thankfully covered by his collar

He walks over the both of you and he can see Yuji begin to start shivering

“Senpai what was that for??”

Toge was going to give him a simple shrug 

But you beat him to it with an excuse for him

“I’m sure he thought you were a flower, what with your vibrant hair, right Inumaki?”

Knowing you were giving him an out he agrees with you, “Shake”

Yuji clearly doesn’t buy it but you’re trying to usher him away

“Yuji you’re already starting to shiver, go inside and change or else you’ll get sick.”

You push at his back and Yuji reluctantly complies but not before he gives you a pointed look 

When Yuji is out of sight you turn to look and give Inumaki the same pointed look Yuji gave you

“What was that for Toge?” 

He only shrugs which makes you give him a small glare

You knew he was up to something

It wasn’t obvious, but your bullshit meter was going off

A ping from your phone however breaks you from your suspicions

Seeing it’s a message from Inumaki makes you furrow your eyebrows

“You know, you’re pretty like a flower too”

Looking up from your phone you give Toge a confused look as you feel your cheeks slowly start to warm up

“What-?”

You’re not able to get another word out as you get sprayed with water

Somehow through the water practically blinding you, you manage to grab ahold of Inumaki’s hand with the hose and push it away

“Toge you butthole what was that for!?”

You see that Inumaki’s eyes crinkled at the corners and just barely hear his quiet laughter

Fuck he really was cute

But two could play at that game

You make quick work to steal the water hose from him and when you finally do obtain it you waste no time in spraying him

When you’re satisfied, you let your finger off the nozzle and admire the newly soaked Inumaki in front of you

Which causes you to bust out laughing

In no less than a minute both you and Inumaki start fighting over the hose

When Yuji is done drying himself up and changing into new clothes he rushes to the exit but is surprised to see you and Inumaki enter completely soaked to the bone 

Though what surprises him more is the fact that you aren’t arguing with Inumkai but instead laughing with him

Later that night you get a message from Yuji: “i’m a pretty good wingman huh? :D”

Megumi

You had never expected to develop a crush on Megumi

Yeah he was really cute, but he always had a grumpy face

It was honestly cute

And it made you think that you probably annoy him

You didn’t avoid him, but you tried to stay out of his way as subtly as you could

Which in turn made Megumi think that you didn’t like him

But somehow yall still developed feelings for each other

Megumi was pretty good at hiding his feelings

You on the other hand….not so much

You thought you did an okay job with hiding your feelings until Nobara questions you when she’s in your room one night

“You stare at Megumi a lot, you two don’t have drama going on do you?”

You rarely spoke much to each other so you were 99% you didn’t

“We don’t.”

“Or do you have some sort of crush on him?”

You knew she was joking but you hesitate a little when you answer her

“...I don’t.”

Nobara immediately notices

“No way.”

From that night on she teases you but you know she really doesn’t mean it when she says, “you have questionable taste but I respect it.”

The same happened to Megumi

Yuji knew of his crush on you, but he found out from Sukuna….

He doesn’t know how Sukuna found out but god dammit does he hate it

“Your eyes linger on that one longer than anyone else, I almost can’t blame you, that is a nice a-”

Megumi is quick to slap his hand over Yuji’s cheek, where Sukuna’s mouth appeared

And Yuji is just a confused mess

But Yuji is a true bro 

He thinks Megumi has great taste and does everything in his power to shut Sukuna up whenever you’re all together

And you’ve certainly noticed this

Sukuna never ever spoke to you and all of a sudden you’re the peak of his interest lately

You’d just be chilling with the first years and then 

“You really are nice on the eyes, it’s no wonder M-”

Both Megumi and Yuji scramble to shut Sukuna up

At first, Sukuna would just laugh and not come back for the remainder of the time you guys would hang out

But overtime Sukuna would get more persistent 

Just like today

You were waiting for Nobara outside a store with Yuji and Megumi

Thankfully it wasn’t a busy day so very few people were out and about

But that also meant that Sukuna would make himself be known more often

God Megumi really hated Sukuna

…..but he was right about what he said even if he worded everything in a crude way

But he also hated that Sukuna would dare look at you

You’re too good for trash like him to be laying his sight on you

Sadly Megumi can’t do much cuz well….Sukuna isn't actually physically present 

So he just silently seethes

You almost don’t notice it but Megumi looks more grumpy than he usually does

And you wanna ask him what's wrong but you also don't wanna bother him

So you end up leaving him be and keep an eye out for him 

Megumi notices you looking more towards him and he takes that as you feeling uncomfortable that Sukuna was being crude towards you

But in all honesty, you’ve been ignoring Sukuna, and everything he said just bounced right off you

Reader whenever Sukuna talks: https://youtu.be/2tRIjRVcHcQ

Yuji groans and both you and Megumi turn towards him and notice Sukuna’s mouth has manifested on his cheek

All of a sudden Megumi grabs your hand and drags you away

You almost don’t notice him speaking because you’re focused on his hand…which is warm

Which is holding yours 

“Let’s hang out, just you and me.”

You blink at him almost as if you didn’t process his words and he speaks again

“If you want to…I mean.”

Oh your poor heart

Why was he so cute (https://youtu.be/OEWe25v4JUk)

“I’d love to!”

Ok that sounded too eager

“I mean that would be cool.”

The both are you are still grabbing hands and when Megumi notices he awkwardly pulls away

Which makes you laugh a little

“Let’s go.” 

Megumi begins walking past you in hope of hiding his blush from you

When you catch up to him you do see the remnants of his blush 

but what you don’t notice is the soft looks he gives you when you’re not looking

[gottalovesuki1]

Brat reader x Hawks.

Go wild

You use you imagination

-shuu

Bratty!Reader x Hawks

warnings: throat fucking, smut, degrading and teasing,, I can guarantee you will not be walking anytime soon, name calling(whore,slut,), jealous hawks, pet names

“I love you so much baby bird but you’ve been such a naughty girl so you understand why I have to do this right?.” He looked at you with those piercing eyes “Well go on suck harder make it up to me hm?” A sweet saccharine smile flashed on his face as he had the perfect view of you sucking on his cock.

A little noise came out of you “Hm what’s that birdie? I can’t hear you I wanna hear my little song bird sing.” He pouted before shoving more of his cock inside your mouth watching you struggle. you truly should not have given him an attitude absolutely not.

“Is my cock to much for you to handle?” Oh he was enjoying this. You see you had been a little bit to handsy with a hero at the event Keigo had brought you to. He saw the way you flirted with the man let him even hold your waist. Keigo hadn’t been giving you attention to busy with hero work even denying your affection so you had to do something about it.

“Want me to fuck you like this every night? Oh your such an attention whore.” He took his cock outta your mouth seeing you cough out the cum that had gotten into your mouth. He made a tutting sound before grabbing your chin making you face him. “Swallow it sweetheart.” He licked your lips sucking on your bottom one before pushing you away.

“You have my attention now right so why do you look so tired? I’m not even done yet, I want you to remember this baby bird.” You where speechless you didn’t think he would react like this. “Spread your legs apart for me I wanna fuck you like the slut you are.” He’s busy taking his pants fully off. “Kei-“ he cut you off with a shush “why’re you complaining I’m giving you what you want right? So take it for me baby I’m giving you my full attention and I apologize for not doing so before but I’m trying to make up for it birdie is that okay with you?”

He asks thumbing your lip wiping some of his cum off. “Sorry for trying to make you jealous.”You said muttered leaning into his touch. “Well congrats you succeeded just don’t do it again.” He said it like a joke but it clearly wasn’t with the way he was looking at you. You nodded before he disregarded your panties and then he entered inside of you.

It was like an euphoric feeling the way he shifted inside of you doing at a medium pace. You wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You can’t take me sweets I find that offensive. It’s fine tho keep kissing my neck like that.” He said readjusting his hands to keep you steady. “You feel so nice baby bird keep tightening f’me.” He let out a few moans of his which turned you on even more. “fuck me like a slut kei” You voice came out a bit ragged but he heard you anyway. “Your such a whore baby bird .” He pace started to get faster, sounds of your moans and his grunts made a lovely tune for the both of you.

“Your such a good girl f’me baby bird I love you so much ‘kay don’t fucking forget it.” He praised you cause you doing so good keeping up with him. He heard your pretty little sounds. “That’s right my little song bird I wanna hear your sexy voice, I wanna hear you sing my name lemme hear everything.” He kissing your neck, sucking a bit to hard for pleasure but you didn’t care it felt so good the marks were gonna be a pain in the ass but that was tomorrow’s problem.

And then he started to fondle with you breast caressing them leaving kisses on them even sucking on them. “You taste so nice baby bird I wanna have you for breakfast, lunch, dinner whatever as long as I get to taste your wonderful body.” He was kissing you everywhere, leaving marks whatever he could get his hands on a hickey would be there.

And then he had switched positions lifting you up to sit on his lap. A small smile on his lips as he saw you puzzle.

“You comfortable?” He questioned kissing your chest and rubbing your inner thigh. A little nod came from you because you could not form words out of your mouth the pleasure was to much for you but he wasn’t done not yet. “Good, good I want you to feel pleased I want my birdie to feel good m’kay.” He hand had started to wonder to your clit pressing and squeezing. “You like that baby bird?” He teased sucking on your neck before facing you. “Y-yeah.” You responded looking away because at that moment you could not look him in the eyes.

“Don’t look away I wanna see my pretty girls reactions.” He brought your face to look at him seeing mild embarrassment in your eye he laughed. “Your fine hon just relax I got you.” And then he entered to fingers inside of you going at a slow pace. He did this on purpose seeing your eyes roll back a little hands on him shaking and your breathing started to get a little rapid. “You like that?” He asked teasingly making his go fingers go in an at a repetitive pace seeing your breathing getting harder and then you made a little noise.

“Yeah it feels nice doesn’t it.” He kisses your neck sucking a bit more before heading towards your ears. Now this is what made you react between Keigo multitasking at fingering you and nibbling and sucking on your ears you could not take it anymore.

Cum started to leak out onto Keigo fingers which he brought to his mouth to suck on. “You taste so nice birdie.” He continued “you learn your lesson hon?” He continues to finger you very satisfied that smugness is vibrating off of him. “Y-yes kei” you stutter cause oh my god you felt like your whole body was getting a massage. “Good cause I’m the only one who can make you feel liked this and I’m the only who touches your body not some random hero m’kay? he’s doesn’t even look like he’s in the top 10’s couldn’t you have chose someone at least popular?” You snorted before kissing him on the lips.

Authors note: I actually liked this one. Hoped you enjoy!!

[z3nitsusgf]

Ok now please hear me out. So if we had pervy kazuha and albedo... then how about childe but he is clueless and completely innocent until you decide to break him. Reader would lean over him to help him get up but actually point her chest out when he accidentally fell and mf doesn't have a clue. He doesn't even dare to have dirty thoughts about you because he knows deep inside that he could break by just that. He doesn't admit it tho when yn tries to make him confess. Its a little messy but I hope you get the idea :)

Evil. Evil. Evil. You are so evil nonnie, I love it. ( this is not same AU as pervy nerd albedo bc that would be cheating and that would be v sad ☹️ )

CW: NS*W, afab fem reader, overstimulation, humiliation, riding on the floor, making out, Childe battling his perverted thoughts

Tartaglia isn’t a bad guy. Truly, for all he’s worth, he’s nothing if not a good role model, a star athlete, kind, generous, handsome, friendly—

But the predicament he’s in makes him question whether or not the raging stiffy he’s downing can be explained. If this will more or less make him unravel and tip over into that uncertain underbelly that he shoves down and pretends he doesn’t notice. And you’re making it harder and harder to push down.

“Come on childe, please,” you murmur across his pursed lips, pushing a strand of auburn hair from his forehead with a lilac nail and he braces himself as if he’s in pain. He can smell the mint fresh of your breath, coalesced with the shimmering cherry of your fruity lip gloss. It’s intoxicating, makes him want to lean forward and smear it across each of your mouths, suck it into his tongue and taste it. And he gulps down a choked swallow.

If someone were to walk in, they’d see you straddling him like a lover. Knees wrapped over his hips as his hands twitch not to grab onto to your ass, it looks like he’s trying not to moan. And the thought makes Tartaglia clench his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Wincing like a kicked puppy. You hide a tipped smile, leaning forward as he leans back, knees pressing into the carpet as you make sure drag your tits across his chest. “I wanna hear you say it.”

He can’t even look you in the eye, face flushed carmine up to his ears. He knows you can feel it. The bulge that’s digging into your clothed cunt, dragged across the seat of your damp panties, the ones that are a periwinkle blue - the ones that have cream lace trim on the edge and dig into the doughy fat of your ass, and that he refuses to acknowledge he can see right now. “I don’t-“ He can’t outright deny your accusations, not when his cock is harder than rocks and presses up against your pussy like it wants to make its way into the tight hole all on its own.

So he rephrases himself, “I can’t.” Whining it out almost, and you draw back. There’s a cruelness to you. With the way your nipples strain through your black chemise, dragging across his chest like faint traces. How you press the mounds to his front, the doughy flesh bouncing along his pecs. It takes everything Tartaglia has not to flip you over and fuck you till you you’re begging him to stop.

You’ve spent so much of your time getting to this moment. Spent countless hours shoving your tits in his face, flashing your panties, suggesting lewd disgusting things, trying to get the perfect boy to break, to no avail - and now, you’ve got him right where you want him, on the precipice of demise. You’re honestly applauding his restraint.

He’s digging his hands into the carpet, trying to look anywhere but the tits so ceremoniously shoved in his face. If he really wanted too, he could lean his mouth down, could peak out his tongue and drag a stripe of hot wet saliva across the plush of your chest, scoop the hard nipple into his mouth and suck until you cry and-

“Please Tartaglia, I’ll do anything.” You drop your voice, make it saccharine sweet and caramelized. Tilting his jaw up with your pointer gently, and he’s looking at you wide-eyed. Big aqua blue eyes shimmering back as you murmur out appraises to him. When he doesn’t respond, you internally huff, pulling out all the stops.

Dragging a hand up to cup his face and play with the back of his hair, the other swirling at his chest. Leaning down to whisper into his ear, “I just want to know if you want me as much as I want you.” Kissing the shell and giving it a faint suck as you feel Tartaglia full-body shudder underneath you, “fuck, I-“

He grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the doughy flesh of your sides and you secretly smirk in victory. Hearing him groan in desperation. “I do,” he pants, feeling him creep a palm to the back of your skull as he grips it and smashes your mouth to his. It’s messy and disgusting, spit swapping and dripping down each of your chins, his tongue slipping in and around your mouth as he tries to get every inch of your palate, trying to taste you. “Want you so bad- it hurts.”

He’s palming desperately at your skin, slipping his hands up your skirt to squeeze your ass till you jerk forward with a needy whine, feeling him bite and suck at your lips. “Wanted this, wanted to do this since I first saw you, wanted to fuck you across the picnic table in front of everyone.” He kisses you till you’re breathless and cross-eyed, tipping your head back and he’s chasing your mouth with shiny spit soaked lips.

Tartaglia grinds his hard on up between your spread legs, right on your pulsing clit. The jeaned bulge catching your clothed damp cunt, making you shudder and pant over his lap. “Did you think about me too? Stuff your fingers in that pretty cunt of yours? Hmm?” He bucks up and huffs into your drooling mouth, sucking on your tongue. You clench around nothing, head foggy with need as you squirm on top of him. “Hah, Childe, please-“ You drag your hips over and over his bulge, the friction working wonders on your puffy aching clit.

“So mean to me, thought you could get away with it too.” He hums, digging his palms into your ass. Scooting you up and down his lap. You hold onto his broad shoulders, skirt bunched up to your waist. He’s making you dizzy, hauling you up to slip out his hard leaky cock, the head red and dripping. You look down and widen your eyes, he’s big. You don’t think you’ll be able to take him whole, and you yelp when he yanks your chemise down. Tits spilling over the lace.

He doesn’t even take off your panties, just slipping them to the side as he ruts the tip between your puffy pussy lips. “Thought ‘bout your pussy everyday, went home and jerked off to the thought of cumming inside of this tight cunt.” Tartaglia is practically feral, letting your slick coat his length and then slamming you down to the hilt. You don’t have a moment to process what’s happening, mouth dropping down to a pretty o shape. Pushing down on his abdomen at the sheer stretch, feeling him all the way in your tummy.

“Tarta-“ he bucks up before you can even get out his name, wretched moans leaping from your throat, as the most disgusting squelching fill the air. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, you feel better than I imagined.” He groans into your neck, your tits bounce with each thrust, each grind of his hips that smash your g-spot. “Gonna cum, gonna cum inside your pretty little pussy.” He moans, licking a nasty stripe over your chest and sucking till you smack a hand to his bicep and grab at the corded muscle. “Childe, hmm- wait, wait, holy shit,” he’s punching the air out of your lungs with each bounce.

You’ve broken him. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Fuck, you can’t think straight. Not when he’s pumping you full, stilling and pushing up to the hilt. The squishy bulbous tip kissing your g-spot, and you feel yourself cumming with a half moan half scream. Tartaglia rubbing circles on your red clit that’s begging for reprieve. Practically jolting in his lap, “so so pretty when you gush around my cock.” He coos, thrusting languidly your into your overused sensitive hole. Sensitive aftershocks pulsing through your lower half making you cream around the base of his length, and spritz down his hips.

“N’ more, please,” you whine tiredly, a funny ache building in your pelvis when he doesn’t pull out. It feels like he’s pulled a million orgasms out of you instead of only one. “No more? But baby,” He drawls, smoothing a hand up your back to fully take off your chemise and skirt. Leaning back up to your ear as he pushes a palm on your lower tummy, smiling when you give him a choked whimper, “I’m only just getting started.”

[moon-kn1ght]

a suitable arrangement -- part i: retribution

summary: He knew you were his, he told you it every time you fucked. He owned you. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to hurt him, just a little.

pairing: Billy Russo x fem!reader (x Frank Castle) word count: 2.5k warnings: grapefruit (18+); mean dom!billy russo (this is canon), breathplay, exhibitionism/voyeur, brief daddy kink (there will be more later tho), spanking, cumplay (facial), aftercare tho!, a/n: if you recognize this story, no you don't 👀 -- this is a rework of my first fic from the triple frontier fandom. my firstborn, my pride and joy, my everything. i think its WAY better this time around because this pairing is everything AND the loml @catholicdaredevil helped me edit it. they worked some magic on this piece. there's going to be four parts to this series, totaling around 11k of smut. you're welcome, enjoy lovelies :)

series masterlist || main masterlist

“Oh I get it. You’re taking me to this party so you can ignore me, like you would in our living room, but in a more stimulating location. Is that right?” you spit at Billy.

“No,” his eyes feel like lasers boring holes into the back of your head. “And if you keep up that tone with me, there’s going to be consequences before we leave.”

“I need to go to this work party. And I want you to come with me because you are my girlfriend.” You can hear the irk of frustration in his voice–“Look at me while I’m talking to you, and I’m not going to ask twice.”

You smack your eyebrow pencil to the counter, letting out a deep sigh and slowly turn to face him.

“I want you to come to this party because I care about you being there. I know that these sorts of things are not your favorite. I know you don’t like talking to my clients, but I want you there so you’re coming.”

Russo has made his declaration – there’s no winning the fight now.

He’s won but you won’t cede that easily. You let your hot-tempered stare fade and simmer the fire burning in the back of your mind. That will be saved for later. Your recourse: you’re going to make him regret bringing you.

“Of course sweetheart, whatever you want,” the saccharine syllables slip from your tongue.

Billy reaches to brush your hair away from your face and then kisses you with such tenderness that you might be able to forget the veiled threat of consequences for your tone two minutes before.

“I promise that tonight won’t be that bad. You remember Frank, right?” You nod your head. “He’s going to be at this event, and I’m sure he’d love to avoid schmoozing these people as much as you.”

Russo made his declaration and laid his own trap, all in the span of a single conversation. Poor Billy.

He knew everything about you, everything that mattered at least. He knew how to make you cum like no partner had before. He could place you on the precipice of pain and pleasure like a fucking god. And he knew it. He knew you were his, he told you it every time you fucked. He owned you. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to hurt him, just a little.

He possessed you but you controlled him.

At any moment, with the flip of a switch in your mind, you could throw him into whatever emotional state you wanted. You could make him worship you. You could make him so angry that he would choke you within an inch of your life. Because you wanted it. You chose it. And you were never going to willingly surrender your power over him.

____

You were right.

Moments into the event, Billy’s hand shifted from its resting place on the small of your back to reach and shake someone’s hand. Then it moved to pat a shoulder. Then to sit against another woman’s waist as he whispered in her ear.

You knew it. This was his routine. This was what made him such a good contractor, he could sell himself so easily. His touch meant nothing to him but everything to those whom it graced.

So you sit, at this party’s open bar, sipping a dirty martini and staring daggers at your boyfriend across the room as he entertains a group of leeches.

But a familiar voice brings a smile to your face, “Castle!!” you call and embrace him in a hug that probably lasts for too long on account of the martini’s gin. And when you do let go, you don’t let your arms drop completely, instead you nonchalantly rest your hands at where his muscular forearms hit his elbow. It’s a flirty stance. Your plan lurches forward. Blame the gin some more.

With Frank, the conversation flows easily. Billy was right, Frank also doesn’t want to be playing the game with the clients in the room – he’d rather be with you where there is nothing to play (or so he thinks).

With Billy, you are always in a long game of chess, planning moves several steps ahead and deciding what to reveal when – “Yes sir,” will gain you something down the line, the rook moves up four; choose to talk back, to fight him, a pawn is taken by a knight. But it’s all part of your strategy, this plan to win against Billy.

Frank doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to know, that he’s a part of that game too. He thinks there’s nothing to play when in reality he’s Billy’s bishop being drawn out to be overtaken by a queen. Cornered.

You even get him to take a shot of tequila with you, which certainly makes him more receptive to your lingering touches. For an extended moment, he lets his hand rest against your waist, and you feel guilt creep at the edge of your consciousness.

“I’ve got to use the restroom,” you spill with a slight giggle, “but when I get back, I’m requesting you dance with me.” As you part, you let your hand graze down his arms, your fingers leaving residual energy between your bodies.

As you walk away, the moment breaks, sobering Frank from the haze of your attention. It settles in that he’s spent the entire time he’s been at this party doing nothing but getting caught up in the affections of his best friend's girlfriend; and that he’s been giving affections back just the same. Guilt twists in his stomach and he knows instantly that he has to own up to it, at the very least apologize and tell Billy it wasn’t intentional.

The good thing is that Billy Russo is easy to find; always surrounded by people, by laughter. He’s a performer, an entertainer, a sun that draws planets and people into his orbit without thought or effort.

The easy part is finding him, getting him alone is where the difficulty lies.

“Billy, dude, you got a minute?” Frank leans in to whisper, sidling up next to his friend. He gets to watch the recognition flash on Billy’s face, familiar to this tone the urgency underlining every word. Billy nods, finishing his rounds with apologies and promises to pick this up again later. “Listen, I uh–”

“Is this about you flirting with my girlfriend all night?” His tone is cold, and unforgiving, disdain written across his face in the tilt of his brows and the tight line that was previously pulled into a grin. That sinking guilt that’s taken up home in Frank’s gut, tightens.

“Yeah, dude I’m so fucking sorry, I just– it all got outta hand before I even knew what was happening, she just had her hands on me and I– I just reacted, y’know? I didn’t– I didn’t mean anything by it I swear.” There’s a pause where they each stare each other down. Frank tries not to react, to ignore the alarm bells that ring in the back of his head at this kind of gaze. It’s hard to fight these instincts they’ve had drilled into them, even when it is just Billy.

“Yeah, I know,” Billy finally sighs, and the tension melts away. Frank’s relieved thinking this is the end of it, before Billy continues, “but, I might need your help teaching her a lesson. I’m getting real tired of this shit she keeps pulling. You in?”

If there’s one thing about Frank and Billy’s friendship at all to know, it’s the loyalty, the dedication that runs deeper than any river. Engraved in their bones is the knee-jerk desire to agree, to follow the other into anything that’s asked of them. It’s no surprise that this is no different.

“Yeah, anything.”

So Billy and Frank make their own plan; unbeknownst to you.

You meet Frank on the dance floor and quickly wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in close enough to notice how he smelled like a campfire after it had rained, woodsy and dark. You could almost get used to how he felt under your hands, absorbing the heat that radiated out of the back of his neck.

You could almost get used to it, but suddenly two familiar hands were on your body-- one on your hip, the other on your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Billy hisses into your ear. His body was tense with anger but you could also feel his hard cock pressing up against the back of your leg.

You start to answer, to try and explain yourself and maybe work your way out of this situation, but all you can get out is an airy whimper as Billy’s hand tightly grips your throat. With this full control over your body, he briskly walks you into an empty room off of the main event space.

Now in the privacy of this room, Billy lets his anger loose. “You’re such a slut,” he says, pushing you up against the wall and tightly gripping your chin. This gives you a chance to gasp in a full breath with his hand removed from your throat.

You got what you wanted, you suppose, he’s really paying attention to you now.

“I’m sorry baby–I just wanted you to focus on me for one night. I’m so sorry that I dragged your friend Frank into it.”

It’s not until this moment that you have the courage to break eye contact with Billy and you notice that Frank is in the room. He flashes you a look of ‘I’m sorry’- sort of.

“So my little slut was so desperate for attention that she had to go put her hands all over my best friend?” Billy goads, shoving his knee in between your legs. “You knew that I was going to find out, and you knew that I was going to punish you for it. Didn’t you?” You nod. “So this is what you wanted, right? You want to be punished for being a slut, while all those people are in the other room?”

God, your body is on fire. Listening to these words spill from his lips, fueled by fury and his own arousal at the nature of the situation. His throbbing dick was probably already leaking precum trapped inside his pants. If he kept you pinned in this position any longer, you might leave a wet spot where your pussy was grazing his thigh anytime either of you shifted your bodies.

“Because you were desperately trying to lure him in with your flirting and touching, Frank gets to watch you take your punishment.”

Frank shifted nervously at the mention of his presence and couldn’t help but adjust his own thickly aroused cock in his tight dress pants.

Billy pulls you with him to the nearest chair and roughly spreads you across his lap. He hikes your dress up to the small of your back and pulls your underwear down. You know his warm-up routine to your spankings like the back of your hand at this point, just like you know how to make sure you’ll receive one. He rubs his hand across your exposed ass, stopping to trace his fingers up your wet slit.

“Oh, Daddy’s slut is already fucking dripping. I can’t wait to get you home and fuck this pussy till you can’t walk for days. Alright baby, it’s gonna be 20 this time. And I want you to say ‘thank you’ after every single one.”

“Yes sir,” you respond, understanding your role in this. You think you know how far Billy will go, but you didn’t expect Frank to be in the room right now, touching his cock over his pants, searching for some sort of relief. Even focused on you, Billy still notices the awkward shifting of his friend, fingers ghosting over the outline of this quickly hardening dick.

“God Frank, you look miserable right now. You can take your cock out of your pants as long as you promise to stop looking so uncomfortable,” Billy granted, allowing some relief for his poor friend.

“--And you, baby, you’re going to look Frank in the eye and say your ‘thank you’ to him, for his help in getting you into this mess.”

Damn, Billy truly knows how to push all your buttons, even ones you didn’t know existed. You look up at Frank with his cock in his hand and a new rush of heat spreads across your abdomen, just as Billy lands his first smack on your ass.

“Thank you,” you say to Frank and he lets out a sharp gasp, intoxicated by the situation. Another smack lands hotly on your ass.

“Thank you.” Frank begins to stroke his throbbing cock. Another smack and you begin to lose yourself in the pleasure and pain of the situation, but not far enough to forget your ‘thank you’s.’ Time passes as hits rain down, Billy taking care to evenly disperse his handprints over your skin. You’ve lost count – it’s just sting and tears and an unbearable heat building in your core.

“Oh God man, I’m going to cum,” Frank rasps out, still entrapped in the pleasure of watching you experience pain at the hand of his best friend.

“I think your cum will look really nice on this little slut’s face, don’t you think baby?”

“Yes sir,” you stutter, struggling to keep your head above the delirium that your arousal is threatening to drown you in. Billy reminds you of your role with another sharp hit, “Thank you.”

Frank closes in on you, desperately near his release. “Fuck this is too hot.” Frank groans and shoots hot ropes of cum onto your face. The feeling of his warm, sticky seed dipping across your face finally drowns you in your arousal and need. Billy lets you know the punishment is over by guiding your limp body up to rest against his chest.

“You did so good baby, Daddy’s so proud of you. You look so pretty with Frank’s cum all over your face,” Billy murmurs into your neck as he holds you close.

He always does this, giving you time to come down from all the emotions of the punishment, letting you know how deeply he cares about you. He runs his hand up and down your back, gently stroking your hair.

“Yeah baby, you look so pretty. Say goodbye to Frank, we’ll see him later after we get you cleaned up.” You muster the energy to raise your head and give Frank a parting glance, before nuzzling back into the comfort of your boyfriend’s familiar scent, bergamot and smoke.

After giving you time to catch your breath Billy whispers into your ear, “Come on baby, lemme help you clean up.” You look into his eyes and see all the rage and frustration of the evening has faded back into his normal state of deep, warm care.

He takes his thumb and uses it to wipe away Frank’s cum, presenting it to you every so often to lick clean. Once your face is presentable again, he pulls your underwear back up from their resting place around your ankles, careful not to create too much friction as they move over your ass, which has been marbled a nice red/purple by Billy’s handiwork. He fixes your dress before pulling you to your feet.

“Now next time baby, just tell me you want to get Frank involved, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

You giggle and wrap your arms around Billy, but his statement does make you think about what next time can be....

[athyathye]

for requests... this girl that gets up close with the bf only to drag him away to threaten him and tell him how much more the reader deserves and that he should break up with reader so reader can be with her.... and then she comes back and starts flirting with the reader while the readers here like 'lol get wrecked' to her bf but also 'no thanks i like my bf thanks for the compliments tho' with ran rindou sanzu and wakasa :0 tyyyy <3 take care of urself :0

Sneaky Link

Author's note 📝: Reminder that maximum number of characters in a request is 3, thank you for requesting~!

Warnings ⚠️: yeaaaah~ regular curse words!

(Rindou, Ran and Sanzu)

Rindou :

❥ Flabbergasted would be an understatement, mans was bamboozled!

❥ It was an outcome he never would have thought of, let alone experienced.

❥ He was sure things like that could only happen to his older brother who was the equivalent of a salivating dog.

❥ Rindou knew you could pull even the harshest men on the planet. Him being a perfect example. But he wouldn’t have thought that a person would be able to stand straight against him for you, let alone a girl.

❥ Call him sexist, but he had never seen a woman so fierce and…idiotically brave to look at him straight in the face and claim she likes you, HIS girlfriend.

“...What?” Rindou had to make sure he heard correctly, if his ears weren’t betraying him like his face was.

“You heard me. You’re not worth y/n. She deserves better!” The woman was in hysterics, perhaps it was true that love could make one crazy. “She deserves me!” She pulled at the younger Haitani’s collar which greatly shocked him.

“Hey, I don’t know what kind of intimidation tactic this is, but it sure as hell ain’t working…you better back off before I do something I’d regret-”

“The only thing you’ll ever regret is not giving her to me! Why should she-”

“Is there a problem here?” A familiar voice dripping with sweet saccharin cut the conversation. Both people’s attention were redirected towards you who was leaning on the doorframe with a troubled look.

“Not at all, Cutie! Rindou over here was just ranting on how much he thought he didn’t deserve you, and I was reassuring him he definitely was! …N’t” She gazed away from your suspicious glance.

“Hold on, I was what now?” Rindou truly believed he went through whiplash because how in the hell-

“Ha? Rindou? Again baby? I thought I made you stop thinking so negatively about yourself” You pouted as if disappointed.

“I said wait! Wha-”

“You know what? We’re going to have a long talk.” You pulled on his dress shirt, dragging him with you as you searched for the exit, Rindou turned around.

The woman behind him was smiling so…viciously. Her mouth opened, the shape of her mouth was all he could focus on. Deciphering what her lips read he gulped. ‘Women are definitely scary...'

Ran :

❥ Utterly confused and humiliated.

❥ Arrows shot bullseye to the heart, face burning hot both in anger and embarrassment, eyes seeing red but doesn’t dare to make a move.

❥ It was a first for Ran Haitani to get humbled so bad that he had to sit in a chair to calm himself down. 

❥ With his reputation, no one would ever doubt that he would be a ‘chick magnet’. He was proud of that title but was willing to lose it once you came around.

❥ He thought of the girl that tried to lure him to be one of those that were shameless, as shameless as he used to. But perhaps, he should’ve never doubted the power of your charm.

“You here alone?” A seductive voice belonging to a seductive beauty. Ran was an expert in the appearances of the opposite gender. He knew a jewel once he saw one, part of the reason why he never wanted to let you go. To him beauty equaled status, both in men and women but in different categories. 

Women flocked him left and right even if he wasn’t a bachelor anymore, he was never going to admit it to you but those experiences boosted his ego to the point where he believed himself to be one of the most desirable men in their area.

“Why? You gonna buy me a drink?” He flirted back. If people were willing to entertain and suck themselves dry in order to please him, then by all means he would let them.

“Ha ha, no. On the contrary, I’m here to issue a warning.” The woman looked too proud and confident to be making a joke. Ran raised an eyebrow, letting the sly expression on his face fade in not longer than a second.

“Who sent you?” Was all he said, taking the statement as a declaration of war against his gang. On high-alert and ready to call back up as soon as the conversation was over.

“The pride of a woman in love.” ‘The hell? Is this b*tch playing with me? Or is she insane?’ Ran couldn’t figure out her motives. 

“Break up with y/n.” 

“Yup, definitely insane.” Ran turned to leave, discomfort painting his face.

“The insane one here is you thinking you had a chance with her! Wake up, Haitani! You don’t deserve her! Not you nor your little junior!” 

If anger and embarrassment mixed together could be in a physical form, it would be Ran's face right now. The fact that she had shouted that in the middle of the party meant everybody heard it. And he wasn’t one to be embarrassed by stuff like that, but the woman had already got under his skin by saying your name.

“Haha, Hate to break it to you. But I actually like him. Little junior and all. Thank you for the compliment though!” Why would you say that!? And why the hell did you look so ecstatic!? Nothing made sense in Ran’s mind.

All he knew was that he suffered and had been defeated that night. And he didn’t think he could show his face for the next few days.

Sanzu:

❥ She was a friend. And that was the only reason she could get away with everything that had happened.

❥ All Sanzu could do was grit his teeth because he wasn’t high enough to excuse what could have been his next actions on the booze.

❥ It wasn’t that Sanzu was possessive. But he truly believed that maybe locking you up in a closet would make way less trouble for him. People wouldn’t be falling for you left and right, and only he could witness the sight of your beauty.

❥ He was already a madman to begin with, doing that would have not added to the already messed up life he lead. The only thing stopping him was the fact that even if he wanted to mess everything in his life, he could never mess you.

❥ So when the threats of another person taking you filled his mind, he never bothered with it because she was your friend. But there was a limit to where his patience stood, and it was never long to begin with.

If only the crude words of “F*ck off!” could leave Sanzu’s lips right now. He had to hold himself back from causing a rampage in his very own home as he watched another girl present herself like a feast to his oblivious girlfriend.

Sanzu thought of your cluelessness as an adorable feature of yours, but as of this moment all he could do was loathe it. Watching as the woman who had incurable feelings for you feed you strawberries dipped in white chocolate.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you excused yourself which left both Sanzu and your friend to do whatever they want in your absence.

“You look so hideous that I want to retch everytime I see you.”

“You’re not so pretty yourself.” Sanzu replied on his spot on the couch. “Two-faced b*tch” He mumbled as he ignored the imaginary snake fangs wanting desperately to bite him.

“I don’t even know what y/n sees in a good-for-nothing man like you-”

“Yeah? Well you stink! Everything about you stinks that even now I can’t breathe with you around!”  Sanzu’s patience thinned, he was genuinely considering how to hide her body.

“Ehem, are you both done?” you entered the room once more. Trying to hide the smile that was threatening to plaster on your face.

“Sorry, f/n. I think you should go home for today. I had fun though!”

“Awwe, anything for you y/n!” You escorted her out. Once back in the living room with both of you alone. It was Sanzu who broke the silence.

“Are you having fun?”

“To be honest, yeah.” The laugh you had let out was what relieved Sanzu’s burning urge to kill. “It was always me who got jealous so at least now you feel me.”

“Alright alright. I won’t do anything anymore- So just until when are you gonna keep her around?”

“Probably for a while. I’m quite fond of her.” Both of you were mad.

[sonder-paradise]

Crossroad

Cause Disney made me soft T^T and I am obsessed with descriptive writing

Genre: Fluff (it feels a little bittersweet tho)

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You cross paths with an interesting man at a bar one evening and suddenly it feels as if the stars have aligned perfectly for you two

The night felt like a shower of moonbeams. The smell of bourbon and Sherry drifting in the caramel-colored bar. It felt like a strange memory in retrospect. But you couldn’t help but gaze around the somewhat crowded bar. The world seemed to move so quickly sometimes and at first the trip to the bar had been so impromptu.

You were supposed to go straight home after work. But the rain had felt so strange against your skin and the warm aura of the nearby bar had beckoned you into a sweet embrace. And so here you sat now, listening to the dull chatter of the people inside. People that you would most likely never meet again. There were only ever a few people that could make you feel loved and they would never be one of them.

Every once in a while someone would laugh loudly. You could feel your stomach churn at the sound. Laughter was meant to be medicine but tonight it felt more like poison. The whiskey in your cup shined like liquid gold but you honestly had gotten it just to feel less anxiety about being in such a public place. You should have just gone home like you planned instead of being somehow lured into the falsity of a place you knew wasn’t meant for you.

Eyes scanned the bar. A couple was busy in the corner, sharing stolen kisses and whispering sweet nothings while giggling into their wine glasses. An older man skimmed a torn, leather-bound book, his glasses glinting in the auburn lighting when he turned a page; His bourbon sitting half-finished to his left. And then a young woman, her eyes gazing at her phone while a beer keg settled in her painted hands.

But your gaze stopped at the young man sitting only two chairs away from you. It seemed he too had been skimming the room because the second your eyes met his, there seemed to be an electric glow in the air. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that you had gone into the bar that night. Or perhaps in fate. Personally, fate is in the hands of the believer.

But whatever the case, you were utterly entranced by him. His eyes, a saccharine blue, seemed to be filled with a million heartbreaks and yet a subtle yearning for genuine devotion. His eyes. In all honesty, you could have gotten lost in them forever. He looked at you as if he had found the missing piece of a puzzle.

You admired his hair. A shade of flaming red that rivaled even the most scintillating fire. It seemed so perfectly done and you admired that he was someone that clearly took care of his appearance. It was a little strange to find someone that looked so put-together and yet so disorganized at the same time. You wondered why he had that lovelock. What was the story behind the hat that was so neatly placed on his hat?

You noted the black gloves he wore, the choker buckled around his neck, the scars littering his upper arm. The wine bottle beside the practically empty glass. It was half-full, or was it half-empty? Whatever the case, it seemed he enjoyed the aged stuff. The kind that made you think of someone that was trying his best in a broken world.

What his story? You imagined it wasn’t a good one.

How would he play a part in yours? Maybe he wouldn’t at all.

Either way, in the brief second his eyes met yours, the two of you had cross paths. And as you smiled at him, he smiled back with a slight nod.

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