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delulustateofmind · 3 days ago

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Childhood

Description: Childhood friends to...? Geto Suguru x Reader

TW: ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, Mentions of abuse (physical and implied sexual), Blood, Bullying. Reader dies.

WC: 6.6k (yeesh)

A/n: I love a good childhood friends to lovers trope for Suguru. It just fits him. I might post the draft where reader lives, but I might just keep that locked away, who knows.

You remember the first day you met Geto Suguru.

Your next-door neighbor with boyish charm, he wasn't shy by any means. He didn’t have the long, flowing hair he does now; instead, he sported a short buzzcut for the summer, a style that made him look mischievous and carefree. His violet eyes, striking even then, seemed almost too bright for the hot days when the cicadas sang their relentless chorus, a contrast to the warmth of his presence. You remember how he would grab your hand with an excitement that buzzed through your skin, dragging you around the playground, his laughter breaking through the sticky summer air like a sudden, refreshing breeze.

You also remember the rainy days that painted the world in shades of gray, days when the air smelled of damp earth and rain pattered softly against your small umbrella. Suguru would stand in front of you, brows furrowed in concentration as he tied your raincoat around you. He would bite his tongue, the tip of it peeking out, as he fumbled with the stubborn knots and clasps. You were both in kindergarten, small and unbothered by anything except the world you built together. He’d let out a triumphant sigh, eyes crinkling as he said, “There, now you won’t get sick!” His voice carried a blend of childish authority and genuine care that made your heart flutter even then. Before you could respond, he would take your hand, smaller and warmer than the rain-slick world around you, and pull you toward the river stream where frogs waited like emerald treasures.

You recall how gently he’d scoop up a tiny green frog, holding it as though it were the most delicate thing in the world. His eyes would widen in wonder, as if seeing magic for the first time, and he’d look back at you with a smile that spoke of shared secrets. “Don’t touch it, we only look...okay?” The sincerity in his voice left no room for argument. He was always protective, even in the small things, a guardian of moments that only the two of you would ever understand.

You remember that Geto Suguru is kind—deeply, quietly kind in a way that echoes through your memories.

One rainy afternoon, you and Suguru were walking along the canal on your way home from school. The cold wind from the early spring nipped at your cheeks, and your fingers felt icy even though Suguru held your hand as tight as he could, his small fingers interlaced with yours. His little face was scrunched up, his nose bright red like a cherry. It made you giggle, but the rain was louder than your laugh.

You liked his laugh.

Suguru’s eyes were so bright, like the shiny marbles you liked to collect, and they matched the rainy day with their deep, pretty purple. They always crinkled when he laughed or got big and round when he was surprised. But today, they looked different—wide and scared. It made your tummy feel funny, like something was wrong. Before you could ask him, your foot slid out from under you, and suddenly the cold water was all around you. The world turned blurry and loud, and you felt the current tugging at you, pulling you down and making your heart race.

You could see Suguru’s eyes through the splashes and the rush of water. He was screaming something, his little hand reaching for you but not close enough to grab. Everything else was a cold, rushing blur until someone—a big person, a stranger—was there, strong arms lifting you out of the water. You gasped and coughed, shivering and soaked, as Suguru ran to you, tears streaming down his cheeks. He hugged you so tight it felt like he was trying to hold all of you together. His crying was loud and messy, and you thought it must be so hard for someone so little to cry that much.

That was the first day you ever saw him cry. Perhaps, the only day too.

The kind stranger walked both of you to Suguru’s house. You were cold and still dripping, and Suguru didn’t let go of your hand the whole time, even though he kept sniffling and staring at the ground. When you got to the front door, he was still holding on, you feared he wouldn’t let go.

Suguru’s mother opened the door, and her eyes—just like Suguru’s, reminding you of violet hydrangeas drizzled with rainwater on a humid summer day, but a little softer—widened when she saw you both. You always liked her; she smelled like flowers and tea, and her hair was dark, long and shiny, like the princesses in your favorite stories. She bent down to look at you, and you noticed her makeup again. It was funny how she wore it—big, purple spots on her arms and a greenish-yellow patch peeking out from under the powder on her face. You always thought it was just a grown-up thing, like how some moms wore bright lipstick or funny dresses. Your mom said it was rude to ask questions, so you didn’t. You just smiled up at her, hoping she would fix everything. You remembered that she was a nurse, nurses always make everything better.

Suguru stayed quiet as you both stepped inside, still clutching your hand, and you felt safe, at least a little bit, with his mom there, her voice soft and warm, promising that everything would be okay.

“Suguru, go change and grab a few spare clothes for Y/N, okay?” she said softly, her voice warm and gentle, as she noticed the way you were trembling. “You’re going to catch a cold. Are your parents home?”

You shook your head. Your mom was out with her new boyfriend. He was strange, and you didn’t like the games you played. Games you didn’t really understand until much later.

She paused, her lips pressed together in a thoughtful line. Then, as if brushing away her concern, she smiled—a gentle smile that reminded you of the delicate fox statues at the temple gates, calm and knowing. A smile that was so like Suguru’s.

You thought Suguru looked so much like his mother.

A few moments later, Suguru returned, his arms loaded with clothes—a soft frog-print t-shirt and a pair of pajamas. He handed them to you, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink. He didn’t quite meet your gaze, eyes drifting to the ground as if embarrassed, but the way he passed them over made your heart flutter with a warmth you couldn’t quite place. You giggled, both at his shyness and at the oversized shirt he was offering you.

You didn’t give the shirt back, though. Not then. And Suguru never asked.

That night, you don’t remember the details—how you fell asleep or how things had progressed—but you do remember getting sick. A cold that left you bundled up in bed while your mother scolded you for not being more careful. You weren’t allowed to play with Suguru for a while. Not until you were well again.

The first summer of fourth grade rolled around, and you found yourself at the park down the street from your house, sitting on the swings. The air was warm, the sky stretched out in soft pastels as evening approached. The hum of cicadas filled the air, and the distant sound of honking cars blended with the laughter of other children playing nearby. You could feel the breeze against your skin as you swung back and forth, watching the world pass by.

Suguru approached slowly, his head lowered, and you noticed immediately: his hair had grown out, longer now, and it looked darker, shinier. It hung just past his shoulders in silky waves. You liked it. It suited him. He looked like his mother—like the fox statues, elegant and a little mysterious.

But as he came closer, you saw the red mark on his cheek—a faint bruise, but it stood out against his pale skin.

“What’s that, Sugu?” you asked, hopping off the swing and reaching for his face before he could pull away. He flinched slightly, his cheeks flushed, and your hand hovered near the mark.

He didn’t speak right away, and when he finally did, his voice was quiet, almost like he was unsure whether he should even share. “My dad came home... Ma says I should play outside until he leaves. I don’t like him very much.”

You felt a knot tighten in your chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard him talk about his father this way, but hearing it again still made something twist inside you. Almost like a tummy ache. You wanted to say something. To ask something.

Instead, you offered him your hand, tugging him gently toward the sandbox where you’d set up your toys. It felt like the right thing to do. To share this quiet moment, away from the things you couldn’t understand, after all, you weren’t an adult. This seemed like an adult thing.

“That’s okay,” you said softly, settling down in the sand “I don’t like my mom’s boyfriend either. We play weird games... but sometimes he buys me a new toy or takes me to McDonald’s if I win.”

Suguru’s eyes widened slightly. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he understood more than you realized. “I wonder if boys get weird when they grow up,” you added, your voice a little quieter now..”

Suguru didn’t take long to reply. He blurted it out, his words tumbling over each other in a rush. “I won’t turn out weird!” His face went bright red as he stood up, almost defensively. “I won’t! I’ll take care of you, and we’ll get married!”

Your laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. It wasn’t a mean laugh—just a joyful one that caught you by surprise. You laughed so hard you almost thought you might fall over.

“We’re getting married?” you asked, trying to catch your breath through your giggles. “Okay, Sugu. When we get older, we’ll get married.”

For the rest of the afternoon, you both let your imaginations run wild. You talked about what your future would look like—what it would be like when you were married. A beautiful, traditional house, like the ones in downtown Kyoto, with a sprawling garden and a giant Sakura tree where you’d have picnics in the spring, drinking tea together. You pictured a big, airy bedroom with futons laid out beneath the window so you could wake up to the soft light of the morning sun.

“And I’ll get you a ring,” Suguru said, his voice brimming with excitement. “It’ll be big and shiny, with lots of jewels. You’ll see.”

You shook your head with a smile. “I want a gem like your eyes,” you said as you carefully packed sand into your bucket, forming the base of your sandcastle. “A violet one, so when I look at it, I’ll always think of you.”

Suguru’s face softened. He looked away, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Okay,” he muttered, almost too quietly.

The two of you played for hours as the sun began to set behind the trees. The orange light stretched across the sky, casting long shadows on the ground. Suguru lingered a little longer than usual, clearly reluctant to leave, but eventually, he stood up, a small sigh escaping his lips. He gave you a brief, almost shy hug before pulling away, offering you that familiar, soft smile.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he promised, his voice quieter than usual.

When school started, Suguru came to you one morning, to walk with you to school and asked, his voice tentatively, “Is it okay if I take a different path sometimes?” There was something in his eyes that made you pause. He didn’t say much, but you knew there was more to the question. “I see things,” he added softly, almost as though he was unsure if he should even speak it aloud.

You didn’t see them—but you nodded, instinctively reaching out to hold his hand as you walked beside him, past places and shadows he pointed out. There were things there you didn’t understand, creatures in the corners of your vision, too fleeting to hold onto. But Suguru saw them clearly. His eyes would follow the shadows, his gaze sharp and focused, and you'd squeeze his hand, hoping to be part of his world, even if you couldn't see what he could.

"Are they like... yokai?" you asked one afternoon as you both sat on the playground during lunch. The warm air wrapped around you, the sound of distant voices fading in the background.

Suguru paused, a little surprised. “Maybe? Can you not see them?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder, as if it baffled him that you couldn’t.

“My parents can’t see them either,” he added with a sheepish laugh. “My dad says I’m going crazy, so I guess I must be,” he murmured, his words trailing off as if he truly wondered if he was losing his mind.

You didn’t hesitate. You blurted it out without thinking, the words tumbling over each other in your haste to reassure him. “No! I don’t think you’re crazy! Maybe you have super cool powers! Maybe you can be the one to protect the weak!” You giggled, swinging yourself higher on the monkey bars.

Suguru’s eyes widened in surprise, and before you could swing too far, he quickly stepped forward, catching you just in time to keep you from falling flat on your face. “Careful!” he muttered bashfully, his hands steadying you as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Protecting the weak, huh?” he said to himself, half in awe, half amused. He pulled out his handkerchief, wiping the sand from your calloused hands with a soft tenderness. “I think I can do that,” he said with a smile, that gentle, endearing smile of his that made your heart skip a beat.

Suguru became your first crush, though you hadn’t the words for it at the time. It was a soft, quiet thing, like a secret blooming in you, one you weren’t yet ready to name.

By the time middle school came around, it wasn’t just you. Suguru had become the object of affection for nearly every girl in your class. It was easy to see why. He was handsome, effortlessly so. His dark hair, now tied into a messy bun, framed his face in soft waves that made him look older, more mature. He was athletic—president of the martial arts club—and the classroom representative, always steady, always reliable.

Girls would swoon whenever he walked by, their hearts practically in their eyes. You’d seen it all unfold countless times: a bashful girl, clutching a love letter, standing beneath the cherry blossom trees, her face flushed as she handed it to Suguru with trembling hands. And Suguru—sweet, gentle Suguru—would always take the letter, smile shyly, rub the back of his neck, and apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he would say, his voice quiet, his eyes soft but firm. “I can’t return those feelings.”

And yet, even after he rejected them, the girls would smile, too—somewhat bittersweetly, but they would smile. Because they understood, in their own way, what made Suguru special. It was the kindness in his rejection, the way he always apologized, the way his heart seemed so gentle, so full of care.

But while the other girls admired him from afar, you became the unspoken resolution to their quiet heartbreaks. It wasn’t long before everyone in your class noticed the way you and Suguru always walked home together, how you always arrived at school side by side, or how you waited by the gates after his martial arts club practices.

It wasn’t long before the jealousy started to manifest.

At first, it was small—innocent, even—little things that were easy to dismiss. You’d find your bento box missing, or your textbooks mysteriously soaked or torn. Harmless pranks, the girls in your class would say when you complained, their voices light, too light. They never did it in front of Suguru.

But the notes? Those were different. The messages scribbled hastily, then slipped into the folds of your books or tucked into your desk when no one was looking. They were direct, a threat veiled in a veneer of sweetness: “Stay away from him, or else.” And though you never showed Suguru the notes, you felt them—each one like a small, sharp stone lodged in your chest.

Suguru noticed, though. He always did, didn’t he? It wasn’t uncommon for him to ask about the scuffs on your textbooks or the faint marks on your arms, or why you always seemed so distracted when he talked. One day, after another prank—this time a textbook torn in half—you stood in the local bookstore’s quiet aisle, searching for a replacement. Suguru, ever observant, was beside you.

“What happened to your books?” he asked, his voice quiet, but his gaze unwavering. “Didn’t you just get that one last week?”

You hesitated, unsure how to explain. His expression softened, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced by your usual excuses. “A friend in my class needed it,” you murmured, a soft lie spilling from your lips. “Her family is really poor… so I figured, why not?”

Suguru paused for a moment, his lips curving slightly as he nodded. “That’s nice of you,” he said simply, his words brief, but thoughtful. You weren’t sure if he knew you were lying—or if he suspected—but you didn’t correct him. His words were always warm, gentle, as though he never doubted you, and that was enough.

You never confessed to him. Not once throughout middle school. You kept it buried—your feelings, your heartache, the quiet ache that pulled at your chest when you watched him walk away from the other girls, always with that same shy smile. You kept it hidden, even as it grew stronger, deeper. Even as Suguru unknowingly became the center of your world.

High school was just around the corner, and it seemed like everything was changing. One late summer evening, as the air began to cool and cicadas buzzed in the distance, you and Suguru sat on the porch of your house, the smell of ripe watermelon lingering in the warm night. The gentle weight of the fruit in your hands was a comfort, but there was an undercurrent of unease—of things left unsaid.

“So, you’re really going to that religious school?” you mumbled between bites of sweet watermelon, your eyes flicking to the sky as if avoiding his gaze. The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

Suguru leaned back against the porch railing, his eyes gazing out at the street. He nodded, though there was something uncertain in his posture. “Yeah. It’s where my mom wants me to go. She thinks it’s best.”

You frowned slightly, pausing to wipe the juice from your chin. “But... you aren’t really religious,” you pointed out quietly. It wasn’t an accusation—it was more of a statement, one you’d thought about a lot. Suguru had always seemed so different from the others, always more grounded, more practical. Religion wasn’t really his thing, and you knew it. You weren’t sure if it was his mom’s wish, or something else that pulled him in that direction.

Suguru gave a small laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked at you, then, his gaze soft but distant. “I’m not,” he admitted, “but sometimes, I think... maybe I should be. Maybe I need something to believe in, you know?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just took another bite of watermelon, chewing slowly, as if trying to process the sudden shift in his tone. He was changing, wasn’t he? You could feel it—the same way you felt that distance growing between you both. It wasn’t something either of you had asked for, but it was there.

And for a moment, as you sat there together, in that soft quiet of the evening, you wished you could say it—everything. The way you felt about him, the way your heart would skip a beat every time he smiled, the way your chest ached at the thought of him slipping away into a life that might not include you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Tears welled up and fell silently as you chewed on your watermelon, the juices almost too sweet, too sharp against the lump in your throat. Suguru noticed, his confident demeanor cracking as he stammered, those fox like violet eyes softening with concern.

“Hey, hey, I’ll still come to visit. I won’t be far… you’re still my best friend.” That’s all you were to him. Just friends. The words should have comforted you, but they only twisted deeper into the ache in your chest. You wished you had done things differently that night. Wished you hadn’t let the fear win.

Before you could stop yourself, the bowl of watermelon slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor as you pushed against his broad chest, the frustration bubbling up like a storm. You bit your lip, bowing your head to avoid the confused look in his eyes. The space between you grew colder, wider.

“You idiot,” you mumbled, the words meant for yourself but landing heavily between you. His expression shifted, hurt flashing across his face, but he didn’t say anything. That night ended in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. When he left, there was no goodnight text, no familiar ping of a morning message. By the next day, he was gone.

Suguru went off to some mysterious religious school, one so obscure that even searching for it yielded nothing but blank pages. You stayed behind, navigating your typical Japanese high school, blending into the background. You weren’t at the top of your class, not even close. Just ordinary.

The girls from middle school remembered you, and they hadn’t forgotten how to sneer. Their mocking smiles followed you down hallways, whispers cutting sharper than any blade. You wished, sometimes, that you’d been sent away too, anywhere but there. But it was fine. You learned to like the quiet, your solitary lunches at the top of the school building.

When the school year ended and summer painted the skies in gold and blue, Suguru came home. You saw him one day, taller and somehow changed, walking with another boy. This one was just as tall, leaner, with stark white hair that stood out like a beacon. His eyes were bright and blue, the kind that drew you in, reminiscent of the ocean under the midday sun. His name was Satoru.

You and Suguru never spoke about the night he left. The silence between you was now familiar, like an old song whose lyrics you’d forgotten.

Suguru introduced you to Gojo Satoru, his friend from the religious school. Satoru didn’t understand the meaning of personal space, it seemed. You watched as Suguru’s eye twitched when Satoru casually slung an arm around your shoulders, a playful smirk hidden behind his glasses.

“Wow! Suguru never told me he had a pretty friend like you waiting at home for him,” Satoru teased, his voice light and teasing. Your cheeks flushed crimson at the unexpected compliment, your heart stuttering in your chest.

“What happened to going home, Satoru? I thought you wanted to train or something,” Suguru said, his tone edged with something you couldn’t quite place, his eyes narrowing at the arm draped over you.

“I wanted to see what a commoner’s life is like,” Satoru said with a casual shrug, his smile unfaltering.

Suguru’s eyes met yours for a brief, fleeting second, filled with something that made your chest tighten. But whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it came, swept away by the playful banter and the summer breeze.

Summer days passed slowly, drenched in the heat of the sun and the chatter of cicadas. Satoru quickly became a regular part of your small circle, his presence impossible to ignore. He was loud, boisterous, with an infectious energy that made the quiet afternoons seem brighter and heavier all at once. And Suguru—he stayed close, always hovering just at the edge of it all, watching with those deep violet eyes that you couldn’t read.

There were moments when it felt almost normal, like nothing had changed between you and Suguru. The three of you would sit by the riverbank, Satoru’s laughter ringing out as he tried to skip stones and failed spectacularly, the smooth rocks plopping into the water with each throw. Suguru would smirk, his usual calm disrupted by the smallest hint of a smile. But then, there were moments when the silence would settle again, a reminder of everything unsaid. You’d catch Suguru’s gaze, his eyes searching yours for a heartbeat before he’d look away.

One afternoon, as the sun began to dip behind the hills and the sky turned a soft, dusky purple, Satoru sprawled out on the grass, hands behind his head. “You know, it’s strange,” he said, his voice light but his eyes serious as he stared up at the sky. “Coming here, seeing how different it is from how I was raised, how the school is- this is peaceful.”

Suguru didn’t respond, just watched the sun dipping lower, shadows stretching long over the ground. You glanced between them, feeling the familiar tug of curiosity. You wanted to ask what their lives were like, what they did in that school that seemed so far removed from anything you knew. But before you could speak, Suguru broke the silence.

“Different is good sometimes,” he said quietly, almost to himself. His expression was unreadable, and something in his voice made your heart twist.

Satoru turned to you then, a mischievous glint back in his eyes. “Hey, we should do something fun before the summer ends. What do people around here do, anyway? Festivals? Fireworks? Don’t tell me all you do is sit by the river.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Suguru beat you to it. “There’s a festival next weekend,” he said, his gaze finally meeting yours. “You should come.”

It felt like an invitation wrapped in layers of meaning, and for a moment, the air between you felt fragile, something you didn’t want to break. Satoru’s grin widened, and he clapped his hands together. “Perfect! I love festival snacks.”

The week leading up to the festival passed with a strange, buzzing anticipation. You spent your days replaying that moment by the river, wondering what it meant, hoping for something you couldn’t quite name.

When the night of the festival arrived, the streets were a whirl of lantern light and laughter, the scent of grilled food mixing with the sweetness of candy. You wore your favorite yukata, its delicate patterns of blue and white mirroring the summer sky. The moment you spotted Suguru and Satoru waiting for you near the entrance, your heart did a little flip. Suguru looked at you for a beat longer than usual, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You however thought Suguru always looked more handsome in traditional wear. You'd never tell him that thought.

“You look nice,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. Satoru, never one to miss a moment, whistled dramatically. “I think you look hot,” he teased, winking at you.

Suguru shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. The three of you walked through the festival together, surrounded by the glow of lanterns and the hum of excited voices. You felt the brush of Suguru’s sleeve against yours, and each accidental touch sent a thrill up your spine.

As the night went on, you found yourselves near the edge of the festival grounds, where the noise softened into a quieter backdrop. Suguru turned to you, eyes thoughtful. “I never told you, did I?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why I left that night.”

Your breath caught, the world around you fading as you looked up at him. The question, the hurt, all of it surfaced in that instant. But before he could say more, a firework burst in the sky above, scattering colors across the night, and Satoru’s voice called out, breaking the spell.

“Hey! You two, you’re missing the show!”

Suguru’s expression shifted, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers. But his eyes lingered on yours, as if to say tonight wasn’t the night.

You never did get to hear what he wanted to say. But you always remembered the way the fireworks lit up his eyes, turning them into pools of shimmering violet and gold. Suguru was beautiful in a way that seemed almost unreal.

After that summer, you saw less and less of Suguru and Satoru. Every time you reached out, you were met with the same response: “Busy,” or, “I have a lot of work.” You tried not to dwell on it, though the ache of distance settled deep in your chest.

One evening, as you studied for an upcoming exam, the summer heat pressed against your skin like a suffocating blanket. The windows were wide open, the occasional breeze doing little to ease the stifling air. The sky outside was a blanket of deep indigo, scattered with stars that twinkled above the quiet street.

Then, a cry cut through the silence from next door. It wasn’t the first time; Suguru’s parents had always been a source of hushed whispers and dark looks. You had grown to understand that his father’s anger was more than just a temper—it was violence. The beatings, first directed at his mother, had eventually reached Suguru when she could no longer shield him. You wished you had known when you were children, before he disappeared to that unreachable school. Maybe you could have done something. Maybe you could have held on to him just a little tighter. But, you reminded yourself that you were both just children, juggling things that a child shouldn't be going through.

A sudden creak jolted you from your thoughts. The front door. You froze, straining to hear past the thundering of your heartbeat. Your mother wasn’t supposed to be home, and the last boyfriend she brought around—the one who had a temper of his own—had vanished weeks ago, leaving you with a sense of uneasy relief.

“Mom?” you called out, voice shaky as you peered into the dark hallway. Silence.

You took tentative steps down the stairs, flicking on the light. There, standing in the dim glow, was Suguru. His face was pale, hair disheveled, and on his clothes—was that blood?

“Suguru?” His name came out as a whisper, tinged with fear and disbelief. Your eyes darted over him, searching for injuries or some sign that could explain the scene before you. But he didn’t move. He only looked at you, a gentle smile cracking the grim line of his mouth as he stepped forward and opened his arms.

“I can finally say it, I love you,” he said, the words hanging in the air like a confession and a plea. The room seemed to close in around you as he pulled you into an embrace. The scent of smoke and blood invaded your senses, sharp and suffocating. Something wet dripped onto your head, and you realized his whole body was trembling.

“I love you,” he repeated, voice soft, almost fragile. “You looked so beautiful that day... in your yukata... you’ve always looked beautiful.” His words tumbled out in a quiet ramble, barely holding together. “I love you so much it hurts... it hurts so much to know that...”

You tilted your head up, eyes wide with questions you didn’t know how to ask, and before you could speak, his lips met yours. The kiss was gentle, desperate, and tasted of salt from tears and the metallic tang of blood. Your body froze, caught between the shock of the moment and the familiar warmth of his touch.

The world outside was silent, but in that moment, everything screamed.

The kiss left you breathless, and for a fleeting moment, you felt like a child again, back in the days when Suguru was just your best friend with laughter that lit up your world. But the metallic taste and the tremor in his body pulled you back to the present, where the Suguru in front of you was someone different—someone haunted.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. There was a depth of pain there that you couldn’t comprehend, an abyss of sorrow that twisted his beautiful features into something almost unrecognizable.

“Why—” you started, but the question choked in your throat as his hand brushed your cheek, fingers trembling against your skin. The warmth in his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could react, he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he said, a tear rolling down his face, mingling with the blood that stained him. “I can’t let them take you away from me. I can’t let this world twist what little good we have left.”

Confusion morphed into a sudden, chilling realization, and your breath caught in your chest. “Suguru, what are you—”

“I love you too much, the higher ups will kill you after what I did. They'll find you, use you as punishment” he interrupted, voice breaking as if the words themselves were ripping him apart. His arms wrapped around you tightly, too tightly, and panic surged in your veins as his embrace turned suffocating.

“Suguru, wait—” you gasped, struggling against him, but he held you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to this world. The wetness against your head spread, the metallic scent growing stronger as you fought to breathe. His strength was overwhelming, something you had never felt from him before.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, almost reverent. The room spun, a whirl of dark shadows and star-speckled sky visible from the window behind him. Pain flared through you, sharp and sudden, and your vision blurred with tears.

The realization was slow, creeping in like ice. His hand, once gentle, now pressed against your side where warmth spread in a crimson bloom. Your strength faltered, and Suguru’s face swam in your vision, eyes glistening as he cradled you. His lips moved, speaking words that sounded far away now.

“It’ll be over soon,” he promised, as if trying to convince himself more than you. His voice was soft, desperate. “We’ll be together one day... no one will take you from me.”

Your limbs grew heavy, your body slumping against his. The pain dulled, replaced by a chilling numbness that seeped into your bones. Suguru’s face hovered above yours, tears streaking his bloodied cheeks as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

The room dimmed, the noise of the world fading into the distance. Suguru’s whispered, broken words were the last thing you heard, “I love you. I’ll keep you safe now.”

Darkness folded over you like a shroud, and the last image in your mind was of the boy you had known, standing in the light of a summer day with violet eyes full of wonder. Suguru, your friend, your everything, who now held you in an embrace.

The warmth of Suguru’s arms faded, replaced by a numbing cold that seeped into your bones. When you slipped away, Suguru was still holding you, his body shaking with quiet sobs as the reality of what he’d done settled over him like a suffocating blanket.

Minutes felt like hours as he knelt there, your lifeless form cradled in his arms. The weight of his actions bore down on him, a crushing force that stole the breath from his lungs. The room was silent now, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air. His violet eyes, wide and unfocused, glistened with tears that refused to stop falling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the empty room, the words a broken mantra. “I’m so sorry.”

The night stretched on, the stars above unblinking witnesses to the scene below. Suguru’s mind spun with memories—your laughter by the riverbank, the way your eyes lit up when he said something that made you smile, the warmth of your presence that had anchored him through so many storms. And now, that warmth was gone, snuffed out by his own trembling hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, the world outside moving on without him.

Suguru’s hands clenched, nails biting into his palms until they drew blood. He lifted his gaze, eyes red and swollen, and looked at you one more time. The peaceful expression on your face was almost unbearable; it made it seem as if you were merely sleeping, ready to wake at any moment. But you wouldn’t. And that truth cracked something deep inside him.

He stood slowly, legs trembling under the weight of exhaustion and grief. The blood on his clothes had dried, stiff and crusted, but the scent still clung to him, sharp and unforgiving. Suguru took a shaky breath and glanced at the front door, the place that once symbolized safety and warmth now nothing more than a reminder of what he had lost.

As he stepped into the night, your lifeless form cradled in his arms, the cool air bit at his skin, carrying with it the distant hum of cicadas and the faint rustle of leaves. Behind him, two little girls followed, their small steps quiet and cautious. Their eyes, wide with a mix of fear and trust, never wavered from Suguru’s figure as they walked together into the night. There was much to do.

In a few years, Suguru had built that traditional house you both dreamed of as children. The structure stood proudly, nestled in the serene embrace of the countryside, with a wide veranda and sliding paper doors that creaked softly in the breeze. In the garden, the large sakura tree bloomed each spring, its petals drifting like whispers over the spot where your ashes were laid to rest.

He sat in the bedroom, the one where his futon lay by the large window so the first rays of morning light could touch his face, waking him gently—just as you had always imagined. The light bathed the room in a warm glow, but it could not reach the shadow that lingered in his heart. He was fulfilling the dream he had stolen from you, keeping it alive with each passing day.

Suguru’s gaze shifted to the Sakura tree, its blossoms swaying in the morning air. He closed his eyes, feeling the ache of longing bloom anew in his chest. He had much left to do, so many things to set right before he could allow himself to rest. Before he could find his way to you, wherever you might be waiting.

In the quiet moments, when the world was still and only the rustle of petals filled the silence, he spoke to you. Promises, confessions, hopes whispered into the air with the wish that somehow, you could hear him.

One day, he would join you beneath the shade of that Sakura tree, where time and separation could no longer reach. Suguru held onto the hope that you both could be together once again.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto blurb #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #suguru x reader #suguru angst #jjk angst

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talaok · 2 years ago

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The cheating

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You misinterpret a situation and think that Joel is cheating on you.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, misunderstanding *not proofread*

| Request |

"where's Joel?"

"I'm happy to see you too Ellie" you joked, easing her backpack off her shoulders.

"No, I just mean, he usually picks me up from school" she explained

"He was busy today"

"doing what? What's more important than me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"first of all, I love the way you think, never change it, second off all, I don't really know, he went out in a rush"

"He didn't tell you?"

"no, not really"

"oh I'm gonna have a field day scolding him about not declaring where he's going like he wants me to do"

"he does that because he loves you"

"yeah, well, it's time he gets a sip of his own love" she air-quoted the last word, making you smile.

"you little demon" you chuckled, pulling her closer as you started walking off.

"what the fuck?" you exclaimed, as you swung her backpack on your shoulders "What the fuck do you have in here?"

She looked up at you, a malicious glint in her eyes

"Have you ever heard of books?"

__ __ __

"So how was school?" you asked, as you rounded a corner to get onto the main street.

The wind was blowing but the sun was up in the sky, resulting in the perfect temperature.

The pebbles under your feet sounded with each step as the commune's buildings started surrounding you.

"useless, as usual," Ellie grumbled, her tone scarily matching her dad's.

"oh c'mon, I'm sure you learned some interesting things"

"nope"

You glared at her "Did you at least have some fun?"

A smile crossed her face "That I did" she said, "Me and Dina found a dead frog!"

"ew! gross!" you grimaced "You call that fun?!"

She laughed "I do, it was so soft and... sticky" She touched her fingers like the feelings still lingered on them, and you watched with more than a bit of terror as her eyes sparkled at the memory.

It was at times like this you wondered just how much she had taken from Joel.

"I'm gonna puke" you commented, making her snort

"Relax we didn't do anything bad, Dina insisted we gave it a funeral"

"thank god" you breathed a sigh of relief "That poor thing,"

"We buried it under a tree and gave speeches and everything, it was really moving"

"What did you say?" you asked, as you surpassed the refectory

"You know, the usual stuff" she shrugged "How good of a frog she was, how she'll be deeply missed yadda yadda yadda"

"of course" you chuckled "the usual stuff"

She smiled too now "I'm fucking starving" she moaned

"language" you reminded her, and as usual, got in return the same scowl that told you: first just how hypocritical that was coming from you, and second, that she was never gonna listen to you, and you both knew it.

"Why?" you ignored her look "Didn't you eat?"

"Today was vegetable loaf day" she responded like that was enough of an explanation.

"So what? That sounds good"

"it may sound good, but when you get that green goo on your plate I promise you're gonna change your mind"

"goo?" you made a face

"Yes. Goo." she repeated, "They say Ms. Meril dumps all the rotten vegetables into a pot and then adds a special ingredient, that I personally believe to be..."

You had stopped listening to her a while ago as your eyes stared at the image in front of you.

You would have recognized that hair from a mile away.

He was there. Joel was there.

And not alone.

Your eyes fully focused on the man and woman in front of the pub.

You could see they were talking, and not just that.

Her hand was on his chest, as she stood so close to him they could probably taste each other's breaths.

You couldn't see his face, Joel's face, your boyfriend's face, but what you could very well see was that he wasn't pushing her away or protesting in any other way.

If you hadn't known any better you would have thought they were about to kiss.

And just then, you realized that you did, in fact, not know any better.

You felt your heart speed up, as your feet slowed down, unconsciously coming to a stop.

That's why he had to leave in a rush?

To go fuck another woman?

As much as you felt the rage boiling inside of you like a fire, what really prevailed was the pain of the realization.

You stood there, watching them, as tears clogged your throat.

So much for I love you

So much for I was lost before you

You could physically feel your stomach twist and turn and suddenly you were nauseous.

All this time, you thought, and he's cheating on me

"Hey, you ok?" Ellie's voice was distant, muffled behind the wave of emotions coming at you.

When you didn't respond, she followed your line of sight, still firmly pointed at the pair.

"Oh fuck" she said quietly, making everything worse.

You had secretly wished she would have seen something else, given you an explanation, and laughed at how crazy you were being, but her tone told you everything you needed to know.

"I'm-I'm sorry y/n"

Never, had you heard her stutter.

"I can't believe this- he's an asshole, I'm gonna-" she took a breath "I'm gonna beat him up, and he's gonna regret this, I swear"

As much as you wanted to laugh, you feared the moment you opened your mouth a sob would have fled it instead.

"I can't believe this" she repeated, and the truth was, you couldn't either.

You were happy. There was nothing that didn't work, you had a great relationship, you barely fought, you loved each other's presence, everything was good... or so you thought at least.

And he had thrown it all down the drain

And for what? For some slut he just met?

No, you immediately stopped yourself, No I'm not gonna be one of those women that blames the other woman.

This is all his fault.

He's a cheating, lying bastard who doesn't deserve a minute more of my time, you decided, taking a breath.

"Let's go," you told Ellie

She frowned, confused "A-are you sure"

"let's go"

__ __ __

Ellie hadn't left your side for a second.

You were sat side by side on the couch, your gaze fixated on the chimney in front of you, as Ellie probably rummaged through her mind to think of something to say.

You were frozen. All the anger and the pain mixing together to create a seeming numbness.

"Listen I-"

Ellie's words immediately stopped when the front door opened.

"Hi, I'm home!" He half yelled from the entrance.

"Hello?" He spoke again once he didn't get an answer.

His heavy steps sounded against the floor as he started walking to the living room.

"Where is every-" he stopped once he saw you "There you are, why didn't you answer?"

The confusion on his face only multiplied once you took both your expressions in.

"what is it?" he asked, clueless "I'm sorry I couldn't come get you today something came up"

"Yeah, something," Ellie remarked, disappointment clear in her tone.

Joel frowned "What are you talking about?" he asked, "what's she on about?" he turned to you now.

You were about to speak when the girl beside you interrupted you.

"You know very well what I'm talking about Joel, don't play dumb"

The wrinkles on his forehead increased as his puzzlement persisted.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she said "I can't believe you would do something like that, especially to y/n"

"what are you-"

"we saw you" Ellie anticipated his question "In town"

"I don't kno-"

The girl wouldn't let him speak, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't make you feel a tiny bit better.

"there's no point in lying anymore we saw you with our own eyes Joel"

He looked at you once again, and you adverted his gaze to look at the very angry girl at your side.

"thank you, Ellie, but I think I can take it from here"

She hesitated, looking between you two "You sure?"

"yes" you swallowed your nerves away "don't worry"

She shot Joel a look for far longer than necessary and then finally got up.

"alright" she nodded "I'm gonna go next door then, but if you need anything just yell," she said, starting down the doorway, but not before stopping at Joel's side "And you... I'm not talking to you anymore" she decided, getting out and closing the door behind her.

The silence that filled the room was louder than any sound you'd ever heard, except the one of your pounding heart of course.

You stood up, walking to the other side of the couch so you were facing him but you were still carefully distant.

"What is going on?" Joel finally spoke

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you needed to keep your cool because you're sure as hell not wasting any voice or tears over this asshole

"Joel I know you're cheating on me, or at least have cheated"

"What?"

"When I was getting Ellie home from school we saw you in front of the pub"

You watched as realization crammed his face.

"y/n that was not what you think"

"I'm sure it wasn't Joel" you rolled your eyes "Listen I don't care for any lame excuse or apology, I just need to know one thing... why?" you said "You at least owe me that. Everything was good wasn't it? What was it that made you feel the need to go and fuck some other woman?" for all your promises your voice was getting louder.

"I didn't- y/n I've never cheated on you"

"stop lying!" you burst "Be an adult and fucking own up to what you've done!"

"y/n" he stepped closer to you and you took a step back.

"stop" You put a hand in front of you, signaling for him to not take another step "Answer my question"

Now he took a breath. And god if you didn't want to punch him.

You're frustrated? You're mad? How do you think I feel?

"y/n" he spoke again, his tone more even, "I swear to god sweetheart I have not cheated on you. The woman you saw me with is Jessie, She's just Tommy's friend. Nothing happened, Of course, nothing happened baby, I love you, you know that. I would never hurt you”

“Oh please, so you're telling me all of Tommy's friends get their mouths that close to yours?"

His lips gaped open, as he struggled to find the right words.

"Alright," he breathed, convincing you you were about to get a confession.

A mix of nausea and homicidal rage electrified your body.

"She is... well, she had been- flirting with me," he said "But I've never led her on, sweetheart, I would never do that, I don't have eyes for anyone but you" he sighed, and his deep brown eyes were pained "Listen," he took a step, and this time, for some unknown reason, your feet wouldn't budge, "My brother called me about an emergency and I rushed there to help"

"an emergency at the pub?"

"just-" There was anxiety and sadness creeping up his voice "Please let me finish, I swear it's not what you think baby"

"fine" you nodded

"I helped him out and he invited me for a drink over at the pub and I accepted. We talked for a while and then when I was about to go, Jessie showed up, and she was trying to get me to go to her house, to which I said no and headed out, but she kept following me until we were outside, and that's when she cornered me and I decided it was time to stop being nice and tell her I don't want anything to do with her"

Silence fell again.

"I can call Tommy if you want, he saw all of this"

"Like he wouldn't lie for you" you commented

"You're right, but you also know how strict he is about these things"

that's true, you had to admit.

"Please sweetheart" he begged, his hand trying to grasp at yours "Y/n I love you, I love you more than anything, I'd give my life for you, I'd do anything for you" he promised "I know it's hard to believe me but I swear to anything and anyone you want that I'm telling the truth. we can even ask Jessie if you want, just please- I need you to believe me" If he sounded desperate it's because he was.

"If that's true why didn't you push her away?"

"I-" he stuttered "I didn't because I didn't want to cause a scene, I just wanted to talk like a civilized person, like you always say I should do more"

You bit your lip, trying to make some sense of the mess in your brain.

"Joel" you huffed "Are you being honest? Because I'm giving you a chance to come clean now and if I were you I'd take it"

"I am" he answered within a second "I am sweetheart, I'd never cheat on you, you're the love of my life for god's sake," he said, his hand finally grasping yours.

You looked up at him, and a dark pang of surprise came over you as you noticed the glinting glaze on his eyes matching yours.

"please" he murmured "I can't lose you y/n, not over something like this. I understand how you could have misread things, I do, but I promise that's not what happened." he breathed "I'm yours y/n, I only want to be yours"

Your eyes fell to where your fingers intertwined, all the memories rushing back like a raging river.

"You promise?"

"I promise," he said, and you believed him. because this was Joel Miller we were talking about, the man that you had fallen for since he first saved you, and kept falling for each time he saved you again. He was a good man, no, not the traditional definition of that term, but to you, he was a good man, the best man.

"alright" you decided "Seems like I'm gonna have to have a talk with Jessie"

"And I with Ellie" A small grin tugged at his lips

"Oh she's pissed alright" you chuckled "I don't know if I'd do that if I were you"

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semperamans · 5 months ago

Note

yk that one clip of joseph quinn fixing lupita nyongos dress strap when i slipped on the red carpet and picturing benny doing that so casually GIRLL

grrrrrrr woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof

also known as the two times benny adjusts your clothing and the one time he doesn't :) (ft johnny because i am so insane)

slight voyeurism? LOL! i am FUCKING NUTS and i am so sorry! smut happens below the read more line, so only venture down there if you feel up for it!

it’s the first day of summer and benny couldn’t be any happier even if he tried. the guys think he’s snorting something or off his fucking rocker because he’s smiling. he’s got that dazed, happy-go-lucky look he usually only has when you’re around, but this is constant and has been since the club made the three hour journey to this lakeside piece of paradise. it’s not like a run where benny has to stay on high alert. it’s not club business, more of a family gathering, and he’s is just happy. can’t a guy be fuckin’ happy? right now he’s laying on the sun warmed grass, tan skin still glistening with leftover lake kisses. he can hear cockroach and his son somewhere over on the rickety pier, their bobbers plinking in the water, and the not-so-welcome advice from zipco who is a self-proclaimed master fisher. corky, cal, and sonny are hunting for frogs, the fucking bozos, with their swim trunks pulled up to their belly buttons, knees sinking quickly into the sweet smelling swell of the lakeside. they’re giggling damn near louder than the girls who are bouncing each other popcorn style on the trampoline and, fuck, benny just really likes life right now and likes it even better when something blocks the sun from his face and he opens his eyes to sees you. you’re wearing a swimsuit and a big smile and benny can’t help it. he reaches up, grabbing your arm, and with a swift pull, you’re toppling onto him. a squealing giggle bursts from your lips as you attempt to squirm away, but it’s no use. “you’re gettin’ me all wet!” “thought you liked when i did that?” your eyes widen, hand playfully coming to cup his mouth shut. in all the commotion your swimsuit strap has slipped and now loosely dangles near your elbow where benny just can’t help but look. you move together, your hand sliding from his mouth, fingers brushing through his damp curls; his callused fingertips birthing goosebumps as he situates the strap to its rightful position. “gimme a kiss?” he asks, taking your face between his palms. he tastes like summer.

the days melt into one another all hot and sticky like dripping ice cream. summer’s heat is unrelenting and benny has an almost radiant golden glow to his skin. the respite from the city has all of you slowing down, appreciating the little things: the way the sun tucks herself into the lake at night, the sweet zing of homemade tea, the giggle of gail and brucie's baby girl, and how capturing these moments together somehow bring each of you closer. it's not hard to adjust to this lifestyle. your days consist of swimming and baking and laughing and drinking and telling stories and hiking and you even find a liking for astronomy when the stars you’re studying happen to form new constellations on benny’s shoulders and down his spine. somehow he's more handsome here, if it's possible and tonight he's hauntingly beautiful in the sun's dying glow and angelic against the wavering bonfire flames that flick warmth over your chilling bodies. you can't stop looking at him but cal, who refuses to sit still, has finally wired that damn radio the right way and it crackles to life. there are cheers all around, beers hoisted skyward as a bluesy country song everyone seems to know hisses out of the aged speakers. perched atop stumps and spread over foldable chairs, a singalong begins. the boys drunkenly toss their arms over one another, lifting their chins to serenade the moon. even benny joins in. he's got one arm around you, the other holding tightly to johnny's waist as he sings with this elvis-like intonation. he looks down at you and can't explain it but you just look like you're his. maybe it's the t-shirt you're wearing, but no, it can't be. it's gotta be johnny's, benny's shirts are big on you but not so big that the collar droops down past your collarbone. benny likes it and grins and tells you he likes it and rights the fabric before pinching your cheek because god you're fucking cute.

it's five beers, four shots, and three singalongs later when johnny notices two people are missing. he rises, all wobbly legs and swirling colorful flashes as he extracts himself from the group. when did you and benny slip away? he can't seem to remember and it's not a big deal, not really, but he misses the two of you and just wants to see what you're up to and oh. he shouldn't be watching but his feet have grown roots. he can only see benny at first; the corded muscles in his back waning and flexing with exertion. but then he hears you. my god. the soft little gasp you puff into the air, the way you so delicately say benny's name like you're savoring the flavor of each letter-dragging them out, rolling them over your tongue. johnny shouldn't be watching. shouldn't be watching. can't stop watching. can't turn away. can't stop himself from uprooting his feet and moving over, over, over until he can see both of you clearly. you're pressed against someone's car, one hand splayed over the candy-red paint the other on benny's shoulder, nails biting into the flesh and johnny feels like a fucking freak and maybe he is but he'll worry about that later because benny. benny. benny. that's what you keep saying and your eyes are watery, he can make out their glint through the darkness thanks to the moonlight and he knows you, knows you cry when there’s a lot going on and there is a lot going on. there is pure desperation in your voice and you’re making these delicate preening whines and fuck you're still wearing the shirt. his shirt. the shirt you slipped from his bag then so innocently swore you didn't take. his shirt. and maybe you and benny want him there and that's why you're still wearing that shirt while benny, while he- jesus. it's rucked up and dirty and pooling over the leg you've got thrown around benny's hip but you don't make any move to fix it and now you're close. somehow the three of you are already so close to the edge and how special is that? sharing something so intimate even though you and benny have no idea. close. that's what you say as you bury your face into benny's neck, as your nails bite deeper and draw blood. close as you look up and lock eyes with johnny then you're no longer close but tumbling over the brink and down into rippling, blissful oblivion.

#y'all are gonna KILL ME FOR THIS ONE #it started off as sweet summer vibes i swear i didn't intend for this to happen #yes i gave bruice a kid bc he deserves happiness #I GOT CARRIED AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#JOHNNY X READER X BENNY #call the nurse bc im out #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders x reader #austin butler x reader #benny cross #johnny davis #the bikeriders #benny cross smut #✍🏼#challengers but with boys on bikes

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dougdimmadodo · 7 months ago

Text

Tomato Frog (Dyscophus antongilii)

Family: Narrowmouth Frog Family (Microhylidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Named for their rotund red bodies, Tomato Frogs are endemic to Madagascar where they are mostly found in wet, well-vegetated environments in the northeast. Spending the day buried beneath damp soil or leaf litter to avoid predation and dehydration, members of this species emerge at night to hunt for beetles, flies and other terrestrial arthropods, and respond to threats from nocturnal predators by inflating their bodies to appear larger and secreting a thick, sticky and mildly irritative substance from their skin, making them difficult for predators to bite or grab. Tomato Frogs breed following periods of heavy rainfall, and like almost all frogs they lay their eggs in water; males, which are smaller and paler than females, gather around suitable ponds or slow-moving rivers and streams during the night and produce low, quiet, grumbling calls, competing for the attention of females. If a female selects a male she will allow him to cling to her back and will carry him around for an extended period as she lays over 1,000 soft, transparent eggs which he fertilizes externally. Shortly after fertilization the eggs hatch into tiny, limbless, fully aquatic tadpoles that gradually develop limbs and lungs over the course of several months - after transitioning to life on land young Tomato Frogs are initially dull brown or pale yellow, gradually developing a redder colouration until they reach full maturity at 2-3 years of age.

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Image Source: Here

#tomato frog #Tomato Frog #frog #frogs #amphibian #amphibians #zoology #biology #herpetology #wildlife #African wildlife #herpetofauna

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chezzywezzy · 3 months ago

Text

Yandere Gwi-Nam (1/4)

Word Count: 3.9k

I remembered that I actually wrote this whole thing for fun several months ago. Might as well use this for an easy peasy ease back into society.

R stared at the email on her phone, her brain scrambling to make sense of the Korean typo in the email. Although she stood in the main hallway, gathering many stares from the native Korean high school students, the posted signs were not the most helpful.

She took in her surroundings once again, adjusting her old and well-loved frog backpack, loaded with stationery. The hoard of students desperate to make it to class on time sometimes collided, and R was astounded at the sheer student population of the public high school. Unlike from her home country, the high school seemed well-funded and quite modern, even compared to the college she was actively attending at home — which had given her this opportunity abroad. The atmosphere made R somewhat anxious.

R sighed, deciding the best course of action — after a few failed attempts of grabbing a frantic student’s attention — was to go to the right and follow past the principal’s office. R’s entire goal was to find the teacher’s lounge. And although one might think to ask the principal, she was terrified of making a poor first impression.

The hallway had grown vacant and silent, only the sound of her footsteps echoing. She noticed her tattoo cover-up sleeves were scrunching slightly, and while walking, looked down to adjust it.

She suddenly heard loud, quick footsteps come from behind. Just as she went to glance over her shoulder, a hard shoulder smashed into her back and knocked R forward onto the ground. She scraped her knees, which created instant panic. As she scrambled to sit and inspect her knee, there was a cruel snicker.

R scowled, recognizing the tear in her leg sleeve. Luckily, R was always analy OCD and overprepared, and knew she could clip it with a pin and hide it under her knee-length black skirt.

Two shoes stopped in front of her. R looked up, unamused. A student who looked far more mature than his peers by a few years toward her with black banks and a Korean-styled mullet. As she was still adjusting from her native tongue to Korean, his words did not register at first.

R’s scowl disappeared as she intently focused on the words.

“Since when does our school let in foreign [unknown]?” he sneered.

R blinked, only assuming it was foul language spitting from his mouth, and rolled her eyes. “You are making a bad first impression on a new teacher.” She intentionally left out the assistant.

She watched as his breath and stance stiffened. “Shit.” He glanced her over, a slight smirk growing. “The school must be desperate if they took in a foreign [whore] with fake hair and tattoos.”

R’s eyes widened and her cheeks darkened, pulling the dark brown wig over her head to hide her brightly dyed hair. She finally brushed herself off and pinned the sleeves together. R returned to her feet, only then recognizing the slight burn in her knees.

“Listen, kid. How about you mind your business and I’ll mind mine? I can already tell you’re an asshole, so I’d recommend you get to your class before I bring you with me to the principal’s office for harassment.”

The student sneered and crossed his arms. There was a momentary tense staredown before he seemed to loosen up, clicking his tongue and walking off — but not without snatching one of her decorative to-do list papers. R sighed, not caring enough to pursue her to-do list. She already seemed fairly unprofessional with her frog backpack, so a pink sticky note with Hello Kitty on it was better off left out of sight.

Despite the aggravating experience, R continued on her way, plastering a smile on her face. Eventually, she found the teacher’s office empty. However, a teacher named Ms. Park had left a name on the door with R’s name and the classroom number. R sighed with relief, heading off to the classroom.

R burst through the classroom door. Ms. Park had been speaking, but all went silent except for the muttering of students. R was nervous, but as time passed, the classroom became as familiar as any other.

~~~

R blasted her somewhat generic pop playlist since the old songs from the 2000s never grew old to her. She was chowing down on her boxed lunch, which was cutely styled like everything else: a Hello Kitty lunchbox, as she succumbed to capitalistic desires of that brand easily.

The concrete, half-built foundation was where she went during the lunch period to get some peace and quiet. During the semester, construction had been placed to a halt except for weekends, as there were frequent noise complaints from school staff and students. To R, it was her perfect hide-away location from prying eyes.

As she finished up her homemade kimbap — an accomplishment R was proud of — Shake It Off began echoing from her phone. R grinned, and she stood up. She sang poorly, but sang with it regardless, even incorporating some equally poor dance moves during the chorus.

R halted mid-song as her stomach had a sharp, sudden pain, hissing loudly and grasping her stomach. She cursed under her breath.

“Eh? How unathletic are you? How embarrassing.”

R gasped in fright, swerving to face the onlooker. She sighed out of relief, recognizing the infamous rule-breaker from her classroom (although he rarely attended class). R had a neutral opinion of the boy, as he was notoriously the “bully’s gopher,” but hadn’t ratted her out or spread any rumors about her unprofessional underbelly.

“At least I’m more athletic than the gym instructor,” R shot back, noticing that the stomach pain had left.

Gwi-nam’s eyebrows raised, adorning a cheeky grin. He often put up an air of unapproachability, but due to R’s semi-authority, it seemed he neither cared to intimidate nor to fake manners.

“You could get fired for saying something like that.”

“I could get fired for a lot of things, kid.”

R went over and sat back on the cement steps, furrowing through her lunchbox and sipping on an internationally imported Capri Sun. Gwi-nam leaned on the crudely placed metal rails, leering over the woman. He eyed the package curiously, as well as the rest of the cutified objects.

“I’m amazed someone like you got transferred here,” Gwi-nam scoffed. “There’s nothing professional about you.”

“My college GPA, past internships, letters of recommendation, and my polyglot status say otherwise. Besides, Ms. Park says I bring a modern level of cultural diversity.”

“God, you’re full of yourself.”

“So what?” R chortled, slurping up the rest of her juice. “I deserve to be a little self-confident. I worked hard to get here.”

Gwi-nam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What the hell are doing out here anyway? I bet you’re too weird to make any friends.”

“Not at all. I just like to eat alone,” R insisted. “Why are you here, kid? Don’t you have anywhere else to be or lunch to be eating?”

“I don’t have friends. Just people I hang out with.”

“Hm. Well, how about some bribery to get you back with your people? Here’s a chocolate bar.”

~~~

R handed the student sitting next to her a tiny container of cut canteloupe and some chopsticks. “At this rate, you owe me an entire hot pot.”

Gwi-nam snatched the bowl, immediately digging in hungrily. “No way,” he grumbled with a full mouth. “That would count as taking advantage of a student. Besides, with how fat you’ve gotten, you obviously have some food to spare.”

R clicked her tongue angrily, swatting Gwi-nam’s neck. “How dare you comment on a woman’s wait like that. With those manners, it’s no wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

The comment made her feel somewhat insecure regardless. Gwi-nam wasn’t wrong. R had been wearing baggier shirts recently, as no matter how much she exercised or ate healthily, it hardly impacted the small stomach bump she had developed in the last two months. The only explanation was that it was from poor sleep, stress, and overworking.

“I’m too busy for that.”

“Too busy because you’re beating up some helpless classmate, right? Don’t think I don’t notice when your knuckles are all messed up. You’re called the bully’s gopher for a reason.”

“You fucking bitch,” Gwi-nam sneered,“ don’t call me that. Just because you know a fucking language doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”

R sent a glare before snatching back the cantaloupe from him. “God, you’re rude and sensitive.”

“As if. Now give me my food back.”

She rolled her eyes. She very much assumed he had home problems and had taken some level of pity on him since the boy showed up in the building every day since their first encounter and had neither friends nor food. But after enduring an all-nighter, she didn’t feel like putting up with his foul attitude.

R shoved her food back into the lunchbox and stood up. As she did so, Gwi-nam’s hands latched onto R, causing her to almost trip. Gwi-nam shouted in irritation, but the sensation of standing had made R feel dizzy enough not to notice. Black dots clouded her vision and she stumbled forward slightly.

“Hey!” Gwi-nam exclaimed, grabbing and pulling her back to the step.

R sat, and it felt as though her stomach vibrated with agony. She let out a hiss of pain and laid back, the lunchbox long forgotten. R gasped and rubbed her stomach, feeling a sudden leaking sensation. It was as though her stomach was hollowing out.

“What’s wrong?” Gwi-nam huffed, aiding in lowering her slowly onto the steps.

“I… I don’t know — I feel…”

“What the fuck —!”

R was confused, focusing on nothing but the sharp cramps. But as Gwi-nam scampered away, R twisted her head up to see what he was looking at. R screeched as she noticed a waterfall of bloody blobs leaking from her white skirt. R reached for her phone but barely felt the ability to move from the cramps. It was as though her period was on blast.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” R shrieked, to which Gwi-nam clumsily withdrew up from his pocket.

He called 119, but nothing other than confusion was displayed in his expression. R heard the muffled voice of an operator, to which Gwi-nam stuttered in reply,“ I - I need an ambulance at the front gate of Hyosan High.” Another few seconds passed before Gwi-nam spat out a few stuttered descriptions of the emergency.

He pocketed the phone before grabbing R’s arms and tugging her up. R grunted, a few tears sliding down her cheek. When R’s legs gave out, Gwi-nam scoffed in annoyance and scooped her up, trying to disregard the blood that stained his jacket.

R grasped onto him for dear life, stuttering,“ What are you doing?”

“What does it look like, stupid?”

A few minutes later, Gwi-nam arrived at the front gate at the knick of time. He flinched at how loud the sirens were as the ambulance pulled up. Nurses rolled out and helped get R into the back, with Gwi-nam deciding to get in the back.

~~~

“Ms. R, it appears you had an intense miscarriage,” the doctor informed the woman, staring at the clipboard. “You were being too hard on yourself during the pregnancy.”

R paled and shivered. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know you were pregnant?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry then. However, you should be able to head home now. Your boyfriend is waiting outside.”

“He’s not my…” R mumbled, watching the doctor walk off.

The nurses helped R to her feet. She was thoroughly cleaned, adorning nothing but the white robe. However, with the state of her old clothing, they had been discarded with instructions to head straight home and change. R slipped on her shoes and shuffled weakly to the open doorway.

His head bobbed sleepily, Gwi-nam was sitting by the door. R wiped away her tears and softly shook his shoulder. R was surprised he had waited, as by the time everything was okayed, the sun had set. Ms. Park had called at some point, but R would deal with the repercussions of a missed afternoon session and after-school office hours when she got home.

“Gwi-nam,” R called.

His head shot up and a snort escaped. His eyes were wide and his brow furrowed. He rose, immediately eyeing her up and down. “What happened? The sons of bitches wouldn’t let me go in to see you.”

R chuckled, insecurely grasping at her stomach. “It was… just a stomach ulcer that got stuck. They had to get rid of it, that is all. I’m alright.”

Gwi-nam’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Eh? All that blood for an ulcer?”

“It’s been growing for two months now.” R glanced around. “You should head home now. Let me get you something from the vending machine. It’s not much, but —“

“You were the one in the hospital,” he gruffly mumbled. “Besides, you were the one who said I owed you a hot pot.”

“Nonsense. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

He snorted obnoxiously. “No, they’re not. So, let’s go.”

Gwi-nam grabbed her arm and started dragging her down the hall to the exit. R protested but with his tight, unrelinquishing hold, she gave in and joined him at a nearby convenience store. After some fuss between them, Gwi-nam was able to take what she grabbed and pay for the food together. R was as grateful as she was surprised by the student’s kindness.

When they sat at the window, R inquired quietly,“ Are you sure your parents aren’t waiting for you?”

“As if. My dad’s probably off at work while my mom’s fucking her new boyfriend in a hotel.” R frowned, to which Gwi-nam snapped,“ Hey, don’t fucking look at me like that. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” she replied. “I’m upset. You deserve better people in your life.”

Gwi-nam tried not to show that the comment had taken him aback, covering it up with a glare and a scoff. However, despite his best cover-up, R noticed how blood rushed to his cheeks. R sent him a sweet smile, unaware of just how impacted Gwi-nam was.

~~~

The door to the classroom slid open loudly, and without looking, R stated,” It’s not like you to be so early for our sessions, Cheong-san.”

When R received no reply, she looked up. She was taken aback to find Gwi-nam standing at the entrance, harboring an unsure and anxious expression with his backpack shouldered. R tilted her head and sent a smile.

“Gwi-nam, come sit. How can I help you?”

“I need help with English, obviously.”

R chuckled as the man plopped into the seat next to hers, backpack on the floor. “I assumed. I was more so asking what you need help with for English.”

“Oh. Uh, with… the homework.”

R found it endearing how nervous he was, glancing constantly at the door. She knew he would rather be caught dead than at a study session, but was incredibly proud of his courage. Gwi-nam pulled out the paper. The class was assigned various Robert Frost poems to decipher. Gwi-nam had been assigned to Stopping by Woods. And instead of just using a translator, Gwi-nam came to R.

“Do you need help with the grammar functions?” R inquired.

Gwi-nam nodded, grabbing a pen. R began explaining the concepts and switching words to make the sentences more comprehensible to a foreign speaker. Gwi-nam was surprisingly attentive until a ding came from R’s phone.

R glanced briefly at the notification, noticing the time. “Ah. I have a scheduled student appointment in a few minutes, so I have to cut this short. Can I pen you in for next Monday?”

“Eh? Why?”

“So that you can come again. If you do, I’ll even bring you a snack. How does three-thirty sound?”

Gwi-nam shoved his notes back in begrudgingly. “Whatever,” he muttered, not meeting R’s eyes.

“Great! See you then. Get home safe, Gwi-nam.”

He didn’t reply, quickly shuffling into the hallway. R’s heart warmed, and a part of her felt somewhat proud that she was making an impact on her student’s life to some capacity.

~~~

R awoke with a gasp, clasping at her bedsheets. It took not a moment after for her alarm to go blaring in her ears. She immediately shut it off and focused on regaining her breath.

Everything was going well in Korea. Work, friends, lifestyle, school (as exhausting as it was to be doing college at the same time as her transfer abroad) — all except the overlying issue.

R had managed to attract a stalker.

It started small, and she was convinced it was a student of hers. She constantly felt watched when nobody was around. Things would go missing from her bag or desk. Then one day, while she was in the office on her own, she glanced over and saw a shadowed figure staring through a crack in the door.

That’s when things seemed to escalate, especially the paranoia. She became more organized with her things and knew when things would disappear. She carried a safety weapon at all times. Sometimes, when a hooded man followed her for a stretch, she’d break for a run.

And then things escalated again — one day, the hooded man ran, too.

That was when, after calling Ms. Park in distress, they went to the police together. R knew that Korea tended not to take cases like her’s seriously, and it’s not as though she knew how to talk to a police officer that well.

With thorough convincing from Ms. Park, they kept an eye on the neighborhood R lived in from time to time. But that hardly seemed to do any good, because that was when R noticed that hooded man outside her apartment building. And then outside her apartment.

R invested in every home safety feature. Door cameras, motion-detecting lights, and a silent break-in alarm if it came to it.

She was terrified and was considering moving, to say the least. Calling the police was a lost cause since they “couldn’t do anything with the footage” and “a crime hadn’t happened yet.”

So R lived in fear. The stalker had even invaded her nightmares.

When R grabbed her phone, she noticed that one of her bear-shaped sticky notes was beside the phone. She went through her notifications before she roused herself. And only then did she notice the content of the sticky note.

Written in messy, almost intelligible Korean, was written ‘The cops can’t do shit.’

R shrieked. She noticed her underwear drawer was ajar. She noticed that her lights had been unscrewed. And the silent alarm hadn’t been triggered. R was a mess getting ready for work, taking photos of the various evidence. And although she tried to compose herself on the subway, she was still a wreck when she got to campus.

As she walked past the school gates, she gasped when a fist punched her shoulder suddenly. R veered her body toward the culprit, recognizing Gwi-nam immediately. He wore a casual expression.

“Gwi-nam,” R stated, recovering from her shock – and momentarily forgetting her troubles.

The student clicked his tongue, motioning to his head. “Your hair is falling off, teacher.”

“Ah!” R, embarrassed, readjusted the wig furiously. “Better?”

His nostrils flared and he eyed her up and down. He nodded.

“Thank you. I hope to see you in class later.”

R walked away, feeling her student’s eyes follow her intensely.

Only then did the panic come back. She was in a rush, greeting students only briefly until she arrived at the teacher’s office. R wrapped her arms around Ms. Park from behind, who jolted in shock.

“R!” she exclaimed.

“Help.”

R released her and handed the now attentive Ms. Park her phone. The woman scrolled through the photos, growing paler by the second. She handed the phone back.

“You can’t stay there anymore.”

“I know that — but my landlord won’t accept it as a reason to break the lease. My credit score will be destroyed.”

“Fuck the credit score!” Other teachers glared, causing Ms. Park to clear her throat and compose herself. “You have to move out today. I’ll help you after class.”

“My assignment will be late.”

“R. This is not up for negotiation. So stop worrying and let’s leave this for after school.”

She nodded, blinking away the blurred tears. She sat at her desk, rummaging through her items quickly. Ms. Park nudged her, a twinkle in her eye.

“You know, you’re out here doing miracle work for our students. I was checking class B’s overall grades, and I found that On-jo has gone from a D+ to a B-. And even better, Gwi-nam somehow went from failing to a B+. I’m sure you’ll get a bonus from the principal for all your hard work at the end of the school year.”

R smiled, some of her uneasiness lifting off her shoulders from the news.

~~~

Much to R’s dismay, it quickly became apparent that R had forgotten to pack a lunch. She had grabbed her lunch box, but the contents were nonexistent. Thus, R knew she’d have to head down to the cafeteria vending machine grab some carbohydrate-filled junk, and break the bad news to Gwi-nam.

On her way, she noticed Gwi-nam leaning on a wall on his phone. R hummed, approaching. Gwi-nam immediately noticed, eyes glued to her figure. R paused in front of him, fumbling with her fingers.

“Well, Gwi-nam, I… woke up late this morning, so I didn’t pack a lunch. Do you have money for the vending machine?”

“Eh? Late? How unprofessional.”

R rolled her eyes. I’ll take that as a yes. Just make sure you eat.” R spun to head over to the cafeteria before pausing. “Oh, one more thing. I’m proud of you and the progress you’ve made in class, Gwi-nam. I hope you know that.”

She walked over to the cafeteria, not noticing how the student gulped and his cheeks grew red, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman.

The cafeteria was crowded and R struggled to evade students. She replied to greetings from students and eventually made it to the vending machine. R checked her phone as a goofy lunch wrap slowly unraveled. Alas, the lunch period was already fifteen minutes through.

The wrap was nearly loose, sliding down the front. It did so slowly, and R nearly screamed when she realized it was about to stop moving.

R had had a bad enough day and kicked the machine. Just like that, the wrap plopped down. As R grabbed it, the noise level in the cafeteria skyrocketed. R swerved to observe the commotion and was unprepared for what she saw. A hoard of students were flying through the glass entrance, until students suddenly slammed it shut, locking out a small group. Screams echoed, and despite the unknowing threat, R dashed toward the entrance, shoving her wrap into her skirt pocket.

And that was when another hoard approached. Students covered in blood ran at the group, and although they tried to run, the students caught them. Blood spewed against the glass, and R shrieked. Although R was frozen in place, everyone around her was running amock in panic from the sudden brutal attack.

R stood just on the other side of the pane, not far from the front door. Students ran, and then so did the blood-covered students. The doors went crashing open, and R’s life flashed before her eyes as a student she immediately recognized pounced at her.

#x reader #yandere #x y/n #self insert #yandere x reader #aouad #all of us are dead #aouad x reader #kdrama #gwinam

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jamesunderwater · 9 months ago

Text

Jily Microfic - Sentimental

@jilymicrofics- feb 25th, prompt: sentimental - words: 397

It was not difficult to know what James Potter liked, as he never stopped talking about himself. So of course Lily knew that his favorite team was Puddlemere United, his favorite dessert was sticky toffee pudding, his favorite spot was the very top of the quidditch stands at sundown, and his favorite chocolate frog card to get was Salazar Slytherin, because he enjoyed repeatedly flicking him in the face. Anyone plagued by his proximity, Lily was sure, would know these things as well.

The difficult task had been deciding which of his favorites to use, but in the end, dessert seemed the obvious choice.

Lily arrived at their shared office twenty minutes before they were set to meet. Charming the pudding and sauce to stay warm and the ice cream to stay cold, she set the plate at his desk, ready and waiting for when he came in.

“What’s this?" James asked, standing beside his desk and pointing at the plate. His eyebrows were knit in confusion, but Lily thought she saw a grin waiting in the rafters.

Lily leaned back in her desk chair and said, "Happy anniversary," as way of an answer.

An eyebrow flicked skyward, and Lily relished in James’s awkward hesitation before he replied, "...Anniversary?"

"Yes," she said, and stood to join him by his desk. “Don’t you remember?”

The paused grin had disappeared altogether now, his expression one of total bewilderment. “Er… No.” His hand went to his hair, and Lily’s heart did a small flip, as it always did when she elicited his infamous fidget.

“This day last year was the first time – and only – time you made a potion better than mine,” she explained, speaking as though it should have been obvious. “I thought it worthy of celebration.”

His face split into an amused grin. “I didn’t know you were so sentimental, Evans.”

She shrugged, smiling to herself. “It was a once in a lifetime sort of moment.”

He snorted. “Quite a claim when we’ve got a lot longer to go in this lifetime.”

“Mm,” she hummed, “I’m not worried.”

Looking down at the dessert again, James glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Did you know sticky toffee pudding’s my favorite?”

Lily crossed her arms. “Really?” She shook her head. “How funny. Lucky guess, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” he replied, lifting the spoon with a smirk. “Lucky guess.”

#jily microfic #james potter #lily evans #academic rivals #my writing #jily*#jily #jily fic #jple #hp #jilymicrofics

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milliesfishes · 2 months ago

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Hi sweetest girl in town, Millie! Can you by chance write something angsty for Alex? I love the best best friends to lovers trope before they are officially together, like in pwmov after they hooked up and felt really hurt and heartbroken. But they actually both loved each other!! Or love an “unrequited” love confession and just all the feels. Have a lovely night!

꣑ৎ౨ৎOcean Blvd꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst pairing: alex nilsen x fem reader summary: you and alex hook up on vacation author’s note: I very much hope this is good Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

From this angle you could see your pale pink bra where it had been unceremoniously tossed the ground. Alex's fingers were nimble, and the swiftness of the removal had only made your heart beat faster.

Inches away was your top, further your shorts. Your panties were closest to the bed. His clothes were discarded at equal intervals, lying beside your things like a couple's picture. Close to the entrance of the motel room were both of your shoes, one of his lying sole up atop your sandal.

The sheet was cool around your chest where you had pulled it up once he'd gotten off of you, suddenly self-conscious despite what you'd just done. His hand was resting palm down by your hip, elbow on the mattress, thumb stroking your side lazily. You weren't sure if he was looking at you. A part of you hoped he was.

Turning your head to the side revealed that he was staring at the ceiling, his chest not rising and falling as quickly as it had a few minutes ago. Alex's hair was a mess from your fingers running through it, and you suspected your own was along the same lines.

When he shifted, your eyes fell away, focusing on the edge of the pillow under your head. Your hair was cushioned under your ear, ends splayed out toward him. Silence like suffocating smoke was filling the air, pierced only by the sounds of doors opening and closing outside, keys jingling cheerfully as their owners' flip flops thumped their heels.

Just minutes ago you'd been breathing his name, his lips ghosting your neck, hands gripping your waist so hard you wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises later. And now it was quiet. And you hated it.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was just another annual vacation with your best friend, the one you loved and trusted more than anybody else in the world. This trip to a sunny coastal town in southern California was supposed to be an escape from your problems, not a place to create new ones. But the tension had been thick, connecting both of you like an iron bar.

Today especially had been bordering the precipice. The two of you had walked, shoulders bumping, through the less-than-busy streets with grass and daisies growing between the sidewalk cracks. Ice cream from your cones dripping onto your fingers, you'd hardly stopped giggling the whole morning, playing a game of I Spy with the quirky things you spotted.

"Me," Alex had said, unwrapping a finger from around his ice cream to point at a stone figurine of a cat wearing a frog hat.

You nudged him with one elbow, chasing a droplet running down your cone with your tongue. "I think you'd wear it better."

"Of course I would, I'm adorable."

This continued until you stopped at a low stone wall close to the beach, sitting and resting your feet. You'd popped the pointed end of the cone into your mouth and set your bag down, stretching and tilting your head, gasping when you nearly fell backwards. Quicker than lightning, Alex reached out to steady you, forgetting that what was left of his ice cream was still in that hand.

When the cold of it smeared your side, you instantly knew what it was. As he pulled you in closer to him, away from where you would have fallen into a bed of sea grass, you could see the realization on his face. You braced a hand on his chest, laughter bubbling from your lips. "Is your hand sticky now?"

"Yeah." He cracked a smile upon seeing that you were unbothered, fingers starting to lift from your side.

You stopped him, grabbing his arm. "Keep it there. It'll hide the stain until we get back to our room."

Alex didn't argue, reaching down to pick up your bag and sling it over his shoulder. The two of you carefully stood up, walking side by side as you crossed the street. He adjusted his fingers where they laid a few times, and you felt electric just from that. Feelings were poking through your bubble without breaking it, swirling around inside you like fairy dust. The quiet that settled between you was comfortable.

It was the stark opposite of now.

You felt dread land like a lead ball in your stomach as he turned on his side to face you, hand reaching out to brush yours. "Are you-?"

"I'm gonna go to the pool!" Plastering a smile to your face, you stood up, ignoring the flush in your cheeks when you remembered you still weren't wearing anything. Pushing through it, you ignored the slight tremble of your knees in favor of finding your suitcase on the ground and pulling out a bikini. It was the only one that wasn't drying over the edge of the bathtub, but also the most revealing one. Not helpful.

Alex sat up, not bothering to cover himself. You averted your eyes, tugging on your bottoms and beginning to tie the back. He cleared his throat once. "You're...okay, I..." You looked up, and he scratched the back of his neck.

"I'll meet you down there," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear as a distraction and adjusting your top over your breasts. Cramming your sunglasses on your head, you met his eyes again, saw the confusion swimming in them.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Uh...yeah. Maybe."

You felt a stab of guilt. "Okay." Taking your bag stuffed with sunscreen, a towel, and a book, you padded to the door, only stopping to pick up your shorts from the clothing trail and pull them on. Slipping your feet into your sandals, you slithered out the door like a snake, feeling like one too.

All the way to the pool, your eyes stung with tears, his tone echoing in your head. Depositing your bag on the chair next to you, an automatic habit in case he came down, you drew your knees to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut. There were a million feelings blooming in your chest and they were all foreign.

That scared you.

He'd been a constant in your life forever, truly the one person you could depend on, trust. And you might have just ruined it. The thought brought forth a tear from your eye, and you just let it fall. Nobody else was at the pool, the temporary residents of the motel likely off to town for the evening.

You felt like a fisherman trying to reel in a whale. The sparks you'd always felt with Alex weren't candlelight anymore, they were a fire, and it was consuming you. For so long you'd fought it, hidden away and told yourself you were only imagining it. But the truth was rearing its ugly head, even now causing you to close your eyes as if that would make it disappear.

You couldn't love him. He was your best friend. You couldn't.

Reaching for your book, you opened it to a random page, trying to veer your attentions away from something you desperately wanted to avoid right now. Your vision was blurry, and you could hardly make out the words before you. They may as well have been in Greek.

Everything in your brain had dissipated save for seconds-long memories like a montage of what had happened. Unlocking the door. Pulling off your shirt, laughing at something he said. Going quiet when he saw you topless. Pulling you in. Lips finding yours.

"You're beautiful."

His hands skimmed the line of your panties, thumbs hooking on the edges.

You were bare before him.

So was he. He was beautiful too.

The worst part of all of it was how right it had felt. Your bodies fit like they were made to be pressed together, swelling and flattening in all the right places. His touch ruined every sensation in the world, and you wanted to feel his hands on you over and over, like rolling waves on the tide. Late at night when you were too tired to deny anything about yourself you had wondered...thoughts wandering...how would it feel to touch him that way? To kiss him?

Alex kissed like he'd been craving you, his lips practically devouring yours. He knew just where to touch you, as if you'd done this every day for years. Even though you'd been able to feel how much he wanted you, he'd kept you on his lap, legs on either side of his thighs as he kissed you long and slow and sweet.

Now you knew. But you'd likely paid the price with the person you loved most in the world.

It was sunset. The colors were streaking the sky, some heavenly being's creation to ease mortals into the night. You would have snapped a picture if you hadn't left your phone back in the motel room.

Alex hadn't appeared once since you'd come down, and ever minute without him made you feel worse. This was the longest you'd been apart since the trip had begun, including the plane ride. You always drove to the airport together since it was so far from Linfield, splitting the parking for one car. His head always found your shoulder on the plane ride, your hand clasped with his because he often grew anxious at takeoff.

Already you were mourning the loss of these memories, ones you thought would repeat themselves over and over. This could very well be your last trip together. All because you couldn't rein in your emotions after seeing how he'd looked at you when you were only wearing a bra.

It was a sour ache because he was such a fixture in your life. Alex inhabited every part of you, had worked himself into so many details of your life. He took up a good fifty percent of the pictures in your phone. You'd shopped for all your furniture together when you got your own apartment, and he helped you put it together. So many of the little trinkets in your room were things he'd gotten for you, and even the bikini you were wearing had undergone his approval before you hit purchase. Not that it mattered- whenever you sent him pictures of things, he told you you'd look good in them.

Alex Nilsen's essence was draped over every aspect of you, tangled into your mind and firmly set like a mold around your heart. It was a wonder something like this hadn't happened sooner. A part of you wished it had, because then this wouldn't hurt as much. The other part was happy you got to have every moment with him.

Tears sprung to your eyes again, but you clenched your jaw, not wanting to cry anymore. This is stupid. You haven't even talked to him, one part of your mind insisted. You buried your face in your hands, trying to keep your breathing steady. Working yourself into a panic attack wouldn't help anybody. No, you just ran away at the scene before he could get a word in.

"Hey." You looked up, a strand of hair escaping your sunglasses headband and falling into your eyes. There he was, standing in front of you in his swimsuit and short sleeved shirt unbuttoned. The one you'd sent him a picture of as a joke because it had tiny mermaids dotted all over it, but he'd ended up buying.

Both your phones were held in one hand, and he set them down by your beach bag, sitting at the edge of the chair. "Are you alright?"

Your fingers flew to the ends of your hair, twisting them. "Yeah."

Alex gave a half-smile, his eyes never leaving your face. "Me too."

He understands. You let go of a breath, and finally met his gaze. "I'm sorry I left like that."

A single nod. "I get it." He held out a hand into the space between your chairs, and you met him halfway, clasping his fingers. Even his touch comforted you, easing the sharp feeling that had been cutting slowly at your being for the past while. "I took a walk. Had some time to think about...everything."

You cast your eyes to the ground. "We don't have to play any games. If you want to forget it ever happened..."

"No." When you looked back up at him, he looked surprised. Squeezing your hand, he asked, "Is that what you want?"

"I..." you were speechless. "I just thought..."

"Why did you hook up with me if you just wanted to forget about it?" Alex's words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He let go of your hand, and you felt tears rise to your eyes all over again.

"I didn't...I don't..." you were grasping, trying to find your words. "Alex..." Taking in a shuddering breath, you felt panic begin to constrain you. As you recognized the signs, you turned away, pressing a hand flat to your chest.

He touched your shoulder. "Hey. It's okay...you're okay-" You felt a weight on your chair as he sat beside you, fingers rubbing your skin. "C'mere." You didn't resist, turning into him and hiding your face in his chest. Alex's hand pressed lightly on your back, and you were too tense for his warm touch to cause anything but comfort.

You were flushed with humiliation- in all the time you'd known him you needed less than one hand to count how many times you'd cried in front of him. He let his chin rest on the top of your head, fully engulfing you in him.

"I don't want to forget any part of you," you breathed, voice hitching. One of your cheeks was pressed to his chest, half to skin and half to his shirt, one button digging into your face. He ran his hand up your back once.

His hand was at your lower back, two fingers lingering at the waistband of your shorts, the others splayed out on your skin. Now the sky was a brilliant orange, lighting the sun's glowing path as it sunk into the earth, lighting the day of somebody else. You watched it fall over his shoulder, legs half tangled over his thigh. The sunset shadows were thrown behind you, your silhouettes intertwined in a perfect shape that imprinted on your heart.

Alex waited for you to pull back first, keeping his hands at your waist, just in case. You met his eyes. "I don't want to forget you."

His shoulders slumped, and he removed a hand from your waist to cup your cheek. Rubbing your cheekbone gently, he murmured, "I don't want to forget you either."

You shifted, half-sitting on his lap now, and he touched your thigh, tracing your kneecap with his other hand. "Look...you know me. I wouldn't hook up if there wasn't...if I didn't feel something."

There it was. That scary, indescribable sensation in your chest, that fluttered your heart like a pair of butterfly's wings. Your instinct was to shrink away, but the way he was looking at you nearly sent stars shooting just so you could wish on them.

Reaching for his hand on your knee, you squeezed it. If there had ever been anything you struggled with, it was expressing yourself in words. But he deserved to know. "I feel it too."

Alex's face brightened like a light had gone off inside him, and your heart ached. He was so eager to love you. Exhaling softly, you looked away, focusing on the fringe of your beach towel. "I just don't want to ruin anything."

"Ruin anything?" He turned your cheek so you'd look at him. "How would that ruin anything?"

"Because I love you and I don't want to lose you," you pleaded, hand finding his wrist. "If we do this and it doesn't work out, I don't want us to become strangers. I don't want to see you in a room someday and know everything about you and not be able to talk to you."

It was clear the instant realization dawned on him. Your lower lip trembled just slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, a single tear dropping to your thigh. Alex pulled you into him again, smoothing a hand down your hair. You wished he could iron this out the same way.

"We don't have to go there yet." His voice was quiet, subdued. Drawing back to look at you, he tucked a stray strand behind your ear, adjusting the strap of your bikini top. "Just...know that I love you. In every possible way."

The sky was golden as you leaned into him, his arm around your shoulders. You watched the sun fall into the sea, stars beginning to dot the sky like an entity threw a handful of glitter over the dark canvas.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, the salt air hazy around the space. "I love you too."

He pressed his lips to your temple.

Maybe everything would be okay.

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alextydaisuda123 · 4 months ago

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We got Steampunk Tower. Imagine

Cyberpunk Tower

Well, I won’t lie, I was interested to find out for myself what would happen if they were put into Cyberpunk. But what I will say right away is that I don’t understand Cyberpunk. It's just not my aesthetics._. . Therefore, other than sketches of designs and fleeting information that I came up with about them, don’t expect them. Sorry. I prefer what touches the old times rather than the future and technology. Therefore, if anyone is interested, take them and develop them, I don’t mind. Just contact me who wants to take it, so that there is no confusion, and then I will mention the one who took this AU. Well, for now, the information that I will come up with regarding the characters and the plot in general (whoever takes the Cyberpunk Tower, you can change the information, as well as the appearance of the characters themselves):

Peppino - alas, here he is not a cook (he used to be one), but a fugitive who has been unlucky in life and because of the arrogant police and “certain authorities”, he has to hide in another city and find a new place to live.

Gustavo and Brick are the same fugitives, but from the laboratory in which Gustavo himself worked, but because of some nasty rumors and finding out some data, he decided to escape. Gustavo freed Brick from the torturous experiments and escaped with him. Along the way they will meet Peppino purely by chance, but they will become friends and run away together.

Pepperman is a vandalist (from the artistic side) and a parkour artist. He got into the tower when he tried to cover it with his graffiti, but was caught by Pizzahead. He saw the potential in him and decided to make him a tower guard, but there was a problem, Pepperman was against it._. . So he had to resort to deception and lie about Peppino, whom he is chasing, that he is supposedly setting the cops on him for vandalism, oh, that is, art. Well, the deal was done.

Vigilante is a cyber sheriff with his own priorities. He was chasing Noise (more about him later), who was engaged in vandalism and unfortunately for him, he was driven into one trap from which he could not get out. And here there will be a global change. He was saved by Peppino, Gustavo and Brick. Now he helps them escape from the authorities who are chasing the guys. Yes, he doesn't work in the tower.

Noise and Noisette are a cyber rat and a cyber rabbit. They are a couple and, to some extent, criminals. They ended up in the tower, where they essentially had to hide from Vigilante. But Pizzahead also took them in as guards. Well, for the sake of shelter they will do such things. In addition, Noise has his own show with survival fights, and Noisetta has a cafe (not surprising😏), and a souvenir shop.

Bruno is a clone that was created to catch Peppino. Fun fact: Pizzahead designed him with turtles and frogs in mind, which is why his hands are sticky like a frog's skin and he has an iron shell on his back.

Pizzahead is the boss in the tower and the one who is chasing Peppino because of his debts. He destroyed his restaurant, but that's not enough for him, so he needs Peppino to make up for lost time. Something like this. I hope I didn't suffocate you with all this information.

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pagegirlintraining · 3 months ago

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wilmon + "Simon, wait!"

Had a bit of a stressful end of the week so this took a while, but thanks for the awesome prompt 💜

“Simon, wait!”

There was no way to fight the same idiotic smile he’d felt take over his face again and again for the past hour as Simon spun back around, even if his skin was prickling with nerves at the sight of sweaty blonde strands grazing pale, freckled skin where they’d fallen loose from the messy bun their owner had attempted with every step of the half-jog that Wille was currently doing towards him; he hadn’t expected him to notice, much less respond this soon.

“You forgot your drawing,” Wille told him through a puff of breath once he’d made it all the way to Simon’s car, holding out the sticky note to him with a slightly sheepish expression, and oh, okay, that’s what this was. Looking from Wille’s flushed face to the piece of paper in his hand containing - at most - a somewhat decent doodle of a frog he’d been working on for the past ten minutes before leaving the restaurant, Simon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry out in frustration; Wille really was making this whole thing much harder than he’d hoped it would be.

“I didn’t,” he said after steeling himself for a second, feeling the adrenaline in his body making his heart pound way above its regular speed, all because Wille seemed set on making him spell it all out, “I left it for you, because you said the other day that frogs were your favorite animal, remember? And, uh, I was hoping you’d think it was cute, or whatever, and that that would make you say yes.”

“Say- Say yes to what?” Wille asked, sounding genuinely baffled, and it was not at all fair how cute he was when he got like this.

“The, uh, the question”, Simon replied, heartbeat thumping in his ears as he pointed to where a little speech bubble over the frog’s head said, “Dinner on Friday, just you and me?” with Simon’s number in tidy little figures right beneath it. “So maybe we can talk while you’re not waiting tables and I’m not technically supposed to be studying?”

Simon knew Wille’s answer before he gave it, his heart giving an exceptionally joyful pump before it stuttered for a moment at the sight of the brilliant smile lighting up Wille’s face, all glowing cheeks and crooked front teeth.

“Yes.”

Cheating you say? What even counts as cheating anymore these days 😇

Send me wilmon + a sentence and I’ll give you 5 some more :)

#1+5 sentences #yr drabble #wilmon drabble #wilmon #yr fanfic #young royals

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candi-gram · 5 months ago

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I'm a manhating feminist and career girl. How will you fuck my feminism away?

I'm sure this isn't the answer you were hoping for, not what you wanted to rub your needy, traitorous cunt to, but if you look deep down and be honest with yourself for once, it's the answer that you know is true. Because I wouldn't have to do anything to fuck your feminism away... You'll do it all for me. You'll do it to yourself and blame me for it. You're already doing it to yourself.

I didn't tell you to message a random, strange man on the internet looking for misogynistic words to get off to. You did that all by yourself, sweetie. You're so desperate and needy for male attention and approval you are literally initiating conversations begging to be seen and put in your place. You. You did that to yourself. You're probably sopping, gooey, sticky wet and already cum several times fantasizing about the terrible things I might answer with. The transformation doesn't happen suddenly, overnight. It happens gradually, incrementally until one day you just wake up and don't recognize who or what you are anymore and you ask how did this happen?

It happened because you wanted to make him happy and get his approval so badly the subtle seemingly innocent things he said crept inside and convinced you he was right.

You start by acting just a bit more demure and deferential around him, because that's what he likes and expects. The good girl comments, positive reinforcement, praise, and telling you how much better you look leads to you gradually dressing and doing your make-up in more and more daring and evocative ways until you dress and look like a cheap slut.

You share your thoughts and opinions on subjects less and less because he doesn't care what you think and is always mansplaining, correcting, and talking over you, so it's easier to just let him talk and make the decisions and agree with whatever he says.

You were probably a frigid, stuck up prude at one point, refusing with other guys to do certain things because "you're not that type of girl." But now things you once believed unthinkable are just simply what you do now because that's what makes a man happy. That's just what they expect. All that terrible misogynistic porn you get off to told you that and you know it's true. Sure, it didn't start out that way, but over time he's slowly convinced, cajoled, bullied, and coerced you into gradually doing more and more demeaning things. Until you're ashamed and humiliated by what is just normal sex now for you. And to make it worse, it was a lot easier to get there than you thought, wasn't it? Maybe what is most shameful is how little you actually fought or resisted and how easily you gave in and agreed to do what he wanted.

Like the parable of the frog in a pot of water on the stove, he just turned the heat up a little at a time, pushing your limits just a tiny bit and then a tiny bit more, and then when you got used to that, pushing them again and again until nothing remained of them. Using your desperate, pathetic need for praise and approval, and all those shameful uncontrollable orgasms and your sloppy, dripping wet cunt against you. Each time you came, every time something horrible and unspeakable you did for him made him cum, made him happy, made him tell you what a good, obedient girl you were, hard wiring that behavior directly into your mind and cunt until it's impossible to tell which one is making your decisions now.

Because you may not want to admit it, but you already knew before you asked this question that male pleasure and approval is already more important to you than your beliefs and Identity. Otherwise you wouldn't be here asking this, now would you?

I don't need to fuck the feminism out of you. You'll extinguish it on your own to be better for me. To be better for men. You'll do it without knowing it. You'll do it because you can't help yourself.

But most importantly, you'll do it because you're already doing it. You simply can't help yourself.

Because this is who you really truly are. The man hating feminist is just a mask you wear because you're embarrassed and ashamed of what you really are.

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prk-gunwook · 2 years ago

Text

BOYS PLANET — how they love you

INCLUDES || sung hanbin | zhang hao | kim jiwoong | park gunwook | seok matthew | kim taerae | kum junhyeon | ricky

GENRE || tooth-rotting fluff

WORD COUNT || 2.1k

NOTES || this is my first post on tumblr ! had to create an account just for these boys i adore. requests are open, and please leave me feedback ! <3

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, SUNG HANBIN 𖥻 ❛ touch ❜

SUNG HANBIN touches you like you are his lifeline; like golden ichor flows through your veins and bubbly springs overflow in your mouth, as if your skin is made of fibers woven by Athena herself. His touches are feather-soft, lingering sweetly on your flesh and body, leaving fingerprints of moon dust. He wraps his hands around your torso under the cover of the sun, pressing sugary kisses to your temples early in the morning through silk curtains, whispered promises of love and devotion leaving his lips to caress your ears.

Hanbin laces your fingers together more often than not; soft hands tracing the lines of your palm as if he could read the future you two will build together there. Whether it’s a hand on your thigh, a finger wrapping around your pinky, or a head on your shoulder, he craves your touch like a starved man.

As you lay in bed, head resting softly on his chest, you peer up at him.

“Can you breathe fine like this?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing inward slightly in concern. Hanbin laughs— a short, sweet thing that rings like wedding bells in your mind— and nods.

He gazes down at you, eyes staring at you as if you hold the world in the palms of your hands, and you feel the cold touch of his fingers brushing circles against your hip.

“There is no other way I could wish to breathe,” He replies, words soft and laced with the admiration he feels for you.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, ZHANG HAO 𖥻 ❛ fruits ❜

ZHANG HAO loves you dearly— his love runs deeper than the ocean, glittering water that shimmers and shines with every action and word you perform. You know it, he knows it, and there is nothing else either of you need. He loves you like the sun loves the moon, like the waves love the shore, like Prometheus loves his creations. He loves you like there is no other option; and for him, there isn’t.

Often, you find yourself staying up late to finish the schoolwork you neglect until the last minute, pencil in your mouth and eyes narrowed in thought. Problems and their solutions swim in your mind, crossing over into the other and leaving you more and more confused.

“You need to sleep,” Hao’s stern voice comes from the doorway, arms crossed in discontent as he watches you study.

“I need to finish this,” You argue, even as your eyes beg for sleep and your knees ache from sitting down for hours. You can hear Hao move across the room, floorboards creaking softly underfoot as he makes his way toward you.

“At least eat something,” He says, placing a bowl of crisp apple slices in front of you. You pick one up, noticing how the skin has been cut in a specific way to resemble a bunny. Before you can thank him he’s gone, out the doorway— probably to sleep.

The next day, as you sit down to study, you notice a bowl of freshly-cut bunny apples waiting for you, and a small sticky-note with the words “try and sleep early tonight”.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, KIM JIWOONG 𖥻 ❛ long drives ❜

KIM JIWOONG was always extremely stubborn when it came to road safety— not that it was a bad thing, you could appreciate it, really. Eyes on the road, two hands on the steering wheel, music never too loud, and seatbelts are buckled before the car moves even a millimeter. But ever since meeting you, he’s taken to driving one-handed, always leaving one hand open for you to hold.

Inside his car, there is only you and him. There is only Jiwoong’s devotion to you. There is only starlight and sublime tears, moonlit kisses and beating hearts that mold into one, only his hand in yours.

No words need to be exchanged as wheels turn steadily on pavement roads, soft chirps of grasshoppers and croaks of frogs filling the empty spaces. There are no words that need to be exchanged when they’ve all already been said; “I love you” loses its meaning after a while, and now your love is found in the feeling of his hands on yours, of your eyes interlocking gazes in the rearview mirror, of hidden smiles and inside jokes. Now, your love is found in the lack of words needed when Jiwoong grabs his keys from the wall and only has to look at you to ask if you want to go on a drive with him.

No words are needed when you love as strongly as you do.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, PARK GUNWOOK 𖥻 ❛ this reminded me of you ❜

PARK GUNWOOK thinks that, if there are a million universes, he loves you in every single one. He has bared his heart for you to take like a oyster with its pearl— he would rip apart his heart and sew it back together in the shape of you, for you are in the only thing in it. He sees his entire world in you, and in the world he sees you.

He sees you in the lipstick mark of an abandoned coffee cup, he sees you in the sketchy lines of a street mural, he sees you in blossoming bouquets of spring and bicycles parked on the beach. When Gunwook enters a shop, every item relates back to you; how would you like this shirt on him? Would this look cute on you? Is this your style of decor?

He doesn’t mean to buy you so many things, really, it just happens. As you dance in your living room with him, choked laughter ringing in the air, a collection of miscellaneous items decorate your walls and shelves.

A penguin sculpture for the way you purse your lips in thought. A magazine cut-out of an ad for the same picnic blanket you had your first date on. A collection of pink stickers scattered along the walls for the color of your shirt the day he asked you out.

This room is a log of your m emories; of the love you share, of the tears and the smiles, of all the good and the bad and the in-between. It’s a dictionary of every moment the two of you have shared, fluent in the language of love. And yet there are so many empty spaces, empty pages, for the next moments to come, and you doubt this book will ever close.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, SEOK MATTHEW 𖥻 ❛ admiration in his eyes ❜

SEOK MATTHEW is like the sun. Bright, happy, a shining, glimmering light that can cast even the most gloomy of days away. His smile is like the medicine to a sickness you never knew you had, his eyes crescent rainbows that reflect every good feeling you can have, his laugh like the ripples of a fresh river swirling around your legs in summer. Seok Matthew is the sun in every meaning of the word.

And you are his moon. He would chase you to the ends of the Earth for eternity just for a glimpse of your smile, just a word from your lips, just a small glance at your eyes, and he would do it for longer than the term “forever” can communicate. He will follow wherever you go, no matter if it’s down to a fiery pit of justice or up to a symphony of angels chorusing for you.

When you speak, Matthew’s eyes are fully on you. Never will it stray (and he has suffered being the butt of many, many jokes because of this), but he can’t help it. Why would he ever want to look away from you, if you are all he ever wants to look at? Stars in his eyes, but you are his one moon.

He hardly ever dreams when he sleeps, for every moment with you is enough to last him through his years without a wink of slumber. He would never have to rest his head if only he can hear you laugh everyday— when you smile, he smiles, and it lights up the world.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, KIM TAERAE 𖥻 ❛ love songs ❜

KIM TAERAE wonders how anybody enjoyed listening to him sing before he met you, for he never knew true love before. Never has he been able to sing fully with the implication of knowing, never has he embarked on the journey of admiration the songs describe, and never has he known this warm, bubbly feeling called love. Now, every word is charged with the meaning of you; the love he holds for you, the smiles he hides for you, the guitar strings he strums for you, the songs he sings just for you.

His Spotify playlists have become perhaps seven times longer than before, filled to the brim with soft songs that he dedicates entirely to your being.

“Your lips, my lips,” Taerae sang, voice sweet but gravelly, the melody tuned to the sound of beating hearts and hushed kisses. You sit next to him, watching his lips move in a fixed fascination as his deft fingers strum the strings of his guitar like an expert. He plays the strings of your heart the same way; with a practiced ease, like it was what he was born to do.

“Go and sneak us through rivers,” He continues, eyes focused not on his guitar but on you. Taerae thanks every soul that has ever lived on Earth before this, and every soul after, that you were born in such a time and place that he could meet you and fall in love. “Flood is rising up on your knees.”

“Oh please, come out and haunt me.”

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, KUM JUNHYEON 𖥻 ❛ bad movies ❜

KUM JUNHYEON has always been a warm person; he is made of fiery spirits and nipping branches, of autumn leaves tumbling to the ground in piles, ready to be jumped in. He’s made of loud words and screaming laughs, of bad aeygo and joking whispers, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He is entirely odd, and he’s entirely yours.

So it makes sense he shows his love for you through bad movies. You have never laughed as much as you have when you sit with him on a worn-down couch, bowls of popcorn in your hands, tall cups of soda ready to be drunk on your table. Never have you laughed so hard you snorted except for when Junhyeon made you watch The Emoji Movie with him and interrupted every other sentence to make a joke— and even after that, Junhyeon couldn’t get a joke out because he was laughing too hard at the fact you snorted.

Laughter is uncontrollable when you’re around Junhyeon— when you cuddle up next to him, and even when your eyes are begging for sleep, you can’t stop laughing. When you’re sure you’ve got abs from the hours of jokes, when you’re certain you’ll have laugh lines deeper than the grand canyon after how many years you’ve spent with Junhyeon.

It’s odd, yes, but it’s so entirely Junhyeon.

ꉂ — 𖥦 ♡ ,, RICKY 𖥻 ❛ gifts ❜

RICKY is young, rich, tall, and handsome, there is no denying that. One thing they never revealed is the fact he’s perceptive— frighteningly so. If you even mention liking something in passing, rest assured there will be a basket of it in your kitchen the next day. If you spend even a fraction of a second too long looking at a piece of jewelry, best believe it’s draped around your neck the next day.

It’s not that he enjoys flaunting his wealth. It’s just… what else should he use it for, if not the one he loves the most? He would buy a thousand gems of the rarest ore just for a single second of your happiness. He would sell his fortune for the feel of his hand in yours— he’d even give up hairspray just to kiss your lips once.

Ricky thinks and feels so much all the time, his heart is bruised and bleeding, but you have become a doctor just to repair him. He loves you in the way nobody can understand; and he does not need understanding when he has admiration. He thinks there is a chapel within his heart entirely dedicated to you; that if he is reincarnated, it will be as a passing breeze that thinks only of you.

“I love you,” He says more often than he thought he ever would.

“I love you, too.” He hears back more often than he thought possible.

—

#boys planet #boys planet x reader #kim jiwoong #sung hanbin #hanbin #seok matthew #kim taerae #shen ricky #park gunwook #boys planet fics #boys planet drabbles #zhang hao #kum junhyeon #boys planet scenarios

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