#that little drawing of me next to them was my ACTUAL LIVE REACTION TO DRAWING THIS BTW

[rubydubsnuby]

YOU VOTED AND WE LISTENED!!!!!

THIS CANNOT BE UNDONE

MR CHARLIE IS HERE TO STAAAYYYY 🤩🤩🤩

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

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

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

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

word count : 20k

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

part two

You have always been first in your class.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

"I have an idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

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

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

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

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

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

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

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

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

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

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

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

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

"And right now, how do you feel?"

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

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

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

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

"I do too."

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

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

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

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

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

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

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

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

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

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

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

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

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

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

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

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

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

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

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

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

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

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

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

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

"What's there to miss?"

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

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

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

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

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

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

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

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

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

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I’ll ask her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I only tell my friends."

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

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

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

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"You'll catch a cold."

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

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

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

"Yn, I don’t-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was something friends think about, right? 

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

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

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

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

"I’ll still cut it."

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

He didn't cut his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

2 months later

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that you look scary."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

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

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

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

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

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

"I will." 

"Okay." 

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

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

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

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

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deleted your number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yn-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Please, let me make it better." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It will take time."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

[nameless-jamie]

Binged the PA reader x Jamie tartt and wondering how she dealt with him in the episode where Roy attached strings to each of them

Strings

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: I love this idea! Let's see, I hope I did your vision justice.

TW: vulgar language

AFC Richmond’s training sessions had always been weird, but this? This was a new level.

Jamie stood in the middle of the pitch, hands on his hips, watching his teammates squirm uncomfortably. Every single one of them—him included—had a string tied around their, well, bits.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Y/N stood a few meters away from the team beside Ted and Roy, arms crossed, staring at the absolute disaster unfolding before her.

That was the curse of being Jamie Tartt’s personal assistant. Sure, most of the job involved handling his schedule, making sure he showed up to meetings, and ensuring his expensive, ridiculous skincare routine didn’t run out of products he insisted were life-changing. But it also meant this. Standing on the pitch, watching him do unbelievably stupid things, and making sure he lived to see another day.

“Now, I know this looks a little unusual,” Ted was saying, “but in Japanese culture, they have a myth that all soulmates are connected by an invisible red string. And those strings are attached to each of their little fingers.”

Jamie looked confused and asked. "Ok, but why is it tied around our dicks then?"

"Yeah, well, you know, that was Roy's idea actually..." Ted grinned pointing at the latter, who looked rather pleased with himself.

Y/N, standing at Roy's side, tried very, very hard not to laugh.

And Jamie, of course, had the biggest smirk on his face.

“Gotta say, coach, this is a new one,” he said, grinning. “What’s next? Gonna tie us all together by our nipples?”

“I mean, that’s an idea,” Ted mused. “But I’d rather not give HR another reason to call me in for a chat.”

“You know, when I signed up for this job, I had a lot of expectations,” Y/N mused, arms crossed as she watched AFC Richmond’s finest prepare for what could only be described as The Dumbest Drill of All Time. “None of them involved making sure my boss didn’t snap his dick in half.” She said rather towards Jamie's general direction than to Ted.

Jamie shot her a grin. “Babe, if my dick’s ever gonna break, I’d at least want it to be in a more entertaining situation.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “You wish I’d dignify that with a response.”

“Oh, I do.” He smirked.

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile as she made a mental note of the flirting. “You know Ted, I'll add ‘involuntary group castration’ to the list of things I never thought I’d witness at work.”

The American just chuckled at that and explained the purpose of the drill further. Something about how constant movement requires constant concentration...

Jamie turned to her again, tilting his head. “Babe, don’t pretend you ain’t enjoyin’ this.”

“Oh, I am,” she admitted. “Mostly because I get to watch you suffer.”

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “You’re evil. Thought you were supposed to take care of me?”

“Yeah, well, I draw the line at testicular rehabilitation.”

Ted clapped his hands. “Alright, fellas! The goal is simple—move together as a unit and most importantly, do not break the strings.”

“You break it,” Roy growled, “you suffer.”

The team collectively winced.

Jamie, however, just shot Y/N a wink. “Bet you’d be well devastated if somethin’ happened to my—”

“If you finish that sentence, I won't ever re-order the discontinued brand of hair gel you use, you know that you won't find it anywhere without me.”

Jamie barked out a laugh, but before he could push his luck further, the drill began.

It went badly immediately. As expected.

The moment they took their first synchronized step, Colin tripped over his own feet, yanking poor Sam in the process, which led to a horrifying chain reaction of agony.

“FUCK.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“I CAN’T FEEL MY BALLS.”

Then one team was suddenly attacking and pushing forward. Jeff, the defender whose bits are tied to Jamie's...well bits, started to abruptly run in the opposite direction with the ball.

"Jeff, wait. No No NO, NOOO Jeff. AAAAHHHH."

SNAP.

A sudden ripping sound was heard then Jamie Tartt screamed in agony. Even Y/N and Roy flinched at that.

Bumbercatch picked up the loose string that once was tied around Jamie from the ground in utter shock and winced.

Jamie nearly keeled over, grabbing Dani for support.

A chorus of pained groans rang out across the pitch. Players clutched their private parts in sympathy for their teammate, while Dani only whispered, “Football is life… but sometimes, football is pain…”

Y/N, still watching this spectacle, took a slow, deep breath—

And then lost it.

Laughter exploded out of her, completely uncontrollable. "Oh my god—Jamie—" she gasped, actually bending over as tears welled in her eyes. "That was tragic—"

Jamie, still hunched over in agony, shot her the most betrayed look she’d ever seen. "Oi, you're not supposed to laugh at the person who writes your paychecks!"

"I can't help it!" she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. "This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I've seen 'Hangover' about 200 times."

Ted, ever the optimist, walked towards Jamie and clapped him on the back. "Hang in there, sport. You’ll be fine, good story to tell your kids someday."

Jamie groaned dramatically, still not straightening up. "Dunno, coach, feels like I just lost all hope for future generations."

With that, Jamie pulled the hamstring on his pants to take a look at 'little Jamie'. He nodded toward Dani beside him, to confirm everything was intact.

"It’s okay, his penis is okay!” Dani declared cheerfully as if Jamie hadn’t just seen his entire life flash before his eyes.

Jamie glared at him, breathing heavily. “Dani, I swear on me life—”

Roy, completely unimpressed, scowled at him. "Get your head out of your ass, you’re fine, Tartt."

"Am I?!" Jamie cried. "Am I, Roy?!"

Roy didn’t dignify that with a response just shook his head with a pleased smile. One man's agony is another man's joy or whatever...

Y/N just sighed now, stepping forward and—against her better judgment—placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “C’mon, drama queen, let’s get you some ice before you pass out from the tragedy of it all.”

Jamie, still crouched slightly, turned his big, pitiful puppy-dog eyes on her. “Now you’ll take care of me, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, but her hand did move to the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. “It is in my job description to keep you in one piece.”

Jamie grinned, even through the pain. “Knew you loved me.”

She shoved him toward the medical bench.

“Shut up and sit down before I let you suffer.”

[writingoddess1125]

A Fluffy little Buggy X Fem-Reader

This popped in my head randomly. Enjoy!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Theater Brat 🎭

(Y/N) hadn't been on the ship long, Acting as a Quartermaster of sorts, Especially with Nami having abandoned them. She hadn't been apart of the group long, being the freshest face besides Sanji in this whole ordeal. She hadn't exactly been the biggest Fan of Nami, especially after she had betrayed them for Arlong- however she believed in second chances and that people were the way they are due to past events- not that they just so happen to be bad. That and she trusted Luffy- What was more to say?

After a rather long day of helping with the ship and doing inventory (Y/N) set to relax a little- choosing to play a record and draw for a while. Deciding to do a peice of their favorite theater play they had recently seen before setting off with the Strawhats- as she set off to ink her work a loud knock shook her from her peace and the door opened revealing a very irritated Zoro with a bag in his hand.

"(Y/N)! It's your turn to take it-" Zoro grumbled, Tossing the bag onto the desk, ignoring the grunt of pain from the severed Pirate head inside. "Ow! You Broccoli headed bastard!" Buggy yelled from inside the bag, Zoro glaring at the bag before grumbling about some sort of nap or something and marching off. (Y/N) sighed at this, Opening the bag and carefully setting Buggy's head upright. "Ohh~ I get the pretty girl tonight! Watch out Zoro the amount of noise we are gonna make may keep you up all night!" Buggy cackled, (Y/N) simply shaking her head at this and turning back to her drawing. Buggy clearly not liking to be ignored in such a regard.

"Ugh- That damn bag smells! Has no one heard of deodorant? It's like a bunch of teenagers running a ship-" He said sarcastically, his eyes landing on the girl infront of his drawing away. Trying to take a peak at whatever was being drawn.

"Ugh- Did I get the weird one of the group? Not even gonna entertain me? The least you can do is shimmy your ti-"

"I was just finishing up the lines on this is all, Calm down" She said carefully, her words not even laced with a hint of venom as she blew on the ink to dry. Ignoring c

The clear sexual joke he was trying to deliver.

"What are ya drawing? A wanted poster for the tangerine girl?" He questioned and gave a crookeded grin, assuming Nami was a sensitive topic for them. However frown when he didn't get a reaction.

"No a drawing from one of my favorite musicals. I try to do a drawing of each one I see" She admitted, holding up the paper for him to take a peak at and huffed in genuine surprise at seeing someone on THIS ship actually take some form of interest in the performing arts.

"Huh- Never expected anyone here to be into performing arts. You should draw one of my shows next! One of the best you've ever seen!" He bragged, Grinning as he started to talk about his favorites acts in his shows. From his innocent juggling tricks to the gruesome of having a marine try to tightrope over a raging fire. (Y/N) raised a brow at his boasting and patted his head, more out of habit then anything else which surprised Buggy.

"Well if I ever see a show of yours we're people aren't being tortured to death I'll draw it for you. Deal?" Buggy grinned widely at this and nodded excitedly.

"So what- you're a theater kid or something?- not many people know about shows like this"

"Oh yeah. I'm a total theater brat- My mother was a performer and my father was a musician" (Y/N) said with a chuckle. Thinking back to those days, The anxiety that hung in the air before a show, the live music that filled the air and the heartwarming stories that everyone watched.

"Is that the only type of brat you are?~" Buggy teased with a wink, (Y/N) gave his a mock disgusted look and poked his forehead.

"Pervert- Like you're one to talk. I can smell a fellow theater kid from a mile away- Also the grease paint doesn't help"

"Hey! While my shows are top notch I wouldn't compare them to some low brow theater"

"Oh? So you don't watch any plays" She questioned, a knowing smile on her lips as she met his now narrowed gaze. "No..." He muttered, his own tone of voice starting to betray him.

"Damn- well I could have sworn that I heard a certain barrel singing a song from that really sweet Romcom Play Gaizu & Douruzu (Guys and Dolls)-" She said with a bright smile- Buggy's face turning pale and staring at her with a mixture of embrassment and mild anger.

"...Now you are just being cruel-" He deadpanned and (Y/N) couldn't help but let out a cackle.

"That one is an exception!" He shouted making them laugh harder, He puffed his cheeks in a pout. (Y/n) Wiping the tears from her eyes and poking his puffed our cheek.

"Awww, I didn't mean to make you upset Mr. Scary clown- It's a good play!" She protested as he gave her a Mock glare. He stared at her for a second as she straightened herself out, Buggy staring at them for a hard moment.

"Hey W-" Buggy voice was cut off as the intercom system sounded through the ship. "Food is Ready" Sanji voice rang out as (Y/N) got up with a skip in her step. "I'll be right back!" She called out leaving Buggy by himself- He didn't voice it but he had enjoyed (Y/N) company.

When she returned (Y/N) holding a large bowl of seafood risotto. Buggy felt his mouth watering at the sight and his face twisted up- Expecting him to just have to watch them eat like all the other Strawhats. However he was pleasantly surprised when you held out a spoonful to him. His eyes widened at this and he greedily took the bite, Moaning as he savored the taste. (Y/N) taking her own bite with the same spoon before offering him another. He stares at them for a moment-

"..Why are you being nice to me?"

Buggy asked as he accepted at the bite of food. Watching them as they ate a bite of their own and thought for a moment.

"Well I don't see why I need to be mean to you?" She said softly, Making Buggy stare at them a bit confused.

"I'm ... Me? I mean I hurt your friends, Im a Pirate of a rivaling pirate crew! You should hate me?" He said softly, he felt a small peg to his ego but he couldn't help it.

"I guess...but I wasn't there to see all of what you did. I always try to think people deserve a chance even if others think against it. After all, we are a different kind of Pirate-" She said softly, Feeding him another bite of the risotto. His eyes locked onto her, He didn't remeber the last time someone treated him with this level of kindness?... actually thinking he could be something better or giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Huh- Quite the sappy one" He joked, making (Y/N) also chuckle a bit and shrug once more.

"Well what can I say- Us theater brats gotta stick together"

[hannieoftheyear]

everybody gets horny on christmas (lsm)

santa's lap becomes the best place to sit when it's seokmin's face hiding behind the beard

✧.* pairing: santa!dk x fem!reader (check out the halloween chapter!)

✧.* w.c: 5k of pure filth

✧.* genre: smut!!!, crack, a little fluff sprinkled at the end, kinda pwp, there's barely a plot but hey (minors DNI)

✧.* content: santa d(ic)k, milfs go crazy over him, slight jealousy, everyone has a severe case of horniness again, cursing, both 'bad girl and 'good girl' are used, santa roleplay (?) just for a bit, explicit smut, service top!seokmin, pussy drunk!seokmin, fingering, oral (f rec.), multiple orgasms, bodily fluids, they do it on a chair, protected penetration (santa uses condoms✊ and so should you).

✧.* disclaimer: this is the christmas part 2 of the halloween au with the same name (linked above), it can be read separately but there's going to be a little context missing.

✧.* note: i just wanted to say that i wrote this for fun and is really truly unserious, and also apologize bc i suck at writing dirty talk :/ but hope you enjoy!

also i have a final in two days so wish me luck (and pray for me🙏)

special thanks to sabrina carpenter and her 'fruitcake' ep | link to the dividers used

The smell of baked chocolate chip cookies and freshly cut pine trees sneaks past the automatic doors every time a new family enters the mall. All of them are in search of the new hot spot in town. 

Even if the tradition of making kids sit on Santa's lap is terribly outdated, the kids lining up on the makeshift north pole on the center of the mall don’t seem to care, happy to be surrounded by the Christmas atmosphere and to meet Santa. 

The long line decreases gradually, kids leaving with the biggest toothy smile every few minutes, and their parents ready to figure out what they asked for. 

It’s the happiest season of the year, when everything seems possible, when kindness and friendship rule everyone’s relationships. That’s primarily the reason why you’re even in the line in the first place. Your friends dragged you to see the ridiculous suit Seokmin had to wear for his new job and make fun of him a little, all while showing up to support him. 

“Is it just me or is the line full of single moms?” 

Standing all the way on the back of the line, your friends are analyzing the people waiting while you’re just looking at them, eyes switching from each man to the next in a matter of seconds, tapping one foot on the ground with no patience and avoiding to look at the man working as Santa. 

“Why are you so fidgety?” Soonyoung’s the only one who’s not checking out every person in line. 

“I’m not! I’m a little tired that’s all, I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

“Surely this doesn’t have to do anything with our friend Santa Claus, right?” 

“I just don’t wanna be seen in this line full of kids. It's embarrassing.” Avoiding the question won’t work, but it’s all the defense you have at the moment. 

“No one here cares, and Chan’s right. The moms are going crazy over our Seokminnie.” 

Following Mingyu’s eyes, your gaze sits on a blonde lady standing right beside her kid, who’s already sitting on Seokmin’s lap, but the mom looks more interested in asking him questions than the little girl. 

“Yeah, I noticed.” 

The way your arms cross immediately is a dead giveaway that it actually bothers you, and by that time, your three friends are staring at you, expecting a reaction. 

“You two have been weird since Halloween.” Chan, not so innocently as it seems, brings back the topic you so badly want to avoid. 

“What do you mean? We're not being weird. Everything’s the same.” You protest.

“Yeah, except for the fact that you had his dick in your m–" 

“Oh my fucking God, shut up! There are kids around!” 

Your whisper-shout draws more attention than Soonyoung’s statement, getting you a few weird looks from the parents behind you on the line. He not only has no filter but also lives to torture you since that day. 

“Shit, I still can't believe they really did it.” Mingyu talks more to himself than to you, and that’s weirdly offensive? 

“I’m standing right here!” 

“Is it big? He never lets us see it.” Soonyoung shamelessly asks, without an ounce of embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe this.” 

Your only option is to look away from them, meaning straight to Seokmin, right when a lady attempts to sit on him “jokingly” while security –a minimum wage worker dressed as an elf, asks her to leave. 

“Bro, c’mon what the hell.” Even Chan has a limit of Soonyoung’s unserious thoughts he can hear. 

“What?”

Mingyu shakes his head in awe, not even answering Soonyoung’s question before going back to interrogating you. 

“Did anything happen after that?” 

The line moves forward, and in that second, when everyone’s focused on taking two steps, you seriously consider running away from the mall at full speed. 

“It was just a one-time thing, no big deal.” Maybe the cold wind entering through the doors can serve as an excuse for how red your face is probably getting. 

“Yeah, sure. You know, every time your name comes up and you’re not there, he starts shivering like a chihuahua.” 

“You two stay over a five feet radius away from each other at every party we go to.” 

“I saw how you reacted the other day when that girl was all over him at the sorority party.” 

“Are you all analyzing our every fucking move?” 

Maybe it’s been weird, but for them to notice even when they’re drunk means you’ve been doing a very bad job at hiding it. 

“We’re just worried about you both, that’s all.” Mingyu softly puts his hand on your shoulder, and you truly believe his words. 

“There’s nothing to worry about! We talked about it, and everything’s cool. Now, let’s leave the topic to die here, alright?” 

The silence is so loud, it’s obvious they still have questions, and it’s obvious you’re not gonna answer them. Not when the line starts moving forward again, and suddenly you’re one family away from being the next to be called on by the elf staff. 

Seokmin's eyes find yours just as the kid hops off his lap, smiling brightly at his parents and leaving the mall altogether. You’re frozen in place, and Soonyoung behind you is whistling teasingly as one of the staff repeatedly asks you to step forward. They were right. You are being weird. It is weird. But because they don’t know the whole story. 

A hand pushes your back slightly to the front, and you see yourself walking towards the hottest Santa you’ve ever seen. The loose red suit makes his frame appear impossibly broader, and he’s manspreading in a way that has your heart pounding. 

“W-welcome young lady.” Seokmin stutters in his Santa voice, forgetting his signature ‘ho, ho, ho’. 

One look back at the line, and you’re already regretting it. Your three friends are looking in your direction like you’re Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams on the verge of making out. But just to their right, the staff looks at you, bored and tired, almost screaming at you to hurry the hell up. 

Your legs tremble as you finally sit on Santa's lap, and the energy radiating from him is breathtaking. Something about you being visibly flustered must elevate his confidence through the roof, because as soon as you’re on top of his thighs, one hand places itself softly on your back, and the other teasing on top of your thigh, not outrageously high, but high enough that you know it’s on purpose. 

“What does this young lady want for Christmas?” 

The voice he’s been practicing comes out squeakier than he'd like, your arm wrapped around the side of his neck, causing unpredicted consequences. 

“I'd like for my friends to stop being so annoying.” Jokes are always a good way to lessen the atmosphere, right? 

“Have you been a good girl this year?” Seokmin's hand tightens on your thigh, erupting a fire on parts of your body that shouldn’t be getting woken up in public. “Only girls who behave get their presents.” 

The lower part of his face is covered by an ugly synthetic white beard, but something in the sound if his voice tells you there’s a growing smirk on his lips, hiding, teasing you in front of everyone. It would be so easy to just yank the beard off and wipe that smirk off his face, press your mouth against his until neither of you are able to breathe. 

“Santa should give presents to everyone.” It’s a miracle that you’re able to form one coherent sentence. 

A low chuckle escapes from him, and the feeling that he’s still not finished with you creeps up your spine, goosebumps appearing up to your neck as his face gets close to your ear. 

“Only the ones who didn’t behave say things like that.” 

His arm around your waist makes you hyper aware of everything around you. Or more like him so around you. 

“The guys have been asking questions.” Another try to ease the tension that quickly proves to be pointless as Seokmin seems to be on a mission. 

Your eyes don’t know where to go, staring at his focused gaze on your lips. His face gets ever so slightly closer to yours, the little hairs on your cheek perking up at the sensation, all while his hot breath fans over the side of your face, and his hand holds your jaw as his thumb grazes the apple of your cheek, brushing an eyelash with so much care, you almost melt right there on his lap. 

“Let them ask.”

At the end of those simple words, his eyes connect with yours, and his stare brings a new meaning to what he said, one that begins heating up your insides and blushing your whole face. Your brain works hard to produce any kind of response, but Seokmin has rendered you speechless. 

A soft cough drives his eyes away from you, and his hold on you shifts uncomfortably, like he’s just now realizing he’s in front of at least fifty people. The elf handling the line taps his foot impatiently against the floor, his arms crossed and rolling his eyes as both you and Seokmin look at him incredulously. 

“Come have dinner at my place.” Seokmin whispers as you motion to get off of him.

You instantly miss the warmth of him below you, sturdy and holding onto you for dear life. You can only nod with a quiet ‘okay’ as the staff rushes the next kid onto Seokmin’s lap, your friends nowhere to be seen. 

Why does your hand tremble as it reaches the door handle when you’ve done it a ton of times already? 

Seokmin had sent you a cryptic text right after the disastrous meeting that had your friends bullying and interrogating you all the way back to your home, about him leaving his door unlocked and letting yourself in, eliciting at least ten questions from your part, but he remained silent after his instructions. Now, you’re left expectant as you nervously talk yourself into opening the damn door. No suspicious noise can be heard from outside, and as you turn the handle and push the door open, the warmth of recently lit candles envelops you. 

“Seokminnie?” The smell of the promised food welcomes you in as you close the door behind you. 

The shy steps you take into Seokmin’s apartment after hanging your jacket provide you with a slightly better view of the Christmas themed dining room he’s set up, and from the corner of your eye, you catch a red human figure sitting on one of the chairs, intimidating you as you realize what it is. 

“What are you still doing in the suit?” You ask with a chuckle. 

“Come here.” 

He signals for you to sit on his lap, manspreading on the wooden chair as his body calls your name. The cheap plastic beard is nowhere to be seen, but he’s still wearing the weirdly nice fitting suit, burning red just like the fire heating up the room the closer you get to him. 

“You know, the guys are catching up to us.”  

It’s much more comfortable to be alone with him, sitting on his lap and letting his arms wrap around your waist as tight as he wants. You don’t fight the urge to connect your mouths together, not letting him reply to your statement as you press your lips against his, and he doesn’t even attempt to tease you, molding his shape to yours, holding your chest close to his with no way to escape. 

“Yeah, they’ve been interrogating me too.” Seokmin replies, half of his brain paying attention to you and the other half concentrating on squeezing your thighs. 

“We sh-should do something.” 

Getting lost in the feeling of his lips is too easy, erasing any stray reasonable thought from your mind. As his hands hold and touch any part of your body they want, be it your arched back, your chest or your thighs, and his tongue licks your lower lip like he wants you to go insane, you moan against him, and he takes it as a reminder of why he asked you to come to his apartment in the first place.

“Hmm, you’re not behaving much, aren’t you?” 

You almost let out a chuckle as he strays his face away from yours just as one of his hands creeps up your inner thigh, squeezing to draw your attention where he wants. But he doesn’t go any nearer to where you’re starting to need him the most. 

“Does that mean you’re putting me on the naughty list?” 

Nothing you say when you’re on top of him is embarrassing, you’ve learned, as Seokmin seems to like every sound that comes out of your mouth regardless. His hand trembles at your words, instinctively daring to graze the crevice of your inner thigh before moving away from your legs altogether. 

“Between us,” he says, voice low right by your ear, “I think I can give you another chance.” 

“Really? What should I do?” You don’t dare move in his hold, his thighs hard under your expecting ones. 

Seokmin refuses to let you connect your lips, drawing back with a smirk when you try. The hand that’s still on your body caresses the side of your cheek, so softly you almost hum as you lean into his touch. His fingers trace your jaw down to the side of your neck, and you have no other choice than to flutter your eyes closed and enjoy his teasing. 

“Be a good girl while I do what I want with you.” 

His lips graze your ear again, going down to leave wet kisses on the side of your neck as his hand continues to travel down the side of your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps under his cold fingers. 

Your mouth agapes, wanting to say something, anything, but he reaches the hem of the jeans you decided to wear, and only a sigh leaves you as his fingers sneak under the fabric, touching from your back to your lower tummy as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“What do you want to do with me?” Your words come out completely breathless, and he chuckles against your skin. 

Wordless, his reply comes in the form of his hands at both side of your hips, lifting you up easily and sitting you down on the empty chair, his body kneeling in front of you in one swift move. Somehow, your jeans hang loose around your legs, already unbuttoned, and he yanks them down expertly. 

Seokmin’s eyes, wide open in marvel, scan over your bare legs, with goosebumps erupting from top to bottom at the sudden loss of the warm fabric. His head in between your open legs, almost naked only for him, just like your every fantasy since that first time. 

“I once promised you,” His lips graze your left knee as he speaks, hot breath against your cold skin sending shivers up your spine, “that I’d make you feel good.” 

“You’ve been very bad too.” You remember exactly the promise he had made, and remember every time you’ve been together since, never fulfilling it. “I thought you’d forgotten.” 

He shakes his head quickly as a reply. “I can make it up to you,” Seokmin’s soft slender hands massage your thighs open, slotting his torso in between them like that space was made for him, “but you have to be good for me.” 

His breath fans so close to your already craving core, he could purse his lips and they’d make contact with your covered folds, but he sways ever so slightly to the side, leaving a chaste kiss on the crevice on your inner thigh, a thousand miles away from where he knows you need him. 

“What do you want me to do?” Your fingers interlock with his as he continues groping anywhere his hands manage to go, pressing them harder against you in search for more of his touch. 

“Take what I give you.” He sneaks under the hem of your panties, barely grazing at your sensitive skin, with feathery light touches and teasing scrapes of his nails as he slips the wet fabric down your legs. 

“You’re not giving me anything right now.” 

The cold air making its way over your core contrasts with the heated blush Seokmin’s eyes erupt all over your body as he stares in awe at your wet folds. 

“So ready for me." A hum reverberates to mix with his words, and his approval sends a wave of arousal straight to your center. 

Having no other thoughts, you can only half-moan and nod at his words, locking eyes with him as he leaves a trail of kisses on the soft flesh of your inner thighs, each one closer and closer to your pulsing core, but as he's about to graze your lower lips, he skips your heat and directs his mouth to your other leg, never ending the teasing. 

Your legs open further on instinct, as if to persuade him into pleasing you once and for all. His fingers dare to spread your folds, the wet sound reaching your ears, his shy touch making you squirm on the chair. Something tells you that asking him to speed up won’t help you, so you only move one hand to the back of his neck, caressing his nape to encourage him.

The first lick of his tongue comes as a surprise, long and pointy right at your center, and the hand that was resting on his neck pulls at his hair, making him groan and sending vibrations through your whole body. 

Seokmin knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and down and sucking just where he knows you’ll like. Your insides clench against nothing, empty and leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. But he drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like a dehydrated man. 

With his tongue focused on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands fly to his hair, keeping his face in place as the tip of his nose brushes your clit just right. He moans right into your cunt, enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your throat hurts from moaning uncontrollably as your orgasm approaches at the speed of light. 

Not even in your imagination would you have pictured yourself getting so worked up so fast by a man going down on you, but that’s just Seokmin, being gentler and more skilled than most, eager to find every stop that has you squirming on top of him. 

His hands try to keep your legs open for him as you spasm with each swipe of his tongue, getting faster and faster the more he notices how close you are. And as he focuses his all on teasing your clit, you come undone at the rhythm of his moans against you. 

He makes out with your pussy mercilessly, prolonging your orgasm and making your legs tremble harder at his sides, almost closing around his head if it wasn’t for him holding them where he wants. The unholy wet sounds don’t stop and waves of arousal keep crashing down on you, the big smirk across his lips can be felt even through the filthiness of the act, and when he doesn’t move away when you start feeling overstimulated, you finally find your voice again.

“Hmm, Minnie, god.” Cracked and hoarse, it’s a miracle he even heard your words. Your hands try to push his head away, but one look into his eyes, and the motion stops immediately. 

“You promised you'd take everything.” The fingers that were holding onto the flesh of your thighs sneak to your wet, still sensitive center, collecting any remaining juices Seokmin didn’t get to drink. 

“Fuck, yes, I did.” Even a bare graze of his fingers has you breathless, ready for more in an instant. 

“Do you still want it?” Somehow, his doe eyes mix with his teasing glare, pretending to ask when in reality he knows your answer. 

“Yes.” One-word replies might be your best option to answer him, as moans and whines get stuck on your throat at the motions of his fingers, spreading your wet folds open and teasing your needy hole. “Please.” 

“Good,” without any more warning, Seokmin plunges two fingers inside you, receiving no resistance, “it’s my job to give my good girl anything she wants.” 

His hand begins working towards filling you up, molding your gummy walls to the shape of his fingers. Wet sounds fill Seokmin’s dining room, the food he prepared cold and forgotten in the kitchen, and the only other sounds echoing are your breathy moans and his occasional grunts. 

Seokmin’s tongue goes back to its place, torturing your clit as his fingers find your sweet spot, abusing it as you feel yourself getting wetter, if even possible. He thrusts harder, sharper, drilling into you and making your arousal drip onto the wooden chair. 

The red of his hair stands out tangled between your fingers as you try to press his face impossibly closer to your core. He moans in response, as if being pressed in between your legs is more pleasurable to him than to you. 

Locking eyes with him below you, the blushy filthiness of it all mixes with the oversensitivity from too recent orgasm, getting you close to another one faster than ever before. It’s too much, but you crave more, need more, and your walls clamp against Seokmin’s fingers, making it harder for him to pound them into you, but he persists, with pointy and determined thrusts that form stars on your vision. 

A whiny scream erupts out of you as he sucks on your clit, everything combined blurring every one of your senses and causing spasms all across your body as you come on his fingers.

The sinful sight of Seokmin licking his fingers clean is forever burned on your eyelids, and will hunt you even in your sleep. But before he has the chance of slipping his tongue between your folds again, you stand up and force him to sit down on your place. 

“It’s my turn to give now.” He just stares at you, brow lifting teasingly, waiting for your next move. There’s so much you could do, but the throbbing between your legs calls for only one thing, sitting in front of you. From the new angle, the outline of his very hard cock outshines the rest of his body, the thin red fabric loosely sits over the boner he doesn’t even try to hide. 

In what feels like a millisecond, you yank his pants and boxers down in one move, freeing him from his confines, but deliberately leaving the top of his costume on. 

His bare skin below yours, as you sit down on top of him, legs at both sides of his hips, feels so hot you almost don’t feel the drop in temperature in the room. His hard length springs up against your lower belly, furiously pink and ready for whatever. 

Your mouths crash in need, his hands on your back flushing you against him as your hands push his head further against you. It’s hard and needy, passionate as he always is, but somehow determined and not sloppy. 

The frenetic closeness traps his cock between your bodies, a never-ending friction as you grind against him. The top half of your clothes are still on the way, the hands creeping under the hem of your shirt indicating he wants yours off immediately, but refuses to let go of your lips. 

“Tell me you have a condom.” You manage to mumble with his mouth still gliding over yours. 

A ruffle sound echoes from your side, Seokmin’s hand searching eagerly around his pocket for what you asked. You’re not about to question if he had a condom there all day, just go on with it. 

You reluctantly separate your faces, both of you in a rush, nearing the desperate territory, to have him inside you. He throws his head back as your hands slide the condom down his length, the touch of your hands too much for him to handle. His hands grip your hips in an effort to help you lift your body, lining your entrance with his leaking tip. 

The mix of his spit and your arousal makes it easy for him to slide all the way down until you’re sitting on top of him again, his length stretching you just perfectly. You both take a second to breath as you get used to being filled completely, molded to his shape already. 

“You always take me so well.” He moans as he dares looking you right in the eyes. 

Only a smirk shows on your face as an answer, your hands moving down to open the red jacket he’s still wearing, unbuttoning it one by one and letting yourself feel his abs tensing under your teasing touch. Slowly but surely, his whole chest is finally revealed to you, but his hands refuse to leave your body, and the top half of his suit stays on. 

His hands on your ass press your body against him, inciting you to start moving before he loses his mind.

With your hands on his chest for support, you start grinding on him softly, feeling the veins of his cock dragging inside you at a tortuous pace. Seokmin knows no restrain when he’s inside you, so he groans and moans at every clench of your walls, unknowingly succeeding in making you do it more often and into speeding up the pace.

His hands eagerly creep inside your shirt, crunching it up like he desperately wants to see you bare on top of him. As soon as it’s off, his hands are on your tits, groping them as if it was his first time seeing them.

He grinds against you, following your rhythm and speeding the rush of both of your highs. Your walls tighten hard around his cock, feeling him twitching even through every move.

A loud moan gets out of you when his cock reaches that spot inside you that takes you to another dimension, and he immediately presses your lips together, a messy and wet make out that does little to muffle both of your moans.

The chair creeks below you as you test its limits, but it’s the least of your worries when he starts lifting his hips to meet you, the strength of his thighs even making you bounce on him slightly.

When one of his hands leaves its place on your chest to sneak between you and torture your clit even more, a guttural moan leaves you. He doesn’t stop, his thrusts getting as hard as possible as he chases your orgasms.

Walls already sensitive from your previous highs, and your swollen clit getting stimulated more and more, there’s only so much you can take before you start trembling on top of him.

Your third orgasm crashes over you hard, blurring any other sense that isn’t Seokmin’s cock dragging inside you.

And there’s so much tight clenching of your warm walls around him that he can take before he’s coming into the condom, twitching uncontrollably and slowly stopping his shallow thrusts.

Your lips come together once more, soft and lazy as you come down of your highs.

There’s a comfortable silence surrounding you. Even after you’ve both cleaned up and dressed up again, you find yourselves back on the same position, you sitting on his lap as he softly traces circles on your back, your breathings coordinated as you enjoy each other’s warmth.

“Do you think we should tell the guys?” Your whisper breaks the silence, the uncertain question making Seokmin’s ears perk up.

“I thought you didn’t want them to make fun of us.” His head lowers to look for your eyes, but you’re insisting on looking down.

“I know I said that but,” the sentence gets cut short, doubt and fear creeping up on your mind, but his hand comforting you encourages you to keep going, “today, you sounded like you don’t care.”

“Would it be bad if I didn't?” His sweet voice finally drives your eyes up to his, and the smile across his lips is big enough to make you melt.

“I– No, actually–“ You really try to say something that isn’t a mumble of nonsense, but it’s impossible. The matching smile plastered on your lips gives away how you feel, and he helps you gather your thoughts.

“They’re gonna be worse than ever.” Seokmin states.

You nod, holding back a cackle.

“But it’s nothing we can’t take.” He continues.

“Yeah, right.” You agree, even though a with a little doubt.

“It’s us two against them.”

“Right.”

“We can destroy them. "

“Exactly.”

“And do you want to be my girlfriend?”

The back and forth almost makes you answer automatically, and when you realize exactly what Seokmin was asking you, you freeze. Mouth agape and wide eyes, it’s not like you would ever say no to him, but he has taken a liking on taking you by surprise.

Your silence freaks him out, but as you straighten your posture on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, you reply, “I’d love to be your girlfriend Lee Seokmin.”

His toothy smile widens impressively, his eyes curving like crescent moons right before he connects your lips again.

It’s different from before, a new feeling mixed in with the moving of your lips, welcomed fully as his hands caress your back again, with so much care you'd think he was afraid.

But that’s just who he is, who he always was. Your friend Seokmin. Your caring and loving Seokmin. Your boyfriend Seokmin.

heyyyyy happy holidays to everyone! hope you enjoyed this! ♥︎

lmk if you'd like another part! I love this couple, and I'm not opposed to writing an Easter chapter of this series :D

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Reblogging this again i cannot stop starring at it. They make me want to eat bricks with cement as condiment

the girls (New)

[corroded-hellfire]

With Eliza at school and Luke nervous about a little girl a thought came to me.

How would Eddie react when Eliza came home and I just talked about a boy giving her things, like a picture of them holding hands?

And Luke talking to reader, asking how her dad made her fall in love with him.

Obviously you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

I love you.

This request just seemed like the perfect one for @munson-blurbs and me to write for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy and that Cupid shoots all of you in your wonderful butts with an arrow 💘

Warnings: smut, oral, f receiving, male masturbation, pregnant!reader, older!eddie

Words: 2.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Little Eliza Munson slides her glittery green Little Mermaid backpack off and sets it down on the coffee table in the living room. Her small Mary Janes had been kicked off near the front door and now she tucks her pink sock-clad feet beneath her as she unzips the bag. 

First out comes the folder that her homework is always secured safely inside. Keeping with the theme of Disney Princesses, a smiling Mulan stares up at Eliza as she opens the folder. Before she can get to her homework though, a drawing slips out and floats down onto the carpet next to her. Heaving a sigh and rolling her brown doe eyes in annoyance, she snaps the folder closed as Luke traipses into the room.

Drawings weren’t uncommon in the Munson household. In fact, there was probably a drawing from every member of the family hanging on the over-crowded fridge. But as Luke glimpsed this slightly crumpled paper next to his sister on the navy carpet, he knew he didn’t recognize the style—or lack thereof—from anyone in the house. 

“Liza, whatcha got?” he asks his sister. 

“A drawing from my boyfriend,” Eliza replies, nonchalantly. 

A loud bang and a murmured “shit” from the kitchen has Luke snorting in amusement at what was obviously their dad’s reaction to Eliza’s little announcement. 

“Oooh, Liza likes a boooooy!” Luke teases as he walks over towards her. He bends over to pick the drawing up, but Eliza snatches it and slams it down on the table in front of her before he can. 

The little girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew, no! I don’t like him. He’s always eating sand from the sandbox.”

Ryan pokes his head in from the kitchen, his mouth full of food like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Hey, Luke used to do that.” He strolls over to his siblings. Luke glares at his older brother as he continues speaking. “When did you finally stop? Last month, right?” Eliza giggles and it diverts Ryan’s attention back to her. “Then why is he your boyfriend if you don’t like him?” The oldest Munson sibling takes a seat down on the floor next to the little girl. He tilts his head as he inspects the drawing the boy made for her. Ryan is able to make out that it’s supposed to be Eliza holding someone’s hand—presumably the boy who drew it. The little hearts around their heads in reds, pinks, and purples add the final touch.

Eliza shrugs. “Cuz he said so.”

“Who said what?” Eddie asks as he comes into the living room. He’s caught wind of what’s going on from being just on the other side of the wall in the kitchen, but he doesn’t wanna come in ready to send this four-year-old boy with a crush on his daughter to Siberia. “Please don’t tell me you listened to Luke again. Didn’t you learn your lesson when we had to unglue those shoes from your feet?”

Luke throws his arms in the air. “Why am I being attacked like this today? You know what, I’m going to find the one person in this family who actually likes me.”

Ryan smirks to himself and can’t help adding, “Wormy Munson died when you were four, dude. He’s long gone.”

Luke flips him the bird as he walks out of the room. Eddie crouches down and looks over the drawing with Ryan when Luke returns with you in tow. 

“It’s them,” Luke says in a whiney voice, pointing to his older brother and father.

You sigh and shake your head as you rest your hand on your swollen belly. “Why are you all picking on my son?” You wrap your arms around Luke the best you can in your heavily pregnant state and press a kiss to the side of his head. “My little angel did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah,” Luke adds petulantly, and it transports you back to when he was five. Ryan rolls his eyes and Eddie lets out a bark of laughter. Even Eliza isn’t buying it. Luke pretends to recover from his ordeal and turns to the little girl. “Okay, Eliza,” he says to his sister, “tell Mom what you just told us.”

“My boyfriend drawed me a picture, but he’s gross and I don’t like him.”

“He’s only her boyfriend because he said he was,” Ryan tells you. 

“Honey,” you say with a soft sigh, “if you don’t like someone, you can say ‘no, thank you.’”

“And if he doesn’t listen, you can always hit him with the one-two.” Luke demonstrates by punching the air. 

Eddie shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. “Absolutely not.” You breathe a sigh of relief that he’s putting an end to Luke’s bad advice until he says, “you gotta kick, too. Aim for the—”

“Okay, that’s enough violence for our four-year-old, thank you very much.” You waddle your way into the kitchen and open the cupboard to find one of the few boxes that haven’t been ravaged by teenage boys. “Who wants fruit snacks?”

“Not Liza’s boyfriend,” Ryan snickers. “He’s still full from all the sand.”

Luke looks at you for a moment but doesn’t speak until you’ve handed a pouch of fruit snacks to Eliza. “Was Dad your first boyfriend?”

Eddie wraps his arms around your growing middle. “No, but I was her last,” he teases, kissing your cheek with an exaggerated mwah!

The boys mirror each other with their grossed-out faces. Luke shakes it off though and playfully nudges his father out of the way with his shoulder.

“So then how did he make you fall in love with him instead of with another boy?” he asks. 

An instinct is telling you that there’s more behind this line of questioning than simple curiosity of your and Eddie’s relationship, but you know better than to pry in front of his siblings—or his dad, for that matter. 

Taking advantage of the others being occupied by the snack, you tug Luke towards the front of the living room and plop down on a couch with him. You’re facing him as much as you can with a seven-month pregnant belly, adjusting to a comfortable position.  

“So, what do you want to know?” you start off asking Luke, keeping your eagerness to a minimum. The last thing you want to do is scare him away by seeming too excited. 

“Well, like…” Luke looks down and picks at a loose thread on his sock. “What made you want to be with dad? Like, you were in college when you two met. There were all those college guys, but you wanted dad. Why? What did he do to…get your attention, I guess?”

Your memory flashes back to when you first met Eddie. It feels like you’re watching a mini movie in your brain about how the two of you ended up together, a reel that wouldn’t be allowed on cable TV. The story isn’t exactly something you want to tell your son, so you comb through to find the bits that can be given as advice. 

“What did he do to get my attention?” You shrug and shake your head. “There wasn’t something he specifically did that made me want to be with him. It was a bunch of things that make up who he is. The first thing that caught my attention though was seeing how great of a dad he is to you two boys. You guys just adored him, and he’d do anything for you. It melted my heart.”

Luke chews on his lower lip as he considers your words. “So, there wasn’t something that he…bought you or anything?” He scrunches up his nose in contemplation. 

“Luke,” you say with a kind chuckle. “You can’t buy someone’s affection.” When he stays silent, you decide to press your luck. “Is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

His cheeks go pink; it makes you think how bashfulness is an odd look on the boy who is seemingly unfazed by everything. 

“There’s, um, this girl at school. And I was gonna ask her to the Valentine’s dance, but I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

You smile. Mystery solved. Honestly, you should have known that Luke would be experiencing these kinds of feelings sooner rather than later. “Part of liking someone is taking that risk,” you tell him. “Although I highly doubt you’ll look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, not fully satisfied with that response. “I just don’t wanna do too much, but I also don’t wanna do too little.”

The gift question makes more sense now. Usually, Luke’s gift-giving was reserved for birthdays or bribery, but it looks like he was making an exception to the rule. 

“Well, maybe you could get her a rose? Just one, not a whole bouquet,” you suggest. “And then you can ask her to the dance.”

“You think that will work?” Luke asks, a nervous quiver in his voice. 

It breaks your heart to see him this anxious, and you wish you could make certain that his plan will be successful. 

“Since I don’t know this girl, all I can say is that it should work. And if it doesn’t, she’s not worth your time because she doesn’t realize how thoughtful and caring you are.” You think for a second and then add, “not to mention hilarious.”

“And devastatingly handsome,” he quips with a straight face, making you giggle.

“Of course, that too.”

Your youngest son stands up from the couch and presses a kiss to the top of your hair. Pregnancy hormones have you tearing up as you remember when you used to do that to him. 

“Thanks, Ma.”

Luke helps you off the couch and as you walk closer to the kitchen you can hear your husband and daughter conversing. 

Eddie stands in front of Eliza with a serious expression. “Now, what do we tell boys we don’t like when they like you?”

“No, thanks!”

“Right!” He offers her his hand, and she slaps him five. “And now what do we tell boys if you do like them?”

Eliza thinks for a moment before remembering the answer. “I got a tall Daddy and crazy big brothers.”

“That’s my girl!”

Luke walks past and chimes in. “Tell them one of your brothers went insane from scurvy. Like it seeped into his brain and turned him into a flesh-eating zombie.”

The little girl makes a grossed-out face, giggling when Eddie gently slaps him upside the head. As if wanting to join in, you feel a kick from within your belly. 

“You wanna know how I snagged this gorgeous lady?” Eddie puts an arm around you and looks at Luke. “Turned on the ol’ Munson charm. It’s irresistible.” 

The comment about his irresistible charm plays on a loop all evening. Once the kids go to bed, it’s time for you to see if you can whip up some charm of your own. 

While Eddie brushes his teeth, you strip down to nothing. Well, nothing but the necklace he gave you on the night you two first slept together. The night you’d finally felt him inside you after months of using your own fingers and pretending it was him. The night he promised to knock you up with his babies. 

Mission accomplished. 

He walks back into the bedroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the pendant resting between your milk-filled breasts. 

“Jesus, baby.” He practically flies into bed and starts kissing you. His burgeoning erection presses against your thigh through his boxers. 

You tilt your head slightly, so he knows to move his lips to your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you, Eds. How good you treat me, how loved you make me feel…”

Eddie’s fingers find your clit and make precise circular motions. “Always gonna treat you good. Like my goddamn princess.” His mouth finds your collarbone. “The way you look when you’re pregnant…god damn.”

Smiling, you start to push yourself up, but he shakes his head. “I wanna spoil you tonight.” He positions himself between your thighs, licking a gentle stripe up your folds. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Here, see for yourself.” He leans over your stomach and kisses you so you can taste your own arousal on his tongue. 

“‘S all about you tonight,” Eddie promises. He lowers himself back down and buries his nose in your pubic hair. His tongue glides over your clit, softly at first, but gradually increases in pressure. 

“Mhm, y-yes. R-Right there,” you murmur, relishing in the build-up to the stimulation. 

Eddie’s hips rut against the mattress as he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull himself closer to you. The feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair has him surging towards painfully hard. 

The soft moans and whimpers that float from your sweet lips break Eddie’s resolve and he reaches down to wrap a hand around his aching cock. He strokes himself in time with the flicks of his tongue over your aroused clit. 

“Eddie…Eddie—oh!” You throw your head back against the pillows. A pleasant warmth grows within you and it has you arching your back, legs tightening around your husband’s head. 

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie says against your dripping, throbbing pussy. “Cum for me, princess.”

Sparks dance in your vision as your orgasm breaks over you. It makes its way throughout your body, curling into every corner until it feels the absolute euphoria that Eddie brought you. 

Trying to catch your breath, you watch with dark eyes as Eddie pushes himself up to his knees. You know what he wants, so you lay down as flat as you can so it’s easier for him to crawl over you. 

Eddie’s still fisting his cock, the tip angry and leaking precum. He manages to straddle your body and braces himself with one hand pressed on the mattress right beside your head. His other hand works over his cock until the rhythm becomes erratic—your husband’s telltale sign that he’s about to cum. You only encourage this by arching your back and presenting your enlarged breasts and rounded stomach to him. 

With one final growl, Eddie releases over your bare skin. You watch as the pearly white lines make patterns across your belly with each pump of his fist over his cock. There’s so much and you love it. 

Once he’s finally spent, Eddie collapses down on the bed next to you. You miss when he’d just fall down onto you after sex, but the growing in your womb has put a pin in that for the time being. 

Neither you nor Eddie want to clean his cum from your body, but Eddie grabs his boxers and takes his time in cleaning you. If he went over your nipples more than once or maybe give a tit a squeeze here and there, what of it?

After a few attempts, you manage to roll onto your side so you’re lying face to face with your husband. He leans in closer and gently presses his nose against yours. 

“You always make me feel so good,” you say softly.

Eddie smiles and it makes your heart kick up. That smile will never lose its magic. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Eddie replies sleepily. 

You lean in the last few inches and press your lips against Eddie’s. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say.

“It’s not Valentine's Day yet,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle. 

“True,” you say as you curl up into his chest. “But I don’t need that day to tell you and show you how much I love you.”

“You’re right, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re my Valentine every day.” 

[erineas]

Hey/

Did you see 6 skeletons 1 maid updated?

Thoughts?

I was saving this ask to make a little comic of how that last chapter felt but- lets say it didn't turn out how i wanted. Instead, i just dug out some of my old Maid-chan drawings and stared at them blankly for the next days.

I'm still particularly fixed on this one little page:

Mister Green was my absolute favorite and the only light i saw at the end of her tunnel. He was so kind and sweet, and pretty much the only one that treated her like a person (besides Yellow of course). When i first read this fic so many years ago i didn't trully realized the dark tone of this story but i still chose the only "healthy" option. I wanted MC to be happy and free, and oh how i wanted him to give her that. I held those drawings of him for years imagining a chapter where they would encounter again and that would drive her to a better ending (either skeletons overcoming their issues and treating her with respect or him taking her away).

But then this final chapter appeared and it was... a thing.

(Kinda spoilers for the babes that haven't read it)

First of all, I FINALLY GOT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER BEACH CHAPTERS OMG I NEEDED THAT

Second of all, it didn't look good at all and it was getting worse as I read. But then good because it was a week alone for her to rest and Sans was eating with her?? But also that whole scene reminded me how bad her situation really was so it actually wasn't good at all.

And then the scene that broke me.

I was aware that I wanted her to flee before, but I never thought she could.

It was oddly satisfying, if not a bit anxiety inducing because of the thought that they would caught her eventually. As always.

But then Asgore, and Orange. And nothing...

I got mad that he found her. Which was a weird feeling since I remember liking him a lot. It felt to me like he ruined her good enough ending. But despite that, it makes sense it was him so I don't complain.

What crushed me though, wasn't that she couldn't say goodbye or that Sans got tired of trying to get her back. It was the fact the Gs didn't even try looking for her. They didn't even got mentioned. What happened there, I wonder. Didn't they like her? Care for her? Mister Green wrote her letters, of course he liked her. But then why...?

Suddenly he looked like a fairytale.

The ending was great, finally lending her the ability to choose. It made absolutely everything worth it and the way it was written made me feel like I do have a say in the matter. And for the first time, i didn't choose the skeletons.

I realized she could find her happy ending alone.

(My live reaction)

[yuusishi]

Could I request headcanons of Ace, Malleus and Jamil with reader who enjoys drawing , giving the boys a portrait of them that they painted themselves? And when I say portrait, I mean a life-sized portrait.

. . . MY MUSE

pairings : Ace Trappola , Malleus Draconia , Jamil Viper x gn!reader

genre : fluff

cws/tws : none

Ace Trappola !!

Bro is so ?? Confused ??

He likes it, of course, but a life-sized portrait of him completely out if the blue surprised the hell out of him.

“[Name], where did you even find the time and money for this??” “Shhh and relish in my creation just this once”.

He wants to hang it up somewhere, but since he shares the dorm room with Deuce he can’t really find the space to put it. So the painting is just awkwardly leaning on the wall until graduation.

Bragging about it to his other friends honestly sounds funny, “Yeah, my s/o painted me a life-sized portrait of me” “they WHAT”.

Makes a lot of “Paint me like one of your French girls” jokes or the equivalent of it in Twisted Wonderland.

He gets teased a lot by other Heartslabyul students for having a portrait of himself in his dorm room, and especially when they spot you giving him another, smaller, painting.

More of a “big picture” guy, so half the time he’s standing a little far from the painting to get a good look at the entire thing.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how to react with the way you just casually created an entire portrait of him, he isn’t used to someone doing such big acts of affection. But he isn’t complaining, he loves it.

Malleus Draconia !!

:D

He was so happy because wow you actually took your time to paint him, on such a big canvas no less.

It’s not that obvious but he’s trying very hard to contain his excitement from seeing it.

He’d probably take some time simply observing the painting down to what type of canvas you use to admiring every brushstroke and color.

Another one that’s not used to big acts of affection, he can’t even begin to explain how happy this made him and how happy he is that you love him.

He’d love to put it next to his portrait in his dorm room but the painting’s life-sized. 6”7. I don’t think he has the wall and room space for a painting that big.

So, sadly, he had to bring it to Briar Valley and hang it up there in his room. He probably took a weekend to go back to his hometown to do it, if you went with him he probably took you sightseeing too :)

Jamil Viper !!

???!!!?!?!!?!?! [Live Jamil Reaction]

You know that sprite he has where his arms are outspread a bit and he has a look of pure terror on his face? Yeah that’s his reaction.

He’s probably seen the Asim family have those fancy family portraits painted of them, but it’s not like he’s part of their family so he’s simply been an observer of that tradition.

So having something similar to that done with him, wow!! he’s really not used to it!!

Okay but seriously though, he loves it 100%. He’d take it home and very not discreetly hang it up in his room if he had the time to.

He also likes to just observe the painting for a few seconds a day, catching little details about him every time that even he didn't realize but somehow you caught onto.

[sunny-lounge]

It was just a quick kiss on the cheek. (Ch. 1/3)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: General — Sami wants Jey, feelings and emotions, pinning, mutual pinning, very brief mention of Jimmy and Kevin, Sami and Jey talk, feelings realization, getting together, kissing, smut, hand jobs, happy ending

Summary: Sami has feelings for Jey, he's been holding it in for a while now. But, he's just kissed Jey on SmackDown, live on TV. It's not a big deal right? It was just a quick kiss on the cheek. Jey wants to know what the kiss was about, he wants answers. And, he gets some. They sort it out. Ch. 1 - Sami's perception of Jey. Ch. 2 - seeing each other after the kiss and figuring it out. Ch. 3 - short chapter that will have the tiniest bit of smut. (Chapter 2-3 will be posted in a few days under one post)

Word count: 1246

Ao3 link Ch. 1 Ch. 2-3 here./ *Other Fics*

A/N: So I decided to try something different and take a grain of an actual kayfabe scenario that occurred (the SamiJey kiss on [01/03/25] SmackDown) and draw from it to write a bit of a Fic. There will be three chapters. This story will make sense when you've read all the chapters. I'll post the next one in a few days. Hope you enjoy it! 🌸🌺

[— I'm not a "writer" —SO...Comments/Feedback would genuinely be appreciated. Obviously I'd really like to know if you enjoyed it - and comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! 🩷 hit the like if you genuinely like it 😊 I'd love to know if it was any good. Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami - thank you for the encouragement 🥰 - (if at all anyone wants to be tagged in my silly little fics let me know!)

——

Not that he’d ever deny it, but Sami is not immune to Jey Uso. No one is.

It’s a law of nature, a fact of life—Jey Uso is beautiful. His rough boyish charm only grows stronger and stronger with each encounter, crafting itself into something utterly irresistible to anyone within reach.

There was a time, at the very beginning when Sami thought maybe Jey had been playing it up for the cameras, the audience, throwing out to them those rare and high-priced grins of his, his rough-ish charms, the ones you could rarely afford yourself but he mercifully gave away every now and then, enough to think you're satisfied, but leaving you wanting more.

His hard intense stares that gripped your entire being, Sami has been on the receiving end of them as well, more times than he can count, piercing right through him breaking down his defenses every single time, more times than he can remember.

He thinks Jey has always known what he does, who he is, and what he wants, that just adding to his charm.

Everyone gravitates to Jey whether it's conscientious or not. On several occasions, in whichever situation, there's always someone next to him, like they'd really like to touch him, more than just touch him casually, friendly.

Especially these days, when Jey is a lot more relaxed and open, and friendlier than he used to be, Jey laughs it off, indulges even. He wouldn’t actually let it go too far, any further than just casual and fleeting. Would he? He hasn't so far, and Sami thanks his lucky stars because he's not sure he would be able to handle it if it went any further. It hurts enough not being able to touch him the way he wants to, with the intentions he wants to, but seeing Jey with someone else?— would completely tear  him apart.

Jey doesn't shy away from the touches anymore, doesn't avoid them, but he still occasionally stiffens, caught between recoiling pushing away and running, or reciprocating.

An instinctual reaction that still tries manifesting itself every now and then, the former he'd once easily give into...avoidance, but not as much anymore. Though sometimes...old habits die hard.

It's something  that Sami wants to be exempt from. He wants to be the exception. He wants to reach out for Jey and for him to always willingly stay. And, maybe even reach back.

He wants to be able to touch and be touched.

Everyone wants a piece of Jey, they want to reach for him because they can’t help it. He’s just so enigmatic, too enticing, unavoidably charming. Sami wholeheartedly one hundred percent agrees, but he's trying to act insouciant about it. It’s a harder sell when he’s the group’s, may be even locker room's biggest offender of physical affection and the lack of acknowledging personal space.

Kevin has been his foremost well-loved victim so far, his affection targeted human teddy bear for years now and no one bats an eye. Sami touches. Everyone knows it. He does it without thinking, without realizing.

He does it because it's second nature to him to have someone’s shoulder to grip, arm to grab, hand to grasp, face to touch or waist to squeeze, a chest to pat, a back to graze... He'll find a way to touch.

But something is different when it comes to Jey. It feels like Sami is playing a different game. It makes him feel guilty, because he wants to more than touch; he wants to feel, he wants to consume. So, he tries to be nonchalant. As nonchalant as he, Sami can be.

It's not like he doesn't touch Jey at all, but there are times now when Sami is starting to become too conscious of it.

It's like he's been skirting the edge this cliff for so long, unaware of how far the fall over the edge is or if he'll survive it. And, lately, he’s been dangerously curious about taking that final step off the edge. He wants to know how all-encompassing it will feel to plunge into the depths below where all his hidden wants and secret desires are lying in wait.

How freeing and liberating it will be to hear the wind rushing in his ears, the beating off his heart yelling at him that he's alive, as he falls and falls finally reaching his destination below, finally reaching its hidden depths, being consumed as he closes his eyes and willingly surrenders.

It's easier when there's an ally, maybe if someone else is in on it too. The closest he has is Jimmy, his unintentional ally.

If Jimmy is already engaged in some rough housing with Jey, then it would only be a kindness and requirement for Sami to put his arms around them to pull them apart or act as referee. And, if Jimmy is hugging Jey falling all over him pretending he can't do anything but, while Jey pretends to only half-heartedly push him off, because he secretly enjoys it. Sami is obliged to help. Whether it's Jey, or maybe it's Jimmy, or really himself  that he's helping...until they all come crashing down at their combined weight and Sami will feel Jey's body right against his like it's meant to be.

All this makes it easier— so that Sami doesn't think he'll spontaneously combust every time he reaches out to Jey.

Opposite to his beliefs—the deep recesses of his imagination— Jey doesn't look at him with disgust, or run away or punch him when Sami runs his palm against the back of his head or the front of his shirt. Or when he puts his arms around him and squeezes him in close. Or when he...well, Jey doesn't bat an eye, in fact he almost welcomes it. Leaning into his touch or mirroring it. Letting Sami have his way; his curly black hair getting patted into even unrulier patterns and the cloth of his shirts getting tugged about and ruffled into wrinkles, lean arms wrapping around his body heating him up too much, always accompanied by an easygoing grin directed at him. 

Jey Uso is beautiful. He is always beautiful. That is indisputable.

There are times, Jey will give him a look. It makes Sami's heart clench and his stomach tighten. He’ll be gripping one of Jey's shoulders, grabbing his arms, thoroughly enjoying the close proximity the shared space, the contact, when Jey will just…look at him. It could hardly be considered romantic. It still makes Sami's heart clench and stomach tighten.

It’s not overtly special, it's a look you give something once familiar that now seems out of place, like something has shifted, and you're looking, just noticing. Trying to figure it out.

Like your coffee maker in the kitchen has moved two inches to the right, it's familiar but out of place, you notice it's shifted and you're trying to figure out what you want to do about it. Are you going to let it be the way it is now? Or shift it back to the way it was?

But, maybe just maybe it's better here, now that it's shifted two inches to the right.

The looks are never obvious enough for Sami to call him out on it. Even if it were, what is he going to say? Isn't an acknowledgement just an admission of Sami's own guilt? What is he even guilty of?

This is all beginning to get to him.

And, it does.

SmackDown happens. 

——

Thank you for reading! Chapter 2-3 will be up soon. Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 63

Who cares about everything happening? There's cleaning that needs doing!

The end of the dungeon is surprisingly mundane.

Marcille's hair style this time pulls all her hair to a ponytail but has two braids coming out as well. Ever since she made her familiars, Marcille hasn't integrated braids as much.

That's adorable. Kensuke is trying to pull Laios toward the house.

Please keep your Izutsumi's indoors to protect the local wildlife.

Are these magic mirrors? Is Thistle aware that the Winged Lion feeds on desires and Thistle smashed all these mirrors to keep from being aware of his own desires? Or are these regular mirrors and Thistle can't stand to look at what he's become?

The broken spot in that central mirror makes this shot more creepy since it causes Laios's reflection to not have a head. It's like a threat to any intruders.

But my first thought was that Thistle is short and probably could still see his reflection in that mirror.

At first, I thought Kui recycled the same drawing in these two panels, but now that I see them side-by-side, it's clear these are actually two different drawings. The "WAH!!!" might be the same though.

I spotted the grape woman painting and the painting of Delgal's wedding on the right wall.

This one painting got my attention.

The left person is definitely the puppet at the table and the right person looks like they're wearing Yaad's clothes. So I think this is Yaad and his parents. So the people at the table are the kingdom royals. Delgal's body is here, but Yaad's father is missing. Does that mean the person from chapter 1 wasn't actually Delgal?

The actual Living Painting chapter never got to show us how inherently creepy they can be. We saw the one painting and then the rest of the chapter was Laios trying to steal food from them.

This scene really shows what it feels like to be in a room with these things. The only thing missing is muted laughing or incomprehensible mumbling coming from the pictures.

Senshi was really absent during the first part of this chapter. This is page 9 of the chapter. There have been 59 panels up to this point. Senshi appeared in 4 of them, and we never see his reaction to anything in the house. It makes him seem indifferent to all this.

It would be funny to see the phoenix trying to enter the house. It's attempts to enter through the fireplace were so disastrous that it actually died and had to resurrect itself once it got in.

I bet while the party was investigating the house, the phoenix was crashing into every window it found until it decided to divebomb into the chimney, broke its neck on impact, and its corpse rolled down the chute and made all that noise.

This isn't the phoenix being majestic. This is the phoenix trying to pretend that embarrassing entrance didn't happen.

I can't tell if Laios is proud or surprised that his plan worked.

Just like Senshi was missing for the first 9 pages, Izutsumi was missing for the next 10 pages. She doesn't appear at all during the phoenix fight. Kui does a good job making sure everyone is involved in the story, but this chapter is a little awkward because everyone is gathered together in a small space so not seeing them is more noticeable.

Side note: At this point, I had to save this post to drafts and go to school. While waiting for my class to start, I was telling a classmate about Dungeon Meshi and it led to me thinking about some of the earlier chapters. Remember how Senshi wanted to investigate what oil was used in the hot oil trap in chapter 5? What if the oil was olive oil because Senshi desired something he could cook with and the dungeon delivered?

I love Laios's face here. He would be over the moon if you gifted him a feather bed made with basilisk and cockatrice feathers.

Lazy cat. And she waited for Laios to change out the sheets before sleeping on the bed too.

The magic over the Kingdom has kept it in a general state of preservation. The castle and the castle town look like people haven't lived there in a while, but they look more like they were in use until recently, like maybe everyone abandoned the town a year ago.

The interior of this one building actually looks like it's been abandoned for a long time. The exterior looks new, but the interior looks like a house that has been abandoned and been decaying for at least thirty years. And of course, that one plate shattered just by touching it.

This house is a microcosm of the castle and castle town. Thistle wanted to preserve the kingdom and on the outside, it still looks great. But when you go into it, it's clear that the kingdom is abandoned, disorganized, and slowly decaying.

I wish I got a good look at Izutsumi's plate. The trimmings for that confit had mushrooms so I want to see if she has any mushrooms in hers.

What's really wrong here is that Laios and Senshi draped Delgal's arms over their shoulders. They are completely unbothered by this arrangement.

Oh no.

back

[himbo-in-limbo]

[a random head canon thingy idk cuz my I pad is charging n I can't draw rn 😞] Glamrock Bonnie/Glamrock Freddy

_____________________

I like to think Bonnie often goes off on his guitar during live performances (leaning towards it sounding like heavy metal) n often forgets he's playing for children LMAO

The kids love it regardless but the gangs like "dude again?" His longest solo was like a good 3 minutes...

He craves to have artistic freedom, I'm assuming the rest do as well tbh

Imagine hearing Freddy practicing his vocals, since we see chica shredding her guitar in her spare time I wonder if he dose the same?

I bet Freddy also likes to help whichever staff member is doing heavy lifting n he sees them struggling with the cargo n just goes "Oh please it's the least I can do! You all do so much for us, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourselves."

Also likes to help because Freddy has trouble just doing nothing...he needs to be doing something!

Or else he gets a bit antsy

Which is why he loves conversing n little tasks!

Bonnie calls the people closest to him "Carrot cake" bc he loves it sm and he loves them sm

In terms of the OG Trio I see chica being the one they protect the most like that's their baby sister to them 🥺♥️

Side note that it's a shame we don't have enough interactions between chica n Freddy in the game...

Like I wanna know if their just as close to each other as Freddy and Bonnie were

Bonnie gets excited hearing stories that the staff members tell him (if he's friends with em) about the outside world...

He LOVE'S it when they share their favorite music with him! He likes to analyze the guitar solos n usually that sneaks into the next concert hehe

He wants to go outside so bad...he often looks outside any windows and wishes he could just step outside for a bit...

This is also something I think the rest have in common.

They are happy working with the kids! They love their job! They would just like to feel the sun n quite literally touch grass...at least once!

Going back to Bonnie loving carrot cake he dose actually have a slight problem with it similar to chica...just don't leave your slice unattended with him, like a magic trick it'll disappear ✨

I like to think Bonnie originally didn't have eye liner but he saw one of the staff members have some on and he just told them "I want that! Can you put that on me?!" And ever since then it's been a part of his iconic look

Freddy laughs to hard at simple jokes like dad jokes kill him, which is why when he tells them sometimes he can't finish the joke 💀

His laugh is so cute n contagious 😭♥️

Everyone groans but they laugh at Freddy's reaction anyways

Bonnie's laugh is dorky, he snorts on occasion and the others call him out n he gets embarrassed

All in good fun of course!

If Bonnie were to blush I like to imagine that his whole face goes red like you can always tell when he's flustered hehe

Honestly I believe Freddy has that classy rizz, like he's such a gentleman, he'd court you properly is all I'm saying

As for Bonnie he's flirty, if he likes you he'll be teasing you a lot

He likes to bully his crush a tiny bit by making em all flustered, and yes he challenges you to bowling quite often!

It's his favorite bonding activity what can you do

He's such a good teacher for bowling too! Has to be for the kiddos of course!

All in all these boys have a heart of gold

They'll inspire you in some way n leave you feeling happy! And you do the same for them! Their still learning how to modify their hugging power tho!

It's strong! 🧡💙

[itsybitsybluesy]

THE PERFECT ROMANTIC GETAWAY: ONE WEEK FOR TWO AT SCENIC, LAKESIDE MOUNTAIN LODGE (CH2)

CHAPTER 2 / ELUCIEN / CH1 HERE / for @acotargiftexchange

There was simply so much they’d had to extricate themselves from in the middle of Solstice season, Elain thought several times that they should really just call the whole thing off. “It’s never a good time for a vacation,” Lucien told her. “Which is why you have to take them.”

🎁  🎁  🎁 

it's been such a lovely time getting to know @huntquinlan so i am very excited to follow up with even more fluffy domestic smut... ft. a couple of kinks special touches i heard jade especially likes 🤭

ran out of time so went beta-less with this one because i REALLY wanted it up mid-week! i hope you like. there is still one more chapter remaining (though it's on purpose that the end of this feels like a cute happy ending).

LOVE U!!!!!

xoxoxo

p.s. a part of this (it's easy to figure out where) was very much inspired by @whatishowedyouinthedark's I've been lost to you, sunlight (flew like a moth, to you sunlight) and i need to give credit where it's due - i couldn't get that one out of my head for M O N T H S. i salute u.

(read it on AO3!)

preview under the cut:

Despite his best efforts, Lucien was up with the sun the next morning, never able to stay snoozing for long if there was even a tiny crack of daylight through the drapes. Vassa and Jurian had labeled him the one resident insane morning person, back when they’d lived together in the Human Lands - and yes, there had been days where Lucien had been up for hours before them and gotten various pieces of work done while his friends slept in. But what he secretly loved, more than any other reason to get up, was the pleasure of snuggling back down into a warm bed in the soft quiet of early morning, listening to the rise and fall of his lovely mate’s breath in slumber.  

Her sweet, flowered scent was already everywhere around him, the sheets and pillows deliciously marked with the second and third time they’d made love the night before. But at the source - Lucien felt a thrill go through him as he burrowed back under the covers and pushed lips and nose beneath Elain’s silken curls, inhaling deep. The hours and full days stretching before them made him feel like a boy in a sweet shop. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do first with all that time: stay the fuck in this bed with his mate. 

“Good morning,” Elain murmured, eyes still closed. “Are you trying to get me out of bed?” 

Lucien pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I always want you in my bed.” 

She flapped one hand in his direction. “No, silly. I mean, do we have somewhere to be? Some plan you made or other?” 

“You sound so very excited,” Lucien teased, drawing his nose across her collarbone. “But no, actually - I figured we’d laze around a little, at least until lunchtime.” He blinked, making sure to gauge her reaction. “That is, unless it sounds boring to you…”

But Elain was opening her eyes and smiling at him, stretching out arms and legs like a cat before relaxing back into the sheets. “No, no,” she said gleefully. “I was really, really hoping you’d say that.” She put a hand to his chest and leaned over to give him a slow, sighing kiss. “You are my perfect travel companion.” 

“Here to make sure your needs are met,” Lucien said. “That’s what your mate is for.” 

“Anything I want?” Elain asked. “You’d cancel all the plans and reservations?” 

A little less relaxed, Lucien cleared his throat. “Well, of course, but only if you’re very sure…” He trailed off as his mate’s slim, smooth hand stroked down from his navel to his hip. They’d both slept in the nude, and at her touch arousal shot through him like the crack of a whip, making him forget the rest of whatever he was saying. 

“Hmmm,” Elain said drowsily. “What if I wanted to have my wicked way with you, now that you’ve woken me so early?” Her fingers brushed the underside of his shaft, and his cock jumped in response, breath catching as he watched. 

“Your wish is my command,” Lucien said, throat tight. Whenever his mate reached for him first, the roar of instinct down their bond quite literally drowned out all other thoughts, commanding him to touch, taste, lick her, flip her over and sheath himself and thrust until he was spilling his seed in her and could do it over and over again, mark her as only his--

“My, my,” Elain said, her words like honey to his ears. The hair was standing on his arms and on the back of his neck. “We are awake.”

[empressgeekt]

I'm curious now, if someone made a reaction fic with canon watching your stories (not me because I suck at those), how do you think they would react? Especially if Branch was still gray?

Oh I play out this fic plot in my head on almost a daily basis.

If I were to put, Grey Branch, Poppy, Viva the snackpack, and Brozone into a room to watch my aus, both fics would probably start the same. Shock on both sides (brozone to Branch's state, and The Snackpack to Branch's alter ego as Bitty B), but eventually they'd all settle and start watching. Though, Brozone would definitely not that Creek at first glance. Viva would cling to her sister and the Snackpack would welcome her, but they would be very confused when she starts acting paranoid about the bergens like Branch, and Creek would..be Creek...getting on her bad side. Bruce would have to step in explaining that Trauma doesn't work the way Creek is trying to simplify it (he read a lot of the vacationer's psychology books before his kids were born). Needless to say, by the time that everyone has sat down the room is tense.

For Burning Branches it's pretty clear that this is an alternate universe so, they kind of just sit back and enjoy.

The Snackpack would get to witness the abuse a tiny grey branch would get in the tree, while Brozone gets to see Branch follow in there footsteps and escaping on his own. Branch himself remembers a few of these events but doesn't remember leaving so he interested in seeing where he counterpart went. Practically everyone panics when they see the head injury on screen, Floyd even starts crying at the sight. Once the rock trolls get involved it draws a lot of surprise from the whole group. Floyd and JD aren't too surprised they've been around the block before, and have a basic gest of the other tribes. Bruce is in the same boat as a few Techno trolls have washed up on Vacay island. However none of them had seen rock trolls in person and their dulled nature are a little disturbing, considering what dulled means for Pop trolls. Clay and Viva are paying rapid attention to the rock trolls on screen, because considering the environment their people live in these guys know how to survive and protect themselves. The Snackpack has mixed reactions, Cooper wonders if theirs another tribe that looks like him, Poppy just wants to help these guys find happiness cause they are way to serious in her opinion, Creek calls them brutes (impressing no one), while the rest of the pack are either confused/fearful/curious. Branch is just awed, this troll, the rock king no less, on screen took his other version and saved him. Not only pull him from the water but take this trolling stranger into his home and raised on-screen Branch as his own. It's made veery clear that the pop and rock tribes do not get along, and yet this king was willing to risk his power and reputation to care for Char, King Peppy never kept Branch for more then two days until shipping him off to the next foster family. He even seemed mad on Char's behalf, something Branch had never thought anyone would do. The amnesia is something that hurts Brozone, learning that in one world there brother forgot about them. Branch is a little envious of Char, after all losing his memories was pretty starting a new life with a clean slate. Sure he watches Char struggle, but he also watches Char thrive, regaining his color, learning to love music again, making friends, having a family behind him, heck even getting Poppy for a love interest. Sure, it's an arranged marriage between the tribes, and makes the theater very awkward, but there's a clear connection between the two of them. By the end of the whole first movie all the snackpack (minus Creek) and Bruce are shipping Poppy/Char (Choppy? We should call them Choppy), and they get pissed when John Dory on screen interrupts their wedding.

For FOF, it's more of confusing reaction since this could still be their actual future.

Branch makes notes to look out for Keith, cause just in case there might be a trolling who's a little weird ending up in the foster system after losing his dad and he doesn't want that to happen. Kid seems sweet and not that judging. As the au goes on, Branch feels all sort of embarrassment, from them witnessing his panic attacks and how they called him cute for the more wholesome reactions when it comes to Keith. When the whole wolf incident comes on screen, Poppy ask Branch if he would really do that for the village, and everyone is shocked when he nods. Creek tries to say the the forest is over dramatizes in this and that the critters aren't that cruel in real life, Branch just rolls his eyes only to hear John Dory come to his defense, as a survivalist himself he had to deal with predators, and everything on screen is necessary. FOF Branch is a lot harsher on his brothers and the interactions on screen are a lot more charged. Branch isn't sure how he feels about this counterpart. There's a feeling of justice at watchin his brothers get what's coming to them, but it also hurts that he's hurting them. He doesn't hold the same anger that FOF feels. Smidge kind of wants to meet her FOF counterpart, someone who uses her strength to save others, she's down for it. And Asks Branch if he could set up something like that in there world or at least train her, to help him in the forest. Branch is confused by that. Creek completely denies that he would betray everyone, but strangely Branch doesn't believe him. FOF Branch's wounds are scary to think about for everyone but Branch forces himself not to react. Broppy makes once more everyone uncomfortable, Branch feeling awkward, Bruce teasing, Poppy blushing, Creek giving the grey troll the stick eye. It's harder to different Canon from AU with FOF since Char is less Branch like.

There's just so much that could happen that i can't fit it into one post, but if anyone wants to make one to these they have my full permission. Though that might want to wait until the final product is finished.

[tornrose24]

Rewatching ‘the many lives of Scratch’ TGAMM is…. Ah, quite an experience after the series finale and knowing what I know.

-first off, there’s the whole ‘I don’t remember my death day, but I’d rather forget this moment’ line is…. Uh… well… Ouch. 

-Also the irony of Scratch never remembering his death day because he never really had one.

-And apparently his reaction to hearing about Geoff’s death day involved hiding in the doll house and shut himself off from the others…. which parallels how he reacted to certain things as a human.

-side note: I love how Dana delivers Scratch’s ‘Oh…. No,’ line when he first sees the death day party everyone throws him.

-When the McGees and friends sing that one song, there’s a line where they want to know how Scratch left his body and became a ghost. And I’m all ‘Oh… yeah… that’s actually true. But it’s not a happy tale.’

-Just the fact that everyone’s guesses were so wildly incorrect. I’m sure we all had our theories and guesses and yet the truth ended up being so average sounding (as well as sad).

-Geoff’s story kind of hurts now. Though I like that he also imagines Libby to be the president and Darryl is her body guard.

-As Libby told her story, I’m thinking ‘why does the cow remind me of Todd? It almost has the same hair and eyes.’ Also I think it’s sweet that she imagines Molly being like a little sister to Scratch, though I bet that detail would have been altered if she knew how old Scratch actually was.

-Also, I can’t get over the fact that Libby had Scratch AND Molly both die in her story. It’s a bit morbid, but I’m guessing she couldn’t imagine them being separated. That or she wanted to create an insane ending. 

-I liked that Libby imagined Scratch to be someone who’d be willing to be brave enough to take on danger for someone close to him, which is what he is now… but actually wasn’t when he was human.

-Scratch kept insisting on having an appealing body type in the stories. The poor guy has no clue what he looked like as a human and is desperate for a more idealized version of himself. And yet the truth is… his real appearance isn’t that bad looking, and it actually IS a perfect match to what his personality is like, but it’s not one he’d be thrilled about going back to, even without the memories of what happened. (And this fuels a belief of mine that Scratch was more than likely insecure about his appearance before he lost his soul.) 

-Scratch complaining about nobody making him human is now an interesting line. I think none of them ever imagined it because they are so used to Scratch looking like a ghost. Molly was the only one who had a hint of what he looked like as a child and yet… when she makes her guess, we don’t see her imagining anything. Was it because what she imagined would be too accurate/close to the truth since she knows Scratch so well?

And it’s also ironic because by that point he and Molly have actually seen his true appearance and didn’t even realize it at the time. And then coincidentally come the very next episode, we actually see his human form once more in two specific moments. One of which draws specific attention to him. As if to remind us about someone….

[asktheplethaura]

The Gray Area - Chapter 1

Authors Note: Seeing as my drawing pad is down for a little while, I decided to give my hand at writing again to see if I am rusty. This fanfiction a Sprunki fanfiction. Seeing as my 'Ask Gray Anything' posts are paused, I decided it would be better for me to expand on this world more, before I decided on a direction to take it.

Please remember, this is a Sprunki fanfiction. That means, by default, that this fanfiction is going to have elements of horror, manipulation, fiction and otherwise other unpleasant topics, subject matter or otherwise unsafe content for minors.

This is a warning, as I will not be held responsible for any effects it has on someone who reads it. If you feel unsafe, uncomfortable, or otherwise unsatisfied with anything at all in this fanfiction I implore you to put it down and either take a break, or not return to it. Thank you for understanding. Your safety and comfort as a reader is important to me as a producer of literary work. Without further adieu, to the fanfiction.

Chapter One - Lingering

In a world that is full of vibrance and life, there is almost no problems to be expected. The lives of a sprunki character was simple, after all. They all exist in their world, entities of habit. Singing their songs and humming their tunes as they days roll by.

Everything else in this life was simple substance. They filled their days with their purpose of musical happiness. The other necessities of self care and anything else seemed so small compared to that.

Mr. Sun sat in the sky, emanating a cheerful tune as he bopped back and forth in the vibrant blue abyss, only substantiated with clouds and an occasional bird that felt the need to flutter by. The day was warm, and the wind chill made the temperature perfect. Fluffy clouds, white in color rolled by slowly, like a flock of sky-bound sheep.

It was days like this that Gray loved most. Everything about days like these made him feel that.. maybe- just maybe... everything was okay. That everything he had tainting his memory was a dream.

The tired middle gray sprunki flattened his ears back against his head as he looked over the park, the many faces he was familiar with all running around and hanging out with their fellow sprunki of choice. There was unbridled happiness, raw emotion in the form of joy and laughter.

The cat like sprunki had barely had a reaction to these things before. He had always thought it was a little bit annoying to be surrounded by such uncontained joy. How he wished he never complained before- knowing what would happen now.

It was like clockwork, really. Always just clockwork day in and day out. Everyone would be feeling like the day was theirs. The only thing in their way was what they needed to do to get from point A to point B. Mirth on their faces, because none of them knew yet what was to come.

Gray, with a resigned sight, pondered deeply. He needed to stop this.. somehow. how can he even hope to stop it when his memory of the first loops were now fleeting. He hated it.

He had been at this so goddamn long that he was started to forget how this happened.

As much as he wanted to forget this monstrosity- this absolute nightmare, he didn't want to forget anything until this nightmare was actually over.

"Heyy-haha! Gray, c'mon man, are you going to sit there brooding the whole mornin'? The sun's nice, and the breeze is great. You gotta lighten up, broski!"

Oren pulled his skateboard to a skidding stop as he slowly slid his headphones away from his ears. He bopped his head with the lingering notes of his music, loud as it was.

"Classic DJ for you.." Gray lightly mumbled, his ears someone straining at the sound of the loud music. "How does that not hurt your ears?"

Oren seemed to quirk a brow, somewhat confused before waving a hand dismissively and laughing. He shook his head before turning his music down and tucking his MP3 player back into his pocket. Simon pulled up next to him, shaking his head as he looped a hand under one of the wheels on his own board- propping it up vertically.

"Come on man, you know me, I have ears of steel. I gotta have some good drums up in this head if I wanna place them sick beats, yo." Oren strolled up to Gray, looping his hand over the others shoulder. A common gesture of good nature.

Despite Gray not being the touchy type, he didn't brush the other off. Grumpy as he was most of the time, he would never shoo off one of his friends. Especially since this was just how he liked to show his affection. Gray somewhat looked to the side, before looking back up at the sky. He knew this day all so well, it felt so normal now. Not that Oren would have any chance of knowing that.

"The day is... nice."

There was a collective silence between Oren and Gray, Simon somewhat snickering before shaking his head.

"That is the most you answer I've heard yet. Not really that enthusiastic, but hey, at least you like the weather too, huh?" Simon walked closer as well, before leaning on Oren.

"I'm not gonna tell ya what ya need to do- but ya gotta loosen up a lil bit and chillll bro. You look so tense..." Oren's more cheeky tone left him, genuine concern entering his eyes as he sighed, a frown creeping across his features. "For real, though... are you okay?"

Gray looked direct at Oren, noting how Simon immediately put his own phone down, to listen in. He frowned before taking a deep breath. He had been through this song and dance. Every single time, in fact.

"I'm okay, I'm just feeling a little under the weather, is all. I didn't sleep well last night, my ac is broken- bit too warm for my liking- ya know?"

It seemed easier for Oren to accept excuses if they were explained, that way there was little room for argument. With gray being a darker sprunki with fur, it wouldn't be too hard to believe he would be warmer than most else would be.

Simon seemed to frown at the explanation, but he never made any attempt to pry for anymore information. It was clear he didn't really buy it though.

"Ohh-yeah yeah I get that." Oren nodded as he seemed to come to a small realization. "No matter, if you don't feel well, I suppose I can leave you be. Get better soon man, for real for real!" She picked up his skateboard again before shooting a brief peace sign at Gray, jumping on the board before skating away.

Simon maintained a little bit more eye contact, before frowning. He looked to make sure Oren was a little ways away, before turning his head back in Gray's direction.

"I don't know what your real problem is... but I wish you would trust us more. Something is bothering you and I know it's not sickness. Please know we are here for you if you need help... alright?"

He didn't wait for Gray to answer, he just grabbed his board before starting to skate off after Oren, yelling for the other one to wait up for him.

Gray remained in place, his gaze trained on the orange and yellow forms slowly retreating from view. He took a deep breath, before looking up at the sky, his dark eyes narrowing as he tried to contain his thoughts.

The sky lingers on as blue as it was before... ever so bright and saturated with hues. Within the blink of an eye... Gray knew it would be lost- soon enough.

"Yeah..." he sighed, before closing his eyes. He looked over to a familiar figure, standing among the group of Sprunki in the distance. Dark and looming. a white tie and a dark hat. Unmoved eyes.

Black sat there, talking with Tunner and Jevin. All of them taking in light conversation.

""Well, here goes nothing..."

(To Be Continued)